<div class="floatright">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/2920a153723ecb0839325321967508c3/tumblr_oplvw8Nk7Y1w6bn9yo1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Evion Raymond (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281599.msg13847475#msg13847475)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>White suit as pictured (https://78.media.tumblr.com/2920a153723ecb0839325321967508c3/tumblr_oplvw8Nk7Y1w6bn9yo1_500.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Hilton Hotel Ballroom<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open!<br/><hr/><br/>Evion never did well with crowds. Unless he was in front of them. This particular crowd, he wouldn`t want to be near with a suit of armour on. The arenas of spain, bullfights and matadores with charging beasts call sweetly. An easier challenge. Maybe when this is over he can officially claim he`s been through worse.<br/><br/>It`s not so much the people – a feeling that doesn`t apply to everyone- but who he was, back then in the dark days of high school.<br/>Evion stands on the side, conveniently between the canapes and open bar, watching and exchanging polite smiles. Neither knew each other, but they might of and that was enough for a `hi hows it doing nice bye` greeting and handshake. He sways to the beat, nostalgia for songs he used to turn the radio channel off to. Attend a highschool reunion? Get some chill music time. Appreciation is like fine wine. Only good a decade or so after.<br/><br/>The radio host unconsciously licks his lips as he scans the room for familiar faces. A bubble of confidence. Sits in his chest like confused backwards wings ready to burst out and soar. Who Evion`s become and what he`s done,<em>who</em>he`s done, uncountable changes since he was the kid these people knew. His nose scrunches.<br/>Few knew him in the first place. Evion thinks he spots someone only to look again and see she`s not the older version with dyed hair he mistook. Anxiety, from the venue and it`s memories, the people and occasion, crawl on his skin like an immovable itch.<br/><em>It`s okay. It`s fine. It`s chill. </em><br/><br/>Evion hums under his breath to the lyrics and approaches the food. His gate is flounced with something bouncy and forcefully comfortable. He can do this, he can do this if he doesn`t check his twitter feed and see the thousands of strangers urging him on for better or worse. He can do this because it`s his motherfucking night to murder his old self, cold blood and all, and take its rightful place in the memories of fellow Westwood graduates. Evion takes the salmon roll.