corrosion ❂ lux/spider
May 8, 2014 12:37:27 GMT -5
Post by Onyx on May 8, 2014 12:37:27 GMT -5
lux dewitt give me a shot to remember, and you can take all the pain away from me, a kiss and i will surrender, the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead, a light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be in love with all of these vampires, so you can leave like the sane abandoned me |
I bet Luce is laughing her ass off right now.
The gong rings, and eighteen pairs of feet, including my own, brace to take the weight of eighteen reluctant men who rise from their seats and shuffle one more table around the room. The air smells offensively of lavender, but I can tell that I'm not the only one who can pick out the stench of nervous sweat that the perfume is there to hide. At each doorway, a beaming employee blocks any chance of escape - as I catch the eye of the nearest, a woman of maybe thirty, her expression hardens slightly and she gestures for me to proceed to the next station. I roll my eyes, wondering how, in any universe, this could be described as 'carefree' or 'fun', as the advertisement would have us believe. I mean, Speed Dating might be fine for the girls who remain seated, picking at the dirt under their nails as they wait, with the same dedication that they pick at us with questions. Oh, Luce is probably killing herself at this.
It was her demand that I attend this session of FastFutures Speed Dating, adamant that if I didn't get a girlfriend soon I'd be alone forever, and the Sullivans would swoop in and pluck the final part of our shared investment that I still clutch from between my bachelor fingertips. Why a girl would change that, I don't know - and I don't think Luce really does, either. This whole thing just seems too suspicious to be an act of kindness n the part of my ever-tactical twin. I shake my head and pull the chair in front of me out, facing my new partner. I'm onto you, Luce.
The girl sips from the half-empty glass of water, and I follow queue and take a deep swig from the bottle I've been carrying with me. She doesn't seem the type to start a conversation with a stranger, so I swallow and think of something to say. Her hair is slightly red, the red of someone who's dyed it to be daring and badass. I can't help but smirk, thinking of Cleo Sullivan, with her icy sarcasm and razor-edge smiles, the smiles that eventually got her killed in the Games. Oh, child, I think in the direction of my partner, who I can't help internally patronising although she must be my age, with that state of mind you'll wind up dead.
When I feel content with my analysis, I feign a bright smile and extend my hand across the table. "I'm Lucky," I state in the sing-song voice I call confident but Luce calls cocky, "I'm the heir to a wealthy company and if I go home without a lady I might be ostracised from my family by my twin sister. I want to be here just as little as you do. Wanna see a magic trick?" Well, if that won't work, nothing will. Who's laughing now, Lucy-dearest?
The gong rings, and eighteen pairs of feet, including my own, brace to take the weight of eighteen reluctant men who rise from their seats and shuffle one more table around the room. The air smells offensively of lavender, but I can tell that I'm not the only one who can pick out the stench of nervous sweat that the perfume is there to hide. At each doorway, a beaming employee blocks any chance of escape - as I catch the eye of the nearest, a woman of maybe thirty, her expression hardens slightly and she gestures for me to proceed to the next station. I roll my eyes, wondering how, in any universe, this could be described as 'carefree' or 'fun', as the advertisement would have us believe. I mean, Speed Dating might be fine for the girls who remain seated, picking at the dirt under their nails as they wait, with the same dedication that they pick at us with questions. Oh, Luce is probably killing herself at this.
It was her demand that I attend this session of FastFutures Speed Dating, adamant that if I didn't get a girlfriend soon I'd be alone forever, and the Sullivans would swoop in and pluck the final part of our shared investment that I still clutch from between my bachelor fingertips. Why a girl would change that, I don't know - and I don't think Luce really does, either. This whole thing just seems too suspicious to be an act of kindness n the part of my ever-tactical twin. I shake my head and pull the chair in front of me out, facing my new partner. I'm onto you, Luce.
The girl sips from the half-empty glass of water, and I follow queue and take a deep swig from the bottle I've been carrying with me. She doesn't seem the type to start a conversation with a stranger, so I swallow and think of something to say. Her hair is slightly red, the red of someone who's dyed it to be daring and badass. I can't help but smirk, thinking of Cleo Sullivan, with her icy sarcasm and razor-edge smiles, the smiles that eventually got her killed in the Games. Oh, child, I think in the direction of my partner, who I can't help internally patronising although she must be my age, with that state of mind you'll wind up dead.
When I feel content with my analysis, I feign a bright smile and extend my hand across the table. "I'm Lucky," I state in the sing-song voice I call confident but Luce calls cocky, "I'm the heir to a wealthy company and if I go home without a lady I might be ostracised from my family by my twin sister. I want to be here just as little as you do. Wanna see a magic trick?" Well, if that won't work, nothing will. Who's laughing now, Lucy-dearest?
| 494 words - notes: long overdue - minie |
