and that's the tea -- cop & tulip blitz
Jan 9, 2021 17:51:48 GMT -5
Post by fox on Jan 9, 2021 17:51:48 GMT -5
t u l i p
Every year, ACE hosts a gala in a different theme -- like a silver spoon of honey for the flies. What's a Capitolite company without displays of gratuitous wealth and peacocking to the public? Everyone is a sycophant. They never get tired of these repetitions of flagrant fanfare.
There are exotic mutts tied up outside, tamed with a syringe, their teeth itching to bite the guests dressed up in cotton candy colours, avoxes juggling pins on fire, the ceremony hall decorated with strange, vintage, carnival paraphernalia on top of the sterile glamour of marble and polished oak. The publicity team said it was authentic, imported right out of the quaint charms of District Ten.
Actors and models and business partners melt into each other. They say things to me, I say things to them.
It's banal.
In the middle of some talk about a new film development, Copernicus materializes across the room. I’m still speaking, a waterfall of words so rehearsed I no longer need to think, just gush, a mindless, self-congratulatory meandering. I stare at him over the blue-haired head of the director. Come here.
Perhaps I consider Copernicus to be a friend -- we hate the same things.
For instance, galas.
There are exotic mutts tied up outside, tamed with a syringe, their teeth itching to bite the guests dressed up in cotton candy colours, avoxes juggling pins on fire, the ceremony hall decorated with strange, vintage, carnival paraphernalia on top of the sterile glamour of marble and polished oak. The publicity team said it was authentic, imported right out of the quaint charms of District Ten.
Actors and models and business partners melt into each other. They say things to me, I say things to them.
It's banal.
In the middle of some talk about a new film development, Copernicus materializes across the room. I’m still speaking, a waterfall of words so rehearsed I no longer need to think, just gush, a mindless, self-congratulatory meandering. I stare at him over the blue-haired head of the director. Come here.
Perhaps I consider Copernicus to be a friend -- we hate the same things.
For instance, galas.
