A Face not Quite Forgotten || Francis

[Sapphire]

Notes; #Oh, how will this night end?
#I hope this is fine!
Word Count; 602

Beautiful as the frigid mornings could be, Alfred always was a fan of the crowds that hoarded the party rooms at night. Crowds ment people, and more often than not, people ment information. How he loved the residents of Archadia. They were such an entertaining bunch, if one could only stop to look at the world around them they’d see the lives of their fellow inhabitants begin to play out before their very eyes. How could you not be intrigued by such a thing? Really, all it took was a look and they’d see the masks and lies presenting themselves before their very eyes. Life was a play, and humanity the puppets. There are things happening around you every day, gathering up and fading into the unknown simply because they go unseen. Humanity, how he adored it. After all, it was far easier to love humanity as a whole than to love thy neighbor.

Chuckling, the blonde remained at a distance for the time being, keeping a watchful gaze on the entrance to the pristine building. Parties were a thrill to attend, if not for the food and the gullible civilians, then certainly for the adrenaline rush they presented. He'd never been the type of man who actively sought danger. While his actions tonight may seem to be that of a mad fool, Alfred considered himself a genius. There weren't many convicts that could boast about leading such an active lifestyle, one that kept a man aware and on guard every waking moment. Never knew when the politsiya were watching. What he gained was another chance, it may have been gained the wrong way, but he wasn't the type of person to stay locked up for something he never did. Stealing government property, please. If these fuckers were seriously going to arrest him the least they could do was charge him with breaking and entering, not stealing.

Laughter and the distant hum of music flittered through his ears, sapphire optics glancing away from their previous focus point to settle on the building once again. Show time. Air rushed by him, the moonlight providing the only source of light upon the otherwise black clad male. Gone were the usual golden locks that fell from his head, hidden and tucked away behind that of a hazel wig; sapphires ensnared by jet black lenses. Blocking sight of the eyes his aunt often refered to as a gift from above. Disguise, check. Forged invitation, check. Russian accent, certainly needed work, but it shouldn't be too noticeable. The invitation would likely be discovered to be a fake somewhere in the middle of the party, leaving him just enough time to get in and snag some food. Attain whatever information or con whoever he could as well, but locating a food source was his top priority.

Yes, the situation was dangerous, but how did one manage to go on without some sort of excitement in their boring, average lives?

Do you want to stop living this lie?

The question, innocent as it may seem, held a dark and dangerous undertone. Alfred chuckled, moving his gaze to the side again to keep his gaze on the now emptied streets of the city. “This life I’m living is a lie, the lie is my truth. I don’t have anything else to live for," he finally answered.

Quite the paradox isn’t it?

Moving towards his intended destination at last, patting the dust off his back, he turned his gaze up towards the night sky with a sad smile. Finally giving an answer to the consciousness that never ceased to leave him alone. One that sounded so hauntingly familiar.

“Obviously.”

Coded by Sapphire of IoF

[Deleted]

"You see, I'm not a man I am the king of illusion At heart, may I be forgiven, I am the king, the king of fools"

The night was still young -- the sky a dark navy blue, appearing to be black -- but in reality, under further scrutiny, still only a shade of blue.

They were so close; and yet, distinctively different. Francis thought it to be quite amusing as he took a sip from his second glass of wine for the evening, glancing out the window with a light air of prestige. It was beautifully misleading and an accurate metaphor for how one observed another. They seemed to be one color, but in actuality, another. Sometimes the perceived colors were much more lovely than the real one.

Francis turned away from his musings, leaving his place by the windowsill to re-emerse himself in the party he was currently attending. The extravagant hall was filled quite fully to the brim with obscenely rich people (himself included) -- politicians, celebrities, and the like all invited. The room was embellished generously with only the finest golden threads sprawled across the walls, and an overall aura of elegance and brilliance was nearly stifling to him. Long tables decorated with pristine white table clothes fulfilled their duty by holding overwhelming amounts of incredibly varied and gourmet food. Bouquets were placed every so often along the tables for an added effect of appeal, but it was a shame they weren't hand arranged. A professional orchestra was playing an original classic piece in the front of the room; it was better than what most could produce now, Francis thought with a mite of appreciation for the music swelling throughout the air. The chandelier was the most dazzling centerpiece, and certainly the most appreciated -- he had seen many people from the beginning look up to admire its alluring light upon their entrance.

Greeting the party attenders with his usual charismatic smile, Francis shook a great deal of hands and kissed an impressive number of others. It seemed to never stop; a ridiculous amount of people were here tonight. But as attorney general of the city and having a reputation of gentleman to uphold, Francis catered expertly to everyone's societal expectations. He had been through this routine infinitely amount of times during his life and could easily be considered a master of playing host. Of course, this time he was not exactly a "host" speaking by technical terms, but one of the many as a government official.

Everyone socialized and the Francis could hear bits and pieces of conversations as he passed by ("Oh, did you hear--" "I know, how shocking!" "I'm purchasing a new mutant soon" "The unique ones are more and more expensive nowadays--"), but he paid little attention to them. He took another sip of his wine, and continued on with the accommodations of the guests.

It was admittedly growing increasingly boring as time passed on as slowly as it did, however, and Francis found himself longing for something more. Something revolutionary, maybe -- something that would stir up excitement and evoke change for the world. He knew shamefully he couldn't do anything himself; he had come so far for his position, and he couldn't jeopardize it at this current point. No, there would be a much more suitable time for him to reveal the actual truth of where he stood regarding the servitude of "mutants" -- but it wasn't now, as much as he hated to admit it. He would continue his charade of acting of what was expected of him; after all, he had already done it throughout his whole life. It could wait a little longer.

All he had to do was wait for someone else to come along and do it for him.

electric has gangnam style