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[table]
A N D Y.
[I]CHANCES ARE YOU NEVER REALLY LOVED ME. I'M NOT GONNA SPECULATE, YOU WON'T LEAVE ME HEARTLESS.
[b]"Don't you think [i]you've had enough?" The bitter judgement fell from her lips like acid and her brows were knitted with dramatised exasperation. He was one to talk, that was for sure. Who was he to tell her that she'd had enough? He wasn't her. He couldn't pinpoint her limits, and he couldn't tell how much she needed another drink. That was why he couldn't know how much it emotionally pained her to be sitting in the club that night, to be sitting there and giving him support while he completely crushed her heart in one fell swoop. He didn't know because he couldn't, and he was an idiot.
And yet, Andy was still there. In a club filled with dozens of dancing bodies, she still felt lonelier than ever. "No one told you that you had to stay, Andy." She rolled her eyes at that. Freyja didn't get it either. If she didn't stay, where would she go? Home? To wallow in her own pity party some more? No. Andy wasn't a wallower, she was a go-getter. A fighter. Except she couldn't fight a battle she'd already lost. Unfairly lost. She didn't know where to take up her anger now, so it settled and festered at the bottom of her of heart. For now, that was fine. It was a key in the ignition, it was the strike of a match, it was the beginning of a new scar and a newfound reason for rage.
Straightening up as Richie decided on another round for the two of them, she couldn't bother to muster up a false smile. No point pretending she was fine when she wasn't. She was burning embers of coal, one stoke away from destruction, and if people didn't fear her, they should. The promise of another drink, however, diffused her enough to keep from chucking her stool at the stranger beside her. She could feel Richie's eyes on her, and she desperately wanted to challenge that gaze with her own. She didn't, though. Not when his reassurance felt more like some kind of weak consolation prize. They both knew things wouldn't be the same, they were only preventing the inevitable.
Andromeda's eyes lingered on the members of the other pack, flitting from one person to the next. They seemed like an odd mix. A jumble of personalities, not one resonating feature. They didn't fill a room, they filled forgotten nooks and crannies where Lunars were careless enough to let slip out of their view. Whatever, none of them were exactly of her concern quite yet. Except for one of them, who's gaze was on Richie a little too long for comfort. She may have hated him in the moment, but if anything happened to him, she was literally going to crush the culprit's skull under her stilettos. Though, she highly doubted a fight was going to break out ( unless it was her starting one, which was more plausible. ).
She doesn't bother looking at the sound of a new voice. She could tell who it was without a glance, Richie was a dead giveaway, honestly. Instead, she nursed her drink, tapping the side of the glass with a manicured nail. She could gut someone with them, if she tried hard enough. "Enough, Andromeda." Freyja was such a downer sometimes.
Taking a sip of her drink, she finally turned around at her introduction, being met with... well, disappointment. This was the heir to the Solars? Andromeda was smaller than him, and yet she could probably filet him and turn him into dog food ( Was that an appropriate comment? Perhaps not, Andy didn't care. ) without even batting an eyelash. God, maybe she could pump him full of steroids to make it a somewhat fair fight before then. Even so, she'd probably still win.
"Of course it's not his thing. He probably knocks out after a sip of Kool-Aid." She scoffed, rolling her eyes once more. She didn't want to give him the time of day, not a chance to defend himself, to pick himself up, to try and salvage what he had. She wanted to kick him to the dirt and bury him in it.
"Even his packmates don't wanna be around his sorry ass. I don't want to be around his sorry ass, I don't know how they do it everyday." Andromeda wasn't talking to Kremont at this point, she didn't want to bother. She didn't want to see his weak disposition, she didn't want him to see the worry in her own eyes. She was losing the one good thing she had going for her and to what? A weak-willed Alpha and an arranged marriage.
"Your friends joining us or are they planning on just feeding ya to us wolves here?"
And yet, Andy was still there. In a club filled with dozens of dancing bodies, she still felt lonelier than ever. "No one told you that you had to stay, Andy." She rolled her eyes at that. Freyja didn't get it either. If she didn't stay, where would she go? Home? To wallow in her own pity party some more? No. Andy wasn't a wallower, she was a go-getter. A fighter. Except she couldn't fight a battle she'd already lost. Unfairly lost. She didn't know where to take up her anger now, so it settled and festered at the bottom of her of heart. For now, that was fine. It was a key in the ignition, it was the strike of a match, it was the beginning of a new scar and a newfound reason for rage.
Straightening up as Richie decided on another round for the two of them, she couldn't bother to muster up a false smile. No point pretending she was fine when she wasn't. She was burning embers of coal, one stoke away from destruction, and if people didn't fear her, they should. The promise of another drink, however, diffused her enough to keep from chucking her stool at the stranger beside her. She could feel Richie's eyes on her, and she desperately wanted to challenge that gaze with her own. She didn't, though. Not when his reassurance felt more like some kind of weak consolation prize. They both knew things wouldn't be the same, they were only preventing the inevitable.
Andromeda's eyes lingered on the members of the other pack, flitting from one person to the next. They seemed like an odd mix. A jumble of personalities, not one resonating feature. They didn't fill a room, they filled forgotten nooks and crannies where Lunars were careless enough to let slip out of their view. Whatever, none of them were exactly of her concern quite yet. Except for one of them, who's gaze was on Richie a little too long for comfort. She may have hated him in the moment, but if anything happened to him, she was literally going to crush the culprit's skull under her stilettos. Though, she highly doubted a fight was going to break out ( unless it was her starting one, which was more plausible. ).
She doesn't bother looking at the sound of a new voice. She could tell who it was without a glance, Richie was a dead giveaway, honestly. Instead, she nursed her drink, tapping the side of the glass with a manicured nail. She could gut someone with them, if she tried hard enough. "Enough, Andromeda." Freyja was such a downer sometimes.
Taking a sip of her drink, she finally turned around at her introduction, being met with... well, disappointment. This was the heir to the Solars? Andromeda was smaller than him, and yet she could probably filet him and turn him into dog food ( Was that an appropriate comment? Perhaps not, Andy didn't care. ) without even batting an eyelash. God, maybe she could pump him full of steroids to make it a somewhat fair fight before then. Even so, she'd probably still win.
"Of course it's not his thing. He probably knocks out after a sip of Kool-Aid." She scoffed, rolling her eyes once more. She didn't want to give him the time of day, not a chance to defend himself, to pick himself up, to try and salvage what he had. She wanted to kick him to the dirt and bury him in it.
"Even his packmates don't wanna be around his sorry ass. I don't want to be around his sorry ass, I don't know how they do it everyday." Andromeda wasn't talking to Kremont at this point, she didn't want to bother. She didn't want to see his weak disposition, she didn't want him to see the worry in her own eyes. She was losing the one good thing she had going for her and to what? A weak-willed Alpha and an arranged marriage.
"Your friends joining us or are they planning on just feeding ya to us wolves here?"