Morality is for suckers// Circe&Baz
Dec 27, 2023 14:57:36 GMT -5
Post by minie on Dec 27, 2023 14:57:36 GMT -5
C I R C E M U R D O C K
One would immediately assume that between the fur coats and glimmering jewelry that money would have never crossed Circe’s mind, not once.
One could never be so wrong.
Circe’s entire life revolved around money. She was worth a lifetime of petty and childish behavior between two adults, leaving her to rot in a burning home. The silver tongue fumes snaking out of her father’s mouth seemed like refuge in a world full of carnage and Circe was inhaling the wrapped truth as if her life depended on it.
No matter how much money her father would reluctantly hand over to Adriana, Circe’s mother was never satisfied. Her greed grew with every cent, and it was up to Circe to fill the gaps in her mother’s greed-ridden heart. Alas, Circe had not a penny to call her own, but she was gifted with the siren song of her mother.
Quite peculiar how her pockets were lined with enough cash to buy her own confinement.
The beaches of district four became a ghost town when the cold breeze would drift in. The buzz of the rich drinking champagne whilst their kids were set loose to throw away generational wealth into the tiny slots at the crab arcade. Now only a few souls, the most dedicated of them all would haunt the dimmed light arcade.
The population presented a problem for the girl, she was on a deadline if she wanted to return to her father in time. Her pool of victims slim. Colorful lights shown bright against her skin, noises of small victories and defeats rang throughout the room, a carpet as old as time collected dust invoking the occasional sneeze out of the players. It was not a place of glamour but one that would train children from a young age in the vice of gambling.
Circe was not here too loose; in fact, she would not pay a thing and would still walk out with more cash in hand than most of those kids would dream of having to spend at their discretion. She had her slender figure propped up against a machine where the neon pink claws of the crab controlled by a button on either side of the machine would attempt to keep the small wound ball from falling between them. A boy possibly a year older than her deeply occupied in their conversation could not be torn from Circe’s in inviting eyes and enchanting voice. The girl however had no interest in talking to him, her mind was occupied with the coins chiming in his pockets.
The poor boy would be oblivious to the way her fingers had reached deep, robbing him of every last of his money. She returned the favor by maintaining the illusion a little longer. Kept him focused on her, selling him the hope that he could one day be hers. That was nothing more than a fantasy, a fantasy Circe’s mother had taught her how to play into to a fault.
Every word she would utter for the rest of her life would be calculated and enhanced with whatever mask she would conjure up on her face. It was a matter of survival for Circe, a means to an end for everything was just another step planned in advance to place her on the perfect path to success. It was not her fault that boys and men alike thought with the tail between their legs( according to her mother it was their own biological fault).
When she had gotten bored of her current charade, she quickly excused herself from the conversation. The sweet smile drawn so maliciously turned into an exhausted frown as soon as her back was turned towards the boy. Her hands rested in her pocket with a fistful of victory already counting her reward in her head. She had gotten so good at her game that she let herself get sloppy.
Circe was blissfully unaware of another boy lurking around the arcade, watching her every move. She was to lost in the high of achievement to give anyone else any notice. Not until the fly on the wall had made the mistake of speaking to her.
