carpe another fucking diem

Mari pulled out another mug from the cupboard she stocked with earlier. “Yeah,” she commented, “I’ve had this for a couple years. Probably the most faithful relationship I’ve had in - ever.” It wasn’t like Mari did relationships anyway. They were too messy and while she liked her limbs getting all tangled up, she didn’t care much for the emotional attachment that came with it. She handed Vince the steaming cup of coffee and leaned herself on the kitchen counter. 

“Seven AMs are a normal thing for me,” she said, amusement lifting her tone. Ever since her little accident, she’d made the drastic shift to be a morning person (in addition to being a night owl). Mari would usually be awake for twenty hours a day so she ran on caffeine and willpower. “But don’t worry,” she said over the rim of her mug. “I’m not usually moving furniture or vacuuming at this time in the morning so it’ll be quiet.” 

After a few sips, she decided coffee wouldn’t cut it so she pulled out a granola bar. She also slid one Vince’s way. It’ll be better if they get along seeing as they’d be sharing the same space. “Are you looking forward to the new semester?” she found herself asking. While her junior year load seemed light enough, her extracurriculars would keep her well into the night. She didn’t know if she was excited for or dreading the fact. “I hear the university has a lot in store these next couple weeks.”

Vince decided that this was good. For some reason it was easy for him to talk to Mari. And it was never easy for him to talk to anyone. He would pretend that it was because he didn’t like people, but deep down he knew it was something else. Vince just seemed unable to form connections that went beyond acquaintanceship. He would also pretend that he didn’t mind it, but again he knew somewhere in his heart that it wasn’t true. He swallowed his thoughts with his coffee.

“I would appreciate that,” he chuckled kindly, in a manner that suggested he didn’t much care what else she did in their shared rooms as long as it didn’t disturb his sleep. He wasn’t the kind of person to tell another what to do.

He accepted the granola bar in lieu of a thank you and leaned further back against the couch to stretch his back a little. Seven AM really didn’t suit him. “I am,” he told her. “Gets me closer to the end.” He took another sip of his coffee before putting it down to unwrap the granola bar he’d been given. “I think the University not as much as a certain society,” Vince mused, the night of the initiation still alive in his mind. “What do you think?”

| starter for: @vincemurray​ |

It was nice and peaceful and probably Eleanor’s favorite place on campus since the first day she found it. She wasn’t supposed to be there, but as long as no one found out then she was fine. Sneaking through one of the fire exits and praying the fire alarm wouldn’t go off wasn’t a bad idea after all, especially with the view it gave her. She was wearing jeans a t shirt, her boots damp from the Manchester weather. Sometimes she wished she lived in a drier part of the world but this is where life had brought her, at least by her own doing. It was one of the few decisions in her life she had absolutely responsibility over. Everything else had seemed to just… Happen. 

She had a joint between her fingers, it had burned off and she let it. Eleanor was a little high, just enough to take the edge off whatever that initiation thing with Lethe House had been. What the fuck she had gotten herself into, she didn’t know but, she was going with it because otherwise what else did she have going on for her? Maybe being part of that dumb society would cause her nothing but trouble– considering they know a family secret that could destroy everything she’s ever known. As much rebellion as Eleanor likes to partake in, ripping apart her family and facing the thought of her parents separating is a change she simply does not want to even face. 

Being alone gave her a chance to be still and be quiet. She was so full on all the time sometimes she even exhausted herself. 

Vince liked to get away. As he was sure most people did, he too found himself secret hideaways throughout the school to be alone, to clear his head, or to get his head cleared. He was never too obvious about it. He always made sure no one saw him when he climbed the fire stairs. The maintenance guy was the only one who had ever seen him, but Vince had made him a friend in his first year and that was no longer a problem. For a long time, he’d been his only friend. Strange how all was about to change, or had already changed without his knowing. In any case, he decided things could be worse.

He spotted her figure when it was too late to turn around and pretend he hadn’t seen her at all. Vince recognised her face. She’d been at the mixer. And she’d come here obviously for the same reason he had, perhaps even with the same burdens on her mind. “Sorry,” he said as not to startle her. “Didn’t think anyone was up there.” That was because no one ever was. He held up his joint to show her that he had the same intention.

“Mind if I sit?” He would go elsewhere, and tomorrow he probably would, but it was too late tonight to find a hideaway to smoke. He wasn’t in the mood to vacate his favourite spot either.

Her mother has always insisted on keeping a multitool on her person, just in case she ever needed it. Nadine had thought it foolish, but tonight she’s finding herself grateful for it. The less she has to steal, the better. She drops the tool back in her bag and clasps it shut, following Vince towards the door. As they walk towards campus they stick out in their fine attire. Maybe that’s one of the reasons Lethe insisted they wear it. 

Nadine is quiet for a few moments while she considers his question. Her heels click softly on the ground, in rhythm with the taps from his shoes. By the time she’s finally ready to answer, they’re at the student garage. Nadine is a terrible driver, so she doesn’t have a car here so even if she wanted too, she couldn’t steal her own plates. “I have to take a plate.” Her voice is soft. Another secret for Vince to add. 

She wants to say that she doesn’t know why, but that would be a lie. The only memorable experience she has with a car is that night. However, Nadine can’t help but wonder if maybe it’s all just a coincidence. Maybe they chose her to do this on a whim just to test her loyalty with petty crime. “What do you need to do?” She changes the subject quickly, glancing over at him before she opens up the door to the first floor. The garage is notorious for not having cameras in it; truly and oversight on the part of the university.  

There aren’t many cars here, given that the semester hasn’t properly started yet. Nadine pauses, looking for the closest one before she starts to head towards it. She stops once she’s there, pulling out the multitool and just holding it in her hand. “This… It’s not crazy to go through with this, right?” 

Vince knew the blind spots. In his lesser proud years, he had developed a sixth sense for security cameras and a talent of keeping himself in their periphery. Although he didn’t know where they were going and why, he unintentionally exerted said talent by steering them a foot to the left here, two to the right there, until they arrived at one of the lower levels of the garage.

He felt almost at ease, loitering in garages like in the old days, if it wasn’t for her question. He looked down as they walked to keep his face hidden from surveillance, a natural response at this point, and to avoid Nadine’s eyes. “We need to go to the auditorium when we’re done here,” he said simply. Vince knew he would need to tell her more. The auditorium was an awfully large room. By himself it would take hours to find what he needed. “I have to find a newspaper clipping.”

There was the chance that he would find what he needed to find first. Vince imagined his brother’s obituary would call to him like a siren. Strange, though, that he worried more about Nadine seeing it than the fact that Lethe had done some digging into his past, that someone had sifted through the archives to find Nate’s obituary, printed and cut it out for him to find. Sick, really, and he realised that perhaps there was more to her stealing a plate than met the eye. A shiver ran up his spine.

They stopped in front of a car. He hovered just behind her, placing himself in between her and the cameras. There was nothing extraordinary about the vehicle in front of them. A modest model. A plain colour. The sort of car he could see his father driving. Vince watched her take out the multitool. It seemed rather impersonal in comparison. A plate was easily stolen. The whole car was easily stolen. “Any plate? Or this one in particular?”

“Clear about attendance and very little else. I suppose they assumed by telling us nothing our curiosity would drive us here.”

Eloisa knew if that was the Society’s plan, it certainly worked for them. They had to understand why this society gathered these students and more importantly, why.

Eloisa glanced at the man. He certainly didn’t look curious. He looked, maybe tired?

“At least, curiousity is what brought me here. What brought you?

“Well, you know what they say about curiosity,” Vince said lamely. Everything about the mixer felt a little odd to him. Perhaps it was because he could not understand why he was asked to attend, out of all people at Bonavich there were a hundred more suited than him.

Curiosity was a good enough reason to be here, and perhaps it was part of what drove him here tonight too. More importantly, however, “The prospect of free food.” Although only champagne was served so far, Vince didn’t complain. He was humble, after all.

“I suppose this night will move on in all the ways we do not expect. I reckon we will see soon enough.”

Moving in day - August 10 - @vincemurray​ 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got up from her newly made bed. She’d been “moving in” since 6 in the morning. Nobody knew the ass crack of dawn like Mari. She’d been vacuuming, wiping, and arranging things both in her room and in the little common room she’d be sharing with her new roommate. Deciding it was time to get up, she stepped out of her room. 

Mid-stretch she noticed someone else was in the room. Squinting from her still-sleepy haze, she realized it was someone she knew - met briefly anyway. “Vince?” she said, an eyebrow arched. She never really checked who her roommate would be so this came as a bit of a shock. “Hi. I guess we’re roommates now.” She actually found herself enjoying the conversation they had at the mixer so she maybe this dynamic could work. “Do you want any coffee?” she said, making her way to the Keurig she brought with her. “Feel free to use this, by the way. Everyone deserves a good steaming cup of coffee in the morning.”

It was six when Vince looked at the clock for the first time. He’d awoken to the sound of a vacuum in the next room. He stirred awake again at six-thirty, then to the sound of furniture being dragged across the hardwood floor. He turned a few times in his bed, then at seven decided that sleep was no longer an option. He rubbed his eyes as he stepped out into the common room, finding it in a slightly different state than the night before.

He wasn’t surprised to see her. Of course Vince had checked with whom he was to share rooms. The idea of sharing at all didn’t sit well with him, but he’d felt admittedly relieved when he learned that it was her. Vince hadn’t disliked her at the mixer, had even somewhat enjoyed their conversation. “Mari,” he said in lieu of a ‘good morning’. “Seems like we are.” He stepped further into the room and tried to see just what had changed since last night.

He leaned against the back of the sofa which faced a different direction than it had before. Vince decided the rearrangement was an improvement, although he sincerely hoped she would keep normal hours in the future. “You brought your own coffee machine?” Not that he complained. “I’d like one, thanks. I didn’t even know seven AM existed on a Saturday.”

The moments that passed between them stretched for an eternity. The pause between every word, every sentence, was never ending. It felt as though her feet were glued to the floor, and they were invisible to any passersby. The two were sucked into their own little world, and that world happened to be their more recent past. 

She could see their faces blurring past in her mind, and it struck a hot chord in the pit of her stomach. She felt her rage bubbling as it sometimes did, and she wondered how long could she keep it contained before it spilled over? 

She scoffed at his reply, unable to believe anything that would ever escape his lips. “Vincely,” she said, a little more sweetly this time, using a nickname that she had once used, eons ago. “I don’t believe in coincidences, or fate. So if you’re here, standing in front of me, I’m sure there’s some hidden reason behind it. And I will not rest until I have justice.”

The rage was starting to turn, and she felt as though tears were springing to her eyes, but she would not let Vince have the satisfaction of knowing that he made her cry; not again. She shook her head, muttering to herself. “You can’t be here. You can’t be here.” She felt like she might spiral backward, back down a path she was working so hard to distance herself from, and Vince was pulling her back, like the Devil yanking her down to Hell. “You can’t be here.”

Many things went through his mind. Memories he thought he’d long since forgotten resurfaced in terrifying detail, images he thought he’d drowned in wine, in weed, in too many nights without sleep. Vince clenched his jaw when she called him that nickname. It was the only visible tension in his otherwise composed features. His delinquent past gave him an advantage in stressful situations. While her thoughts were all but obvious in her frown or the tone of her voice, Vince made sure to give her nothing to work with.

“It’s a small world,” he said simply, implying very blatantly that he had no other reason for being here than to earn his god damn degree. She wasn’t the only one who tried to turn his life around. Vince kept himself line for the most part, but it was hard to play by the rules. He’d allowed himself too many mishaps already, none so far with major consequences. His scholarship hung by a thread. His future at Bonavich suddenly felt very fragile.

“Your call for justice is awfully late, don’t you think,” he pressed and even took half a step forward. Piper could have taken her revenge at any point these last eight years, could have had it even while Nate was still alive. She’d missed her chance. Nate was dead. And Vince no longer had any business with her.

Except that they were in the same school. In the same society. And shared the same fucking past.

Still. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She had seen him before she had heard her name echoing through the hallway. She thought it might be a dream, the way that the rest of the world seemed to freeze at that moment. Piper had locked eyes with him, her face contorting into a scowl almost on impulse. 

She thought back to the mixer, seeing his face everywhere. She had thought it was a trick of the mind; she often saw Vince’s face in the shadows. His wasn’t the only one, either. The Murray brothers haunted her, one in life and one in death. 

She immediately wanted to throw her books down and shove him into the brick wall behind him, but she knew better. Not like this. She would have her moment eventually, she would just have to be patient. But there was something about her name on his lips that just boiled her blood after what he did. 

“Vince,” Piper said, doing a terrible job of concealing her hatred. Every syllable was dripping with disdain. “Are you here to ruin my chances of getting a degree? I know how fond you are of snatching away any future I’ve built for myself.”

A number of years, many bad decisions on his part and the death of his brother lay between them. Vince wouldn’t insult her by expecting anything other than the distain that manifested on her features as soon as they saw each other. Perhaps he even thought he deserved it. He had lied to her. They had both lied to her. But his brother was no longer a part of the equation.

“I don’t want to ruin anything for you,” he pressed. Something stirred in him. He didn’t agree with her perspective. Piper had all the means to ruin him. She knew of his past, of his brother, of the things they did or thought they did, and she got it all wrong. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t insult her, either, by trying to explain himself now.

Although Vince believed that she had ruined her own future away all these years ago, and he and his brother had been merely a drop in the bucket, it was clear as day that she blamed them, him, more precisely. “I am here for the same reason you are. And that is certainly not to bring back alive the past.”

Vince didn’t hate her. He hated what she triggered in him; A scene he had long since forgotten, the image of his brother, and the conversation they’d had in his bedroom all these years ago. (‘You fucked up, Nate.’) Vince took the blame for the second most stupid decision Nate had made in his life, the decision that hurt Piper to this day. But it’s been too long for an apology.

Nadine drifts from Vince eventually, staying by herself for a few moments before inevitably getting pulled into a conversation with someone else. The time keeps ticking on and on, and she fights the urge to keep drinking. She’s bored and worried, and that’s never a good combination. As soon as nine rolls around, things get a little more interesting. She lines up with everyone else, eyes seeking out familiar faces to try and get a read on what they think of the situation. She makes eye contact with no one, and is left towards the end of the line waiting on her card. 

She inspects it as it’s handed to her. Spes. Hope. She supposes that fits her quite well; better than she would’ve pegged for herself. She’s feeling grateful for the few latin classes she’d taken in university, or else she never would’ve been able to figure out what it says before looking it up on her phone. When she turns the card over her stomach sinks a little. At first – she’s confused. Why steal a license plate off a car? What’s the point in that? Then, her mind flashes back to that night when she was sixteen, out of bed for a cup of water. She’d peaked through the garage at the wrong moment – saw the wrong thing. However, there’s no way Lethe House could know about that, right? Her eyes drift down, to the name of her partner, and she raises her head to look for him, only to see him coming straight towards her. 

Carefully, she folds the card and tucks it into the hidden pocket of her dress. Anxiety has built in her body by now, practically thrumming. Surely there’s a reason for this. Nadine is finding that her curiosity about Lethe House has her actually considering the task, rather than just leaving the night in a huff. 

“The student garage,” she says softly. Her lips are pulled in a frown, brows furrowed a bit. Her eyes snap to his when he suggests not going through with the task. “I–” she cuts herself off, considers it for a moment, takes a deep breath, and hardens her heart against her anxieties. This is nothing new, she can do this. “I need to get a screwdriver before we go. Do you have any ideas where we could pick one up? Do you think they’d have a maintenance shed?” She remembers her purse. “Oh – wait.” She opens up her small clutch and reaches in, digging through her things until she finds what she needs – a multitool. “Never mind. I have something.” 

“Should we head that way?” 

Vince studied her expression closely as she seemed to try to make up her mind. His own gave nothing away, but he knew what he felt inside and saw his emotions practically mirrored in her features. Worry. Curiosity. The latter was perhaps the only reason why he decided to go along with tonight’s events. Vince could not deny that a part of him just longed to break the secrecy around Lethe, to find out why he was chosen, to find out why they were all chosen.

The card burned in his pocket as he saw her tuck away hers. The letters have burned into his mind already. Suspiratio. The word in itself made him angry. And so to divert his thoughts from the rising bile in his throat, he turned to Nadine. “A screwdriver?” There were numerous places he thought they could get one and was about to suggest visiting woodshop when she produced a multitool from her purse.

“Let’s go,” he agreed. They weren’t the first to leave the hall, neither were they the last. The fresh night air helped to ease his mind a little. It was as though they had momentarily stepped out of reality for the mixer. But outside the prestigious hall nothing had changed. It gave him a sense of comfort.

The student garage wasn’t far. He didn’t himself own a car but he’d passed through it as a shortcut a few times. “What do you need that screwdriver for, if I may ask?” He would find out eventually, as they were partners, but Vince hoped to take the tension out of the moment by perhaps narrating what they were doing.

Once at the student garage, he pushed open the door to the stairwell. He let her pass him. After all, this was her task. “What are we looking for?” Rather she, but Vince was there to help.

Nadine knows that his remark can’t possibly be directed at the secret she asked him to keep a few semesters ago, but her mind goes there anyways. Perhaps because she’s already on edge, worried about Eloisa’s presence here when she believed she would finally have something she accomplished for herself after all this time. Nadine stiffens just slightly. She’s normally in control of her body language, but perhaps the booze has gone to her head more than she thought. 

She decides to let herself laugh a bit at his dry comment. It’s easier to focus on that than his first statement. “Yes, it would be nice if we knew where the night was headed. I’m not the biggest fan of surprises myself,” she confessed. Nadine looked into the glass, as if she could get answers from there. When nothing turns up, she looks back towards Vincent. “It’s good to see you again. I don’t believe we’ve spoken since the project.” 

“I agree,” Vince said simply and let his eyes travel over the crowd once more. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something loomed over them. A shiver went up his spine. There was too much they didn’t know, the society shrouded in a veil of secrets that might excite one or another, but left nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d shared the odd conversation with a few people tonight about how they felt the same. And when the night went on, and they were each given a card, a task and a partner, Vince realised that he had been right in his assumption that there was more to the mixer than champagne.

When he read his card, his first instinct was to leave, to go home, to forget any of this had even happened. Judging by the looks of Nadine’s face, she might have felt similarly. Vince swallowed as he studied the writing on his card again. Longing. An obituary. He knew where he needed to go and wanted nothing more than to go the opposite direction.

“So,” he began once whispered chatter filled the room, “where do you need to go?” It wasn’t that he was afraid, or that he wanted to feed her to the lions before he went into the pit himself, it was that he needed to prepare himself to even see the image of his brother which he usually kept stored in a far corner of his mind. His death was omnipresent in the back of his mind, never quite at the forefront of it. Lethe brought something to the surface that he tried to bury. He swallowed hard. “That is if you want to go.” Perhaps Nadine played with the same thought of breaking this off. Perhaps she was willing to see where Lethe was taking them. Perhaps she also did not want to go first.

On top of it all, there was she. Piper. The name felt as bitter in his mouth as did the secret society they were a part of. A part of him tried to convince himself that she had been someone else. What were the chances, anyway, that they would meet in such a way after so many years.

As good as the chance for rain on a November day, apparently.

The hallway was empty. He’d stepped out of a lecture early to get to his next appointment in time. And out of all people, there was Piper in front of him. Vince cursed his luck but his expression gave away nothing. Imagines of the mixer returned to his head. They’d seen each other, clear as day, and somehow he’d managed to forget her. Forget their past.

“Piper,” he said, a tad surprised. No other words shaped on his lips as he looked at her, her face as familiar as it had always been. In his mind’s eye he saw his brother. @piper--gray

Mari found herself enjoying this conversation more than she expected. While they weren’t all to chatty, she didn’t find her fake smile plastered to her face. “I’m gonna have to agree with you on that one,” she muttered as she sipped her champagne. “Half the people here are either giddy or extremely nervous. I don’t think your or I fall into either of those.” Sitting here beside Vince was a cool reprieve from the blisters she’s feeling on her feet. Slipping them off discretely, she began to stretch her toes.

“Well this is a secret society after all,” she continued, “but I’m not too sure what the secret part is.” She did some digging prior to this event but she never really found anything. This society was a vault and she wanted to know the combination to get in. “They’ll probably tell us in a few minutes anyway. So I guess we can enjoy the champagne for now, at least.” She wasn’t too sure what this event may still hold for them but she tried not to let it cloud her thoughts. “Are you enjoying the night so far?”

Vince was used to not falling into any one category. The fact wasn’t even worth a mention. That she considered herself to be neither part of the excited nor the nervous surprised him. But when he observed her a little more closely, Vince saw that perhaps she was above the excitement, that she approached the night with a good measure of scepticism as he did. Vince shifted in his seat. His eyes scanned the faces of the people and wondered what the hell they had in common. “It’s an odd crowd, I agree,” he said half-mindedly. His thoughts were with what was to come.

A sly smile crept onto his lips upon her remark. “I reckon that is the purpose of a secret society,” he said, glancing over at her, “for you to not know.” But he agreed that they would soon learn what this was all about. In any case, they were here now. He let out a breath and shook his head. “very.” He answered her question with only a slight undertone and reminded her that he was neither the excited nor the nervous kind. “You seem to have had all the fun already,” he added then, glancing at her blistered feet with a hint of pity. He reminded himself not to complain about dress code anymore.

A lull came to their conversation. Instead of trying to avoid it, she let herself simmer in that awkward silence–an oddly comforting occurrence during an evening that required her to be more outgoing than usual. After a while, however, the comfort the silence provided faded, and Sunny began to wonder whether she should begin the conversation. Thankfully, he started for her. 

“Art History, how about you?” Her voice was cheery, and she tried her best to sound as accommodating as possible. She felt guilty about thinking this, but there was something different about the man in front of her. He looked visibly uncomfortable in the environment when almost everyone else moved about it with measured ease. She found solace in this, however, in the fact that she wasn’t the only apprehensive one in the whole hall. However, she never really stopped and asked if their reasons for their apprehension were one and the same. 

“I like your suit and it looks great on you, by the way.” The comment seemed out of the blue the moment it left her lips, but it was spoken with honesty. His aura of apprehension fueled her want to make him feel more comfortable because she saw a glimpse of herself in his awkwardness. It was an act done in the spirit of a man helping another get out of a pit they were both stuck in. 

The thing about Vince was that he constantly felt torn between wanting to belong, and wanting to remain on the sidelines. The thing was, he knew the sidelines. He felt comfortable there. And he usually didn’t care for other people. As such, he felt apprehensive about being thrown into the mixer tonight. In all honestly, he felt apprehensive about being forced into a society such as Lethe in the first place. The least they could have done was ask first. Vince took a sip of his juice.

“Art history,” he repeated, trying to form an image in his head. Vince didn’t understand art and decided not to comment on her field of study further. “Criminal Justice,” he told her as simply. It was ironic, really, how he would end up on the other side of the law for a change; that was, if this last year went according to plan, which, considering tonight, it was already taking a detour.

Vince didn’t know what to do with her compliment. It came out of nowhere, and it was for this fact only that he neither blushed nor got flustered. “Thanks,” he said casually and tugged at the seam of his vest. Then he remembered social etiquette. “Likewise.” Although it was not by choice. “I wonder if dress code will be required for all events. I certainly hope not.”

Elosia has become bored of conversations, bored of traveling around the dance floors and started searching out a good place to relax unbothered. They could make out someone sitting alone. Maybe this stranger would now something more about the Lethe house society. Maybe he could help them find out.

“This place certainly is extravagant. Whoever invited us here spared no expense.”

They sat down next to him while he fired of a question of his own.

“The party? I suppose it’s to get us all acquainted. But if you mean The Society as a whole, I really couldn’t tell you. And i don’t like not knowing.”

For someone inclined to avoid conversation, Vince had had a number of them tonight. He reckoned the mixer fulfilled its purpose, even for him. Someone joined him, together they sat a little ways from the hustle. Vince had switched to orange juice for his second drink and leaned back semi-comfortably in his chair. “I reckon they spared hardly anything,” he mused, a few thousand being presumably very little of the society’s entire fortune. But he was no judge of that. The set up of tonight was lovely. He’d been at Bonavich long enough to know that this was the life.

“You and me both,” he seconded their sentiment. A little more transparency would ease the minds of some of the guests. Vince wasn’t the only one who approached tonight with a good portion of caution. He looked over to his company, scanned them briefly for anything that might give him a clue as to who they were. He hadn’t met them before. A name? A shared class? Nothing. “It is rather lovely,” he tried. Small talk very nearly caused him physical pain. “The invitation was very clear about attendance.”

Mari didn’t expect to be standing here with a guy she’s never met before. She was feeling tired of the too-charming smile she’s had plastered all night. Sure, she loved interacting with people - but it definitely got tiring especially if she was in four inch heels. Her poor blistered feet dragged her here so she decided starting a conversation might be a good idea. “Oh this?” she said, raking her gaze through the grand ballroom, “Could just be a party for the rich and spoiled. But we both know that’s not the whole truth.” She wasn’t new to parties like this - she practically lived and breathed this lifestyle. But something was definitely off. Mari couldn’t place what it was so she turned her gaze to the new guy. “What do you think? Oh but before you answer that, I’m Mari.” She clinked her champagne glass to his as a way of greeting. “Whether or not it’s nice to meet you would depend on how this conversation goes.” She said it lightly enough that it made her chuckle. This was why she liked meeting new people. The thrill of how a new conversation would go always intrigued her. 

Bold of her to assume what he knew. In fact, Vince knew nothing. He agreed anyway. “’S’ppose so.” He looked her over quickly, red hair, red lipstick, heels that could kill a person. Nothing about her suggested that she was in any way out of place. The way she introduced herself left him with no option but to introduce himself back. “Vince,” he said, and even smiled when they clinked glasses. She was forward. He appreciated that. There was too much bullshit going around and Mari seemed to have no time for that. “Likewise,” he said, however she already had a point in his book for her bold approach. There was a moment of silence while he considered the best way to answer her question. “I think the excitement is misplaced. I reckon there is more to this evening than champagne and lousy music.” The latter part was an opinion, which he usually kept to himself. But he thought what the hell and maybe the champagne did something to loosen his tongue.

Nadine watches Vince as he speaks, noting that his tone is almost ambivalent, posture casual. She admires the way he can approach a conversation – almost above it all. Nadine gets too invested in everything, taking meaning from even the smallest of exchanges. She glances around the room, watching friends, flings, and strangers interact with one another. Everyone she’s spoken with tonight seems to be on edge about something; she is too. It’s hard not to be with all the rumors about this place floating around. She turns back to Vincent and puts on her best smile. 

“It means a lot to be invited here. It seems that it’s incredibly exclusive. I think everyone likes having a moment to feel special. I won’t lie – I’m pleased to be invited. A bit nervous, sure, but pleased all the same.” A feeling she’d be feeling more of if her sibling wasn’t also here. “What about you? How do you feel about this whole affair? I do wish there was a little more transparency, but then I suppose it wouldn’t exactly be a secret society.” 

Vince wondered if she believed herself. That smile was almost too perfect to be true. But he supposed it fit right in with the theme of the evening, which was more than he could say for himself. He took another sip of his drink and observed the people. It was only them and the staff. His glance traveled around the room, wondering what would happen next. He hated surprises. Few seemed to share the same concern that he felt. He recognised them by the way they kept themselves in the shadows as Nadine and he did.

Her words registered ob a subconscious level. He continued to watch the people for a minute before he gave her an answer. “I don’t appreciate secrets,” he said despite himself, perhaps calling into question the Lethe’s entire existence, or any other secret society’s existence for that matter. Maybe even the conversation he’d shared with Nadine all these months ago. “I would, however, appreciate if this event moved forward.”

She pouted, unsure. The rumors she’s heard were gruesome, told by some classmate or another that she had when she was still a freshman. The idea of a secret society in the very walls of Bonavich somehow stuck to her through the years, occupying the same space in her mind where campfire tales and ghost stories inhabited. When she received her letter, she was apprehensive, but she convinced herself that the secret society existed under a veil of exaggerations. Still, she wasn’t sure if she should tell her new acquaintance something that was as false as an urban legend. She hesitated for a moment, but decided to speak when he pressed further.

“Oh, it’s quite a popular rumor, actually. I don’t really remember the details, but it involved a journalist, I think, or was it a filmmaker? I’m not sure and some lost files, you know, the works. Besides, it was a silly rumor and it couldn’t be this society, I suppose.” Her nervous rambling came to a halt with an unsure chuckle. 

Remembering that both of them hadn’t introduced each other yet, she offered her outstretched hand and a warm smile.“I’m Sunny, by the way. Sunny Hwang. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Vince let the new information sink in. It wasn’t new per se, he’d heard about a journalist having gone missing at around the same time he was born. It was the sort of tale freshmen were told in their first month, perhaps to frighten them, perhaps for other reasons. He hadn’t concerned himself much with the history of Bonavich, only enough to have been accepted. The fact that he should move up the social ladder in one evening struck him as odd. From the looks of it, he fit right in. He wore a suit, a white tie according to dress code, polished shoes and the glass of champagne felt in his hand as though he’d never held anything else. But Vince could not be any more different from the people present tonight. He felt wrong. 

“Well, I reckon we’ll know soon enough if it was a rumour.”

He took the girl’s - Sunny’s - hand and shook it briefly. “Pleasure.” He said nothing more. A moment or two passed. Nothing happened. The people continued to chat, dance and drink the champagne as if it was water. He cleared his throat, evidently uncomfortable in his shoes. “What do you study?” He asked finally, a very poor attempt at continuing the conversation, more for his own sake than her’s. He blended better if he talked to someone.