TinderAika

"Here we are gents; the party of the year!" Romeo gazed up at the large mansion, noting it seemed to be just a bit bigger than his own home. That explained his parent's recent obsession with adding more rooms on. It was decorated extravagantly for the evening's activities, which guests were currently pouring into the building for. Romeo stood near Benvolio and Mercutio who were quarreling for the hundredth time that evening, acting the part of a married couple quite well. Benvolio sighed in an attempt to release his frustration, "I still say we should forget this whole thing and leave. Something is going to go wrong, I just know it." "Quit

The door groaned a greeting as Councilor Finlay pulled the door open for his children. The house wasn't too large, though it was larger than the common people's homes. The detailed architecture was some of the finest in the capital; one of the reasons Councilor Finlay invited so many architects to view the house. A few servants hustled by, briefly bowing before continuing on their route. They didn't have many servants in their home, but Rune's father kept a few employed to assist Rune's mother, Fiore Finlay. Rune stepped over the threshold as his father moved the door back into place. Home again, trapped in this boring manor once more. Ther

Juliet lay in the grass of the garden, gazing up at the flawless blue sky though the thick branches of the pear tree above her. The tree was located near the back of the garden which extended behind the mansion her family lived in for a great distance. It was one of the many fruit trees that grew behind Juliet's home, but was her favorite out of all of them. That was mostly due to the fact that it was located so far from the mansion. It was a place of solitude for her when it seemed her life was becoming too hectic, which was happening quite often as of late. Not many commoners would think of a noble's life as hectic or difficult, especially

My body has frozen and my nerves all stopped signaling. I can't feel anything but my pounding heart, and even that is becoming distant. The sound of the world has ceased in my ears; I hear nothing but my heartbeat. My eyes lock on every detail, confirming the common knowledge of the situation. It's him. If I move, my world will come crashing down; if I stay here, I will remain trapped in this moment like a butterfly under a pin. Those dark, mocking eyes laugh at me as I try to form an intelligent thought. None come; only "It's him". Sweat trickles down my face, followed by a hopeless tear as I sink to my knees. The tears flow and I cry out in