A Line In The Sand, A Name In The Dust [Lalia]
May 11, 2012 15:51:33 GMT -5
Post by Jimmeh! on May 11, 2012 15:51:33 GMT -5
He had to admit, the Moreno's knew how to throw a party. The only person he could think of that rivaled them was Dia. In some ways, Dia's were better. The personal touches. The fact that she was a teenager, and had comparatively limited resources. At least, compared to the Moreno's. The sheer grandeur was breathtaking. It was, in all ways, an actual function. Not just a party. He'd even had to break out the tux. And he thought he looked like quite the socialite in it. But everywhere he looked, he could see the hallmarks that were the Moreno's. Proud displays of weapons. It was clear to see what they advocated. It was no secret. Even if Reyes had been somewhat disaffected with the Games. He was still, in Indrik's eyes anyway, a worthy contribution from District One. Like Avon had been. At least the victor had come from a real District. Not one of the outer districts. He couldn't have stood that. If yet another tribute from his home district had lost to the wretches without the favour of their masters.
The night passed gracefully, a number of dances, a few prospective girls, dressed up as immaculately as he was, in some cases, so flamboyantly, it was almost painful to look at. But in the best way he could imagine. In the middle of the second waltz of the night, he noticed a girl, who very much caught his eye, leaving far too early to be a permanent exit, surely? She was dressed elegantly, if less extravagant than almost everyone else. But tastefully so. He allowed his partner to finish dancing with him, before excusing himself, extricating himself from the grip of a girl who was feverishly trying to drag him bodily to the dance floor. A smirk and a blown kiss were enough to weaken her grip enough to exit without a second look.
He was greeted by the crisp night air, breathing in deeply, refreshing his lungs, cleansing his nostrils of the heady mix of smoke, perfume, alcohol and the slight musk of sweat caused by the close proximity of so many bodies. Many of them teenage males. He smiled lightly, before moving out into the street to stretch his legs, now free of the constraints of dancing motions. And there, something caught his eye. A line in the dust, and above it, four letters. E. L. L. A. He toyed with the name in his mind, before voicing it audibly.
Ella...