Dystopia

-5

"William." Elizabeth addressed, eyes solemn, diluted with seriousness. "Come outside with me."

William scoffed exasperatedly in response, "Yeah, um, hell no." He said nonchalantly paired with the slight shrug of his shoulders.

So Elizabeth just stood there, gaze stoic, unreadable, and cast on William. She didn't move; paralyzed within a tsunami of moving figures.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked her, annoyance obviously apparent. Not to mention the fact that whatever she was doing was just plain weird.

"I'm waiting for you to accept my offer."

"Why the fuck do you always have to talk like the queen of England?"

She ignored him entirely. "Will.. since when do we talk to each other this way?"

There was a certain type of sadness in her words, cloaked almost entirely in the emotionless depth of her voice.

He didn't have the time, nor the words to respond.

"I'll be waiting for you."

And with that, she left. Her petite figure sauntering off, and eventually fading away into the ceaselessly moving body of guests.

While shrugging it off, he took another sip of his drink and rested himself against the bar counter. With eyes skimming over the crowd, observing as if he actually gave a damn, and the fowl, burning taste of alcohol lingering on his lips, he spotted his wife, Camilia, through the madness.

She was dancing, inevitably beautifully at that. Surrounded by several of her friends and the minority of men who actually had the nerve to dance with a married woman.

Yet, William allowed it. Seeing that she held this undying grin situated on her pretty face, and that's all he ever really wanted for her.

So he thought better than to disturb it.

Later on in the evening, William soon learned that wandering aimlessly upon the sidelines of a bustling party was hopelessly boring, and just all the more when it's your own celebration. Additional to the fact that it was depressing as hell.

It seemed everyone was preoccupied with themselves, and what they were doing, and who would talk to them. You would think that many of the guests would be willing to speak to William, seeing that the party was devoted to him, but apparently not. Celebrations of this complexity were simply a casualty to the wealthy. And he was never really much of a social butterfly anyways.

So, nearly mindlessly, he trudged outside, for what else was he to do?

Perched loosely on an ornate concrete bench was, well, of course it was Elizabeth Crystal.

She dawned the exact same clothes as she had been wrapped in earlier,yet, they looked entirely different reflecting off the raw moonlight. Elegantly crowding her were these wispy swirls of smoke framing her body like a portrait before vaporizing into the chilly night.

It was then that William wondered if Ms. Crystal, with makeup smudged terribly, her hair bun disheveled extravagantly, and jet black heels hooked between her fingertips, had ever looked so beautiful, glinting within the starlight.

"Hello." She assessed, her voice thick, and her features adjusting themselves towards him.

Even so, and even as beautiful as she was apparently in this moment, her presence radiated this aura of power and importance, which William found to be intimidating in the slightest.

"Hey."

"Now, why am I not surprised that you decided to meet me?"

Silence hung over the atmosphere, and Elizabeth smirked, knowing full well that she was to be the cause of it.