Atemu: Can you fucking let me know you're alive?

Atemu: You were wasted at the party, people died.

“I’m a sucker for the Parent Trap, like everyone else, so Dash and Savannah could be pretty cute. If anything, think about the children! The children!

Who else? Dom and Haylee. No kids involved there, and I think it’d be fun. A thousand year old emotionally stunted Original werewolf and a twenty-two year old emotionally damaged witch. What could go wrong? 

Jake’s out here throwing rocks at Ria’s window in the middle of the night on Valentine’s Day, so something’s a-brewing there and I wanna grab some popcorn. 

I’m going to say Astrid and Noah, too, just because that looks like it’s inevitable. Supposed to happen. Meant to be, some would say. 

And Chester Cole should just flirt with someone, anyone, because it seems unfair to the rest of us if he doesn’t. All that game can’t be wasted on him. It’s not like I can use it.”

“Danielle.”

“Just kidding, of course it’s Haylee, the actual light of my life and person who I trust the most in pretty much the whole world. Definitely wouldn’t say she’s flawless, but she’s certainly an angel.”

Avoiding people only works for so long, because then come the time when something as mundane as needing to use the lavatory begins to crawl up on a person and invoke the inevitable.

For fucks sake.

Into the crowd Atemu went – skipped the fucking queue. Threatened electrocution to anyone who’d argue it. In return, had a few dangerous threats thrown back with equal vigour. He was pissed off as it was, so anything with enough danger to concern Atemu probably didn’t ever need to use the bathroom anyhow; he wasn’t sure if the dead pissed, nor did he care to ask; the odds were stacked on his side on the who’s more powerful war of fists.

But he’d believe that even if he weren’t. And really, if Valdana wasn’t within some kind of eye range to warn him off bringing the sky down on the roof of the theatre, he might have lost his temper and blown a gasket already.

The sorcerer almost slipped back undetected and scored a pointer when not dragged into some pointless conversation as he left the washroom, shoved his way towards the rear aisle only to find himself double glancing at a head of hair – automated, like his brain locked onto a target that needed his entire body twisting to address the woman. One of the few who in the back of his mind he’d attended purely to be witness ( and executioner ) to any and all carnage that joined the bracket of inevitabilities that he’d chalked the night down to.

Haylee. Alive. Great.

Fucking move past, job accomplished. Not damn dead. Should have kept walking after that. But he didn’t, instead  –  best, how the fuck are you Elmasry could muster came out as:

SERIES [1/?] / A.ELMASRY & H.DUBOIS. 

You and I, Pvris.

We can meet in the middle,  bodies and souls collide,  dance in the moonlight,  where all the stars align. 

Atemu: Orange or Yellow?