Aurelia
as if you were on fire
from within
from within
He's not the only one with glitter all over him. A few of her fingers look as though they've been dipped in it, because they have, and her hair and skin is dotted by little pieces of it. Wiping at them appears only to spread more everywhere, so she gives up quickly on that. At the sight of Jack's shiny face, eyebrows, and beard, Aurelia's arms shake as she tries to hold back her laughter. "Incredibly sorry," she chokes out, not meaning it at all this time.
But she quiets, and she allows herself to concentrate on the next bauble. The plan for this one is much less messy. She uses a pencil to begin drawing an intricate design around it. When that's done, and the details look ornate enough to suit her, she begins to etch them out with a knife. Simple, but maybe it will look pretty when she's done. Or maybe not...
His attitude regarding his birthday keeps her silent for a moment, wondering why it seemed such a.. well, sensitive subject. Should I ask? Her gaze wavers up at him, hoping he doesn't catch the questioning look she gives him before she turns her attention back to carving.
"I don't celebrate my birthdays either," she starts, figuring maybe it will be easier if she talks about herself instead, "I never had the time or the means. I stopped caring about it pretty quick. But people in the upper districts? Rich people, you know. They'd throw these huuuuge parties. Absolutely glorious. Loud music, lots of alcohol - and whatever else you needed. Tons of people. They'd have a time of it," she shook her head before continuing, "that lifestyle never really suited me but, I did sneak into one, once," she smirks up at him, as if she has a great story to tell, but all she says is, "don't remember a fuckin' thing. Except! When they threw me out because I wouldn't stop pouring my drinks into the fish tank." She scoffs at the blurry, vague memories of a very drunken night.
But she quiets, and she allows herself to concentrate on the next bauble. The plan for this one is much less messy. She uses a pencil to begin drawing an intricate design around it. When that's done, and the details look ornate enough to suit her, she begins to etch them out with a knife. Simple, but maybe it will look pretty when she's done. Or maybe not...
His attitude regarding his birthday keeps her silent for a moment, wondering why it seemed such a.. well, sensitive subject. Should I ask? Her gaze wavers up at him, hoping he doesn't catch the questioning look she gives him before she turns her attention back to carving.
"I don't celebrate my birthdays either," she starts, figuring maybe it will be easier if she talks about herself instead, "I never had the time or the means. I stopped caring about it pretty quick. But people in the upper districts? Rich people, you know. They'd throw these huuuuge parties. Absolutely glorious. Loud music, lots of alcohol - and whatever else you needed. Tons of people. They'd have a time of it," she shook her head before continuing, "that lifestyle never really suited me but, I did sneak into one, once," she smirks up at him, as if she has a great story to tell, but all she says is, "don't remember a fuckin' thing. Except! When they threw me out because I wouldn't stop pouring my drinks into the fish tank." She scoffs at the blurry, vague memories of a very drunken night.
the moon lives
in the lining of your skin
in the lining of your skin
