GODSENT | reyge

0-1; being in heaven

It isn't unusual for Reyna to attend a Cinco de Mayo party, so she doesn't understand the puzzled, disgruntled looks being sent her way when she's just standing here, by one of the large, thick pillars holding up the hotel. Perfectly innocent, keeping to herself with the glass of margarita in her hand.

Perhaps they could sense something amiss, or it could be as simple as them being...wary around an obvious Radiant.

She has to admit, though: she's getting impatient. Her target is taking a little too long to isolate himself, and her skin is starting to crawl with the possibility of being caught.

An amused smirks crawls onto her face as she taps a long manicured nail against her glass and raises it to her lips. As if she'd ever think of such a thing — oh, the thrill of tearing them all apart would be more befitting of this peaceful night.

Controlling her bloodlust would surely be the hardest part of the objective.

The ankle-length, lush, ruffled purple dress she's wearing isn't restrictive by any means, but she doesn't like the idea of fighting in it; Lucia had mentioned once that Reyna should be more careful not to expose herself more than she needed to.

Frankly, Reyna doesn't care, but this is one of the only things she can cherish about her younger sister now, besides the fact that she could always visit her back in the city. What she really wants, though, is to see Lucia running wild and free as she used to.

Focus. She isn't here to wallow in self-pity. She can do nothing by simply regretting. Hopefully, this would be quick and clean.

So she listens, zeroes in on the heartbeats of the party's attendees, drowning out the band's music. Most of the people here are rich, entitled Mexican folk, and the rhythm in their veins is slow, assured, content. The exact kind that Reyna loved to consume as she stared into their soulless eyes.

She quells the urge to lick her lips. This was, quite simply, a banquet for her.

The crowd thins out, just a little, as everyone flocks to an open space near the band, where a couple of dancers start their performance, grabbing the edges of their colourful, flowy skirts and swaying their bodies to the beat.

Reyna unconsciously bobs her head along, taking another sip of her margarita. Her culture's music was easy to appreciate, with its lovely beats and percussion — it reminded her of happier times, when she was a child.

"It's a lovely evening." A woman stops by Reyna's corner of the buffet spread, and she doesn't look at first, still relishing the taste of her margarita. Her accent is...distinct, relatively unknown to Reyna. It's smooth, delicate, and poised, yet sharp and strict.

Reyna only turns to look when she hears her; hears how slow her heartbeat was in comparison to the rest of the people around them. It was almost achingly sluggish, like she was hanging on the edge of death.

The woman doesn't look like it, though — not with her bright almond-shaped eyes, a lovely shade of warm brown and speckles of lighter hazel that shine as she gazes at Reyna. Not with the long light mint dress she wears thats fits her in all the places that mattered — where a single strap runs across her right shoulder, while the other side has a slit that splits the cloth, revealing a generous amount of the pale skin on her thigh.

Reyna takes her time admiring the masterpiece in front of her, so much like an angel that had just descended, bristling with a certain energy that could blow Reyna away if she so much as blinked. She almost feels sorry that an innocent soul like this might get caught up in the chaos and hell she planned to inflict on the guilty here.

"Indeed it is, carinõ," Reyna can only say in reply, as she watches a rather plump man break from the swarm to join the festivities, laughing and clapping his hands as he dances with the performers.