Krigare

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The scene was fresh, the scent of cologne lingering freely in the spring's night air, along with the ever-in-season smell of warm barbecue and chilly booze.

Alastair never disappointed when it came to the question of throwing jams. He was the absolute best, and his sister Axelyn, was the absolute best DJ-bartender fusion London had.

Frankly, the rich twins of London were the reason the rest of us had an agenda.

"Shall I fix you the usual?" Axelyn asks me with a smile as she sees me approaching her. Her lips are filled in a bright, thick shade of red, and it makes her look absolutely stunning. Her long, tightly curled blonde hair is let loose, and her deep eyes are entirely mystical, just like Avan's. Her cheeks were tinted a rosy red, giving her an element of immaculate youth.

"You look great," I tell her, and she rolls her eyes, a small smile taunting her lips. "Gin and juice, yes. Mild, please," I tell her.

I watch her busy hands as she makes me my cocktail. All the Andrews had the same hands, slender and quick. Also what made them the best thieves back in the day, but that's a story for another party.

"Someone's stealing eyes." Speaking of Andrews - and filching.

I smile, swivelling my head around. My focused, bright brown eyes meet his hazed, dim blue ones. They study me in genuine awe, but not the kind that was thirst-driven. He looked at me the same way you'd look at your sister when she was at her very best.

Perhaps I was at my very best. Alastair was a brother if not a best friend to me.

The plain, sleeved black leotard top hung off my shoulders elegantly enough. I'd worn a pair of denim shorts on top, ending right above my knees. I'd also put on a pair of heels tonight, simply because Mason had urged me to, for the sake of his deathly desire for aesthetic party photographs. He'd done my makeup as well, by choice. It was dramatic, but not too. Mascara, bright lipstick and some tints to accentuate my facial structure was all. He'd also incorporated some green and gold dust into my hair as he styled it - just for the sake of the night.

"Congrats on making yesterday's trials. I heard you killed it, but that's not quite news, is it?" he says to me, his grin nearly entirely sober.

"Thanks, Alastair," I say, scanning the scene behind him. I don't say anything for the next few seconds, and Al understands why.
"Mason's inside," he tells me along with a hand and eye gesture, and I thank him. I felt lost without him sometimes. Either of them.
I'm walking towards the glass doors when Alastair calls to me again. I swivel. "Next Sunday, do you want me to throw you a little bash? You can consider this yours for the trials but,-" he trails off.

I grin. "You, me, your sister, Mason. Sounds good," I say, and he smiles, his gaze dropping to the floor. He soon picks it back up and gives me a brief wave.

The situation on the inside of the house was frankly horrifying. If Mason was in here by some sort of strange nature, I didn't expect to find him alive.

I push past sweaty bodies in desperate search for my best friend. Everyone smelt of one sort of booze or another, and it was additionally horrifying how I could possibly name every single one of them. The music was blaring loud, but I didn't mind because Axelyn was phenomenal at her job.

I find Mason sitting on the stairs leading to the Andrews' bedrooms, his hands outstretched, resting upon his knees. He held a paper cup filled with coke, and his eyes stared into the wall across. I take my place next to him.

"Hi," he says to me, his mind still elsewhere, his voice deeper than usual. He was rolling in some deep as shit thoughts.

"Hey," I say back. "All right?"