Fermata (Slow Updates)

00.5 ~ So it Begins

There was a ball that day. He was made to wear his best attire, much to his resentment. For, despite the fact that he was the son of Nation 1’s most prominent generals, Seth Ankathi absolutely despised his lifestyle. Whenever he went out, he had to be seen in his most lavish dress as to show off his social status to the people around him.

For Seth, that translated into uncomfortable designer shoes,  as well as anything other than tattered jeans, ragged sneakers, paupish t-shirts, and/or one-layer of clothes.

He hated it. He didn’t care if he was privileged, that he could help himself to a 3-course meal whenever he so pleased, that he had more clothes and accessories to clothe a whole village in Nation 2, that he was able to dodge drafts thanks to his father, that he was probably going to get hooked up with some rich, sexy chick from down the street.

No, what he wanted more than anything else was freedom. He wanted to be able to make his own decisions, decide his own future, and to stop this stupid, endless war that the government tried oh so hard to cover up. He wanted not to be just comrades with his band mates, but actually friends. Partners in crime. Amigos that could go around doing what the crazy teenagers did in books and stuff. Maybe go on a real date or something. 

So yes, he basically wanted to be a ‘normal’ seventeen year old male. He wanted to go to ball games, not ball dancing shit.

Stifling a long sigh of annoyance as he tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt, Seth peered out at the various couples mingling about the grand hall, every woman dressed in the most elegant and tacky of gowns, and every man wearing some sort of a variation on a tuxedo.

Today, Seth was wearing a plain old black dress shirt with nice-ish slacks, a nice-ish grey vest-thing, nice-ish shoes, and a fedora because apparently, fedoras made everything better including punk-emo hairstyles dyed black and red because he thought it would look cool on stage.  

“Seth, you look terrible,” his mother had scoffed prior to their arrival. Because every man wished to be praised by their mother before entering a ball room.

“Thanks mum,” Seth muttered as he flicked a piece of his hair out of his dark brown eyes and strolled into the hall. It wasn’t like he wanted to be there anyway; he had no choice. The ball was being held in celebration of Nation 1’s progress in the war a.k.a to cheer on all the guys who hadn’t died yet. It was a harsh reality, really.

To his right, his mother, sister, and father were already mingling about the other minglers, his mother  moving to gossip with her exquisitly dressed friends, his sister hanging out with her clique and giggling at all the hot guys, and his father speaking politics and such with all his war buddies. Oh, and then there was Seth who, despite his high ranking on the rich girls’s “Hot Guy” list, was probably one of the most anti-social dudes out there.

“Hello Seth.”

And then there was that guy. Turning to his left and cracking a sarcastic smile, Seth watched as his wonderful band mate strolled over to stand beside him.

Next on the “Hot Guy” list, who also happened to be in the “Anti-social Guy” club, was the not-so-blond blondie, Nathaniel Redwood. He was probably the most apathetic yet least stuck-up yet still basically a jerk he knew. And they were friends. Friends? Yes, friends. Out of everyone else in the band, Nathan was the only one he bothered to hang out with, probably because he was the only other guy.

“Nate! H-how’s it going, mah friend?” Seth choked out, putting aside his can of cola and greeting his band mate with a small wave.

Analyzing his apparel with a quick blink of his prussian-blue eyes, Nathan paused to stand beside him, his arms crossed across his chest in a totally I-don’t-care-about-the-world sort of way. “Decent, I suppose. I hate balls,” he mumbled, eyeing Seth when he started stifling an immature snort.