(no subject)
It had been a pretty busy night for Lloyd so far, starting with the bang of a shotgun wedding (weirdly enough, his charming bride hadn't seemed to appreciate the honeymoon offer, and had since then been mostly out of sight), and ending with him nearly burning his dick off jumping over a bonfire.
It was time to take a small break, especially after that latest incident. Lloyd wandered off to the outskirts of Midsummer Woodstock and lingered there, sipping his drink and watching the party, idle thoughts running through his head. The whole thing did feel sort of magical, almost like he'd walked into a dream or something. Well, not one of his dreams - it wouldn't have been much of a party if it had been - more like how a dream was supposed to feel like. He was probably thinking too goddamn much, because suddenly a feeling of paranoia crept up on him; he thought he'd caught a fleeting glimpse of something in the crowd, but when he looked around more thoroughly, nothing seemed out of place. The feeling stuck with him, reluctant to let go. He looked up at the full moon; there was something eerie about it, and for a second there, he could swear there was a blood-red tint to it.
Unconsciously, he glanced down, closing his fingers around the stone and waiting a couple of seconds before letting go. When he looked up again, the moon was dumbly blank, and he decided he must have imagined the whole thing. He'd probably just had a little too much to drink.
The cool night breeze waged war with the heat radiating from the party as Lloyd scoped the crowd for ladies who might be interested in some fine impish company. Married or not, it would be a damn shame to let a night like this go to waste. He was, after all, wearing a fucking skirt.
"Don't go 'round tonight," he sang quietly, mangling the hell out of the tune as he headed back, "'cause it's bound to take your life..."
It was time to take a small break, especially after that latest incident. Lloyd wandered off to the outskirts of Midsummer Woodstock and lingered there, sipping his drink and watching the party, idle thoughts running through his head. The whole thing did feel sort of magical, almost like he'd walked into a dream or something. Well, not one of his dreams - it wouldn't have been much of a party if it had been - more like how a dream was supposed to feel like. He was probably thinking too goddamn much, because suddenly a feeling of paranoia crept up on him; he thought he'd caught a fleeting glimpse of something in the crowd, but when he looked around more thoroughly, nothing seemed out of place. The feeling stuck with him, reluctant to let go. He looked up at the full moon; there was something eerie about it, and for a second there, he could swear there was a blood-red tint to it.
Unconsciously, he glanced down, closing his fingers around the stone and waiting a couple of seconds before letting go. When he looked up again, the moon was dumbly blank, and he decided he must have imagined the whole thing. He'd probably just had a little too much to drink.
The cool night breeze waged war with the heat radiating from the party as Lloyd scoped the crowd for ladies who might be interested in some fine impish company. Married or not, it would be a damn shame to let a night like this go to waste. He was, after all, wearing a fucking skirt.
"Don't go 'round tonight," he sang quietly, mangling the hell out of the tune as he headed back, "'cause it's bound to take your life..."