ofalexrios:
Halloween isn’t relly his thing; the whole all hallow’s eve and the supernatural things that go bump in the night, it’s his life. But leave it to Salem to not onyl celebrate halfway to halloween but its a huge draw for locals and even tourists who come to the city to learn about the dark history with the witch trials. He’s not going by choice to the event, he would have probably sat this one out and the sisters could have called on him had they run into trouble. He’s a photographer in his normal nine to five and apprently the one hired for the event got food poisoning, couldn’t make up and couldn’t he last minute fill in and take pictures of the evening. So, that’s why he was there…
But even the photgrapher wasn’t allowed to mess with the rules; dressed in a dark navy suit and tie with a blue mask covering half his face he was at the entrance of the masquerade event stopping those coming in at the photo backdrop. with the camera in hand, he took the shot of the couple, “Alright, enjoy the event. Next.” He said dismissing the couple at the photo backdrop, who were already wandering off into the evening’s festivities. He turned his head back towards the next guest.
.
Even though it is not the real thing, Esmeray can’t help but feel giddy as she applied her makeup, then slipped into the slinky black dress. She loves Halloween. She has ever since she was a small child. Her parents made sure the home was as festive as could be, with cinnamon floating through the air day in and day out, pumpkin carving contests on the weekends, and hand stitched costumes that reflected the small girl’s current whims each passing year. Admittedly, the celebrating had grown more minimal in recent years, but the small girl who still lived inside her would not be satisfied without some sort of celebration, even if it was just decorating her porch and leaving out candy for the neighborhood children to take at their leisure.
She watched the couple in front of her with a detached sort of interest. Alone, per usual, she hated the idea of lamenting that fact. Regretting her past decisions usually came in the middle of the night, which paired nicely with warm coffee, so having the thought pummel her in the open left her lost for a moment, only coming up for air in the stale silence. Forcing a brief smile, she moved into the line of his camera. “Anywhere, or?” She hoped he wouldn’t make a comment about her date being late or whatever quip she had grown used to hearing. “Is there a specific mark?”