Louis awakes when the sun is climbing the grand precipice of the Earth, it's golden glow consuming the once strong glimmer of the moon that shone just hours ago.
Louis opens his minimally rested eyes, pupils shrinking in response to the harsh spring light. There was no clock in here or anything, but from study of the sky Louis assumed it was around seven in the morning. He could easily sleep in- obtain more than three hours of sleep total- but Louis felt such a desirable urge to further explore this new place he had been thrown into last night. It felt like a dream- being whisked into an unknown world full of a strong Parisian perfume and the thrilled yells and exclamations of excited young actors rehearsing for what they believe will be their big break.
Already, Louis could smell that distinct, harsh stench of whatever perfume keeps reoccurring in this city. A pungent scent of flowers and honey, and definitely mint- so strong it threatens to singe your nose hairs. Additionally, there was an aggressive smell of incense or some sort of burning. It was familiarising Louis quickly of the type of people he was going to run into here.
Getting up from his new bed, Louis gets a glance of that wondrous place he fell asleep thinking about.
Lunè Argent.
In the new daylight, the strobing silver and red lights of the building had been shut off, leaving a clear but unlit outline of those grand letters and massive moon statue. It was just so enticing, captivating, fascinating. A sudden leap occurred in Louis' stomach as he thought about what wonders laid behind those towering gates.
Until tonight, he thinks, when he sees what's behind the doors of the Lunè Argent.
Entering what Louis assumed was the main room, having followed the noise to find his way, Louis is immediately greeted by Niall Horan, the man who inducted him into this whole thing.
"Louis, newbie! How are you this morning?" He's grinning as he slaps Louis on the back and guides him over to a green velvet sofa, layered in crochet blankets and tasseled cushions. "Hope the can-can didn't keep you awake."
"The can-can?" Louis questions. "Didn't hear such a thing."
"Lucky you, they're always loudest first thing in the morning. 4am, you know."
"Who? The Lunè Argent?" Louis could only assume.
"Of course! The Lunè Argent is full of can-can, full of burlesque, full of art." Niall enunciates with his hands, pure admiration for this place embedded in his skin. "You're gonna love it, Louis. Seems up your ally."
"You barley know me." Louis rolls his eyes yet his lips deceive him, quirking up ever so slightly in amusement.
"I know you enough. You got acting chops. Passion. Pizzazz."
"Pizzazz?"
"Yes. Pizzazz. You know pizzazz."
The word pizzazz has been used way too many times as of now.
"Well, who knows," Louis slaps his knees and stands up, an abysmally British mannerism of him to do (who can blame him? He'll never leave his roots behind, despite being in this Parisian mess), and heads for the door. He needs a shower.
"Luné Argent could be the worst thing that will ever happen to me."
He shrugs and leaves the room in search of running water, leaving Niall and many dynamic faces grinning in his wake.
—
It's 11pm and Louis is in a mass flush of excitement, whiskey and overpriced perfume.
He's currently standing before an unnecessarily long chain of vanities and stage mirrors, all elaborately lit up by red fairy lights and candles that reek of lavender, cashmere and intoxicating air- just like that very overused perfume Louis simply cannot escape. He's surrounded by an overwhelming amount of bodies and a plentiful number of girls with perfect teeth and silky hair that are certainly intrigued by his new presence here with the Bohemians.
Everyone is getting ready to leave for the Luné Argent, and it could not be more fantastical.
All the people in the room are simply bustling, words of pure enchantment and infatuation spilling from red, wine-stained lips, dilated pupils grinning and skin flushed with anticipation. The grandiose amount of chatter in the background distracts Louis from his thoughts, allowing him to purely reside in the moment and simply wait to see what happens.
Niall made it ever so abundant that everyone wear red and silver. Seemingly the signature colours of the Luné Argent- as all lights eclipsing the building falter to be any other colour in the world. Silver. Red. Silver and red. It's quite the combination, Louis must admit, as Niall thrusts a glittery coat into his chest, desperately insisting that he wear it.
"The red glitter is just perfect with your wonderfully tan skin, Louis! I'll die if you don't wear it!"
"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Louis looks the jacket up and down. It's honestly not awful. Quite pretentious and whimsical, yes, but not quite awful. It's long, contains tail flaps and overly elaborate buttons carved in patterns of the renaissance. It has a quite elegantly structured collar with complementary lapels and the red shimmer is subtle enough to not be obnoxious.
"No such thing as extreme here, Louis!" Niall grins. "Now put on your pretty coat and put some sequins on those cheekbones, we're going to the Luné Argent!" He runs off excitedly before another word can be shared. Louis is somewhat stunned.
Additionally, he can't fully process whether Niall just told him to put glitter on his face before one of the girls surrounding him is delicately placing rhinestones at the peak of his cheekbones and along his collarbones.
"It's always best to shimmer." She whispers to him sweetly, placing a last silver gem at the edge of his collar.
"You look beautiful." She smiles at him, laced in rosé and flower petals, before walking off, arms linked with one of her girl friends.
Louis takes one last glance in the mirror.
She isn't wrong.
-
"You look like a diamond." Niall throws his arm around Louis' shoulders and tugs him into his side as they step outside into the smoothly cold air of the night. The moon is high in the sky, casting her iridescent glow upon Louis' skin.
"Thanks, I know." He mockingly grins at Niall and looks up at the stars. What night are they about to have?
Niall laughs, pure joy escaping from him and he's just an aura of optimism. "Now, when we get in there it's gonna be absolute chaos, Louis. Cha-os."
"Chaos. Got it."
"No like, people in the Luné Argent are a different breed Louis, they go absolutely insane as soon as they step through the doors," Hyperbole coats his voice and he grips Louis closer, "Trust me, I know. Liam is one of them."
Niall nods towards the stoic-faced statue of a man. Louis finds that hard to believe considering his behaviour two nights ago. But who knows, this place is full of surprises.
"So," Niall continues, "When we get in there we gotta stick close. Usually we split up and go bonkers but I want you beside me tonight, Louis, cause who knows what will happen to a newbie in that place."
Louis frowns in questioning, not sure how to take that sentence. Should he be worried right now?
"What do you mean? I think I'll live."
"You think that."
"Niall, are you taking me to some sort of ritualistic cult whatever? Cause to be honest I don't really think I'm all that interested in sacrifices."
Niall laughs as if Louis were joking. He's being one hundred percent serious and fears for his life right now so he's slightly offended.
"No, no, none of that." He grins and slaps Louis on the back, pulling his arm away. "Now, enough chit-chat. We're here."
And Just. Like. That.
Luné Argent.
The gate towers before Louis and his massive group- an intimidating amalgamation of lights and bars, coated black metal streaking a red haze that dances through the gaps, in which exposed the innards of this bohemian labyrinth.
In his peripheral, Louis can also see that grandiose moon statue that up close seems all too real; challenging the real moon herself, but of course it's inauthenticity does not make a match for the jewelled crescent of the real moon, simply not beaming as splendidly. Louis almost wants to scoff at it. The moon sign is the only part of this places' exterior he would consider pretentious. Too attention-seeking.
Nevertheless, it is a sight to behold- that's for sure.
"Well, Louis." Niall beams, clearly eager and excited to enthral himself immediately into who-knows-what. "Prepare yourself for the Luné Argent."
Louis glares at him under streaking lights.
"And stick close."
Niall grabs him by the hand and they're running through the gates, a stampede of bohemians ready to lose themselves entirely, and then forget the night ever even happened. A river of rouge and sparkling stones; a diamond waterfall streaming through the building. He hears the girls laugh and the men exclaim- spotting Liam crack his hard exterior and the girl who decorated his face earlier raise a glass in the air and grasp at her friends. Shrills of pure euphoria fill the atmosphere and Louis can feel his stomach flip in excitement.
They are in Luné Argent.
Louis sees Niall smile at him before he's lost in a sea of top hats and tailcoats.
-
Louis' shimmery jacket is falling off one shoulder as he's whisked through an impossibly large crowd of people. Men decked in black and white, occasionally crimson (he assumes these males of generous age considered themselves 'too good' for colour') swarm the floor in a frenzy of chants and laughs, and magnificent girls adorned in countless amounts of silver trinkets and red silks pass him with smiles on their faces and lipstick on their teeth.
There's brass music too shrill for anyone's ears; and Louis hates it. It's pitchy and obnoxious and somehow absolutely perfect for this place he has found himself in.
The black and white checkered floor is lathered in fallen jackets and hats; shimmery towers of champagne flutes somehow stand untoppled at the side, grand chandeliers with red candles hang from the glassy ceiling and an unoccupied stage lies at the very front of this hall of Babylon.
There are sculpted pillars with tapestries of naked people on them- which Louis loves. Never a bad moment for shameless nudity.
But he may have spoken too soon as he finds that some undignified couples have taken to fucking right in the very deep corners of the room.
It's all quite overwhelming, but the screams of euphoric joy and pleasantries given to him from others let Louis know that this place is nothing to fear. And he's going to enjoy himself.
Hoisting his glittery jacket back upon his shoulders and adjusting the crimson waistcoat beneath it, rolling up his white billowy sleeves- Louis delves into the night.
He locates Niall and the two find themselves doing shots with two girls dressed as milkmaids (don't ask him why- there's no explanation for it). They scream out of pure joy and the four sit upon an empty table and dance humorously.
Niall's dancing is something Louis wishes he had seen earlier in his life.
Later on, Niall's dragging Louis over to Liam who is chatting to a rather pretty boy with smokey eyes, leaning against one of the many large pillars.
There's a subtle smell of lavender and cashmere. It burns at Louis' nose.
"Hey, Liam, finally enjoying yourself?" Louis asks, quite out of term but he's fairly drunk right now.
To his surprise, Liam just laughs.
"Quite, Louis." His pupils are dilated and he's wasted as fuck.
"We came over cause-" Niall stars, sounding like something was threatening to come up his throat and out of his mouth.
Vomiting is imminent for all of them right now.
"Because...what?" Liam raises an eyebrow. Smokey eyes beside him giggles.
"Well," Louis jabs a finger in Liams face and holds onto Niall's shoulder for balance. "We wanted to let you know that..."
"That, um," Niall looks around the room.
Liam looks ready to give up on them and turns back to smokey eyes.
"That girl over there!" Niall points, seeming to regain some consciousness, "You see, her!"
"The milkmaid," Louis adds, for visual support.
"Yes! The milkmaid-"
"Which one?" Liam interrupts, squinting at the two milkmaids at the far side of the room.
"Sara!" Louis tells him as if it were obvious.
"Which one is fucking Sara?"
"The milkmaid!"
"There's two milkmaids, Louis! Which one is Sara?!"
"Oh, um...the blonde one?"
Niall turns to fully face the milkmaids, "No, Sara is the ginger one. Cass was the blonde one."
"No, it was for sure the other way around," Louis interjects. "Either way, she thinks you're hot Liam" He pokes him in the chest.
Liam grins, so does smokey eyes. Whoever he is.
"Thanks, drunkards." He slaps both Niall and Louis on the back, clasps hands briefly with smokey eyes and stalks off into the crowd in pursuit of whichever milkmaid Sara was.
The two are left with Smokey Eyes.
"How do you know Liam?" Niall stars, beaming at this stranger.
"Family friend." Smokey Eyes says bluntly. He purses his lips and looks the both of them up and down.
Louis glares at him. His eyes are burning.
"The 'Show' stars in twenty minutes. Wanna get high?" Smokey Eyes grins.
"Say no more!" Niall claps and tugs Louis by the shoulder as they pursue Smokey Eyes outside.
-
First of all, Louis doesn't have a fucking clue what 'The Show' is and was unaware that this place was more than just a party. Niall really needed to explain things more. Second of all, Smokey Eyes is fucking evil and whatever he's smoking right now is absolutely not legal.
After the trio finish smoking outside on an expansive balcony filled with entangled bodies and fragranced smoke; blearing red lights seeping into Louis' very mind and soul, the moon taunting him from above, they all stumble back inside and find an empty circular table on a long interior balcony in which everyone is now seated.
Smokey Eyes- who they have found is named Zayn, must have put some shit in whatever weird concoction they just smoked because Louis' vision is kaleidoscopes and he can't focus on a thing.
Liam finds the three at their table; looking stoned and gone with the wind, eyes bloodshot and comparable to the red lights that halo this evil building.
"Liam!" Niall grabs for him and forces him into the last seat at their small table. "How was it with Sara?"
"Oh, very fun." Liam smirks- he's all hazy and lathered in sweat. Louis gags.
"Get in," Niall grins, utterly mellow and unaware.
"I see you've met Zayn," Liam changes the subject, turning towards Zayn, a smile of amusement upon his face.
Have these guys fucked?
Louis' nose itches.
"No, Louis, we have not fucked." Liam turns to Louis, who is currently trying to hold his eyes still so the room stops doing cartwheels.
"Huh?" Louis just makes a gruntled noise in response. He could've sworn he said nothing. "I didn't say anything Liam."
"You asked if Zayn and I had fucked..." Liam seems to be containing his laughter well. "Which we have not."
"I asked nothing of the sort," Louis grins at him, "That was just in my thoughts, silly."
"Jesus Christ..."
Niall is falling off of his chair. Zayn is hiding his laugh behind is sleeve. Liam is positively perplexed.
And Louis' jacket is suffocating him.
To be honest, the night is a messy haze of alcoholic discomfort and bloodshot eyes- and it's purely a strobe of bodies and shouting, Louis not ever really knowing what's actually happening. It's awfully perfect and he doubts the euphoric feeling of this night can ever be replicated. Right now he's floating on a cloud of weed and smoke, surrounded by a wispy trail of lavender, cashmere and vanilla. That perfume that will not leave him alone; it's getting tedious. Why it's so pungent and popular with literally everyone stumps him. It was charming at
first, a Parisian welcome that familiarised him with this setting- but now he's lucky to escape the scent and free his nose from the overwhelming perfume.
"Are you guys excited for the Diamonds? I've heard Wilde got them some new costumes." Zayn asks the group, beaming, teeth too white.
"Wilde..." Niall shakes his head and grins at the name. "What a guy. Gonna get him to approve of the new play my group and I are organising- hoping to up the budget!" He speaks of this Wilde character in admiration. Louis has no idea who he is.
"Oh, you're doing a play?" Zayn raises an eyebrow, "I'm sure you have not finalised casting, I hope?"
"Not at all, my friend," Niall scoots his chair closer to Zayn, who is looking cooly at him with expectation.
"Why do you ask?"
"You see, I've been going to the Luné Argent's performances courtesy of Hector Wilde for many years now. I must admit it's been a dream of mine to participate in one."
"You're in luck!" Niall slaps him on the back- a mannerism Louis has come to learn as a trademark of him, already earning a Niall- shaped handprint upon his shoulder. "Sour little Liam over here has dropped out of the play because he is just such a heathen. You'd be splendid for the role I just know!"
Zayn grins and Liam scowls.
"You said you'd give Louis my old part." Liam interjects. "And i'm not a heathen."
"Ah, you see," Niall turns back to Louis across the table. "Louis, I've decided you'd be perfect for something else...."
Louis poorly tries to avert his attention to Niall through the smoke in his eyes and the war in his mind.
"I hope you don't mind this Louis, but, let me speak on it." Niall seems to become more serious and Louis is utterly flabbergasted. "We have the outline for the performance, you know, the plot and all that, but we haven't started the script yet. And I want you to write it."
Niall pauses for a second and allows Louis to try and think. He desperately wishes this had been proposed to him when he was less tragically intoxicated with strange drugs and alcohol.
Niall acknowledges this, somehow more conscious than Louis and clearly more desensitised to the shit they've been putting in their systems tonight. "Your improvised little monologue at that bar last night said it all. You're poetic, mate! Absolutely fucking silver-tongued and I want your words in this play!"
Louis just glares at him under the glimmering light, iridescent silver dances upon his skin and he's a picture of hazy beauty and glory. Wine-stained lips crack into a crooked smile and the corners of his eyes wrinkle in delight.
"Of course I'll write your play!"
And they're all laughing.
They're laughing and the lights dim, a mellow frequency rupturing the room. An aroma of delicate smoke scented of lavender, cashmere and vanilla circles the atmosphere and the stage becomes eclipsed in silver and red- a halo of light dances around the grande pillars structuring the sides of the massive platform and it's felt as the room becomes entranced. All the bustling bodies still and the thrilled yells quiet and the clinking of glasses halt.
Something is happening. Something big, bold and beautiful.
Louis feels Niall kick his shin under the table as an alert to pay attention and look forward. Their whole group is grinning, buzzing with anticipation and excitement fills them like liquor.
There's a beam of anxiety in Louis' throat but he swallows it and focuses on the stage and the now empty checkered floor.
From their balcony Louis can see, if he squints, a man shuffling about in the wings of the stage, concealed from the front by rouge, velvet curtains but exposed from the side for Louis and the rest to spot. The man adorns a top hat like most men in this room, but his is far more spectacular, decorated carefully with feathers and rhinestones that catch the light ever so perfectly. The hat sits wonderfully atop a mass of pure red curls and pale skin. His slender body coated with red silks and velvets, a tailcoat just like Louis' but far more expensive and golden- an absolute standout amongst all of the silver here. He's also wearing heels which is quite splendid, giving much more inches to his seemingly already grand height. This man is a sight to behold, and Louis can only assume that this is Hector Wilde.
And as sudden as lightning this man is delving onto the polished stage and erupting an applause loud enough to burst Louis' poor eardrums. Louis yells in contribution and he sees Niall absolutely going feral in his seat, Liam is standing up and clasping his hands together with enough force to tear down the building, and Zayn is simply laughing and clapping simultaneously. Louis tries not to pass out as he stands up and whistles, amplifying this overly aggressive ocean of thrilled yells. He also sees jewell girl from earlier sitting on a random man's shoulders, glass clutched in the air as usual and screams escaping her deceptive body.
This is 'The Show'.
And Louis can't wait.
Hector Wilde exerts a presence like no other. So unbelievably comfortable on that intimidating stage, such an overwhelming stage presence that immediately commands the room, all figures turin if his way, entranced by his stature and impending attitude. He stands there soaking up the enthralling applause and unpariel of voices, until he gathers himself completely and Louis thinks it's a wonder how he hasn't toppled over from being so postured and upright. Wilde bows once before he opens his mouth:
"WELCOME TO THE LUNÉ ARGENT!" He bellows throughout the colossal room and another round of applause carries through the crowd. His voice is dominant and laced in confidence and surety. He looks fairly young but Louis can only assume he's been doing this for years. He joins in with his group as they clink their champagne flutes together and yell with glee.
A pyro of fireworks erupts from hidden cannons on the stage as Wilde takes a step forward, cane clutched in hand, amplifying his control over the crowd.
Quieter, he announces:
"We've got quite a show for you all tonight!" He's grinning with pride and euphoria, "But when don't we? Get ready for my Diamonds to steal the night away, my people! Get ready for your hearts to beat ten miles a minute! Get ready to fall in love with the wonder and forget about it by tomorrow!"
More cheers, grins and exclamations of excitement.
"Please feel free to get up out of your seats and join in with the can-can, because you know my Diamonds can always use a partner!"
A river of men in black and white filter onto the checkered floor again, in a formation ready.
"Now," Wilde begins, licking his lips and stepping a foot back to lean forwards intensely. "Welcome my DIAMOND DOGS!"
The name sat uneasy in Louis' stomach but was swallowed by excitement as straight away Wilde was whisked off in a tornado of smoke and glitter as a trail of around ten girls stampede out of the stage and onto the floor in a mass frenzy of skirts and shrieks. The can-can.
Louis' ears are filled with nothing but trumpets and screams until he hears Niall's voice above it all.
"We need to get to Hector Wilde!" He's rapidly standing out of his seat and gesturing to the rest of them. "He's gotta know about our nameless play! We need the Luné Argent behind us and we're bound to succeed!"
"What are we supposed to do you idiot?" Louis exclaimed, right now wanting to get more drunk and perhaps indulge himself in the hyper can-can below.
"Come on, Louis! Don't you want thousands of people to witness your writing?!" Niall is practically begging, pouting like a child. How was this man going to be capable of organising an entire ass play?
But his comment does get to Louis. You'd be unfortunate to never experience the writing of Louis Tomlinson, he must admit.
"Fine, Niall. But if I never get the opportunity to can-can with a stranger again I'll kill you." Louis stumbles up and sees as Liam and Zayn follow suit. They're quite the group this evening. Niall grins at him and grabs Louis and Zayn by the wrists as they wind their way through the crowd towards backstage, Liam behind them grabbing drinks off of trays as they pass strangers and waiters and impossibly wasting the night away in a state of delirium and happiness. They were all going to regret this heavily in the morning.
The four of them arrive at the foot of the stage and everyone is positively distracted by the talented can-can dancers so it's all too easy to slip behind the expensive curtains and struggle to contain their laughs as they stumble their way to Hector Wilde's room. Louis assumes this is not Niall's first time here as his direction was unfaltering and he had no hesitation when going to find Wilde. And Louis was too wasted to care.
They reach a spectacular wooden door that grandly displayed the name 'WILDE' in intricate letters right in the centre, and it's all too pretentious and over the top and Louis absolutely hates it but loves it at the same time.
"Should we knock?" Liam asks, raising a fist about to do so when unprovoked Niall is throwing open the heavy door and announcing his arrival as if he were coming back from the war. Louis has to admire his audacity and would laugh horridly if Niall did all of this just to be thrown out on the street for breaking in.
"NIALL HORAN IS HERE!" He bellows into the room, Irish accent thick and slurred. "Fear not! Here to make your night better and sexier."
Louis is about to roll his eyes and excuse his irritating blonde acquaintance when Hector Wilde,
in the flesh, is grinning at Niall and striding up to him to bring him into an awkwardly drunk hug. Wilde seems all too real right now and Louis must have considered him some sort of hostly, holographic manifestation when he was on the stage because he seems too surreal to be before him, top hat, tail coat, cane and all.
"Niall Horan!" Wilde is grinning as they pull apart. "Fancy seeing you here, my friend!" His voice is still loud and commanding when up close, yet somehow simultaneously contented and relaxed.
"I can't come to the Luné Argent without paying a visit to my ringleader friend," Niall is overconfident and mellow right now and Louis is prepared to run out of here at any minute. And he's sure Zayn and Liam wouldn't be too far behind. "Besides," Niall continues, "I have a proposition for you."
Wilde regards him with piercing eyes and full composure. Louis might piss his pants.
"First of all," Hector begins, "I am no such thing as a 'ringleader', Niall Horan. I am simply a commander of the stage. Leader of the Luné,"
"Quite corny, don't you think?"
It slips out. And before Louis can shoot himself in the head, Wilde is staring down at him with all the intimidation a single person could possibly conjure. He's drunk right now and has said too many things aloud that should've stayed in the shameful banks of Louis' mind. He'd give anything to disappear right now.
"I'm sorry?" Wilde takes a single step towards Louis. "What do you mean 'corny', stranger?"
"You know," Louis shrugs, trying to compose himself. "Bit pretentious." He offers the most forced and fucked up smile literally ever, grinning as if he'd just shit his own pants. "Don't you think?"
Wilde regards him momentarily before unexpectedly bursting into a cracking fit of laughter. Ripples of authentic laughter spill from Wildes uptight figure and Louis might be dying.
"Please!" Wilde has doubled down onto his knees and Louis really didn't think it was all that funny. He exchanges an awkward glance with Niall and can hear Zayn and Liam beside him try not to laugh at the situation. "Me? Pretentious?! Boy have you really cracked the code!" Wilde collects himself and stands to fully face Louis again.
"The whole reason of the Luné Argent is to escape to a world of pretentiousness and idiocy! Why do you think we dress in borrowed robes?!" Wilde exclaims, wiping his forehead. And Louis isn't completely sure but he thinks this man has just quoted Shakespeare's Macbeth. He really can't get a grasp on this man's character.
"What is your name, boy?" Wilde asks him, laughter dying down.
"Louis Tomlinson."
"Louis Tomlinson! You are an ambitious boy, Louis Tomlinson! I admire you!"
"I am quite drink, mate."
Another laugh escapes him. "The best way to be!" He clasps Louis' shoulder and turns back to Niall. "I like your friend here, Horan. No one has ever spoken up to me like that before! They're always to scared!"
Niall beams at Wilde and then at Louis. "He's an ambitious guy, is Louis. Only met him yesterday."
"And how fortunate you did. Now, you four. Tell
me about your proposition."
-
Wilde took well to the idea of their play, and let's just say his infatuation with Louis and his drunken comment was highly unexpected. Liam told him that the first time he met Wilde he had ridiculed his choice of outfit, and when Zayn first met him he had told him to change his haircut almost immediately.
"He's quite unpredictable, but he's fun." Niall stated as they leave his dressing room in a state of confusion and succession. "And it's great he's willing to help with the play! We just gotta sort out the foundations and if he wants to pursue it we're all gonna be stars!"
"What do we need to do now? Casting and script work?" Liam asks.
"Yep! We already have our leading man, Zayn. Liam,
you're playing the emperor, and no you don't get a choice. Louis, crack on with that script when you can."
"You got it. Prepare yourselves for poetry." Louis smiles as they pass the front of the stage.
"And the performance of a lifetime." Zayn adds, voice smooth and charming.
"Who will play the leading lady then? I was thinking Maeve." Niall suggests.
"I was hoping Wilde could suggest a gorgeous performer from here to play her." Liam added, to which Niall approves with an acknowledging finger.
Louis was about to ask who Maeve was when the lights dim and glitter falls from the sky. A cascade of silver jewell's fall upon the crowd and a hushed sobriety overcomes them.
A boy emerges from the wings of the stage.
The air is thick with lavender, cashmere and vanilla.
__________________________________
wowowow i didn't expect this one to run so long.
the significance of this chapter was to highlight what kind of place luné argent is! it's wondrous and exciting, isn't it? i really wanted to just establish characters and setting here so you know what you're picturing for the rest of the fic- i hope you love the vibes as much as i do!
sorry if the pacing is sort of off, it's my weakest point with writing, but i'm only 16 and there's a long way to go with my literature! i really hope this fic helps me improve.
please leave comments, feedback, criticisms, anything! all is appreciated <3
also, harry?
is that you?
emerging from the wings?
idk about you but i can't wait to find out!