Rockette

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈.

&&

x x x.

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_{x x x.}

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^{[ 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 & 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 ]}

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^{updated -- 7/6/19.}

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

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^{. soundtracks
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. holds & houses}

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

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𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚠 𝚎 𝚛 𝚎 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚕 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚜 𝚑 𝚘 𝚝 𝚝 𝚑 𝚛 𝚘 𝚞 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚍 𝚊 𝚛 𝚔 𝚗 𝚎 𝚜 𝚜</sub>

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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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𝚜 𝚞 𝚏 𝚏 𝚎 𝚛 𝚜 𝚕 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚢 𝚖 𝚢 𝚍 𝚎 𝚊 𝚛 𝚜 𝚘 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚠 𝚎 𝚖 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚔 𝚗 𝚘 𝚠 𝚑 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚒 𝚏 𝚎 𝚎 𝚗 𝚍 𝚜</sub>

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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.

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

@Moro --



^{&& click raw to recieve the coding.}

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

<sub>_______________________________________________________________________________________

𝚜 𝚞 𝚏 𝚏 𝚎 𝚛 𝚜 𝚕 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚢 𝚖 𝚢 𝚍 𝚎 𝚊 𝚛 𝚜 𝚘 𝚝 𝚑 𝚊 𝚝 𝚠 𝚎 𝚖 𝚒 𝚐 𝚑 𝚝 𝚔 𝚗 𝚘 𝚠 𝚑 𝚘 𝚠 𝚕 𝚒 𝚏 𝚎 𝚎 𝚗 𝚍 𝚜</sub>

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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.

&&𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑.

@Alisdragon911 --



_{&& you know the drill.}