making friends is like making felonies; you break a few rules
@novuscoeptus wishes to see you // starter call ❤
↳ this meeting has been called to order
[ $ FRANCIS SCOTT KEY FITZGERALD $ ]
Due to Fitzgerald’s vast quantities of wealth, it is no surprise that he takes especial attendance to well-do neighborhoods.
Markedly, he funds a number of his own residences, particularly where the elite and rich make their homes and sacrifices. Graciously shaded boulevards, snarling vines of lavish taste, brick and mortar and old semblances of ancient prestige...all that which points toward upper class nobility, Fitzgerald makes of particular fondness. How seemingly strange it was, how fairytale-like and surreal...a self-made man of the finest degree, straight out of a dime-store novel and made little venture to the imagination as to his place and social standing. Certainly, a degree of respect was to be made for so fine a specimen...but Fitzgerald knew that his uprising was devoid of all the finesse regaled in fairytales and self-made stories. The grim reality was far more obstructive than anything particularly surreal; that fantastical edge to which gain the impossible of his feats disappeared when put under surveillance. Smugglers and gun-for-hires don’t make as near as noble heroes as their more respectable counterparts.
Alas, his crimes were not begotten upon red brick and mortar-lined houses; the blood of his conquers did not flow endlessly upon tree-shaded boulevards and elegantly paved streets. Nay, not an ounce of sin was detectable upon the edifice, upon the floors to which he tread. Fitzgerald was free of all remorse, free of all guilt, and was near as innocent as a babe. Devils masquerade themselves in light to beguile the angels in service; no one dares question a demon in pinstripes.
As was his attendance to all manors of relevance, so too did Fitzgerald make proper for neighbors. While it was not the fun of his infamous nighttime soirees, the relevancy regulated by afternoon get-togethers and teatime affairs was especially poignant. Zelda and him were bested not for introversion; the utter necessity of people was by far a drawback in their usually so driven personalities. The reliance upon the attendance of others was certainly a curse in and of itself, but it was a curse Fitzgerald felt all too fanciful to indulge in and beset the standards of that neighborhoods’ elegance--nothing was as near satisfying as impressing the humble minds of stepping ladders (though one did not hear it from me).
And so, was the afternoon booked.
Fitzgerald’s large house dwarfed the prospering party moving in and out from door to veranda to dining hall to pool--despite the ongoing arrival of more guests and party-goers, the house seemed almost cartoonishly empty. If it were not for the appropriately sized furniture and decorations, one may have thought the get-together was to take place in a house of a Titan!
Zelda was a proper hostess; a lively debutante despite her recent convalescence, she was the perfect mix of a queen and a socialite--a goddess in the realm of the upper stratum, earthy and clever and witty and graceful, truly the actress worthy of her role as Emperor’s wife. Fitzgerald watched her from afar, noticed the ease with which she spoke to many men and to many women, and gave a smile akin to familial pride. The party was going well, very well, and all would certainly get better.
Time loomed on, and more guests came and went, swam and filtered, through large doors and crowded halls and noisy clamors and smoke-filled perfumes--all of which did time disperse in gradual accumulation. So too did the faces and names of guests begin to blur and mingle upon the mind of the host; he lost tracked of who and whom and where and what. If it were not for the fact that he has been dry for the past couple hours, Fitzgerald would have mightily blamed the alcohol.
Moving in and out from betwixt well-to-do damsels and men of unquestionable excellency, Fitzgerald came across an odd pair of seemingly twins upon the outskirts of the formulating crowd. He did not recall seeing them arrive earlier, though that could simply be the foggy recollection--after having come across so many guests and so many people, one tends to forget all of whom they have met.
Approaching them from the front, Fitzgerald made somewhat of an attempt of friendliness, though the peculiarity of their arrival was certainly met with questionable judgments. Still, the light-hearted and relatively cheerful atmosphere made him exceptionally generous that evening--at the very least, he had no desire in being difficult.
“Excuse me, if I may, but you seem incredibly lost, good sirs! Come in from out of the cold--don’t drag the draft with you.” He gave them what one would call a rather charming, if not friendly, smile. “Pardon me for my rudeness, but is there any chance I may have met you before? With all these people, it is certainly hard to keep track of all who enter the premises--my apologies if I may have missed you! You are...?” Fitzgerald began to inquire.
