(complete) Sex, intrigues, lies - the Game is like normal politics, just that now people lose their brain over it. Macbeth meets House of Cards and Game of Thrones in a fantastic ride to the Brexit referendum battled out in the reality TV show envir...
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Panicles of photographers flocked to the entrance of Browns, their flashes blinding those arriving. Justin and Hel had found themselves a hidden nook inside that allowed them to observe the doors as well as the restaurant with the least possibility to be seen by Vlad or Mathilda. The danger was low though, since the two had been busy greeting guests ever since they descended from their rooms, both dressed in black alleviated only by a little white, or silver. Mathilda wore a shiny tortoise brooch pinned to the shoulder of an evening grown that hugged her body to flare out like a black lily blossom in the last moment.
They had placed themselves in front of the portraits of the deceased. Every now and then, they paused in what could count as solemn contemplation before they offered champagne and their take on the Game to the next guests. They presented themselves as cautious supporters of an exit as representation of the country's strength and self-conception that saw it second to none and therefore not bowing to anyone – as long as it was the choice of the audience. When the guests showed reservations, they shared them, but never failed to point to the will of the people as the ultimate guidance.
What they missed to mention was that they would do everything so that the will of the people ended up to be exactly what they wanted, and that was seldom to the people's advantage. Guthrum's, Vlad's mostly best friend since childhood, media empire had been a longtime tool for their manipulations. Compared with what they had concocted with the virus that attacked people's brains, toying with brains with the media empire's help seemed like child's play now though. Justin and Hel hoped that many of those in attendance would reject and oppose the zombie plan, if they had known about it. They didn't want to let it come to a test though.
Now and then, when someone entered who failed to produce a major outcry in front of the door, Justin feared to see Matis walking up to his parents. He had first feared to see him emerge from the lift with his parents in a show of unity for those who could see it. When that hadn't happened, his concern had shifted to the door. It never was Matis though, who came in, but usually some assistant running some errand or security shifting position.
Justin grew madder with himself the further the evening went along for lacking trust in the man he loved. But the doubt that had time to fester while they had both lacked the words to talk, was not that easy to quench.
Finally, only two guest were still lacking. Vlad checked his watch when a car rolled up and the thunderstorm of flashes erupted anew. Boris, after exiting the car first, helped Theresa peel herself out of the door. Where Mathilda's dress was grand, Theresa's robe was spectacular.
The darkest of green found in the thicket of woods set out her partly piled up hair and her glowing skin. The cut was straight and unspectacular until she moved. Then slits down the skirt revealed hidden insertions covered with silver tortoises stitched on black ground. That's when the forest, Theresa was wrapped in, came to life. Instantly, the flaxy haired man at her side who bore a slight resemblance to dough, was all but forgotten.
