The ballroom floor was a whirl of black and white. A twisting, writhing miasma of opposing color, merging and fracturing in a manner that makes the room take on dimensions and angles my eye can not follow. And through the rippling monochromatic array, visible in brief flashes amidst the optical torturings: crimson. A crimson so bright and vibrant against its swirling insulation as to leave phantom images impressed indelibly upon my retinas.
These are the Twins.
They stand at the center of the ballroom, seeming almost to be some binary star system, around which this universe of black and white clad dancers is inexorably spun and held by the gravity of their presence. Or perhaps they are a single star, for they stand so close to each other as to be nearly indistinguishable as two separate entities. For a weird moment, this thought takes hold of me, and leaves me certain of their existence as a single unique creature with too many appendages.
Beside me, Hunter checks the guns holstered beneath his tuxedo jacket, flashes one of his mad smiles, and heads out into the churning black and white throng. He is immediately lost from my sight, blending into the optical churnings that flow before me without even the faintest ripple of disturbance. For being the most recognizable man in Arkham, Hunter has an uncanny ability to go unnoticed when he wants to.
I feel a slight tug on my jackets right arm.
Are you going to stand there gawking all night, or are you going to ask me to dance? Stacia asks with what I am coming to recognize as her wide eyed innocent look. The effect is spoiled only slightly by the knowing smile that plays upon her soft pink lips.
I... I dont really dance. I manage when my breath returns.
Everyone says that. she laughs, as she grabs my arm and pulls me along into the complex perturbations of the dancers.
These are the Twins.
They stand at the center of the ballroom, seeming almost to be some binary star system, around which this universe of black and white clad dancers is inexorably spun and held by the gravity of their presence. Or perhaps they are a single star, for they stand so close to each other as to be nearly indistinguishable as two separate entities. For a weird moment, this thought takes hold of me, and leaves me certain of their existence as a single unique creature with too many appendages.
Beside me, Hunter checks the guns holstered beneath his tuxedo jacket, flashes one of his mad smiles, and heads out into the churning black and white throng. He is immediately lost from my sight, blending into the optical churnings that flow before me without even the faintest ripple of disturbance. For being the most recognizable man in Arkham, Hunter has an uncanny ability to go unnoticed when he wants to.
I feel a slight tug on my jackets right arm.
Are you going to stand there gawking all night, or are you going to ask me to dance? Stacia asks with what I am coming to recognize as her wide eyed innocent look. The effect is spoiled only slightly by the knowing smile that plays upon her soft pink lips.
I... I dont really dance. I manage when my breath returns.
Everyone says that. she laughs, as she grabs my arm and pulls me along into the complex perturbations of the dancers.
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While I have to say i think it's a total waste of cyber-breath to honestly debate Mucci, I just wanted to tell you how much I liked and apprieciated your reply to him in this thread.
Very nicely said.