deranbianchiā:
STARTER FOR: Anyone ⦠Open / @omertastarterā LOCATION: The Bianchi Estate. DATE AND TIME: December 11th, 2020. 3:00PM.
Being here now, in the wake of death, was a pillar of insurmountable grief. Deran stirs in the sentiment of everything, the sorrowful faces and black clothing, all patrons clad in large coats to hide from the cold of an early-December New York. The service was nice enough, a somber affair. Deran stood to the side and watched with a gentle stare, seated with his cousins. He fixated on a chipped tile on the floor halfway through. To his right, his father mentions Christmas.Ā
Once back at the Bianchi estate, he wanders. He plucks up prepared foods from small tables and pops them into his mouth, though his appetite was fleeting. With so many people inside, with so much security, the place looks brand new. When he was young, he used to picture large balls happening here, ones where women paint their cheeks red and lift their breasts to their neck. 100 years of familial activity was enough to earn in his overflowing imagination to go rogue as a child. Now, itās all just a little bleak.Ā
He reaches for a photo from the mantle in the common area, one of Gregory and Deranās father, Colin. They look formal, neckties and dress shoes. Their faces were baron of any smiles or teeth. Deran thinks he may turn to concrete if he looks long enough at their stern, steady eyes, focused on the camera, hands clasped together in front of their bodies. Itās then he realizes that someone was just a few feet from him, no doubt taking a few laps as well.Ā āPhotographs are weird,ā Deran says, breaking the silence that brews between him and the other,Ā āItās strange to think something can be immortalized like that.ā
xx
In a crowded room under the bleak nature of the event, Lilith stuck herself to the walls of the room. It was an easier way to see what was happening around her, eyes of hazel woodland peaking at every passerby, taking in their attire and solem appearences. While a woman of the more upper class world of New York City, she was used to events of glitz and glam; this, however, was more drib and drab. A sigh parted from her cherry painted lips, the champagne flute empty and her perfectly manicured fingers were tapping slightly at the rim of the glass. The in time beat keeping her sane from the mumbles of quiet conversations that were happening in clusters around the room.
Being perched near the mantle piece had allowed her the peace and quiet she desired, while Lilith loved ravashing conversation, she knew it was very unlikely that this would happen in here and rather than chase the need for a thrill she kept herself away, in hopes that time would fast forward and take her to the much needed after party sheād find in her own dive bar later this evening; whiskey, although fabulos here, wasnāt the same as a dirty one on a sticky bar. But the voice cut through her solace, like a sharp knife to delicate silk. Eyes snapping towards the man, whose voice she knew instantly.
It was Deran Bianchi.Ā
Lilith mulled his question, a very intricate thought running through her mind of the meaning of a photograph --- to be captured in time, a memory instilled on paper. It was a beautiful thing, how they could bring back feelings she had long forgotten.
āāItās a weird thought really, photographs that is.āā Lilith agreed, as she peaked a glance at Deran.Ā āāIf you think about it, in one snap shot, we could have been apart of thousands of photographs, background that is...āā She hummed, furrowed brows following, lips pursing for a moment.Ā āāSome people may have even looked at us in the back ground that moment and wondered who were were --- how we lived.āā Lilith wasnāt a high up person in command, heck, she wouldnāt have been surprised if he didnāt even know her name, but her one redeeming quaility would be that she was an enigma within herself, a beauty of words. She was a charmer, who spoke with eleqouence that came from her time working under her old mentor, when con artistery was her daily living. But as she took a second more to look at Deran, she noted his features, his facial expression, and inwardly sighed.Ā
It was a shame, the absolute awfulness of this situation for them all. A lot was going to a change, and she wasnāt sure whether that was a good thing or bad thing, she wasnāt sure. She was adaptable, she knew that much but sheād be lying if she said she didnāt enjoy it a little.Ā
āāSorry, Deran --- I didnāt mean too...Iāll leave you be.āā
















