𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 / 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓; a buzz through the room as the music shifts from slow and classical  to something more modern, more fun. it’s a minor change in the grand scheme of things ( no one’s transitioned to the dance floor despite their approval for the tunes ) but it’s enough to pry abel out of his heavy head to sway.

he has two drinks in tow; a glass of cabernet for himself and a cocktail, already sweating, for a currently M.I.A minnie. he’s been holding it, dutifully, because she’s bound to show up, but he imagines it’s naïve to think she hasn’t found herself her own drink – or two – by now. so, he’s started to sip it, accidentally first, absently now. it tastes surprisingly good mixed with the wine and gives him enough of an illusion of being tipsy that he’s loosening. relaxing. talkative. “i love this song,” he chimes to no one in particular, though the person closest ends up reacting enough to spur him on. “i can’t believe no one is dancing to it.” he knows, of course, he could remedy the problem if he wanted, but he’s content to use the two drinks as a scapegoat for as long as he can. 

Bejo rubbed his temples as he heard the music change. Classical music, he at least recognized classical dribel. Modern music is a headache and a half. He didn’t think it was going to be worse. 

𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 a sheepish look before returning his focus to the stranger. “oh, i’m waiting on a friend,” he chuckles, “though i keep forgetting and taking a sip.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓; a buzz through the room as the music shifts from slow and classical  to something more modern, more fun. it’s a minor change in the grand scheme of things ( no one’s transitioned to the dance floor despite their approval for the tunes ) but it’s enough to pry abel out of his heavy head to sway.

he has two drinks in tow; a glass of cabernet for himself and a cocktail, already sweating, for a currently M.I.A minnie. he’s been holding it, dutifully, because she’s bound to show up, but he imagines it’s naïve to think she hasn’t found herself her own drink – or two – by now. so, he’s started to sip it, accidentally first, absently now. it tastes surprisingly good mixed with the wine and gives him enough of an illusion of being tipsy that he’s loosening. relaxing. talkative. “i love this song,” he chimes to no one in particular, though the person closest ends up reacting enough to spur him on. “i can’t believe no one is dancing to it.” he knows, of course, he could remedy the problem if he wanted, but he’s content to use the two drinks as a scapegoat for as long as he can. 

he isn’t that loose yet. // @duskstart​

   two vampires that rely on one small, blonde, chaotic firecracker of a being to c o m p l e t e their ensembles. the magnified admiration and adoration bestowed upon minnie by her creation is one that sasha does not entirely understand, if only for the reason that they had not, would not, could not, even fathom the idea of turning another being. they’d been reckless, of course. almost as reckless as minnie. but sasha draws the line at almost. 

𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 had been terrifying in a lot of ways ( most of which abel’s still parsing through now ) --- but there’s no denying its good parts. there’s no denying the instant camaraderie he’d been able to find just by being sired by minnie, and how crucial it’s been to keeping him sane in the last few weeks.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓; a buzz through the room as the music shifts from slow and classical  to something more modern, more fun. it’s a minor change in the grand scheme of things ( no one’s transitioned to the dance floor despite their approval for the tunes ) but it’s enough to pry abel out of his heavy head to sway.

he has two drinks in tow; a glass of cabernet for himself and a cocktail, already sweating, for a currently M.I.A minnie. he’s been holding it, dutifully, because she’s bound to show up, but he imagines it’s naïve to think she hasn’t found herself her own drink – or two – by now. so, he’s started to sip it, accidentally first, absently now. it tastes surprisingly good mixed with the wine and gives him enough of an illusion of being tipsy that he’s loosening. relaxing. talkative. “i love this song,” he chimes to no one in particular, though the person closest ends up reacting enough to spur him on. “i can’t believe no one is dancing to it.” he knows, of course, he could remedy the problem if he wanted, but he’s content to use the two drinks as a scapegoat for as long as he can. 

he isn’t that loose yet. // @duskstart​

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓; a buzz through the room as the music shifts from slow and classical  to something more modern, more fun. it’s a minor change in the grand scheme of things ( no one’s transitioned to the dance floor despite their approval for the tunes ) but it’s enough to pry abel out of his heavy head to sway.

he has two drinks in tow; a glass of cabernet for himself and a cocktail, already sweating, for a currently M.I.A minnie. he’s been holding it, dutifully, because she’s bound to show up, but he imagines it’s naïve to think she hasn’t found herself her own drink – or two – by now. so, he’s started to sip it, accidentally first, absently now. it tastes surprisingly good mixed with the wine and gives him enough of an illusion of being tipsy that he’s loosening. relaxing. talkative. “i love this song,” he chimes to no one in particular, though the person closest ends up reacting enough to spur him on. “i can’t believe no one is dancing to it.” he knows, of course, he could remedy the problem if he wanted, but he’s content to use the two drinks as a scapegoat for as long as he can. 

he isn’t that loose yet. // @duskstart​

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋’𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘 sits at the other end of the building —- far enough for the gala to sound more like static than the main event, even with enhanced hearing.

a refuge for those who need it. 

abel in particular finds himself there whenever minnie disappears into the crowd to socialize ( a habit growing more common with every drink ). he hardly minds it, of course; as it is now, the gala is more her scene than his and it’s nice to separate when it’s a smidge too suffocating. and with all the things about him that’ve changed lately, being surrounded by art is familiar —- safe. 

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘, 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 —- the difference a couple months can make. at one point ( not nearly long enough ago ) , there was a version of him that would have thrived at something like this.

now, abel feels utterly out of place, walking beside minnie like a fawn taking their first steps. if pressed, he’d liken the feeling to an exposed nerve - an ache that’s dull at its best and punching the air out of his lungs at its worst. and try as he might to keep it under wraps, it’s the sort of thing that bleeds through without trying. who can blame minnie for calling him to calm? “i know, i know,” he returns with a sheepish smile. “i think my brain’s just getting into ‘party mode’ still, but it’ll get there.” 

with anyone else, the warning might have caught them off guard. but abel only laughs, a genuine sound that unwinds his tense shoulders. he knows minnie well enough now not to read malice or take offense to the implication of him causing trouble. instead, he’s playing right along, a mock salute to drive it home. “you won’t have to worry about me --- scout’s honor.”