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The Way // [Glamour's 90th Toast]
Apr 9, 2022 21:56:13 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9 [earthling] on Apr 9, 2022 21:56:13 GMT -5
[googlefont="Roboto Slab: 400;"]
if we don’t fuck this whole thing up
Glamour Kinkade, freshly lasered and botoxed, waiting just outside of the conference room. He'd ordered as many flowers as he could reasonable afford to created an aboretum out of the executive space. In his mind there was a flowering white aisle, lined in roses and lilies, and then a statement arch, seemingly made of wild vines. And then him, dressed in black, dead center: the bride of Games' past.
But of course, his visions never came to fruition.
The moment the Peacekeeper opened the heavy door Glamour had to withhold a frown. There was an aisle but it was lined in pink daffodils and daisies, flowers that had been hideously dyed. The arch which was supposed to encircled him looked more like a child's play thing, a sad twiggy display. None of that was the worst of it. What was truly offensive was the attendance: thirty people at most, few in designer fits, all with hungry eyes.
Journalists, almost every single one.
Who would be sure to record the failure of his campaign launch.
He strode, black boots snaking up to black nylons, to the stage. Beneath the twigs he smiled his signature smile, hoping the botox would keep his makeup from wrinkling. "Good evening," he proclaimed, stepping aside of the microphone. It was idiocy to pretend he needed it. "Well," he opened his palms. Paused with his smile frozen. "Isn't this the auspicious beginning?"
Silence, except for the feedback static of a recording device.
"As you all know, I'm here to reclaim my seat on the High Council. After five long years of hard work and dedication, I'm more than ready for more." He could hear himself, distantly, speaking too quickly and hitting all the wrong notes. He sounded like he was reading from a teleprompter for ripred's sake. He cleared his throat. "You might ask me what I've done?" One of the blogger perked up a bit. Glamour winked. "You'll just have to keep wondering! All will be revealed in due course. All you need to know tonight is that I'm here, I've never been so satisfied with my work, and your vote is all I need to keep being my most glamourous self."
Someone groaned, but he knew they loved it. They had to, else they would not be here. He put his hands together in a single clap. "Vote Kinkade and we'll keeping doing things the Kink-ade way," he promised, not at all subtly stumbling over his own last name.
But of course, his visions never came to fruition.
The moment the Peacekeeper opened the heavy door Glamour had to withhold a frown. There was an aisle but it was lined in pink daffodils and daisies, flowers that had been hideously dyed. The arch which was supposed to encircled him looked more like a child's play thing, a sad twiggy display. None of that was the worst of it. What was truly offensive was the attendance: thirty people at most, few in designer fits, all with hungry eyes.
Journalists, almost every single one.
Who would be sure to record the failure of his campaign launch.
He strode, black boots snaking up to black nylons, to the stage. Beneath the twigs he smiled his signature smile, hoping the botox would keep his makeup from wrinkling. "Good evening," he proclaimed, stepping aside of the microphone. It was idiocy to pretend he needed it. "Well," he opened his palms. Paused with his smile frozen. "Isn't this the auspicious beginning?"
Silence, except for the feedback static of a recording device.
"As you all know, I'm here to reclaim my seat on the High Council. After five long years of hard work and dedication, I'm more than ready for more." He could hear himself, distantly, speaking too quickly and hitting all the wrong notes. He sounded like he was reading from a teleprompter for ripred's sake. He cleared his throat. "You might ask me what I've done?" One of the blogger perked up a bit. Glamour winked. "You'll just have to keep wondering! All will be revealed in due course. All you need to know tonight is that I'm here, I've never been so satisfied with my work, and your vote is all I need to keep being my most glamourous self."
Someone groaned, but he knew they loved it. They had to, else they would not be here. He put his hands together in a single clap. "Vote Kinkade and we'll keeping doing things the Kink-ade way," he promised, not at all subtly stumbling over his own last name.
guaranteed, i can blow your mind-dua lipa-
