OBSIDIAN

The bodies pushing a pulling around them was rapidly becoming far too much for Iona, the constant touch of strangers against their arms and back was overwhelming. Leave the dancing to Maeve, Brin, and their ilk––let them have the attention, in this moment Iona was done with it. An empty glass of cherry wine was dangling from their finger tips, the glass stained a light red with the dried sugary excess of the drink. It was one glass of far too many that night, leaving Iona’s cheeks warm and their mind a little bit tipsy. Indulging in alcohol was not a habit Iona had formed, but parties like this lended themselves to indulgence.

This far from the fire, Iona was surrounded by dancing shadows instead of people. It was comfortable in a way the throngs of people never would be, though it seems that Iona wasn’t as alone as they thought. Long blond hair and bright eyes moved somewhere in their periphery. They had seen her before–– perhaps in passing––but had yet to formally meet her. This made Iona’s need to speak to her all the greater, and in a choice that only could be made drunk, Iona moved towards the individual. Without caring, and with the secure knowledge that they wont be the one picking it up, they dropped the glass into the grass.

With slow and measured steps Iona made their was closer to the individual, a purposefully soft grin sliding across their face, “And here I thought I was alone out here, but I wont lie and say this isn’t a pleasant surprise.”