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celestic-ruins · 28 days ago

Text

based on a dream

6,000 words under the read more, be warned

Prey Drive:

Parties like these have gotten boring. Enikő leaned back against her makeup chair, turning her face in the mirror to catch the glitter on her cheeks. Her gold-brown doe eyes shined back at her, startled and bright. Against the boring, blank walls of her dressing room, her light brown hair shined.

“What do you think?” Marie asked her. Enikő had worked with Marie for about two years now, and she had found her craft to be thorough and beautiful. Tonight was no different. Her makeup was bold, eye-catching, and undeniably stunning.

“Stunning.” She repeated. Her lips curled into a sweet but shy smile. “As always.”

Marie laughed lightly, setting down the makeup brush in her hand. “I’m glad. You’ll do wonderful.”

Enikő only smiled. She knew. She had been to this specific event a dozen times now, and each time she had shined. A yearly event like this one was something to look forward to.

“Marie, is she done?” Sergio, her stylist, asked, popping his head into her area.

Marie continued to clean up her tools while saying, “yeah, she’s all yours.”

Sergio she had worked with longer than Marie. He was a very talented stylist that was known across the industry, but she paid top dollar to make sure he was hers, and hers alone tonight. He was what made her stand out, even amongst the other pretty faces.

Sergio retreated from the room and came back with the final pieces to her look. First, a circular headpiece. Delicate gold twisted up to a crown of antlers that was designed to be shiny, but not too bright that it would throw off photos. Plated-metal added a bit of weight to the piece, but it wasn’t impossibly heavy. Second, lace stockings with garter belts (for the ladies, Sergio had winked) that would remain hidden within the folds of her dress. Finally, her shoes. They were lace heels, sheer for the most part. A sheer ribbon tied around her ankle, where the shoe met her skin, to hide the plain strap the shoe came with.

Together, she looked elegant, refined, carefully dressed and crafted to be to Sergio’s style. “Exquisite.” She remarked. Enikő stood, testing out how the heels held her weight, how the headpiece fell against her hair, and how the makeup changed with her expressions.

“You have plenty of time before the dinner starts. Remember, you’re in photo group 2.” Sergio said, checking his watch. “Try not to get too drunk before then.”

Enikő rolled her eyes and playfully nudged him. He dramatically staggered backwards, a hand to his forehead. “You know me, an absolute party animal.” She teased.

“Get out there,” Sergio laughed, and Marie snickered.

Enikő did as she was told and strode into the lounge. Only a few people were there and she naturally gravitated to a costar that she had kept in touch with, Sami. He was chatting with his stylist and his assistant, the assistant who was flitting around him, not unlike a fly or mosquito.

Sami spotted her and turned, causing the assistant to hiss in protest. “Enikő! You’re here, finally.”

“I’m early.” She remarked, giving him a half hug. “Did you not reserve a room?”

“Well,” he leaned against his hip dramatically, “I was ready before I left, but some people really wanted to make some adjustments.”

Enikő cast an eye to the assistant. The assistant shot her a look of disdain and Enikő looked back at Sami. “Then I’m afraid to say you weren’t ready.”

Sami stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side! Besides, you’ve done this more than me, you have more experience.”

“I do, yeah.” She said, laughing a little. She opened her mouth to continue when she heard a crash and several voices cursing and howling in rage.

She and Sami both turned to see a young, maybe 20 something year old girl screaming at a makeup artist. She was barely dressed, the thin silk she was in clearly an under thing and not appropriate to wear at the dinner. Half-done makeup was running down her face as she cried thick, fat tears.

Enikő’s heart sank a little at the sight. Once upon a time she was the crying, shaking girl, unaccustomed to high heels and crowds. Her stylist, Sergio in fact, had to calm her down before every event, every public sighting, and even the personal ones, the dates and friends and family. Otherwise, she’d run for the hills. She had grown out of that, obviously, but a part of her still was like this girl.

Almost unconsciously, Enikő drew closer to the girl who was now on her knees, sobbing into her hands. She knelt to meet the young one at her eye level, as best she could in heels. “Darling, can you look at me?”

The young one sniffled violently, her entire body shaking as she used all her energy to look at her. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, and even behind all the tears, Enikő could see flecks of silver. “Mm?” The girl whimpered out, words failing her.

“Can you come with me to somewhere private?” Enikő asked, keeping her voice low and calm, a tone one might use with a cornered beast. The stylist the young one was yelling at threw her hands into the air and walked off, muttering something about the thanks she got.

“Mm.” The young one managed.

Enikő extended an arm, and the young one gripped onto it, artificially long nails digging into her flesh. Enikő paid the pain no mind, and lead the young one to the room she booked. None of her personnel were in the room, and for that she was thankful. She steered them to one of the metal foldable chairs, and set the young one on it. She gently rubbed her hands up and down her arms, and finally let her hands fall to the girl’s wrists.

The young one’s cries dampened to a little whine, and that’s when Enikő finally asked, “are you okay?”

She already knew the answer was no, but it was a good way to get people talking. The young one sniffled, and in a wobbly voice croaked, “no.”

“What about you isn’t okay?”

“Everything!” The girl cried and a few tears slipped out, but she managed to continue, “my assistant was late, and I haven’t even seen Davina and my hair isn’t done and I ruined my makeup and my dress isn’t even going on and and,” she hiccuped, one of those wet, painful ones that happen when someone cries, “and I don’t have time!”

“Darling, darling,” Enikő cooed, squeezing her hands briefly before brushing back the young one’s pale blonde hair. “Look at me?”

The young one stopped, little sobs wracking her body every now and again. “Yeah?”

Enikő couldn’t help but smile at the innocence, “You’re doing amazing.”

“But I’m not ready!”

“You’re here early. Your stylist team will know how to handle the time crunch, that’s their job. That’s what you’re paying them for.”

“But I’m just so scared.” The young one choked out, “Everyone here’s so famous and I’m just. I’m just a kid! I know everyone sees the roles I played as a kid but I- I can’t- I’m more than that!”

“You are, darling. You’re here for a reason.” This was, after all, a party for adults only. Children were not allowed in the crowd or to be invited. “Just like everyone else, just like me. Anything you do they’ll love.”

“But my stupid ex is here,” the young one pouted, now able to wipe her tears away without more replacing them, “and anything everyone will say to me will be about him.”

“My stupid ex is also here, but you know where he’ll be? In the crowd.” Not entirely true, her ‘stupid ex’ she actually broke up with on good terms, but the young one didn’t need to know that, “and soon your ex will be in the crowd while you’re here, with me, on the carpet.”

The young one let out a laugh, and Enikő relaxed a little. That was progress. “Yeah, with you on the carpet.” The young one repeated, swallowing hard. “Fuck ‘em.”

Enikő huffed out a laugh, loosening her grip on the young one’s hands, now that she seemed more grounded. “Yeah, that’s the spirit. I’ll be right back.”

She moved to let go of her, but the young one’s hands immediately shot out and gripped her wrists, tight enough to restrict circulation. Enikő glanced up at the young one, who blushed a bit and loosened her grip. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking away.

Enikő broke eye contact and smiled lightly. “No harm behind it, right?”

“Mhm,” the young one agreed, letting her go.

Enikő got up and, after shooting the young one a smile, peeked out of the room for the young one’s stylist. Then, a thought occurred to her. Enikő pulled herself back in and, looking over her shoulder and meeting the young one’s eyes, asked, “Darling, what’s your name?”

The young one looked up at her, “Rieka.”

“Rieka.” Enikő repeated, “I’m Enikő.”

“That’s a pretty name.” The young one said, smiling.

She smiled back. “Thank you.” Enikő stepped out of her room and shut the door, locking eyes with Sami.

Sami was finally alone, and without a stylist or assistant or makeup artist. Arms crossed, he raised a brow, “What was that all about?”

“She’s a little overwhelmed.” Enikő replied, looking around. “Where’s your team?”

“I’m done, finally.” Sami said, “Is the girl done?”

“Looking for her team. She’s a bit calmer now.” Enikő paced and wandered around, hoping that she’d recognize one of the people that had been chasing and yelling around Rieka.

Finally, a stressed looking young woman came up to her, a half-open bag of makeup practically spilling onto the floor. “I saw you with Rieka. Is she done crying? We really need to get started.”

Enikő gestured at her to follow, “she’s in my dressing room, I don’t know if you have a room reserved.”

The artist looked at her, confused, “you can reserve dressing rooms?”

“Yes,” Enikő replied slowly, but nevertheless continued and raised a chin at the door that had the young one behind it, “that way.”

The makeup artist opened the door without knocking and Enikő could see that Rieka was no longer in the chair, looking around. The only thing out of place in the room was her own belongings which were a purse, her phone, and a plastic water bottle.

The young one turned and visibly slumped when her eyes met the makeup artist’s. “I know, I know.” Rieka said, before either of them could speak. “I’m not presentable.”

Enikő frowned at that but didn’t speak, instead watched as the makeup artist sighed out loud and approached. “You’re not. We’ve got to get this,” the artist waved a hand, gesturing to Rieka as a whole, “fixed up before you make a public appearance, even if you’re late. Honestly, I wish you would’ve thought about how much we do to make you pretty.”

“She’s pretty in her own right.” Enikő found herself saying without even realizing. She turned to Rieka, “and you’ll do just fine tonight, no matter what happens.”

With a curt nod to the artist, she turned to leave and close the door behind her (when had she even entered?) when Rieka suddenly said, “wait, please?” She paused. “Stay?”

Enikő looked at the artist, who again sighed before throwing her bag down and digging out various makeup supplies. “Not like I can stop her.”

Enikő nodded without a word and sat in the metal chair. The cool metal helped ground her, as the artist sat Rieka in the makeup chair and began to work at her.

The redness in her eyes was difficult to hide, a fact the artist felt the need to point out. The slight bags under her eyes that spoke of many late nights were covered and brightened with concealer. Her cold eyes were made sharp and big with clever highlights and shadows, and her chapped, red, bitten lips were covered with a dark, matte lipstick. With a bit of work and patience, the young one became Rieka, the superstar actress, model, and envy of all.

Rieka, during all of this, kept her eyes on Enikő. Only when the artist instructed Rieka to turn her head like so, or to close her eyes, was Enikő not under scrutiny.

At some point during the process, another artist popped in, one Enikő didn’t recognize.

“She’s almost done with makeup.” The first artist said, barely breaking concentration.

“She should’ve been done by now.” The second artist snapped, hauling his own bag of beauty items. “Where’s her dress?!”

Rieka looked away from everyone, mumbling something under her breath. The second artist said a quiet, frustrated prayer for patience before opening his bag and pulling out a hair brush, hair dryer, and a few other tools.

The makeup artist finally backed up, satisfied with her work. “I’ll find the dress, finish her hair.”

The second artist didn’t reply, the comb in his mouth preventing clear speech. As he styled Rieka’s hair, Enikő snuck a glance at her phone. The dinner would start quite soon, actually, and she could understand the stress of not being done. Hence why she made sure to start extremely early in case anything were to disrupt the planned process, and her prep team were almost always on time with their schedules. It helped that she didn’t share them with anyone else tonight.

The door opened and the makeup artist was back with a piece of cloth draped over her arm, protected by a white sheet. Enikő got up, and Rieka’s head jerked toward her. “Where are you going?” Rieka asked, completely ignoring the protests of her hair stylist.

“Your dress is here.” Enikő replied, nodding towards the makeup artist. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Don’t leave,” Rieka pleaded, a tinge of desperation in her words. “Just, turn your back?”

Enikő looked straight at the makeup artist, confusion very clearly on her face. The makeup artist barely glanced at her before murmuring, “just do what she says, it’s easier.”

“Alright,” Enikő said aloud, more to Rieka than the makeup artist. She turned the chair and sat, fiddling with her phone. Enikő heard the shuffling of fabrics, complaints of both artists as she could imagine their work being quickly undone by one stray movement.

Finally, the shuffling ceased and Rieka said, “You can turn.”

Enikő got up, taking her time to stretch a little. Her dress didn’t offer much mobility, but standing after so much sitting was appreciated. She turned.

Rieka was ready, now. It was clear, from the carefully placed fake (or maybe real, who knew with people like Rieka, like Enikő herself), gems glittering around her eyes. The theme, a promise, evoked the idea of marriage to many, and outlets assumed the carpet would be full of wedding-like dresses and sharp tuxedos fit for a groom.

Rieka didn’t go that route.

Her dress was black like midnight, little sparkles in the bodice reminiscent of constellations in the sky. The edges of her skirt were decorated with, if she looked closely, tiny skulls. Her makeup was heavy, thick eyeliner and dark, glittery eyeshadow.

“What’s a more surefire promise than the promise of death?” The makeup artist remarked, reading her mind with such a statement. “You look drop dead gorgeous.

Enikő thought she looked like she was in mourning. A bit dark, especially in comparison to her, who went a celestial day route. “I like the concept.” Enikő said, finally. “Do you like it?”

Rieka’s eyes swept over herself in the mirror, and then, very quickly, at her. “I do. I think it’s…” she trailed off, grappling with a word, before deciding on, “it’s cool.”

Enikő wanted to laugh at the juvenile phrase, but held it back and checked her phone. “It’s almost time for the dinner. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m better.” The young one said, beaming now. “I feel pretty.”

“You are pretty.” The hair stylist remarked. “Now get, we’ve got stuff to do.”

Enikő didn’t need to be told twice. She gathered her skirts and swept out of the room, Rieka in tow.

“So, how did you come up with the death concept?” Enikő asked, as they wandered the slightly busier halls, brushing past other actors and actresses.

“I was feeling mopey.” Rieka responded, “my ex had just broken off our engagement and I had to fire my old agent because he kept accepting all these… childish roles.”

“Childish roles?” Enikő echoed. Maybe vaguely she could remember the young one in tween and teen shows, perhaps for a very long time, but she couldn’t say for certain. “Any roles could be made mature with the right acting.”

“But I don’t want to be type-casted.” Rieka lamented, “I’m already associated with family friendly, squeaky clean would never even say fuck, much less be in a raunchy role. I’m nothing without that. But I want to be so much more.”

“Mm,” Enikő hummed in sympathy. She hadn’t struggled with this specific issue. Perhaps not starting so young did that to a person, but her evolution was very natural, and though she changed agents a few times, it wasn’t ever due to accepting too many roles. “It can be complicated, making such a big transition.”

“It shouldn’t be.” The young one said firmly. “I should be allowed to grow up like any other kid does.”

“You aren’t like any other kid.” Enikő pointed out. “You’ve been in the spotlight for a very long time.”

“Since I was 10.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. I didn’t really get a choice then, but now that I do, I feel trapped.”

“Life’s conundrums.” Enikő mused, “there’s no winning. Out of the pot, into the fire.”

“Mhm,” the young one agreed, “you’ve been to these events a lot, right?”

“Indeed. I had to miss a few years sometimes, but it’s good publicity to go.”

Before she could really elaborate, a staff member, dressed in a simple uniform that could easily be mistaken for the curtains on the wall, rushed up to them. “Seating has started for the dinner, come.” The staff member gestured at Enikő and she absentmindedly moved to follow.

“No!” The young one snapped, grabbing her wrist before she could leave. “We are sitting together.”

The staff member looked at her. “You will be escorted to your seat as well, now please, let go of Ms. Enikő.”

Rieka pouted, and her fingers only got tighter, nails digging into her skin. “I want to sit with her.”

“I’ll see you after the dinner, at the photo shoot, okay? I’ll be right across the room.” Enikő assured. She shot a glance at the hapless staff member, who only hopelessly looked back.

“We can see about seat changes. However, that is not exactly protocol.” The staff member offered. “Right this way, please.”

Enikő looked at Rieka to see if she could at least concede that point. The young one looked hesitant, another pout already forming, but she finally loosened her grasp and nodded. “Fine.”

Enikő hadn’t realized what a brat the young one could be, when faced with something she didn’t like. It was quite common in her line of work, though, so perhaps she was being presumptuous when coming to an opposite conclusion.

Predictably, the table staff could not rearrange the seating. Everyone was seated according to very specific desires, and moving two seemingly unrelated people last minute wasn’t possible.

Also predictably, Rieka was not happy. A shouting (or crying) fit was quickly on the horizon, so Enikő stepped in once more. “Let’s sit off to the side.”

The young one tilted her head questioningly, “Don’t you want to eat dinner?”

Enikő gestured to one of the ornate couches off to the side. It was shorter than a normal one, and there were several others exactly like it lining the walls, but it would do. “This isn’t optimal, of course, but that’s the only option I can think of. But we should really sit in our assigned seats.”

“No! This works.” Rieka said, almost eager. Any trace of hesitance disappeared at the thought of separation. “I’m not hungry for food, anyway.”

Enikő hummed in agreement and sat on the love seat. Rieka joined her, at the opposite end.

The dinner started. The organizers had several high profile people make speeches, perform for the crowd, and then a movie began playing. A few of the attendees were in said movie, and the chatter quickly turned to them.

That was good, because Enikő could feel Rieka inching closer. First a hand explored the fabrics of her dress, but when Enikő glanced over, Rieka’s eyes were firmly on the speaker. Next, their thighs were pressed against each other. She could barely feel the young one through the fabric of their dresses, but the heat that they generated made her sweat under her makeup. The heat from the room and the electronics and each other was almost unbearable.

Only after the movie hit a slow build point and the talk picked up did Rieka move again. She disguised the move by reaching over for a dish of food that a server had brought to them, but Enikő felt a sudden weight on her lap that no distraction could cover.

Her breath hitched. The young one was beautiful, but everyone here was beautiful. What was different was her forwardness. But Enikő shook her head. Surely this clinginess was the comfort of finding a friendly face. Searching for some maternal affection and attention, Enikő could relate. She had done the same, at Rieka’s age.Regardless, Enikő tried not to look too closely into it. But when the young one shifted to be entirely on her lap, their combined body heat making her delirious, she knew Rieka wanted something she did not. Rieka was young, easily half her age, and was stressed. Enikő remembered being like that. Enikő remembered the person who took advantage of her, and she refused to be this young one’s bad memory.

The window of escape came agonizingly late. She and a few others were set to roam, letting photographers get a close look at them with their stylists. It was also a reprieve from extended sitting, so when Sergio came over and told her it was time, she jumped at it.

“I’ll see you after photos, okay?” She had assured, standing, practically dumping Rieka to the couch.

Rieka pouted again, her bottom lip red and wet. Before she could protest, cry, or even scream, her stylist stepped between them. “Time to go, you’re already late.”

“I promise, I’ll see you again.” She said over her shoulder as Sergio lead her away.

Once they were a suitable distance into the crowd, Sergio looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Really?”

“Listen, the young one means no harm by it.”

“Uh huh, and I’m blind.” He said, but his voice took a considerably more teasing tone than before. “Just don’t get too attached. And I better see you at the afterparty.”

“I’m not going home with her.” She said bluntly. “I do not plan on getting laid.”

“Good.” He nodded, clasping a hand on her shoulder. “Now get over there and smile.”

Enikő straightened her back and plastered her award-winning smile onto her face, flashing her teeth at him, but doing as she was told. The photographers were barricaded off to the side of the dining room, so several invitees were lined up to get their proper, solo photos. Enikő lined up, politely smiling at those who she recognized and exchanging a few words with those who she was closer to.

One person ahead of her, she spotted a familiar mop of hair. “Hey, Sami!” She called.

Sami whipped around, his head jerking so fast she thought he’d get a whiplash. “Enikő!” His eyes lit up, and he dropped down in the line to stand next to her.

“Look at you, completely sober!” She joked, punching his shoulder gently. “I can’t believe you managed.” She could feel at least one camera on them, intrigued by their interaction. She turned her face away, to keep their conversation at least a little private.

“You’re getting rusty, or maybe I’m just getting better at hiding it.” He winked, and, after looking around quite obviously, pulled out a small, mostly empty bottle of amber liquid.

She gasped dramatically, “You didn’t.”

“You can always find someone who managed to smuggle something in.” He grinned. “Plus, all I have to do is flash them a winning smile and a little bottle is easily forgotten.”

She rolled her eyes, “Or they’re just absolutely done with you people.”

“You’re one of us, don’t exclude yourself.” Sami glanced over his shoulder, flashing a pretty, but ultimately false smile at the blinding cameras. “Time for me to go.”

“Enjoy your runway, try not to wobble,” She grinned, waving him off.

As he left, smiling and posing at the cameras, Enikő became aware of a presence behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, and spotted a young man, possibly early to mid 20’s at most. She shot him a friendly smile, turning to engage in small talk.

The young man grinned, boyishly handsome. “Hi. Enikő, right?”

She blinked a little at being recognized, as if she wasn’t someone. “Yes, it’s wonderful to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Jaxson.” He said, brushing a hand through his hair. The strands kept their shape, despite the rough handling. “But for you? You can call me Jax.”

Enikő laughed. “I bet you say that to all the women you meet.”

“Just the pretty ones.”

She rolled her eyes but kept a smile on her face. “Sure, sure.” She wasn’t really in the mood for a pretty boy, despite how many there were, but she was flattered. People flirting with her was common, especially among the older generation who were more familiar with her films. But the younger ones, the up-and-coming stars, were usually a little more timid to approach her. She appreciated boldness, as long as they knew when she was or was not interested.

After that brief exchange, it was her turn. She swept down the carpet, smiling. With these kinds of events and dresses, almost any shot would do well, so she practically danced across the carpet. Sometimes she smiled, sometimes she smoldered, other times she let out a little laugh, and heard dozens of snaps and clicks at that. After her mini photoshoot, she walked off the carpet and headed to the refreshments.

Enikő couldn’t muster much more than a smile for most as she waited to let her heart rest. The table didn’t provide anything alcoholic, partly because a few people under 21 were present, and partly to keep drunken fights from breaking out. However, that did not stop people from getting drunk off the energy in the room. She watched as stars and stylists alike got rowdier and rougher the longer the night stretched. A few people trickled out, people with children to attend to, notoriously more private people, and others.

She wondered, briefly, if Rieka had as well, and if she had to break her promise to her. Enikő slipped outside of the venue with a water bottle in hand, wandering into the gardens. Very few people were outside, but she passed some and smiled politely. So much socialization made it hard to find her words, and she was grateful that most seemed to recognize that. After rounding a beautiful fountain, she found a bench under a gazebo and let herself rest, away from prying eyes.

Enikő enjoyed these events, a lot actually; she could see people she hadn’t talked to in a long time, meet new ones, and get pretty photos taken. She always loved an excuse to dress up too, but it was exhausting. Moving from conversation to conversation with little reprieve meant that her senses were often in overdrive, trying to block out the extra noise while also focusing on the person in front of her. Perfumes and colognes and fresheners always clung to every piece of clothing she wore.

It was all too much, sometimes.

Enikő heard footsteps approach, and quickly drank some water and set it aside. She probably got away with ten minutes out here, alone, so she felt a little more ready to talk, even if just to a stranger.

However, it was Sergio who stepped into the gazebo and offered her a smile. “I thought I’d find you here. I saw you disappear after photos and figured you needed space.”

She nodded, swallowing before saying, “Thanks.”

He sat on the bench across from her, letting silence fall between them. She could hear bugs buzzing in the shrubbery around the gazebo, and the water from the fountain, though fainter. The cold air on her exposed skin chilled her to the bone, the sweat that clung to her making her colder. She redirected her attention to Sergio, making eye contact to indicate she was ready.

“How did photos go?” He asked.

“Well.” She replied. “I think my dress fit the theme nicely.”

He nodded. “Good. There are a few other stylists who want to see your dress up close. Are you ready for them?”

“I am.” She replied, getting up. Sergio moved to get up too, and gestured at her to follow him. The urge to apologize was on her lips, but instead, she said, “thank you. For the time.”

“Of course.”

Back into the light and sound and smells was always a lot, but with Sergio leading the way, clearly on a mission, they weren’t stopped. At most, she could get in a greeting and a smile before continuing to slither through the crowd, like water around stones.

Eventually, they slipped into a hallway, and the sounds were dampened by the walls. In the refuge of the hallway stood two women, both clearly not the models themselves. Sergio nodded at the young woman on the left and said, “Enikő, this is Davina.” Then, at the other, “Wynn.”

She smiled and nodded politely. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise.” Wynn replied, flashing a smile at her.

Davina wordlessly nodded back, before turning to Sergio and asked, “How long did you say you’ve been working with her?”

“Coming up on 16 years.” Sergio replied. “Since she was a teen.”

“And you’ve styled her the entire time?” At Sergio’s nod, Wynn continued, “How did you evolve with her instead of against her?”

Sergio looked over at her, and she raised a brow. He returned his gaze to the other stylist. “Listen to her. She’ll want to try different things as she gets older, and let her. Incorporating shapes, colors, textures, even motifs from older generations can make a new style more timeless.”

“My girl’s all over the place, though.” Davina lamented, “She wants 80’s, but not the boring part of the 80’s, she wants the 50’s but not really. She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“Neither did Enikő, at that age.” Sergio replied, and Enikő mockingly looked over at him in offense. “No offense.”

“Much taken.” She replied, but smiled regardless, then addressed Davina. “Who is your model?”

“Rieka. She’s 19, so she’s really growing into having an opinion on clothing but it’s just…” Davina trailed off, grimacing. “It’s childish in the way she’s trying to be mature.”

“I don’t think 19 year olds are known for their maturity.” She replied. “Besides, her look tonight was very elegant.”

“Speaking off,” Davina replied, now looking at her. “I didn’t see my girl for photos.”

“Maybe she didn’t show at the dinner?” Wynn suggested.

Davina shook her head. “My team said they prepped her, but the photographers are asking for her.”

Wynn shrugged, “I’ll go ask some photographers if they’ve caught her recently.” And with that, the young woman disappeared back into the crowd.

“I saw her at the dinner, but lost track of her when I was set to take photos.” She supplied unhelpfully.

Davina looked confused. “Did you sit near each other? I didn’t see your name near her’s.”

“No, actually, they sat off to the side.” Sergio interjected, looking at her again. “Neither of them at their assigned seats.”

Davina frowned thoughtfully, looking off to the distance. “I’m worried about her. I hope she didn’t run into her ex.”

“What’re the chances of that? Surely you had them seated separately.” Sergio said.

“Unfortunately, they were costars, so they were supposed to sit quite close. But I saw Jaxon got his photos done.”

Oh. What were the chances that this Jaxson was the Jax that was behind her? “Which photo group was he in?” Enikő asked.

“Second.”

Shit. That was her group. “Oh. He was right behind me, actually.”

“What a coincidence.” Davina remarked. “Was he flirty?”

“Is he always?”

“Ha! Flirty is his middle name. He’s looking for a rebound.”

“Were they serious? They’re not that old.” Sergio asked, crossing his arms.

Davina nodded. “Very. They were engaged, actually, but she broke it off last month, and neither of them seem very happy about it.”

She opened her mouth to remark that no, Rieka was not over it, when Wynn returned, her phone in hand. “What is this?” Wynn asked her, very seriously.

Enikő opened her mouth to ask what, when Wynn stuck her phone in her face. A blurry, yet undeniably clear, photo of her and Rieka at dinner. In the photo, Rieka was in Enikő’s space, cuddled up like they were lovers. “That was during dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter when.” Wynn replied sternly. Davina plucked the phone out of Wynn’s hand, and let Sergio see it. Sergio, at least, wasn’t surprised. “Why was she on your lap?”

“She was in distress and refused to leave my side, so instead of making a bigger scene by trying to sit at the table, we just sat off to the side.” Enikő explained, a bit baffled by how strongly Wynn felt about all this.

Sergio butted in, saying, “She’s not lying. When I pulled Enikő away for photos, Rieka looked like she was close to snapping.”

“You know the paparazzi will spin this into something worse. They’ll say you groomed her.” Wynn said, taking back her phone.

“I met her tonight.” Enikő replied flatly.

“I mean,” Davina interjected, “when you were debuting, she was literally being born.”

Enikő bared her teeth in irritation. “She’s a grown woman, she can make her own decisions. Nothing happened either, we didn’t do anything.”

Before anyone could reply, Enikő turned and fled. She found her way back to her dressing room and snatched her phone from her personal belongings. She checked her emails, searching for the address to the afterparty. At this point, she was done with socializing. She appreciated Sergio’s attempts at quelling Davina and Wynn’s issues, but they were clearly very young, and weren’t used to the power that words could hold. Grooming was a very serious allegation and to throw the word around was absolutely unnecessary in this scenario.

Enikő paused, then flicked over to her messages and opened her chat with the lead of her PR team. She informed her of what had happened, and the possible ramifications. Simply put, she wanted the issue gone.

A knock at her door, and she wanted to snap, to ignore, but instead turned off her phone and checked the peep hole. Outside stood Sergio, who, seemingly aware that she was looking at him through the peep hole, raised a brow. Enikő sighed dramatically, loud enough that he’d be able to hear her, and opened the door.

“You know they’re just young and paranoid.” He said without any prompting. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been seen with Rieka before tonight anyway.”

“I know, it’s just.” She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “It’s just so frustrating. I didn’t do anything. She forced herself on my lap.”

Sergio raised a brow. “Did she touch you in any way?”

“Besides putting herself in my space, no.” She admitted. “But it’s not like I said, hey, sit on my lap. I didn’t even want to sit next to her like that.”

“But we both know what that sounds like.” Sergio said, without her needing to say it. “Well, it’ll help if you go to the afterparty. Dissuade any thoughts of sex after.”

That wasn’t the most appealing idea, considering that she wanted nothing more than to get out of her outfit and into a nice, warm bath. Alone. “Fine.”

Sergio held up a bag to her, which she looked at despondently. “Your change of clothes.”

“30 minutes.” She said. “Max.” Sergio nodded sagely, so she took the bag.

“See you there.”

With that, she shut the door and sat in the metal chair, taking off her headdress. Next, carefully undoing the straps of her heels. Then her stockings, then the jewelry on her arms and hands and throat and ears.

Next, she was going to pull her hair out of its half-up half-down look filled with bobby-pins when the door suddenly burst open. Enikő’s jaw dropped as Rieka, now considerably less refined, stumbled in, seemingly without noticing that the room was occupied. That Enikő’s room was occupied with herself, who was paying for it.

“Enikő?” Rieka asked, her speech slurred.

“Rieka, are you drunk?” Enikő asked, after a moment of complete speechlessness.

Rieka giggled, stumbling towards her, forcing Enikő to grab her to steady her. “A little,” she managed, before bursting out laughing again, as if this was the funniest thing to ever happen. “I missed you.” And now Rieka was frowning, tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. “It was so boring without you.”

“O-kay.” She replied, dragging the ‘o’ out. She guided the drunk girl to the makeup chair, “Why are you drunk?” She hoped, prayed, it wasn’t Sami.

“A friend brought alcohol.” She said, leaning way too far back in the chair for Enikő’s taste. Enikő took an unconcious step forward. “No one can do this sober anyway.”

“Is this your first time getting drunk?”

Rieka’s head lulled towards her, a glare in her eyes. “Of course I’ve gotten drunk before.”

“Okay.” Enikő replied carefully. The heat from the lights began to creep up, and she felt sweat gather at the base of her neck. “What’re you doing here?”

It took Rieka three tries to get herself upright to look her dead in the eye. “I’m here for you.”

“You’re drunk. I don’t do anything with drunk people.” Enikő replied sharply. “Much less someone half my age.” A bit of an exaggeration, but the truth remained that Rieka was a child.

Rieka’s gaze did not waver. “I want you.”

“No, you don’t.” Enikő replied gently, but taking a firm step back. “You think you do, because you’re hurt and young.”

“Don’t tell me what I feel!” Rieka snarled, angrily swaying in place. “I know I’m young but I found you for a reason!”

“I helped you,” Enikő replied, very carefully, “because you needed it.”

“You helped me,” Rieka leaned against the arm of the chair, her eyes predatory and dangerous, “because you wanted me too.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong.” Enikő said, taking another step back. “You’re young. Too young.”

“If I was older,” Rieka tilted her head at her, “would you?”

Enikő felt the room spin. The heat, perfume, was stifling, claustrophobic. “I don’t know. And neither of us are in a state to decide that now.”

Rieka stared at her for a very long time. Her eyes burned a hole through her, heavy and wanting. Finally, “Okay. I promise, I will see you again.”

Enikő swallowed, and nodded. Rieka wobbled out of the chair and towards the door. Enikő looked away as the door opened. She resisted the urge to push herself further into the corner. Then, after a second of silence, she looked back to the door. Rieka’s blue eyes were lined with messy black, making them look even brighter. Enikő expected to find hurt, or maybe just drunken unfocus. Instead, all she could find was determination, predatory, sharp.

That was when she knew that Rieka was nothing like she seemed.

#oc: enikő #oc: rieka #my art #ngl i took the background from a piece of classical art #and painted over it #if it looks familiar that's why #my writing #artists on tumblr

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