[color=gray][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/DxXCQ1u.jpg[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=978184][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, Dundas Island[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#978184][b]Dance Monkey #4.051:[/b][/COLOR] [I]burgundy.[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center][INDENT][sub][color=#978184][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] -[/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#978184][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=gray][I]i looked the future in the eyes, it's mine.[/I][/color][/right][/SUP]
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With Lorcán’s departure, Amma followed after him with her eyes, watching then as he approached Aurora, the following conversation muted to her ears with the music thrumming up and over her, creating a subtle vibration through her gestures as she peered through her lashes and swept her gaze elsewhere. They’d figure it out, one way or another, if such were meant to be through the destinies of the world and the hearts woven through the fabric of fantastical reality. If maybe their souls were bound, or perhaps something more substantial flitted through those damned strings that too wove through hands scarred through the lines of fate nestled within her palms. Amma wonders then how her mother felt, for memory served of sad eyes and smiles of blue, a blue that reminded her of her own impression but sparkling with life – a hue of christening innocence she found in Aurora’s gaze. A tone of azure in Katja’s uncertainty and heartache, a darkened shade of steel, and a lost glimmer in Gil’s gaze that sheered through her barriers and burned for all the woe he witnessed in her and for the mistrust and anger banked hard into Rory’s glare whenever he looked at her—a lost and forlorn knight in regret for not slaying the dragon.

Or would those threads weave Lorcán back to her side, where a label clung precariously to an established edge of friendship, a similar fixation that Amma had given to the likes of Katja and Haven, each rung of familiarity classified with mutual understanding, one held on a promise and another held on pain and rage, for that faceless unknown that cantered through her nightmares on heated words of damnation and redemption. Darling names and classifications of an imperfect reality, where the dreary and ragged cape of her waking world was nailed as a flimsy barrier against the machinations of her many names. The one here, though (Amma, she tells herself, no whisper of Tiamat through her mind, and no hastily stricken name that compounded her with fear for the power lain within), she admired the tables, their centerpieces of fluttering white feathers, the deeply jeweled red of their runners and ran black nails against gold speckled curtains before she palmed glistening and polished brass and ascended towards the mezzanine with the whisper of silk at her back. Where did Gil mesh with all those threads? She pondered: no label to mark, no claim to stake, just a delicate pin of tiny white flowers that she plucked at, head tilted in distraction before she dropped her hand and twirled a lock of black hair. 

From up high, Amma could see all, and it was a peculiar sensation to be as she was, who she was, looking down onto the students of P.R.C.U, to be one of them and yet not, no matter how often Jim stated otherwise to her peculiar enrollment. With the letters now revealing Jonas’ knowledge of her, the things seen (what was coming, she had to ponder on, what did he see but could not tell those closest to him) and her father too, both characters vying for that power and potential unspooling from her flesh and bound to the thrum of energy that coated every living thing. To be manipulated, to be destroyed, to be created as something entirely new and unthought. A clipped nail of black pressed down into the brass railing where a crackling thread of scarlet bloomed and wrought through the alloy and then down before her eyes widened, immediately severing the link of ruination before it spread further. So easily undone but carefully contained, or was it? Could it be her placated emotions and the heat of alcohol through her that tempered those ambient HZEs that hearkened to her influence, or was it something within, something not easily explained, that sluiced beneath pallid skin and lighted blue eyes with the power of command and allurement in every step she took? The letters answered nothing, but perhaps it settled something therein to know that maybe someone saw her, [i]saw her for all that she had done and would do,[/i] and tried to stop it from happening. 

To be seen was to be heard, even if her screams sheared betwixt heart and soul and never left her aching lungs. Even if her life could have been different, was it worth lamenting over when the path of vengeance wavered before her as a mountainous climb adorned in the pits of a netherworld unseen?

Amma inhaled, soft breath churned out in a sigh before she turned and approached the bar where the student standing behind the makeshift well tensed and met her eyes with flickering unease.

	[color=000000][i]Ah, yes, there it is.[/i][/color]

	[color=ffffff]“What can I…”[/color]

	[color=#978184]“Red wine, if you have it. Cab, or a Pinot.” [/color]

He held up a bottle, the label undiscernible, and she waved her hand with a slight smile. She didn’t expect much, but the idea of partaking in more liquor didn’t sit well with what she had already indulged in. Delicate fingers curled over the stem, her wrist rotating to churn the rather heavy pour of a burgundy liquid that gave sweet notes of fermented berries and chocolate that she sipped on; her eyes fell back to the railing as the projected band easily swept into another song and the student body with it. She hummed softly, lured by notes that fell betwixt her ears, a note that delicately wed to the purring graces of her cadence, lips parted around another sip of her drink, her gaze flickering to and fro, back and then forth, constantly shifting as she studied the dance floor and felt the draw to intermingle with those gathered there. There was no obligation or promise that withheld her at the spot she claimed on the railing, one hand delicately perched whilst the other curled fingers against the globe of her glass and held it so. Would it matter if she danced with others? What stalled her steps and had her deny those earlier who had inquired? What was she waiting for? 

	[i]Who.[/i] 

A subtle whisper proclaimed as a minute voice within that inspired a soft laugh and a dimming of her eyes, peering over the rim of her glass as she took another drink and ran her tongue over the pout of her lip at the droplet lingering there. 

With a concealed smirk and a cunning spark that lighted her eyes, Amma left her spot at the railing and once more dipped into the crowd around the bar, disappearing entirely from sight.


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