venatoremvidivici-blog

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“What are you doing here?”

Wicked eyes met cold blue ones, just as smirk met frown, like a predator stalking its prey. It was clear their presence wasn’t welcome from the Victoria, the sheer displeasure radiating off her giving Syrus a high not dissimilar to the sessions of snorting they’d indulge in after getting off the clock. Straight-faced, they made their way towards the raven-haired socialite, power radiating from each of their footsteps. “Let’s just say I have some business to take care of,” they haughtily whispered, venom dripping from their voice. Then a sudden shift in their demeanor occurred, Sy began to laugh as if everything present before them was a joke. “Lo invited me over. I hope you don’t mind. Actually, I hope you mind a lot. Your always more fun when you’re seething.”

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“We’re a very rare breed.”

Splayed out across silken sheets, clothes discarded the night before, Syrus replied to Isa with deep laughter, devoid of the bitterness and sarcasm usually surrounding their actions. Prying themself up ever so slightly, resting the weight of their upper body on their elbow, they got a better look at their partner for the evening. “We get high, we fuck. There’s nothing particularly extraordinary about that.” A lie, but Syrus is used to lying, in a facade so deep practically nothing about them rang authentic anymore. Life was much more comforting that way. Though, Syrus was well aware Isa had the uncanny ability to see through the walls they built up. “— Don’t look at me like that Jesus Christ. Unless you’d really like to get kicked out.”

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“Can we go inside now?”

As brisk air whipped around the pair of them, Syrus could understand Emma’s insistence on moving back inside the party abuzz with garishly colored lights and drinks. Instead, a smirk stretched its way across their face, full of wicked charm. Leaning in close to the second Vanderbilt's exposed shoulder, their breath tickled the girl’s inner ear. “We can go inside— or I can warm you up getting inside you.” Laughter filled the hollow space between them, they were clearly pleased with themselves beyond measure. “Or you can be inside me, I’m not picky.” Pressing a little something special into the blonde’s hand, Syrus sent the woman a knowing wink. “Enjoy the rest of the party, Emma.”

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ivy:

There were people, Ivy was aware, who enjoyed the power of observation. Those were often the ones who toted around the skill of a increasingly perceptive nature – those who perused the crowd in a room, and took their time to take in details, and then read between the lines of the stories that caught their interest. And it was this awareness, in fact, that assured them that it was a skillset that they, whilst did not look down at, simply did not see themself ( nor appeared to have anyinterest in ) possessing it. But that was all right, the way that they saw it. It was how they stumbled into situations such as the one at hand. “What a charitable spirit!” The words were enveloped by the an amused curling of lips, pushed out to their company into the paltry amount of space between them. “Sorry to disappoint – but it is your drink I find myself interested in. Not your cock; lovely, though, I’m sure it fucking is.”

     A smirk sat easily across Syrus’ lips, those who were bold were always much more fun to play with. Red faces and shocked expressions could only do so much— embarrassment was often similar across the majority of humanity. The other was eager to snap back like an elastic band, trading words of wit with an easy fashion, not letting their innuendo sway them. “I give what I can to the masses, my body just so happens to be highly requested.” They punctuated the statement with a lick of the lips and a deep laughter, clearly amused by their own words. Eyes fluttered between the cool drink between his fingers and the gaze of the other, surprised was one way to describe their expression. “Not many people enjoy old-fashioneds, preferring instead the ones so sickeningly sweet I find myself gagging from the smell. I’ll warn you, the whiskey is cheap swill, not the sort of thing anyone wants to drink straight.” A hungry expression and a knowing wink was sent their way, Syrus replying, “My cock, it is quite beautiful. I’ve seen plenty to know. Am I being too vain?”

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alexander:

Alexander sat at the bar, downing the last few drops of liquid gold in his glass. Under different circumstances he would have treasured the moment a little more, but the night’s haze of loud music and strong drink had dampened his normal inclinations. The tap of the empty glass making contact with the counter sounded almost angelic. To him, parties and bars were some of the best places to forget – to forget – Alexander wasn’t even sure what he wanted to forget. He just knew he was ready to dissolve back into  the crowd, let all that noise and alcohol do it’s job. But as he started to go, movement caught his eye a few feet away. A figure standing near the wall, drink in hand, surveying the event as though they were above it all. Not that similar attitudes were foreign to Alexander. On the contrary, he would be the first to own up to a similar demeanor. What got to him most was the person’s wink between witticisms. Both annoyed and slightly embarrassed for being caught staring, he pulled himself away from the bar and moved toward the figure. “Trust me, If I were looking for eye candy, I wouldn’t come to you. Look at this place,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the rest of the hall, “Lots of pretty things. Plenty of options.”

   It was child's play to spot the broken ones, drowning themselves at the bottom of a glass or trying to find themselves at the end of a joint. Eyes glazed over in an attempt to forget what ails them. Those were the ones who were always the most enjoyable to tease, reactions often subverting Syrus’ expectations. Those who were divergent were exciting and this boy had clearly piqued Syrus’ interest.  They’d assumed the other’s reaction would be one of silent scorn, maybe he’d send them a glare before disappearing into the swarm of people. Instead, here he was, propositioning them for a conversation. Interesting. “I’m an acquired taste, perhaps. Like la fée verte, the green fairy.” Syrus may have found pleasure in the extravagant event if absinthe was being served, alas, only the whimsical drinks which tasted more like juice than liquor were served. “Pretty things, yes,” they chuckled, taking a sip of their drink. “I suppose when attractiveness is the only defining feature you’re interested in, the options seem to open up. Anybody can be pretty with enough money and time, it’s a simple task. Faking being fascinating is much more difficult.”

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holly:

At the edge of the maze she stood, a canary perched atop the cliff that tipped into the abyss - she felt horribly small, standing there at the gaping mouth that threatened to swallow her whole; an entirely un-sinister entity this maze was, all inanimate leaves and gentle curves. But there, alone, with half-drunk champagne flute in hand and shamelessly smuggled treat from the table in the main hall in the other, it seemed quite the task. Steeling her nerves, with a thorough sip of champagne and a hearty chomp at the petite sandwich pinched between manicured fingers, she strode forth; Holly could only assume she looked no more than a church mouse scurrying into the den of a lion, but it was bravery that had gotten her this far. 

But it was bravery, it seemed, that found the heel of her shoe snagged upon a stray root, nearly sending her sprawling and effectively ending her triumphant march headfirst into the maze. Holly caught herself with an ungraceful “Oh!”, grip tightening upon her glass and crushing her treat (”Oh.”), face flushing an ostentatious crimson as she realized that she was very visible and very stuck. 

“Well, shit,” she looked down to her snagged shoe, her twisted ankle, which twinged in protest, for the near loss of her sandwich had distracted from the near-travesty that was her right foot. Distress made her sound more southern than ever, though she’d not been below the Mississippi in months - a damsel in distress if she ever was one. The only course of action, it seemed, would be an ungraceful one - what remained of her sandwich clutched between hungry teeth, champagne flute held aloft, with free hand she reached down to tug at the obtrusive root tangled in her shoe, a strange sight of un-grace amongst the elite.

“Nothing to see here -” she heard someone approaching, face growing redder, “- move along.”

It was the pervasive heat which brought Syrus outside, little about the prizes if one could even call them that, interested them. Even less interesting was the idea of getting lost with some stranger and playing seven minutes in heaven against an unnaturally green hedge. What was the point of a one night mistake, a casual fuck if there was nobody to witness the scandalous moment? With long hair sticky on the back of their neck, the cool air was more than necessary to keep Syrus looking at the pinnacle of perfection. 

A cry and a thud which caught their attention, warm brown eyes glancing towards a woman who seemed to want the warm embrace of cold ground. Quite the tumble in their humble opinion, which was too bad— her gown was quite stunning. With soft footsteps across the earth, Syrus made their way to her, placing themself squarely in front of her light, only now noticing the root which had captured her leg. “I’m used to the attractive falling for me, but not so literally darling.” With a deep chuckle, they kneeled down to her level, taking great care to avoid dirtying their suit pants. “My service is two-fold, I help untangle you from this pesky root and I carry you bridal style back into the main hall. Unless of course, you’d just like me to leave you here alone with the horny moans to keep you company.”

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Themed parties. Syrus almost always turned their nose at them, all smoke and mirrors masquing the dirty deeds the rest of the student body would rather be doing. Cirus performers were a cheap gimmick, if they’d wanted to see good nouveau cirque Paris was only a short flight away. Their distaste for school sanctioned events couldn’t outweigh the potential profits they could see from the evening, even though it was clearly painted across their face. They stuck towards the walls of the main hall near to the bar, filled to the brim with bodies hungry for all the vices on display for the evening. Nursing a cocktail ( ‘old fashioned, burn the orange rind,’ they’d asked, though it was obvious they wouldn't getting good whiskey ), the brown-eyed devil smirked at someone looking a little too hard at them for a simple casual encounter. “I’m not just pretty eye-candy you know,” they called with a wink, teasing coming easily to them. “Though if you wanna eat me whole I have no hesitation saying yes.”

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Gossip Girl Inspired Sentence Starters

I was watching an episode of Gossip Girl when I wrote this so some are plucked straight from the episode while others are paraphrased/inspired by actual lines.

“The truth is… I was jealous.”

“My date stood me up.”

“I’m here with someone else.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I believe you.”

“I promise, I won’t do it again.”

“What are these?”

“This is my way of saying thank you,”

“What are you doing here?”

“You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“I got fired,”

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“Prove it.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“It’s time for you to step down.”

“I’m not ready for that.”

“It’s probably best that you move out.”

“What the hell are you throwing out the window?”

“Are you willing to get a haircut and burn your clothes?”

“You used me.”

“How could you do this to me?”

“I thought I could trust you.”

“We’ve got a huge problem.”

“You know, you said this was yours, but I just can’t seem to find your name on it.”

“Did you really divide the room in half with tape? Is this a nineties sitcom?”

“Nope, it’s definitely your turn.”

“I thought you were better than that.”

“Coffee. Now.”

“Are you even awake?”

“We were sworn to secrecy.”

“Just give me a hint!”

“Is everything okay?”

“Who was that?”

“This would do way more harm than good.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“Can we give this another shot? Please?”

“I need some time alone.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“This is it, this is the answer to all our problems.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“That’s just not who I am.”

“We’re a very rare breed.”

“Okay, you convinced me.”

“Are you excited for tonight?”

“Think they bought it?”

“I’m sorry that you had to find out about that.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I hate to admit it, but I think you were right.”

“We’re going to be late!”

“Who the hell are you people?”

“What are you doing at my house?”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Is that so?”

“You were there for me when no one else was.”

“I told you how important this was to me.”

“It wasn’t personal.”

“I want you gone by the morning.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Honey, everything you say is a lie.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Just stop talking.”

“It didn’t work.”

“What? No, no, no, no, I’m not in love with _____. No. Nope.”

“Can we go inside now?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Do you see those people leaving? Why don’t you join them?”

“I can’t believe you thought I would do that.”

“I think you’re self destructing. And you’re taking me down with you.”

“I thought you realized…”

“Forget it, it doesn’t matter.”

“We’re usually blinded by the people that we love.”

“That’s the best part.”

“There was a huge misunderstanding.”

“I was kidding!”

“I told you a secret, now you tell me one.”

“It’s better this way.”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“This isn’t the end. I know it’s not.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to come.”

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V E N A T O R E M

KEEPER OF THE KEYS—

NAME: Syrus Iyer AGE: 21 SEXUALITY: Fluid MAJOR: Physics

FOR LIGHT AND TRUTH—

TW: ALLUDING TO DRUG POSSESSION AND USE

Your ambition was far too large for a setting of any size, your determination unrivaled by peers who were primed to cross the finish line first. There was never any question as to where you got your ego, your mind - you always assumed arrogance and genius were a package deal. Your lineage was far from average, infamous and extravagant characters marring a flawlessly exceptional ancestry, wealthy relatives laying on leather chairs, laughing at those attempting to absolve themselves of a lifetime of mediocrity. You bit down on this unattainable lifestyle with ferocity, winked at those standing on the outside of this sacred club. But a being of your caliber would never be satisfied with simply entering the setting expected of those in your tax bracket; the taste of opulence had always been undeniably sweet, you found it to be nearly as addicting as the narcotics that had become commonplace in your life. The first time a crisp hundred had been slipped beneath your fingertips in exchange for a baggie of opalescent powder became the catalyst of a newfound hobby. Your pockets are heavy with black cards and blacker secrets, your wallet lined with solid gold thread and crystalline substances. They pay you handsomely for your discretion, every transaction sealed with a crimson-lipped kiss. You’ll keep their secret if they’ll keep yours.

JAR OF HEARTS—

FLAVUM: He has somehow found himself in uncharted waters, treading into exorbitant wealth accidentally on purpose - you suspect his methods are less than innocent, but you’ve never been one to judge. Especially when the recipient is one of the few beings you’d label a friend. You attend smoke filled dance parties where the floors are sticky with liquor, press a pill into the palm of a senator’s son; wake up with blinding headaches and thick tongues, already discussing adventures of future.

VINUM: Her eyes are glassy, her cheekbones flushed, every time she meets you there’s a raw hunger etched onto her face. You’ve warned her against showing her hand so carelessly, you’re not sure why you care. She snatches drugs from you with greed, breathes them in like a drowning man taking his first breath of air. On anyone else, her habits would be worrisome, but she’s glued your lips shut with a newly minted bill and you find there to be a gross beauty in her tragedy.

ASPECTUS: You’ve never met anything with a chip on their shoulder quite like this one, you note their body is wracked by sheer privilege and know to take the melancholy behind deep irises with a grain of salt. You think you’ve seen them somewhere before, though perhaps it is the timelessness of a stunning visage that’s enraptured you so. They are an enigma wrapped in burgundy velvet, you question the past they may be hiding behind the curtain. For now you are content to simmer in their presence, let it wash over you. 

PURPURAM: The universe you’ve been raised in bears certain similarities to a fun house, all smoke and mirrors and distractions to keep you from focusing on the true issues. Those who reside within it share a similar quality, yet you’ve found a glaring exception with him. The crimson sin rushing through his veins is apparent even on the surface, no gimmicks to lure you in. You’ve found something refreshing in his ingenuity, and you savor the tinge of trepidation when in his presence.

VENATOREM IS PORTRAYED BY AVAN JOGIA & IS CURRENTLY PLAYED BY CAMERON

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