Following
Summary: He didn't understand why she was so angry with him, or the darkened look that had entered her eyes. It was just a simple question. "Cassandra, I only asked if you wanted to dance with me."
AN: Takes place before the series, a few months after Cassandra is first crossed over. My favorite DOTM pairing :dances: This is actually not a oneshot (gasp!) but is still going to be rather short. It's more like a few, most likely unrelated, glances into character relations. I will update every week on this one! w00t and whathaveyou.
This is like a drabble-series, so I once again emphasize that it's going to be short.
Follow (v):
To seek to overtake
To conform to
To watch or observe closely
To accompany
To go or come after
To understand the meaning of
Chapter One
Follow (v.): To seek to overtake
The party was quickly escalating out of control, the girl thought frantically as she scrambled to clean up the empty plastic cups that had been littered all over her parents' clean, white carpet and prayed that the brownish stains on the floor weren't what she thought they were. The music, a strange techno track she had never heard before, was getting increasingly louder and she felt a panic attack threatening to overtake her as two football players from her school decided to practice using her mother's antique vase. An innocent get-together of friends had taken a miserable turn for the worse, and she knew that when her parents returned home, she was dead.
Prying the antique vase out of the all-star quarterback's hands, Cassandra blew a strand of wayward hair out of her face when she finally had it safe. Tucking a strand of maroon behind her ear, her eyes drifted across the crowd until they landed on a stranger on the opposite side of the room.
He wasn't breathtakingly handsome, his numerous facial piercings, two-toned hair, and pallid skin attributing to this, but he was sort of attractive in a dangerous way. His eyes, dark and cold, stared straight ahead, locking with her own. She blushed immediately when she realized that she had been caught staring, and settled for an awkward smile, hoping he would ignore her and go on with the party.
The boy in black gave her a crooked, but endearing, sort of grin that didn't quite reach his eyes and Cassandra bit back a laugh as she concluded that he looked like a scarecrow of some sorts. She started to turn around to place the vase in the relative security of the kitchen, but as soon as she swerved completely around, the priceless artifact dropped to the ground, as well as her jaw, with a soft thunk! noise on the carpet.
There, standing not a foot away from her, was the must-be equivalent of a god. His hair, a paler shade of blonde, hung slightly in his vibrant blue eyes. His face was chiseled like a marble statue, and he exuded an air of danger even stronger than that of the two-toned hair boy, who was now long forgotten. Her blush grew far more deeper when the handsome stranger bent down to pick up the vase, handing it to her gently.
"Thanks," She whispered meekly, picking it up carefully, praying to god that her hand would brush against his if only for a moment.
"It was no problem," His voice was smooth and enchanting, and he smiled at her, revealing perfectly white and even teeth, "My name's Stanton, what's yours?"
It was the beginning of the end.