#mpkomatsu

[mpshiah]

･ﾟ♡    𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓀

 &. —    @mpkomatsu  . ˟

       The whole point of joining in this function is supposed to be an excuse for Shiah to come out of her shell a little,( or rather–an excuse to get drunk and dance ). Either way, it’s working and as the night grows shorter, the girl too grows to be a little more carefree. The way she’s suddenly chosen to invite herself into the company of various strange and interesting people. It’s obvious, her weaving in and out of certain social circles will have her winding up in trouble, nonetheless.

         Yet, in this moment she doesn’t seem to care. Surrendering that to the euphoric environment around her. And, in that instant, she wonders.

          Are we human? 

                       or are we dancers?

          In this moment all the little things like don’t concern her as they typically did. The music itself and the fun that is coupled with the mystery behind a mask that are the only things which really matter to her. And, taking a small break from the dancefloor, the female’s slim figure leans against a wall behind her. Admiring the crowd of strangers who are scattered throughout the vicinity. Noticing a girl who stands alone, there is something awfully familiar in her lanky build and dark black hair. Though, blinded by the little amounts of alcohol which were already coursing through her system, Shiah puts it in her best interest to approach the other.

        Soon tapping on the stranger’s shoulder, she waits for her to turn around. A brow quirked as the girl tilts her head to the side. ❝ do you not care for dancing ? ❞ it’s a rather blunt question, and to be honest, something more along the lines of, did you come here alone?–seemed more appropriate.

        Positioning herself beside the unfamiliar woman, Shiah gives the female before her a small shrug. ❝ Do you mind me waiting this one out with you ? ❞ A small laugh is emitted past painted lips while pointing in the direction of the dance floor. Shaking her head softly at those shameless enough to bare their own, peculiar moves.

       ❝ I mean there’s no sense in being by yourself at an event like this, am I right ? ❞

[mperosx]

"I was right to not give a damn about you because now I know that you never did about me."

--*

  Eros keeps her at arms length- quite literally. His arms are outstretched keeping her standing up and standing back from the core of himself. Must be something in the punch, he reasons and casts a glance at the innocent looking bowl of sparkling white grape punch on the long table. 

  There was always someone who laced something at events, even ones so fine as this one. The other masquerade goers seem fine so he wonders if maybe she is just less strong to the effects of what might be alcohol in her cup.

  “Oooo sweetheart,” he says softly to her. Luckily her outburst is masked by the music and she seems not to have drawn attention toward them. “I think you have me mistaken for another god. Here, let me get you to a chair and get you a real drink.”

  And by that he means water. Bottled water- so he can watch the seal of it break and be sure she’s not drinking anything weird. “Eros, by the way.”

  He pulls away the ornate mask he is wearing to reveal his face, “My name is Eros.”

[dakotaxmp]

"Please, stay."

//

  He’s slinging his backpack on one shoulder after the class is dismissed when she pipes up. Dakota had been back into the swing of classes for the day- his first day back since his vacation- and easily chatting up with new faces. It would seem his shyness toward females had mostly melted away with the passing of winter and his twenty-second birthday.

  ‘Please, stay.’

  Well... mostly. 

  He blushes at her request to linger. “I mean...”

  Dakota wants to stay. He thinks he likes the idea of talking chill and getting to know her some more. He was particularly interested in knowing about her powers and magic skills. She was like him and so different at the same time and that made him wanna take a minute with her.

  Face hot, he pulls out his phone and brings up a new contact screen. “I gotta open up the restaurant but you can hit me up while I set up for the night.”

  An idea slaps him then, “Unless... you feel like walkin’ and talkin’. We could walk there together and you can take a look at it.”

  And for just a little second, a twinge of pride blooms on his face. He loves Honeypot and all it had become to him- and he was more than happy to be home.

[miloxmp]

"I hope you're happy."

“Hella fucking happy now that you’ve put out those cancer sticks.” He grumbled glaring slightly at the female in question. “It’s none of my business if you smoke, I honestly don’t give a shit if you’re into that.” He continued on with a wave of his hand. “But I’ve got a strict store policy here.” He gestures over to the sign right by the front entrance.

“No smoking within a twenty feet radius of the entrance.” He reads it aloud before looking back to the girl. “Nothing personal,” he pauses and shrugs. “I just like the air that I breathe clean.”

[mpshiah]

“So, thank you. Thank you for ruining my life."

✰ * º ❛  love is pain [ sentence starters ] : accepting ! 

       ( Hurt ? )

                         Angry.

                           Surprised ?

       It’s that of mixed-matched emotions which contorts Shiah’s visage into an expression that seems to be beyond comprehension. An empty pill bottle in hand. She’s silent for a moment. Her previous scolding sent to a halt as she ponders upon the other’s utterance. She’s not sure what to feel. The almost childlike girl, a mess before her very eyes. But, the words she speaks seem to strike a sensitive place within Shiah’s heart. And, almost as if in defeat, the arms crossed over her chest almost instantaneously slump to her side as her demeanor loses its previous edge.

        Shiah can’t help it. She becomes soft.  vulnerable.

        She’s not sure what would be deemed appropriate for the situation at hand.

         To try and laugh, maybe? To lightly jab nana’s shoulder and joke it off like friends did. Or, perhaps, to feel offended? To be mad. To yell and get upset. Because, all Shiah wants to do is help, yet she just won’t take it. But, no. neither of those things seems to be the right thing to do. Torn. Shiah can’t help but feel her chest grow tight as she observes the obviously upset female before her. Her throat grows dry. She’s not sure what to say. Maybe she’s at fault. Still,  she can’t bring herself to speak up.

Ruined.

          Life.

          That’s all she can seem to come back to at that very moment. To ruin someone’s  life ?The cop had never intended on doing such thing. To anyone. There’s a sliver of guilt that itches at pale skin. Uncomfortable, she clears her throat quietly. Forcing a smile on her face. She is trying to be the bigger person.

         ❝ Nana  … ❞ The words leave her lips in a gentle flow, as she breathes a small sigh. She searches for the right words to say in that moment. Fumbling for words that won’t set off the other.  ❝ I- I never… I never meant to make you feel that way…❞ The older struggles as she speaks, she feels a lump forming within her airways. Her face growing hot as she feels a sting threaten her eyes. She tries to hold back the tears which dare to escape past long lashes.

       She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself before she attempts to speak again.  ❝ I just… I know you. And, i know you are better than this, ❞ she shakes the empty pill bottle of Xanax she’d just flushed down the other’s toilet. ❝ You don’t need this, Nana. ❞ her voice trembles as she tries to straighten up her posture. To not appear weak in front of the younger who obviously needed something much stronger than what Shiah was capable of being in that very moment.

         ❝ I just want to help you . .. But I can’t if you won’t let me.  ❞