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 weak and drunken hearts [open], one or more peeps!
HANNAH L. BELLAMY
 Posted: Mar 18 2015, 12:14 PM
Quote
33 posts
23 years old
aerialist
© DINO
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I'll blame it on the fires that you lit. You'll blame it on All the lies in the games, but we both played. I'd retire but I'm struck by a want-to-know. Can we rise? Going our way through the night, Can we grow and unite, will we?


open!

557

So far Hannah had done a pretty good job at hiding from both Valen and Dom. She knew the hiding of her pink hair probably had something to do with that, because normally she stuck out like a sore thumb, a beacon in the darkness. And now, even though her hair was still rather exceptional, being half black, half white, it was not something they were expecting of her, and thus they had not found her yet so far. And Hannah was content with that. Her feelings regarding Valen were confusing - they always were - and drunken Dom was not something she liked to deal with unless she didn't have other options for sex that night. He could be entertaining, sometimes, but in the current light of events, she was not all that into seeing either of them. No Hannah was rather okay with entertaining herself so far, and perhaps some scarcely clad servers could help her with that. She had always been very fond of Tarzan, so they got that part right. But first, there would be booze to get her party kick going and she positioned herself far away from where she saw Dom and his clique. They were a rather rowdy bunch, not all that hard to miss, which made it easier for her.

She lined herself up with a rather impressive row of shots, flirting a bit with the bartender to get him to allow her to not pay. She had the money, that was not the point. The game was the point, getting what you wanted without having to pay for it. Hannah had always been fond of playing around with boys, wrapping them around her finger and then dropping them again when they become hooked on her, cutting the lifeline every time they got too close.It was how she thrived, it was her way of survival in a world full of cruelty and disloyalty. Being drunk was a way for her to loosen up whenever people pretended to be more social than they actually were, like the world was their best friend. Lies they were, all lies. It was human nature to lie, to save your own skin. Mankind dismantled that behaviour by calling them "little white lies", harmless fallacies that did not hurt anyone. They were wrong. And so Hannah peered through the crowd, spotting men with wedding bands grinding against harmless young girls, never telling their wives of their indiscretions. After all, "nothing happened", right?

Yet despite these atrocities, the dancefloor and tidal wave of sweaty, lusting people seemed oddly alluring, and Hannah felt herself craving to give in to the hungry vibe, a grimace decoration her modelesque face as she downed her final shot and got up. With the cadence of the beat serving as a rhythm for the sway of her hips as she emerged in the crowd, her eyes closing as she focused on the music. Dancing was a way to be free, to let go of inhabitions and stop caring, even if only until the songs faded away again. There was a man in front of her and one behind her, hands gliding over her body in ways that would normally make her break hands, but Hannah didn't care. She was lost, and she didn't want to be found.

Gravity

get the hell away from me

*

--------------------
try
to see
yourself

One Day


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