Stolen Voices ✓

October 31st

dedicated to my lovely friend @zia_456

October 31st:

Gawking at herself in the mirror, Mara sucks in a heavy breath. Her eyes are cerulean blue, coated thick with liner, compliments to Ryn. The white dress she wears is tight-fitting against her cream skin, now grazed golden with the California sun. Her lips powdered a rose pink, strapped into a pair of heels that wouldn't fare well at this party, but completed the outfit.

She is angelic-looking, a rare beauty, though she feels like creating ruin. Heading towards the Halloween Bash she'd been invited to by William. It is at a frat house, which would have turned her away had Ryn not insisted they go. She has past involvement with frat boys. In fact, she'd almost escorted one if he hadn't been wed.

Well, engaged, but it is the same difference at the time. Mara had been tricked by his bright green eyes and tousled black hair to see that he was nefarious. In fact, had she not accidentally been dragged by her mother to some gala, she probably would have never learned of his perversion.

Now with her hair pinned back from her face, her cheekbones contoured even sharper, she looks eccentric. The glint in her eyes doesn't matching the innocence of the outfit she wears like a second skin, leather on her accented frame.

She is ready, stepping into the Uber.

The house reeks of stale alcohol and overbearing fragrance, the first thing that hits Mara's senses as she walks through the open door. Everyone endeavores to talk over the next, so loud over the blaring music that she actually covers her ears in distress. Glancing at Ryn, who'd been lost into the sea of bodies. Her skin feels sticky just from the warmth of the room, someone bumping into her back, pitching her forwards, stumbling.

"Watch out," she bites out, turning on her heels to see a stumbling Talon. His hair is still braided in cornrows, dressed in a black suit and cat ears. His green eyes are even more energetic than before, eerily cat-like. His hand falls to the small of her back, steadying her and himself.

"Hey," he blurs, tipping forwards, "what are you doing here, love?" He is smirking, which Mara will admit made her smile back, covered by a cough. She missed his overbearing presence, but only a little. She can't let him know it.

"Walking away from you," she sidesteps him, dissipated into the crowd of people. Mara likes being surrounded, but this is smothering. Everyone pushing her deeper into the house, the pictures on the walls, all turned at angles. As if someone purposely went through the house, messing each one up.

Someone offers her a sticky solo cup, which she rejects, knowing all too well not to accept alcohol from a stranger. She'd made that mistake before, stupid and fifteen with the sheltered life of Emanuella. Luckily her drug tolerance is much higher than expected by the sleaze. She'd made it out of the room, stumbling as the world tilting sideways, having Will help her of all people.

He was there too, his high putting him on alert. Guarding as an innocent Mara, her eyes still missing the monotony of seeing the ungracious world, fell into Liam's trance. She was different, dressed in provocative clothes that seemed more like a costume than anything wearable. As if nothing matched her right, she was still figuring herself out in the most jarring way possible.

She didn't remember Liam a few years later, but he remembered her.

Will finds Mara in the crowd, looking relatively stressed. Mara feels the pulling want to take alcohol, which she finds is never safe. If anything, Mara has gotten addicted to the numbness, to the point she'd become someone separate. Not Emanualla, not Mara, but someone with nothing to stop her.