Serial Lover

Niyah exited the stage to the sounds of whistles, hoots, and praises instead of the usual light applause or silence. Even though it didn’t quench her thirst for fame or attention, it still felt validating to know she had a bangin’ bod. A shot was necessary if she wanted to finish with at least $400 this evening. She could only smile for so long before her cheeks hurt and she wasn’t about to have wrinkles in her 40′s. 

Niyah bent over with a teasing smile to grab one last dead president from a regular in the back room. Someone familiar entered the club at that moment, a face she had seen many times but had never bothered to learn the name of. Ni wasn’t about to out herself to this non-stranger stranger. How could they not know who she is? It would simply be impossible to forget a face like hers. The dancer had half a mind to walk right up and get the unpleasantness out of the way but at this point, there was only a reason to go up if they requested. It was time to hit the bar.

The flatterer walked up to the bar and leaned over sensually, maintaining prolonged eye contact with the stranger.

***

“No chance in hell. And you can trust that, given the whole… Persephone thing,” Isa reassured, keeping Niyah’s arm in hers even as they began to near the wall she’d stressed the existence of.

The party had been going for a good while, and yet there hadn’t been any disaster or destruction. And people were actually finding their light and realizing their good sides. She was pretty sure the photographer was even teaching people about angles. Maybe they’d all make it through the night with only good things (and specifically good photos) to show.

Sadly, that also meant that there was a line. And while Isa could give Niyah the VIP treatment… it was lonely at the top. Isa’d only been able to have a couple of superficial convos with acquaintances and enemies, most of which had come with partners, friends, etc. She was a little desperate for a normal conversation and the wait time was a great excuse.

“I didn’t realize when I chose the costume, but it’s sort of fitting.” The thought may have seemed to be out of nowhere, but it wasn’t. She was simply continuing her earlier remarks. “I mean, given that Gravewood is essentially hell on Earth for most of the people here, and yet I’m working to make it better. Who needs a Hades anyway, right?”

.

Aniyah’s eyes scanned the people in front of her as they parted in both directions for the ladies as if one of them were Moses and the other was Moses’ hot friend. If Niyah was born in biblical times, she definitely would have tried to get with that guy. Anything for a little much deserved notoriety. She sort of hoped everybody behind them would (literally and figuratively) follow them or drown. 

Of course, Aniyah knew she would probably be on the second slide of whatever Instagram post Isa put out but that was good enough to buy her at least 30 followers. For some reason, Ni was never afraid of or threatened by Isadora. They were both about the same end goal which was money, money, and more money with a small side of fame. She knew she looked great and hoped that the man hired would know how to light both of them in the same photo. 

“I hear you. This town could use a Starbucks or a Lulu Lemon. Wish I didn’t have to run my ass out to Charleston just for a pair of acceptable leggings. Just remember to pull me up with you for PR.”

Isa was of the firm belief that costumes thus far at her party had been mixed-positive. Effort had certainly been made by a good number of people, of course, but no one had put in the effort of hiring a designer to specifically bring their vision to life. There had mostly been refurbished formal dresses - beautiful new takes on silhouettes from prom. Or sheets. Or… jeans (tragic).

Enter: Niyah Williams to up the ante.

“Holy shit. Stunning,” Isa stressed immediately, approaching the girl to personally give her approval. They were friends. She’d know that she really meant it.

“I do hate to be eclipsed at my own party, but I suppose it was inevitable. Can I just steal you for a sec?” she continued only once she’d linked Niyah’s arm in hers. She didn’t even really wait for an answer before she began to lead her away.

“There’s an Instagram wall and a professional photographer who came highly recommended. The hashtag for the party is #Isaween, but something tells me you’re one of the only people who would know how to use it for its intended purpose.”

@niyahwilliams·

Aniyah stomped into the room, surveying it above the the masses as the stairs cascaded before her. Best dressed, as always. She could pick a few people she knew in the crowd but it wasn’t anybody actually worth talking to. Niyah would be caught dead before she would end up in some hand-me-down store-bought instagram photo. Her wrists had been sprayed with Miss Dior’s Blooming Bouquet and her freckles sparkled in the glimpses of light that came her way. It was a shame nobody had an instrument to give her a fanfare. 

To her right, a friendly face came from seemingly out of the blue. Niyah, having already smoked a little bit of a blunt - was excited to see her friend but unable to express it in an effervescent way. 

in the land of gods and monsters ~ pheme - goddess of fame and infamy