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โ‡ฝ โค›
๐šŒ ๐š˜ ๐š– ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š’ ๐š— !!
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&& good bye to you, my almost lover.

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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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It was peculiar -- and mind reeling in retrospect -- how an hour or two could harness and finesse events systematically in lighted tandem. From the perspective of the proverbial side lines, cheap alumminan tacked with matte nails and a pout perched upon a sweating and beaded beer can, Emma leisurely sipped and observed with twinkling eyes raptured in star light. Every drink disturbed her features into a grimace, this was cheap swill compared to the spirits housed down in a wind-raked basement upon stained cherry wood, she remembers her first taste on the fringes of her sixteenth birthday in a room draped in velvet and dark and dank and sad. It was his private collection and memory filtered an image of her youth; dark eyes expressionless under a fringe of curled black, names and years and ages muttered from pale frowns until he would turn and say: this was her favourite, I think you'd like it too.

Emma's clenches her hands and breathes to finish her beverage in an impressive gulp, crushing the empty and slyly pilfers another under a blanket of quivering shadow. She's been sipping on dark chocolate aromas of cabernets and pinot noirs for years, this is child's play. With a prick of her nail, Emma pops her tab with an aggressive flick, light and cold, the straw toned pilsner bubbles over her fingers till she tames the head of foam with a perched lip and downs a fourth with a hiss of her tongue coating over her teeth. They hardly notice her and to her, this is none of a legitimate concern as she plucks warm shadows from the realm, pinches them tight before allowing such to flutter closed on a swirling nebula. Emma knows she could browse and breeze through the party entirely unseen and still discover means to enjoy the festivities, and she's okay with this facet. She can literally see the waves of emotions that ooze from beer tinged pores flushed red and glimmering under gem enhanced lighting and the stars that shimmer and collide within her peering glare, and they come to her relentlessly, smoothing and caressing upon her limbs. They boil and pool to gleaming swathes of happiness and joy that are sweetly toned and yet bitterly coated; friends and yet not, lovers that waited and lovers that pined.

She turns, finding Damien easily upon that euphoria, coming up upon his flank with a query on her lips; is everyone here wanting after somebody? Emma didn't dare to approach anyone else with these quivering emotes, though the man that was caped in shadows and death by the shoreline had been curious enough for her to inch towards, however, the flickering atmosphere had pulled her elsewhere on pinkish hues. She breathed in suggestion and lustful qualms, the baited air distinctively awash in want and drunk upon the biddings of physical desires; it's like sweat down the nape of her neck. Emma barely caught the exchanges at hand, but the muttering narrative of their host and Damien's own retort ringing in her ears that reeled her in has her smile lapsing.

"Uhm. Yeah." Too distracted she was by the colourful monologue carried on by Dallas' purrs and praises, red bloomed and blossomed upon sallow skin, warmed to a rich hue that coloured her eyes vibrantly and sudden silvers suspended low on lashes coated in black just before her arrival. Emma's lips curled around a delicate whistle, "Funny..."

Such a statement was punctuated by the roar of laughter somewhere near the coolers, her ears ringing upon the appealing tone that carried familiarity.




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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Avem was enjoying himself -- courtesy of the free booze, lost tooth turned into a trophy, ditzy dames and now a scorned Ariana in which was icing upon his golden cake -- and he illustrated such with a crack of laughter that whipped from his lips in a belly wrenched guffaw that nearly pitched him forward. Palm to chest and lips pulled from teeth, Avem wanted to applaud the son of Ares, but he knew the stubborness of that woman almost personally. In various ways he and the boquet of visual sex appeal that was Ariana were alike, they were proud individuals donned in finery, in gold and silver and dripping in their splendor and painfully aware of their vanity. Playing the role of a brutish neandrethal to thwart her kittenish paws and mewls would only permit him maybe another night free of her awaiting clutches, if anything it would only tempt and redouble her efforts to pursue him upon another evening; audience or no.

And whilst such was amusing and deserving of a finale, Avem turned just in time to receive Kelsey's elbow and teasing quip. His smile was easy and his rejoinder more so.

"My money is on you girlie. Might I suggest a nose ring though," he gestured to his own septum with a suggestive flutter of his lash. "Maybe win a new piece for me, I need some new jewelry in my body."

Beer pong was not his choice of play within these endeavors, for Avem held finesse with cards and dealings and bets, though the promise of piercing flesh was enough to tempt his curiosity and the potential of the night still young and awaiting their affairs. He took another swig of his beer at that probing thought and pondered to why he never joined with these parties before.

The following thought was loud enough within his mind to stir up a darkening glance, the swirling gold snapped around the sapphire that darkened just so, increasing the clutch of his hand upon his beverage.

@Moro --



&& click raw to recieve the coding.
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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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With his tongue soaked in hops and malt and his throat aflame in a -- some what decent -- burn of alchohol, Avem is cooly observant and quaint; marbled sapphire and gold waxing calmness that he illustrates in lax gestures and twisted lips; close to Kelsey and Dustyn both, his company for the night. He much prefers the intensity of whiskey bourbons and scotch [a courtesy of father's influence when gifts were imparted upon Holidays, he's got bottles of Johnnie Walker and Woodford Reserve stashed away for rainy days when Mother comes beckoning for her bastardized King, both half empty and half full] however he's keeping those well to himself even if he's half tempted to mention their place. Another time, another night, a return for the booze in his current hand: such are his thoughts. He sips, leisurely, happily participating in Dustyn's antics of playing him as a personal cooler, he doesn't mind, it's endearing how each include him as much as possible in their habits, and Avem eagerly rises to their banter with that sopping penetration of his gaze. Once or twice -- he loses count after his third swig -- he hoists the mason jar high, keeping such barely out of reach, teasing and heartfelt in his simper that gleams just so with the bite of teeth.

"Nah, I'm just fucking with you, Dust."

The lake is glittering threads of Fate, each trinket of lace glimmering colours of red, gold, burnt embers and umbras smudged in orange and tinged in blue, he sees twisted coils of lavender and off white in the distance and many edges that are toned and dyed deep in black; dead ends of ash under the moon. The eyes his matron heralds as tools venture far and wide, details painstakingly vivid in clarity through every flutter of a golden lash; fragile and beautiful somewhat. Avem drinks all the more to drown the visual he sees, the influence he could impart with a touch of a finger, a flicker of his nail, a stroke of a tongue. He's quick to down the can in hand and is reaching for another. He doesn't feel the burn like he thinks he should and wonders if he's going to have to dive heart and soul first in the amber bottles hidden beneath folds of royal blue and gold. The auburn-haired child is something of a distraction, with eyes that interchange much like his own -- emerald and moss and something else -- and is bound in violet and periwinkle strings that are almost innocent, Avem doesn't recognize her at all though and the smokes she's dealing out immediately turn his head; he doesn't smoke. He's not allowed. A sigh sputters from his lips, a tremor comes upon his spine, a slow warning of someone else coming close --

"Shit!"

Unbeknownst to the tumble of light and sunflowers barreling downhill, he is saved from the toil of thoughts churning within and winces, loud and harsh at the clash of skulls, a rather wrenching clack that grinds down upon his bones. Fuck.

"Gods damn girl," Avem steadies his initial surprise and laughs, good humour and lilting tones as he offered his hand, set his beer aside, and helped to lift her steady upon her feet. "One hell of an entrance I'll give you that, though I don't know if Dust will agree." He pans his gaze upon the latter, fingers idly reaching, touching upon her brow briefly where brown waves tickle upon his skin before he blinks, slow, and also offers his assistance in bringing Dustyn forward. Gentleman habits are bred and taught deeply within still, after all.

"Might want to ice that though." Avem recedes, his beverage back within hand and here he reaches once more for the mason jar, proffering such as a remedy for the pending ache both are bound to develop.

@Alisdragon911 --



&& you know the drill.
@Ephemeral --



&& click on raw to receive the code.
@SweetOwlette --



&& you know the drill. โ™ฅ
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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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Emma Laurent bites down on her lip -- hard. And she bleeds.

Pallid teeth tucked around her pout and twisted flesh into a glower, a befitting scowl adorned in twinkling silver and glittered in starlight with ebony chain woven taut around skin and laced through bone. Damien's touch scalds and soothes her all in one, reassuring in clasp and yet shrouded within reprimand; calm, it says, stop it goes unsaid. She had, briefly, felt through his intentions and that smile branded across his veneer that was cajoling and tinged in a quip -- she wonders if he even notices that he is now staring too. Black nails press to a quivering palm and ruby smiles mock against her pale skin till she pries them apart, glances down, and then hides those scarlet simpers with her sleeves. They're conversing now, introductions with expressive eyes and something about this woman twists her shadow abroad. It's inkling across the ground, wriggling tendrils that coil through the grass and trees, knotting the blades and branches tight. Her gaze is interchanging and Emma cants her head, opposite, lashes unmoving and her stare eternal, the colours she reads as emotes to her current fluxation of the soul, and here she looks at Damien. Does he see it too? Such a kaleidoscope was hardly different from the shimmering eclipse of the barrier that was seen here as well, briefly rippling across the settling sky and touching to the water's edges that she -- Azura she introduced -- had collected from.

Emma almost responds acutely: yes, go. Leave.
Fuck off.

"It's fine," she breathes, stepping forward in small approaches, as if unsure of herself and this woman. No. It's there in her features, a bidden innocense, a small trickle of youthfulness that rests beneath her unmarred skin and seems to shine from neath a layer of self-discovery. Emma's rejoining smile is all razor sharp and bright with a blanket of shadow pooling across the shining starlight of her eyes as her lashes pan low in a flutter, she feels something tugging beneath her skin, something laced to her shadow as the night graces her with both beauty and sudden serenity.

"I'm Emma," her voice is soft just as the wave of hair tickling at her nape. She glances upon the vials she had shown earlier, curiosity niggling upon her thoughts until she rejoins: "And this is my brother, Damien. You weren't disturbing us... Not really."

Though her shadow trembles, the twirling whips snaked across the Earth alerting her to the arrival of others, set further around the lake's lapping edge. She glances to Damien, for neither of them are fond of crowds, but the Hestia proper had been abundant in rumour and whispers for those preparing for the party to be thrown and now those well known in those affairs were coming down from the forest's browse. She recognizes a cooler and the woman hoisting it down to the water, her shadow lazily twirling, it senses the unease of their troupe, the unknown that people abhor and deny in the face of light.

"Oh... I don't think we were invited." Emma almost laughs and -- she has yet to wipe the bite of blood from her lips.




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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Avem Vogel is not a man to complete tasks without incentive [usually], however he had taken Kelsey's belongings -- duffel and another carrier or two -- upon her dismissal and left them upon her side of the apartment without so much as a conflicting order. He left it to the influence that Dustyn and Kelsey were unlike most women he had associated with in the past few years since he discovered the delights his associates had to offer -- he has never loved them, and they have never claimed to care. Each was proffered with an exchange in hand or mind; show me yours indeed. It's a means to an end, to snuff out a void.

Most of his belonging had already been deposited and sorted, Avem was not a creature of clutter and irrelevant belongings, his means cycled upon his whims and his mother's upon the seasons and years, his personalization miniscule almost. He had exchanged his attire swiftly, trading royal blue for black and twisted most of his hair into a golden tail to keep from his nape, golden hoops still adorned to his tresses and the brass still clasped upon his wrists. He was familiar with these partying affairs but had never attended one of Dallas' well-infamed gatherings, the stories were endless and the results varying.

Avem left the apartment with his mobile in hand, reminded himself to find a way to ask for Kelsey's information and Dustyn's in consequence as the two -- he imagined -- would never be far apart from another. He surmised the two were judging and prompting him on similar standards and he was not without trying to gain their favour, each prompted and baited his responses equally. Easiest to make this year simplistic and smooth compared to the previous semesters, he imagined Lyra's grace within his mind and Avem paused, scrolled through his contacts idly and thumbed her number, breath whistling into a sigh. And waited.

He didn't expect an answer.

He suspected she'd be at the lake tonight, with Ariana -- he shuddered, smoothed his hair and allowed his phone to drop in his back pocket -- and on that notion he exited the Hestia building with the lake's direction in mind. Kelsey had already left, muttering something about supplies and gear, which Avem had lifted a brow at but didn't inquire after. There were only so many scathing retorts he could withstand to his intelligence and masculinity. He navigated to the lake easily, having traveled this way many times where fond memories remained with nymphs cluttering his vision, the recall of caresses twisted a charming smile upon his face as he came upon a worn trail and began his trek.

The surrounding forest was blanketed in night and shadow, his marbled gaze peering endlessly upon the gloom that seemed to bank upon the trees and grass before twirling among the leaves. It was almost unnatural in such choreography but hypnotizing none the less, however, Avem made no movement to join the reflecting dance and hastened his step all the more. The air was heavy, thick, and sprinkled with touches of silver now the closer he came to the water, he paused, voice upon the breeze and suddenly a screech on the wind that made his eyes travel skyward.

Dustyn was here.

...And so was the girl from before, the one he had felt and seen drenched thick in aphotic dread and laced from crown to foot in so many threads, Avem could hardly tell where her heart ended and these strings began.

"Huh," Avem breathed, hands hidden within his pockets, posture lax. "This is one way to start a party." He found the girls easily enough, Kelsey with booze in hand and each of them warily regarding the trio farther around the lake and rightly so. Damien and Emma sported reputations it would seem that rivaled against any and all. Avem's spine bunched only slight till his eyes fell upon the cooler temporarily being used by its owner -- he assumed -- none the less.

"Oh, hell. If this is a bring your own, I'm going to have to make a stop."

There was more than just student files with Helena's office after all.


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๐šข ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šŽ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐šœ ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š› ๐š˜ ๐šž ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐š” ๐š— ๐šŽ ๐šœ ๐šœ

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There was a draft of festering anger, one that coiled thick and black upon lithesome breezes and wafted through her tresses in tangible caresses of self-loathing; she breathed it in, chest fluttering under a gel of animosity that congealed betwixt her airways. Emma followed dutifully on a rasping cough, footfalls snug within his own, falling carefully whilst her nails plucked at tarnished silver, causing charms to chime eerily upon her fidgeting grace as her shadow drank upon Damien's distress. She did not blame his misfortune and fumbled upon her words to pacify his seething soul that chafed against her heart, it spoke to her of his loneliness, the kind of that banked low in his eyes and shimmered sapphire amidst pale irises that pierced through body and soul and struck her breathless. She turned twinkling starlight to the banking sunset, the tug and lure of the ascending hour sifting through the heavens and strumming through her quivering shadow attached helplessly to Damien's eternal cast. Silver pinged through her lashes, glittering graces of bristling black -- again he spoke of Aiden -- and here she nodded, slow, thoughtful and rejoined his apology.

"I understand," Emma muttered, gaze struck upon the lake, fingers laced through ebony chain and her thumb caressing over the name that haunted her dreams of late. "But... You are nothing but what you are. Who you are. They may not know it, but I do." Her opposite gesture fled down, curling her slender clasp upon his palm, holding tight and secure and using their contact to purge him of his anger. Her lashes swooped low, the twinkling canvas of her eyes burdening with swirling nebulas donned in black and red.

"You said it was going to be okay, and it will be. I have never even met Aiden, so I wouldn't bless my fortunes yet." During the orientation, she hadn't been able to meet him, but then she hadn't really looked either, caught up in their misconstrued housing details. A smidge of guilt wove around her vice, causing her to tense just so with her arms locked till she breathed, her lips curling into a soft simper.

"But -- I guess you do? What's he like? Emma could not deny the curiosity that coloured her inquiry that tapered off upon a sigh, soft and hushed, however, was still alight in the notions of wonderment towards a man she had never met. She had settled to enjoy the evening with her brother, a delicate breeze playful as it twined through her hair, loose tresses settling against her nape and brushed upon her pale cheeks. Her head canted, just so, something that traveled upon the gale that teased through lapping of the water nearby. How nice was it to spend some time alone...

Someone was watching them.

Emma's shadow visibly wound at her heels, eclipsing the ground where she stood whilst her twinkling gaze panned the forest until she saw her; auburn curls upon the crest of plump features, the soft and round bless of her veneer smudged in green and enchantment, her posture woven in the delicacy of curious notions until -- she was staring at her brother. In the slowest degrees of acknowledgment, Emma drew up, her shadows jagged and splintered, sluicing upon her thin frame whilst she gazed severe and true at the woman fixated upon Damien. Something ticked upon her spine till it banked low upon her backside, bundling into a taut sphere of dread that plummeted to the dregs of her heart. She breathed; slow, deep, her eyes never leaving her figure as her eyes spun, haunting glimpses of starlight spiraling readily out of control.

"We have company."
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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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If Avem didn't know any better -- and he wasn't entirely sure he did with these two, both exchanging mock kisses that drew a quirk of his pout into a smirk -- he would claim to be apart of some sort of initiation scandal. Fixated betwixt two women who jeered and taunted one another, laced thick in citrine twine, each lacing toned variously in hues of yellow and orange, burnt and smudged into browns with undertones of cooling light that tinged green on the feathering edges. The appropriate colors he knew of friendship and trust. It was fitting and if he reached just so, he could caress these delicate tendrils of Fate; he also realizes that he could snap these threads upon a cruel whim, their ends frayed and left bitter, each party spitting disdain. Avem's gaze slid to each, lashes stooped low upon his cheeks whilst he bent at the waist then, hooked the strap to Kelsey's duffel upon his index and middle finger and swung it around to rest against his broad shoulder, easily supporting the weight of the contents she bothered to bring. He imagined them personal effects and minded his jostling stance as one braceleted gesture curled around his hip, resting there as they bantered. Vaguely and yet somehow violently subtle, he assumed his sudden roommate's stubborn taunts and posturing inclinations had many things to do with her history, something he had gleaned over upon browsing through her file. There were kindred details there, but unlike her, he knew not his father. Not even a name.

Avem felt only mildly guilty for taking that initiative, however he was taught to be prepared, and this being the first time he was chosen -- he used the term loosely, for he wouldn't be surprised if Helena paired him with a child of the moon on purpose -- to be apart of the Academy's usual system in housing students. This child of Hera was usually secluded to his own, personal quarters, such being the same solitary apartment located within a different unit from the Hestia proper.

"Consider me warned," he drawled and rocked back upon his expensive heels, oozing nonchalance as he rejoined: "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." A quip uttered into a whisper, conceptual conspiracy laced into a glittering bite, teeth punctuated upon his broad smile all gold and oozing with that ichor he was infamous for. Avem laughed, allowing his gaze to sweep the crowd, finding his sister easily for she was spun in lavender and white threads where, if he peered yonder, he would discover miniscule weaves of black amidst the golden tone she heralded in their graces. Curious that she would be with a child of Hades, he'd have to inquire after that mess later through text. However, the mention of a party drew Avem back to the women who intrigued and made him nervous -- he'd never admit such a thing -- and caught the latest suggestions of assisting Dustyn with her own belongings. He neither confirmed or denied their aide and instead willed his marbled gaze to snatch Kelsey's charming scrutiny. He drew himself up, only slight, feeling much like a man in the desire to keep his impression forward and in favour.

"Yeah? I'm down to crash a few parties," Avem had already confirmed the roster to memory and what brief interactions he had among this selected crowd, and swept his free arm into a flourish, complete with a mock bow with palm thrust up against his shoulder, golden hair spun across his stare of sapphire and gold. "After you ladies."

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๐šœ ๐šž ๐š ๐š ๐šŽ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š• ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐šข ๐š– ๐šข ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š› ๐šœ ๐š˜ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š  ๐šŽ ๐š– ๐š’ ๐š ๐š‘ ๐š ๐š” ๐š— ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š‘ ๐š˜ ๐š  ๐š• ๐š’ ๐š ๐šŽ ๐šŽ ๐š— ๐š ๐šœ

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Had he been a lesser man, Avem might've blanched, losing colour upon his usual golden parlour in being caught completely off guard by some left field comment that'd invoke laughter or disfavour, or both. Had he been any other child of the Gods, he might've appreciated her candor and responded in kind: cheeky head tilts, lopsided grins flashing teeth and tongues waggling in mirth and lewd promises upon the silken pout of his wicked mouth gaped wide and coloured red in wine and cherries. Avem could be all of these and more, a shimmering, perpetual sin twined in threads of fate that corded him to Dustyn and Kelsey respectively in hues of mauve and vermillion. Instead, he laughed, a charming chortle of deep appreciation to her attempt in shattering that proverbial shell of ice that could've ruined their potential impressions. Though, Avem knew well enough of his roommate now from his own discerning glance over her school files, if she knew, what would she think? Would he be painted as resourceful as his mother quoted often in honeyed words filled with falsity, or would she pale in colour and label him something -- as Lyra would utter -- creepy. Marbled blue dashed from one and onto the other and his arms wove across his chest, brass adornments clinking together, vein laced forearms dusted in a hue of gold and lips donned in a smirk.

If these two were as closely knitted as he perceived, then Avem felt the premonition of having to keep on his toes at a near constant whilst they were around one another. They were dabblers in all things carnal and provocative in drink and song, loose morals and harpy wit, the kind of jovial experiences Avem could relate to, but only upon the fringes of his eternal sense of self-control. In small doses, he envied them. Dustyn was the kind of woman with lipstick upon her teeth all red and smudged in kisses, swollen lips and wild eyes painted in wings of black with scars that mapped an unhinged tale. She was attractive in abandonment and he speculated on her influence over Kelsey then -- did she allow herself that same wilderness? What am I getting into.

"Well, Ms. Fart Joke," he teased, bequeathing Dustyn with a cheerful quip, all humour, and inclinations towards her breed of comedy. "I'm here to actually meet her," Avem provided, his glance panning high and low at a leisurely scan of her profile. The way Dustyn introduced her had his male appreciation scrolling her over in a double take before he grinned, hand proffered.

"Avem Vogel." He greeted in cooling tones. "I've already moved into the apartment, perks of living here pretty much." His simper tweaked at that, a miniscule forge of bitterness at the reality that Avem had never been off Academy grounds, had never graced the world beyond the barrier shimmering abroad like a cage; beautiful and embellished, but confining. His breath whistled in a sigh, hands and posture lax to shake her hand.

"But, if you want, I can help you move your things in too." Hera had raised a gentleman, afterall, and thus he pointedly gestured to her duffel bag.

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