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Le Me Be Your Air // [Lemour]
Sept 29, 2015 23:47:14 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Sept 29, 2015 23:47:14 GMT -5
Glamour Kinkade
your compliments look good on me
Glamour hadn't slept in three days, but that was hardly a record - for himself or any other Gamemaker. The weeks leading up to the next Games were always marked by madness. The days never had enough hours. Of course, Glamour found other ways to compensate, hiring new staff, accepting only the most elite of invitations, exploring the exciting world of high-end stimulants. One of those elite invitations came from the Officially Unofficial Kick Off Party. It always occurred with the first wave of arriving victors and tributes, even before all of them had assembled in the Capitol. Late that night, the basement of the office building across from the Training Center was transformed into a massive rave, hosted by a ever changing rainbow of the Capitolite's best of society.
Tonight, Capricious King and the Belhaven family had bought the banner cascading from the ceiling. Their faces flashed over the screen, styled as the tributes' would be, with bits of trivia and some blatant lines. There was no way Dom Copperview's dog was twenty-five. Glamour sneered even as he presented his gold-backed invitation and accepted a glass of expensive champagne. He stayed only as long as strictly necessary at the podium, laughing before Capricious had even made a joke, tugging on the end of her famously long black hair.
He was relieved when she was escorted away from the podium. His bodyguard never let him get more than a few feet of space, but in the crush of bodies, it was enough. For awhile, deep in the neon-bisected night, he was anonymous. He gave up champagne for dancing, letting himself be carried away by a total stranger.
The stimulants hit him slowly, unfurling, showing him that it wasn't neon beams, but undulating waves of color that caressed the sky above. He leaned back to get a better look and found himself supported by a pillar.
No, not a pillar. His bodyguard.
He stretched to kiss the chin of his employee. It was rough with stubble. Nothing like Leon's. Leon. Through the bright haze, he found one pinpoint of light. Leon Krigel. He pushed himself upright, surprised to find that he'd ended up in a corner of the room. It was much easier to part the crowd now that he had turned his thoughts over to the night. He flowed with them, stepping to the beat, wrapping hands and arms around waists to drag himself to the center. When he arrived at the spot he deemed the center of the room, he began to a slow, tumbling circle, flinging his arms wide to give himself room.
What are you doing? no one asked.
Finding Leon, he didn't answer.
He windmilled about seven times and then came to a sudden halt. He plunged into the dark depths of the rave, the music yearning higher as he hurried on his quest. He might have happened to see Leon's bright blonde hair in the dancing lights, or perhaps he recognized how out of place a man from Four was in the crowd of Capitolites. Or maybe he really did simply know when Leon was near, because he cut a straight path to that of his lover.
Glamour shifted behind other dancers, waiting until Leon's back turned to him. Only then did he step forward, long fingers drawing along the backs of Leon's hands, his mouth falling just below his lover's ear, just in the spot that Glamour knew would drive him wild. "You taste like the ocean," he breathed into Leon's ear, only a degree louder than the pounding music.
He stilled his wandering hands before they made a spectacle of them both. Glamour gripped Leon's left hand, twirling him once before bringing them face to face for the first time in eleven months. "May I have this dance?" He asked, the smirk growing more to the left than the right.
Tonight, Capricious King and the Belhaven family had bought the banner cascading from the ceiling. Their faces flashed over the screen, styled as the tributes' would be, with bits of trivia and some blatant lines. There was no way Dom Copperview's dog was twenty-five. Glamour sneered even as he presented his gold-backed invitation and accepted a glass of expensive champagne. He stayed only as long as strictly necessary at the podium, laughing before Capricious had even made a joke, tugging on the end of her famously long black hair.
He was relieved when she was escorted away from the podium. His bodyguard never let him get more than a few feet of space, but in the crush of bodies, it was enough. For awhile, deep in the neon-bisected night, he was anonymous. He gave up champagne for dancing, letting himself be carried away by a total stranger.
The stimulants hit him slowly, unfurling, showing him that it wasn't neon beams, but undulating waves of color that caressed the sky above. He leaned back to get a better look and found himself supported by a pillar.
No, not a pillar. His bodyguard.
He stretched to kiss the chin of his employee. It was rough with stubble. Nothing like Leon's. Leon. Through the bright haze, he found one pinpoint of light. Leon Krigel. He pushed himself upright, surprised to find that he'd ended up in a corner of the room. It was much easier to part the crowd now that he had turned his thoughts over to the night. He flowed with them, stepping to the beat, wrapping hands and arms around waists to drag himself to the center. When he arrived at the spot he deemed the center of the room, he began to a slow, tumbling circle, flinging his arms wide to give himself room.
What are you doing? no one asked.
Finding Leon, he didn't answer.
He windmilled about seven times and then came to a sudden halt. He plunged into the dark depths of the rave, the music yearning higher as he hurried on his quest. He might have happened to see Leon's bright blonde hair in the dancing lights, or perhaps he recognized how out of place a man from Four was in the crowd of Capitolites. Or maybe he really did simply know when Leon was near, because he cut a straight path to that of his lover.
Glamour shifted behind other dancers, waiting until Leon's back turned to him. Only then did he step forward, long fingers drawing along the backs of Leon's hands, his mouth falling just below his lover's ear, just in the spot that Glamour knew would drive him wild. "You taste like the ocean," he breathed into Leon's ear, only a degree louder than the pounding music.
He stilled his wandering hands before they made a spectacle of them both. Glamour gripped Leon's left hand, twirling him once before bringing them face to face for the first time in eleven months. "May I have this dance?" He asked, the smirk growing more to the left than the right.
