It was three days before Constellaysia Ball, and the town of Crescent was wired with excitement-and it wasn’t necessarily positive excitement either. Everyone was on edge, wondering what it was that Christoph of the Zodiac had up his sleeve this time around.
“A ball?” Falcon shook his head, as he aggressively snatched his shirt from his head, and tossed it onto the floor. “I hate formal parties.”
Kazmiyah sighed. “You know,” She traveled over to the other side of the bed, and picked his shirt up off of the floor. “I really wish, you’d aim for the hamper, Con.” She tossed the shirt in a black wicca-like basket, and placed the lid over top it.
“Sorry,” He apologized half-heartedly, still annoyed by the idea of attending a formal gathering. Falcon turned away and veered off, simmering in
