#elias1

Please zip, Priscilla prayed with her hands behind her back, fingers clutching the silver zipper at the base of her spine. When she consulted the mirror she didn’t yet look any different to herself, but she knew how deceptive looks could be. It felt like nothing short of a miracle when the phosphorescent dress she’d bought too soon and for too much money still looked just as flattering as it had in the shop. 

If the shape of it hugged any tighter around her stomach than it had at the offset, the dark fabric and bright glow hid it well enough that even her knowing eyes would never tell something—well, someone—now grew inside her. Priscilla tried not to think too much about that, for myriad reasons but mostly because her time to enjoy what remained of her somewhat comfortable life was running out. 

She was Cinderella, and her metaphorical midnight was fast approaching. 

Meanwhile, actual midnight struck across the island. Priscilla hurried to the party, butterfly mask concealing any uncertainty she wore on her face. 

Though she didn’t arrive late, the festivities were already in full, overwhelming swing when she entered the party, knocking back the shot of ethereum to gain entry. 

Ethereum was fine to consume when you were pregnant, right? She couldn’t imagine that her mother hadn’t taken it, and worse, when Priscilla was still in the womb, and she’d turned out... fine. She left the thought at the gate, and wandered into the mass of masks searching for, well, she wasn’t quite sure what. She’d know when she saw it though. For now she meandered, grabbed a canape and a drink (accessories, both), and much like the insect she was dressed as she simply fluttered around the edges, trying to decide where to land. A stroll around the party put her near the entrance of the second circle; she watched and learned how others gained entry. 

Dancing was a poor substitution for the thrill of aerial silk, to be high in the air above an awestruck crowd who’ve just watched you successfully perform a perfect Kamikazi, but it was the closest thing Hilda had now. Just— on the ground, no acrobatics, and more anonymous. If she downed enough vodka shots, the two blurred closer together. 

Another of which she needed, now she thought about it, after the sixth time being ‘accidentally’ danced with. Hilda pushed her way, elbows pointed viciously outwards, to the bar. Of course, she wasn’t going to buy her own drinks, not when she needed every penny she had for the ethereum that kept her sane. So far she’d not needed to turn to the synthetic stuff she’d seen kill people when she was homeless. She’d not touch the stuff. 

Turning so her back was against the bar, she surveyed the crowd. A Saturday night meant it was busy, perhaps a hardship for some, but Hilda didn’t much care who bought her a drink. As long as they didn’t know that she might even get a few out of it. Spotting someone, she pointed, and then beckoned them over. “I’ll give you three goes to guess what you’re missing right now.”

Orlaith added the bowl of crisps to the table, strategically placing it beside the dip for the optimal dipping experiencing. It only just fit, the table waylaid with other snacks— bread and cheese, popcorn, a bowl of fizzy coke bottles, halloumi chips and mozzarella sticks. A snacks only night - no dinner - was her favourite sort of night. She clambered onto the couch, beer in hand, and said, “Not monopoly. It’s so fucking boring. Battleships?”

.

The headset was strapped over Dusty’s blonde head for a final time. Once they were onto the next production, she’d be kissing the theater goodbye. The hiatus could’ve gone a week, or forever. But nothing was more clear to her now -- it was time to center herself. Three jobs and an insatiable hunger for blood made it nearly impossible. Still, her dead and unbeating heart was thrown into every building block along the Opera of the Banshee’s way. "Aaare you decent?” It was a courtesy in the theater, but she still peaked inside before receiving an answer from their lead actor. She came prepared with whatever would get their cast and crew through tonight’s opener. Dusty’s waiter-like push cart was filled with drinks, e, weed, snacks. Of course, a pint of blood was disguised for herself, too, inside of a Monster can.

“You just want water, don’t you?”

God Alexander loathed a house party. There was nothing about the concept of it which bothered him really. In fact, Alexander loved to nose about other people’s homes, found the comfort of a house party and the leniency supremely better than that of any club night out, and especially in the Theater District where the performances lead into afterparties the quality of conversation was incomparable in his opinion. 

No, what Alexander loathed about a house party—or in this case a loft party if you wanted to get technical—was that he was not allowed in. Not until welcomed in anyway. And unlike at a club, which always stocked a bouncer out front to usher any vampires in, finding the host for a personal invitation across the threshold was a humiliating nightmare and often a long endeavor at a gathering such as this. Technically Alexander had forever to wait, but he was impatient anyway and nothing could torture his soul more than being stuck outside alone whilst everyone else had fun inside. 

Tonight, it had taken twenty-three minutes, which was twenty-two minutes longer than his patience typically ran. However, all of that annoyance melted away into charm once he was inside, already soothed by the wildness of the room. It was decadent and brimming with well dressed actors and patrons of the arts. His nose pulled toward the scent of blood quite near him, and unintentionally he found himself locked in a staring contest across the room with a human. He needed someone to talk to and it would have been rude to meet eyes and do nothing, so Alexander was quick in crossing the room. “Hello,” he said through a smile. “Elias, is it not?” It was not that big of an island, and smaller still for those of unhealthy wealth. “Alexander.” He slid a hand between them and did not glance down at it to wonder if it would be taken. 

Glob must have been trying to play some sick joke on The Earl. Now Death had come for him? He wasn’t ready! He had too many things to do-- and he refused to die. “Dang globbit!!” He screamed at the skull-headed figure.

“EEAH! You shall not capture me in your dark grasp today!! MM! Go on!! Surely you have...OTHER souls to reap in this glob awful place!!”