primadonna

“What, you’re more interested in the wholeeee… equality, fraternity thing? You want a leader who cares about you?” He pursed his lips, but nodded. “They’re few and far between, i’m afraid.” 

He felt a little bit lighter in his steps due to the conversation, and the passing of old familiar spots. The walk back to the Domus was as natural as breathing, still muscle memory. As they neared the building he slowed, taking it in with fond eyes. “Sometimes people just don’t get along, I guess. How would you want her to go about things, if you could pick?” He asked, gesturing her forward as he did. 

When they reach the door, he leans against the clean white wall beside it, waiting for her to unlock her key and let him inside. 

“Cares about me in so many words.” Imogen shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t need Emily to hold my hand and help me cross the street.” She laughed, the thought of Emily helping her with anything at all made her want to laugh even harder. There was nothing she found impressive about the queen. Sure, she was great at speaking like she knew all the answers in the universe, and her holier than thou mannerisms did nothing for Imogen. 

“It’s about loyalty, you know. I look at the Gravemakers, and I talk to Beaux and I think, you know, they’ve all got each other’s backs over there.” Imogen shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not longing to be a part of their club or anything like that. It’s just, I would prefer Pax to have a little bit more loyalty. If I called Emily with a dead body, she’d never help me bury it.” 

Imogen was quick to catch herself, she groomed herself into a higher individual, more proper. She wasn’t the kind of girl to speak about murder. “Well, obviously, not that exactly, but if something like that were to happen. I find myself questioning if anyone would really have my back.” 

Imogen quickly unlocked the front door, turning her key and pushing it open. “Welcome back.” 

     “A lot of people deserve a lot of things, I guess.” She says, with a shrug of her shoulder. Marcus had tried to take so much from her. She didn’t regret that he was dead. She just regretted that he was back.

A wry smile slips on. “I’ll give all of them a chance when they give us a chance. For now, I’ll just strategically stick to the few sane people.” 

It warms her, the confession. Her demeanour softens an extra amount, a glimpse at the calm and comfort she feels around her gravemakers. “Thats…nice of you.” She says, reaching out to squeeze Imogen’s hand. “I appreciate that.” 

Imogen saw a lot of herself in the past of Beaux. She was a party girl now, always finding some way to get a drink and a guy (or girl) to flirt with. This hadn’t been what she had gone to school for but somehow she had gotten caught up in the partying life. Before college she had never even been to a party. But now there she was, finding herself a new party every night. She spent her days focusing on her dreams, but her nights were spent drunk making make decisions. Imogen couldn’t imagine Beaux ever acting that way. She was so put together. 

“Well I’m sorry, for whatever he did to you.” Imogen was good at reading people and she could see in Beaux’s eyes that something truly awful had happened to her because of Marcus. 

“Sounds like a good plan, though I don’t think many of them would willingly give you a chance. To be honest I think they’re afraid of you.” 

Imogen smiles, putting her hands into her pockets. “It’s not a problem, I know you would do the same for me.” 

But then again. He was filthy rich. Nearly every door was open to him anyway. “It’s rare.” He muses. “For a Pax President to ever really live up to the hype. You have to have a certain touch for things and some people lack it.” A knowing look. “Some people go a little mad on the power. I saw one or two of those in my time.” 

He’d loved his President in his first year. Tolerated the emperor of his second. By third year, Logan was done dealing with anything sub-par. “It gets better once you get your claws in.” He says it lightly, almost bored by it. “That’s the thing about Pax. Everyone wants to be King or Queen. No one is really happy until they get to the top.” His eyes fix on her, calculating. “You want to be on top, that’s why you’re so disappointed.” 

“I suppose so,” Imogen said. She wasn’t sure if it was her own high expectations or the true disappointment of the people around her. Surely they could be doing better, right? There were so many people in this school and to think that the people of Pax Aurea were of the highest tier, was almost depressing. If these were the best of the best, why didn’t they act as such? Imogen knew what she wanted. Fame, fortune, her own name in lights. She knew what she had to do to get there. Pax Aurea was the way, with it’s glimmering lights and champagne glasses, she could climb her way to the top. But was it worth it? Without the loyalty? What was the point? 

Imogen had always held her own future above that of others, but maybe it was time to let that go. Loyalty was important to her, sure, she always had people she would die for. But was it more important than her own goals? “That’s the vibe I get from Emily. I mean, I don’t really know her that well so I can’t really attest to what she’s like. But I feel like she rules, just to rule.” 

The problem wasn’t with Emily’s power. “I feel like if I went to Emily with a problem, she wouldn’t be quick to help me with it,” Imogen said. “I don’t know, I’d love to be on top, but I don’t know if that’s the reason I dislike Emily.” 

She hated being forced into this role, severity didn’t suit her at all. It made her think back to her mother, made her skin crawl. But stupidity had a way of coaxing seriousness out of her against her will and this pathetic display was more than enough to infuriate her. She wasn’t exactly the poster child for all that is proper, she was no fucking lady but even she knew when to shut the hell up. 

“I’m someone you don’t want to fuck with anymore than you already have. My patience isn’t limitless, princess.” She continued, without moving from where she stood, stance a little more tense than it had been before the girl approached her. She wanted to scoff at the other’s posturing. 

“I may be a little drunk, and a loud mouth, but I’m certainly not a mess.” Imogen crossed her arms over a chest, “I’m sorry, but I don’t care about being a decent human being to someone who was clearly a piece of shit while he was still alive. I don’t know if you’ve spoken to anyone here, but no one is sad that he’s gone.” Imogen thought about Beaux while she spat he words at Nat. “But you defend him, go right ahead. I’m sure his family will bow at your feet and bring you flowers for being the only one who cares about their dead son.” Imogen said with a shrug of her shoulders. 

There was drunk, and then there was what Imogen was. She had drank the contents of her flask, but her tolerance was high and her mind was clear. She knew what she was doing. “Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but some people deserve what they get, even if it’s murder.” 

Imogen stood tall with her arms crossed over her chest. She wore tight dark jeans and heels that made her taller than she ever would be without them. She was the definition of put together. Her makeup was perfect on her face and there wasn’t a hair out of place on her head. “I don’t give a fuck about your patience. Maybe you shouldn’t get yourself into situations that you can’t handle.” 

  She didn’t like her, not even close, but she also didn’t…. hate her. Instead, Wesley watched her in passing occasionally, head tilted to the side, wondering what the hell was up with her. Depending on the hour, you could get the life of the party, or a pretty sweetheart. Yet, Wes couldn’t even quite tell which was fake, and which was real.

  Maybe Imogen really was just that much of a damn train wreck, Wesley often decided. But it was interesting, and at times - appealing, and now Wes blinked at her words.

 Was she actually talking to Wesley Ryan? Ever since finding Marcus, everyone had acted even more strange around her, like she’d been some victim of the ordeal herself, and she hated it. Imogen’s words were…. shockingly refreshing. 

  But suspicious, too. No one asked Wes to go places. No one just approached Wes - well, Marcus had, but…. 

  “We have to leave to drink?” Wesley answered carefully, still unsure of Imogen’s intentions, still unsure if she’d actually meant to come to Wesley of all people. “Funny how the dead still make your life a pain in the goddamn ass, right? I was smart - I started the alcohol before arriving. It’s too damn cold and pathetic to be sober. Here -” Wes held out the very poorly disguised Voss water bottle, full of an alcohol mixture in the plastic container. “Bottoms up, bitch.”

Consistently, Imogen got to a point in her life where she began to get sick of everyone around her. This was that point. No one was worth her time, everyone she spoke to bored her half to death. Though Wesley had always been someone she took an interest in. If she didn’t like her, she would at least find some way to use her down the road. She seemed to have enough talent, at least in the department of being a smart ass. That could be useful, right? 

Imogen held her flask in her hand, letting it dangle slightly as it was unfortunately empty. She never brought enough alcohol, but hiding more than one flask on her body seemed like too much work. Maybe she was brimming on alcoholic tendencies, but there was something in her veins that told her she wasn’t drunk enough. Was there ever an enough? Would she ever been drunk enough, or would that always come with being blacked out under a table? She was used to that too. Parties, they always kept her coming back for more. Imogen had always been pressed on perfection, and she’d be damned if she were to give up. But every now and then, she just needed something to take the edge off. 

“No, we don’t. I’m just sick of seeing people.” Imogen said blatantly, “None of these people care about each other. It’s laughable.” Imogen was the same way. She hadn’t come to mourn the dead, she had come to make connections with new people. And to support her friends, some of which, hadn’t needed any support. So by the end of the night she had just wandered around waiting for something to happen. 

She took the water bottle from Wesley and offered her a smile. The two hadn’t talked much in the past but Imogen had always acknowledged her existence, thinking, I’ll save this one for later. Imogen took a long drink from the bottle before handing it back. “You know, you’re alright.” 

The smile narrows down to a thin press of lips. The eternal question. “Yeah. I guess. Not well. Not as good as we know each other, so that’ll tell you.” A small swallow, almost imperceptible in the dark. “This might be a surprise, but I was pretty into the whole frat party lifestyle back when i was a Freshman. Party girl Beaux –” The words are accompanied by a self-depricating peace sign. “– not my proudest year. We were at a lot of the same parties.” And then, quick. “But everybody was, back then.” A hitch. “He was…awful. I don’t think you could even comprehend. Think of the worst guy you know and ramp him up to eleven.” 

She scuffs the toe of her shoe against the cobbles, shakes her head and slips the smile back on. “Is it totally bitchy if I say thank god. I cannot deal with your posse today.” She nudges Imogen slightly with her elbow. “Even with as great as a couple of you can be.” 

Her eyebrow shoots up, accompanied by a surprised chuckle. She wets her lips, surprised by the fact that her cheeks have that slight smiling ache in them, even with the strained nature most of them have held. She takes the flask, savouring the sip she takes of it. A playful snort escapes as she hands it back. “Homecoming queen. God. You are so much fun.” Another careful arch of her brow. “You here to use me for my talents later?” 

A party girl? Imogen never would have pegged Beaux for a party girl. But she wasn’t one to judge others for their pasts. “Everyone goes through some kind of rough patch, everyone has something that they look back on and regret.” Imogen offered, trying to make Beaux feel more comfortable talking to her. They hadn’t spoken much and she wanted to make sure Beaux was okay. After all, she did seem fairly off kilter about the whole situation. Imogen wasn’t going to let her be along at this point. She knew that Beaux would do the same for her. 

“I’ve met my fair share of terrible guys. There are terrible guys who send dick picks and then there are terrible guys who do terrible things to good people.” Imogen cringed slightly at her own words. She took a sip from her flask. “Sounds like he deserved it. If he’s an eleven, sounds like he deserves what he got.” 

She wasn’t the kind of person to wish death on others, but there was something about this guy, the things that she had heard about him, made her wish she had been the one who killed him. Seeing a bad person go down in flames, now that would something she would enjoy. Imogen shook the thoughts from her head, convinced they were brought on by the booze and her own overactive imagination. 

“I get it. Some of them can be borderline intolerable sometimes. But they’re good, if you get to know them. If you can get past their tough Gravemaker-hating exteriors.” Imogen smiled, she loved Pax, but their learned hatred for anything not beautiful, it pissed her off sometimes. 

“No, not here for your talents. At least not this time. I just thought you could use a friend.” 

     “That’s what I like to hear.” He mused, pleased. He liked above all to know everything that was going on. Back when he’d gone here, he’d been the king of gossip. It was fun, knowing everything about everyone, discussing it to death sometimes, and being the story on everybody else’s lips. He still was, in New York, but nothing could beat petty teenage drama. This would satisfy a craving he’d had for years. 

     “Lets take this slow.” He murmured. The Gravemaker comment didn’t surprise him. He’d already guessed that their little peace treaty might be rocky sailing with him and Nathan gone. Age old feuds didn’t fade away easy, and people loved hating each other. They loved the drama of it, loved that it gave them a reason to feel superior. A soft hum. “Hating them is petty.” He agreed. “Most of them are, I shudder to admit it, just as cool as we are.” 

     “Just — tell me about Pax now. What’s it like? How’re the people? You don’t like the way Emily leads, why?” 

Imogen was not one to betray people. If Emily had shown her more than condescending distaste during their first encounter, maybe she wouldn’t be badmouthing her to the previous president. But since it hadn’t gone according to plan, there she was, taking shit like she was the queen of spreading rumors. Imogen had a lot to learn, and there were things she probably could learn from Emily. However, she didn’t care to follow someone who didn’t see her potential. Imogen had potential, and she’d be damned if she were held back by someone like Emily, someone who already had it all. 

“I may be a bitch, but I don’t hate people without good reason. I’m not going to hate anyone simply because they’re on the other side of the tracks, you know?” Imogen found a lot of the Gravemakers to be incredibly intriguing. There was Laura, who she had made friends with right away. And Silva, who, while Imogen hated to speak to, was fond of in a different way. Admiration maybe? And then Beaux, and if Imogen were being honest, Beaux was someone she had looked up to from day one. 

“I agree, they have some alright people over there, not that I would ever tell them that. But, everything so far has been alright. Pax is okay. Initiation was good and all. It’s just, not everything I expected, I suppose. Emily especially, I expected more.” 

Whatever her name was she clearly couldn’t hold her liquor and Nat suspected she had drunk to excess just by the way her words slurred and she seemed unsteady on her feet. Somehow thought any compassion or protectiveness she might have felt got overpowered by an overwhelming feeling of disdain instead. Talking shit about the dead was pretty low but talking shit about one of your fellow pledges, dead or alive was on another level of stupid and fucked up.

“Wasn’t Abernathy one of yours? I mean I guess I always knew you Pax Aureans to have an alternative definition of the word loyalty but damn. I don’t suppose you told him this shit while he was alive though. If you need liquor to speak up you’re probably not much for honesty, huh?” She said looking over at the girl, only to raise her own bottle of beer as if to toast.

Imogen kept her life together excellently. While some might see her as a hot mess, she was more than that. She was a girl who knew what she wanted, for the most part. She spend her days meeting new people, getting her own name out there. It wasn’t her fault that the nights came with alcohol. There was only so much she could do, being perfect, it was hard work. Sometimes it took a toll on her. More often than not, she turned to a few shots. That made her feel better about herself. It lifted the pressure off her shoulders. 

“I don’t know, probably.” Imogen laughed under her breath. She didn’t care for those who didn’t care for her. She was all about loyalty. If someone didn’t show respect to her, she wouldn’t be showing any back. Marcus was someone she hadn’t met and therefore, he held no stake on her scale. 

“I’m sorry. Do I look like the kind of person that needs liquor to speak my mind?” Imogen crossed her arms over her chest. “Who the fuck are you?” 

She gives Imogen another glance, lips in a thin smile. Imogen didn’t look like she was here to pretend to be sad, and that set Beaux at ease. It was better than all the other people around her pretending they were actually sorry that Marcus was gone, as if he hadn’t been one of the worst people they had ever known. Most of them had never even met him, had never been forced to suffer his company, had never been hurt by him. 

     “Let me guess. Your crowd are out en masse? A fun group outing if there ever was one.” Her tone is light, but the evening is still weighing heavy on her. Its hard to be her usual self when she’s half scared and half paranoid. “But you don’t seem the type. Tell me you have some kind of ulterior motive. I’ll respect you more if you do.” She meant it, too. She would rather know that Imogen was here for some reason that differed from everybody else’s. Imogen always had that way about her, she never did anything that didn’t work toward her own personal gain. Beaux liked that about her, liked that Imogen knew what she wanted and was always working toward getting it. 

“You worried something’s going to happen tonight?” Imogen raised an eyebrow at Beaux. Imogen held a strong connection to Beaux, she was unsure of what it was or why it was there, but there was something between the two of them. An unspoken loyalty maybe. Imogen would trust anything to come out of Beaux’s mouth. She was a follower, but not in the same sense the Gravemakers were. But if Beaux was worried, Imogen knew something was really wrong. “Did you know Marcus well?” Imogen asked, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to overstep, I know I don’t know you that well. You just seem off I guess. I’m here for you if you need anything, even if it’s just a drink.” 

While Imogen had originally attended to make small talk with strangers, introduce herself and get a few new people in her front pocket, she was now glad she came for another reason. Friends or not, Imogen cared about Beaux’s well-being. Before anything else Imogen cared for the people in her life. Beaux was now one of those people. 

“I don’t know where they are, actually. I came alone,” Imogen said, she looked around through the crowd of people. She spotted a few Pax Aurea members here and there but not many. And not anyone she felt like talking to. 

Imogen drew her flask and took a sip of it, offering it over to Beaux. Pax Aurea knew of Imogen as a proper girl, not the drunk she slowly became at night. But she didn’t care, let them know. She found no shame in her ability to have fun. That as something a lot of them severely lacked. “I came to make connections. Meet people, y’know? Act like a homecoming queen.” She laughed. A queen with an ulterior motive. “So I can use them for their talents later.” 

His eyebrow arched again as she continued. Honest. A surprised and interested smile formed over his lips, brow arching again. “Well, well, well. Colour me intrigued.” It seemed that his fears were proving correct. This little mini-Pax didn’t support her president. He did so hate when things like this happened. Emily was going to be in danger if she wasn’t careful. People like Imogen were how Logan had become president in the first place, though Emily wouldn’t remember that. He had disliked his president when he was a third year, and the man hadn’t lasted long once Logan decided he should be ousted. That was how Logan had become one of the glorious few to hold a presidential term for longer than a year. 

His eyes lit up at the keys, and he relaxed his shoulders, taking on a comfortably graceful posture. “Tell you what, you can tell me all about it on the walk there. I need to be caught up so I can know what to be imperiously disappointed about.” A wicked smile forms. “Its a fun little game, I’ll show you. Nothing throws someone off more than you knowing all their mistakes before they can pretend like they haven’t made them.” 

He inclined his head for her to move forward through the crowd. “So, lead on, Macduff.” 

Imogen didn’t regret speaking her mind. She didn’t care if her words made their way back to Emily. What would Emily really do about it? Confront her? Kick her out? That wouldn’t change anything. Imogen could easily find a home elsewhere. While she was intrigued by the idea of Pax Aurea, she wasn’t completely attached. She was fascinated with the idea of loyalty, and she had always been one to pledge herself to those who would do the same for her. Though thus far, it didn’t seem like anyone would be willing to jump off a bridge for her. So, Imogen refused to let herself get attached. She wouldn’t fall in love with Pax Aurea knowing full well that she might not stick around for the long haul. 

She found her loyalties elsewhere, in people like Beaux. While she hadn’t joined the Gravemakers, she had taken great interest in Beaux. Imogen would be loyal to Beaux. Imogen wasn’t in the market of hating the Gravemakers. Imogen didn’t hold irrational hatreds over the heads of others. She would be friends with who she wanted to be friends with and Pax Aurea was just going to have to deal with that. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated on everything.” Imogen loved to gossip, especially about herself. The best way to get your name out there? A really good rumor. One that will leave people guessing, wanting to know more. Besides, they’ll never think you started it yourself. 

It was strange talking to someone she had never met before about her distaste in Emily. It wasn’t something she minded, it just offered a strange feeling. Like maybe she shouldn’t have been doing it. Though Imogen didn’t believe in mistakes. The two began walking towards the Domus Aurea and Imogen turned her head slightly to look at Logan. “So, what would you like to know? I’ve just recently started here so I don’t know much. Though I can tell you for sure I’m not fond of Emily. Her hatred for the Gravemakers seems silly.” 

"Come on, I want to get out of here. I don’t care about these people.” Imogen’s voice was laced with regret and the scent of alcohol. During the day Imogen was a proper girl with an attitude. A bitch, some would even say. She took the world by storm and didn’t let anyone see her ugly side. In the eyes of the world in the daylight, she was a princess, a good girl but still not someone to be reckoned with. 

With the setting of the sun her personality flipped, she broke out the alcohol. It had been slipped into a flask under her dress, clung tightly to her inner thigh. She wasn’t ashamed of the person she had become. Beaten down after so many years of being perfect. It takes a toll on you, perfection. Always meeting everyone’s standards, all the time. Not being allowed to slip up? It really takes a toll. 

Maybe that was why she started drinking. Maybe that was why one drink turned into seven and a strong girl clad in gold turned into mascara running down soft cheeks. At first she hadn’t wanted people to see her this way. In high school she hid behind buildings and in the corners of parties. She didn’t want people to see her flaws. It was something she had grown out of quickly. Now she put them on display. To surprise, people liked her more, the fun Imogen, the one who let loose. It attracted attention that she would have never met before. More people to add to her collection. More people to call upon when needed. Connections, that was all she wanted. 

“No one’s even sad this kid’s fucking dead, the least we can do is get drunk in the honor of the people who had to put up with his shit.” 

     “Ah, so my reputation precedes me.” A hand stuck out for her to shake. “Yes. Logan Ainsley, The Magnificent. But Logan will do fine.” Another look up and down. So this was what the next generation looked like. She couldn’t be more than a first or second year, and yet he sensed an imperiousness in her that rivalled many others. He’d been the same, when he was around her age. 

     “Don’t worry. I shan’t make you take me to your leader. You’ll do just fine, I think.” He encompassed her with a flourishing hand gesture. “You’re leaving? I can’t stand to be here for more time than I need to. I don’t do…fake mourning. Its uncouth and frankly below my standards, not worth my time. Teenage theatrics bore me now. I was just looking for somebody to let me into the Domus. Which… I assume you can do? My little not-a-stalker?” 

“That it does.” Imogen nodded in response. She was grateful to have run into him. He was everything that she wanted to be. The former president of Pax Aurea and a successful lawyer, following in his footsteps would be easy if she could get herself under his wing, maybe learn a thing or two. If she could find a way to dethrone Emily, Pax Aurea would become a lot more tolerable. It wasn’t that she hated it there, but there were thick cracks in the foundation, it was faulty. 

“My leader.” Imogen wanted to laugh, “She may be president but I don’t follow her. I respect her efforts, but her attempts to control me have fallen short so far.” Imogen wasn’t hard to control. She liked to wander off and make her own plans. Emily hadn’t tried to reign her in and she was thankful for that. But there was a part of her that knew Emily was no match for her. Imogen had been a quick thinker her entire life. She always knew the next step in the plan, the way to get ahead. 

“Oh I don’t give a fuck about whoever this Marcus guy is.” Imogen shook her head, “Haven’t heard great things about him, I’m not here to mourn, or fake mourn. Only to show support to my friends.” Imogen was not the kind of person to let others go through things alone. When she cared about someone, she really cared. There was no half-assing it. Imogen pulled out her keys. “That, I can do.”