prince charming;

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” William Thatcher Harrington, 'what the hell' for short.

[williamthatch]

William hadn’t expected to find himself out of his flat that evening, but there he was, liquor in hand and a see green bead necklace swinging around his neck. Will even happened to enjoy the sight before him, his vision swimming in multicolored beads and happy, free spirits, devoid of any traces of worry or sadness or guilt. Wanting nothing more than to rid himself of life’s burdens as quickly and for as long as possible, William met the bottle of vodka which had somehow found itself into his hand to his lips, allowing a stream of the intoxicating liquid to burn a path down his throat. As he absentmindedly walked a few steps, an “oomph” escaped him as he found himself staring at a foreign face. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, but I’d bet you a hundred bucks that the bead Gods willed this to happen. So what will it be, stranger? Truth or dare?”

[maisieowens-deactivated20150331]

Her head spun, circling the room without moving an inch as an open bottle of jack rested between her thumb and forefinger. Maisie had never taken a beer between parted lips let alone a bottle of vodka and a half shared bottle of jack, and now she was a mess in heels. A dress too short for her tall and slender finger, red beads bounced off her chest as cherry lips sang the lyrics to whatever song managed to play. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely tipsy, having lost her best friend in the mess of people, the smoke of other substances had worked into her bloodstream and polluted her thoughts. There were no rules anymore, she was Maisie Owens. She was alive. Cat ears slipped into her perfectly straight blonde hair as she enjoyed the festivities, glitter and ribbons coming from every direction as war painted bodies, smothered in beads pressed up against her. She found herself tripping through the sea, until she could finally rest herself in the hallway, close to the outer lines of eager people waiting to get in. “If you want a bead, you gotta ask for a dare.” She allows her fingers to clench, dragging her hand through the air like a playful cat as her back rests against the black brick of the interior wall. “Wanna play, crimson for a dare?”

[williamthatch]

"Sounds excellent, kitten." Will chuckled into his own bottle, it's rim lodged between his lips. While slightly dizzy, Will found his grip on his sober self still surprisingly firm, not necessarily by his choosing. He hadn't planned on attending the festivities, appreciating a good glass of wine and a warm body beside him in bed more than cheap shots and sticky, sweet breath, but somehow found himself in the middle of the drunken throng of people anyways, vodka sloshing out the brim of the bottle clutched in his hand. "Truth or dare?" he asked in a slow murmur, growing interest in the beautiful blonde distraction before him.

[williamthatch]