The photographer gazes into the forest of the boys soul through the lens of his camera. The pale complexion of the boy is worrying but it also makes you wonder how it is possible he isn't simply a painting. Eden gently touches the young man's lips, parting them slightly. The model hardly moves, it's almost as if he isn't breathing as he looks through the camera, looking at the photographer, almost lovingly or is hopelessly? I am not certain. Neither will the photographer ever be, his mind has a habit of tricking him, his feelings have always been foolish and this boy is even more foolish than those feelings.

Hallover puts his camera down and looks at his watch. "We are done, you still have half an hour till you need to leave." Dorian smiles and nods while taking of the dress he was wearing for the pictures and putting on his black turtleneck and suit jacket. The photographer looks at him intently. "How have the last two weeks been?" He asks, you can hear the slightly concerned tone in it but he does try to hide it. "Eventful." He says with a chuckle, the chuckle has a somber tone in it for some reason the photographer cannot figure out. "I heard you've been practicing your walk with Clement." He nods and straightens his cuffs, "You're right, it has been quite fun actually. Today will be a fitting and if the clothes look considerably good on me, we are going to Paris." The short photographer puts his hand on the trembling shoulder of the lad. "Are you okay?" He smiles faintly and nods. "it is....hard when you are suddenly seen as who you are and everything you need to be. And I guess there is a kind of poetry in fate and the passing of time but I don't think I fully understand that poetry yet." Dorian turns around "Some people have a million talents and a million degrees but we won't know till we tried to get every fruit from the tree. You will find your way." He says while wiping away a tift of the dark hair of the lad. "You will be fine." Eden says, the optimistic boy smiles, hiding the sad expression like the sea hides the currents to betray the people enjoying it's beauty with death. Dorian sometimes wonder if he is addicted to being okay, he never wants to be sad, he never wants to admit he sees all the tell-tale signs. He doesn't want the failure of not being alright, so he smiles and kids himself and sees joy in things that are nothing. Because you will never catch him being selfish, self-importance is a nightmare and selflessness is a dream. But be honest, how can you be selfish when you've never had the ability of making a sense of self? Eden hugs dorian, "Look after yourself." The redhead says with a faint smile and dorian nods.

Dorian feels foreign while he waits in the hallway. He cannot find lord Orléans and and he fidgets with his hair as he waits for the rejection he is certian he will need to live right now. There is such an overwhleming feeling of being a stranger, he scratches his delicate skin in order to feel anything else than the adrenaline addiction. He wonder if he could write a book about failure if this doesn't work, perhaps it would be something that would help him and provide financial possibilities.

"Dorian" He looks up as he is beckoned into the room by lord orleans. He looks around him the loft is beautiful but strangely industrialistic. The sound of people is louder than it should be and the hustling and bustling makes everything too overwhelming for the lad who hardly knows the world. A lady approaches him with a stern face and a tape measure. She looks at dorian briefly and grabs some garments. She looks at him with a very critical face and dorians skin begins to burn with the need to simply slip out of it and stop being ashamed of it. He wishes he looked different, while so many people would wish to look like him. "How long do you have that scar?" "Since I was a kid, it is from a surgery." "Ever considered having it removed or at least the appearance descreased?" He shakes his head and gently touches the scar. "Do you think you can lose a few pounds in about three weeks?" His beautiful eyes flutter in surprise and he nods hesitantly. Orleans smiles excitedly "Alright, let's try some clothes shall we." The body of the lad nods and smiles but the mind is not very present. But if you'd ask the boy where his mind is at the boy could not come up with the answer, neither would he want to.

Dorian needs to wait for a minute he looks at the other models and sighs. "You alright mate?" A boy with a handsome face and a buzzcut asks. "They told me to lose weight, I never realised it was that bad..." He chuckles "Oh love it's not that bad it's just that they want more perfection than a human can give. A pretty face will get you nowhere if you don't constantly work on your body, they need you to hate yourself, to always want more. It makes you.....easy to sell." he says with a smile.

"They want you!" Orléans exclaims with a smile while wrapping his arm around the tall beauty that tries his best to keep up his perfect appearance and not to break down the mask he has always built around him. The perfection is only in the perifery of his character. But do not tell anyone, the boy doesn't even know that himself. Forget is easier than dealing with it. "Do you think I will manage my weight?" The lord smiles and hands him a packet of cigarettes, "For your hunger, it helps...." The lad looks at them hesitantly..... and lights one. "Attaboy, now let's get some drinks to celebrate it." The lad wipes away the tears that he doesn't allow to leak out of his eyes.

The photographer enters the club "EDEN HERE!" The boy waves his arms wildly like a kid and Eden can't help but smile. He walks through the busy club that is far too busy for his liking but Clement picked it so of course it is too busy. "Congratulations" The redhead whispers but the spontaneous lad hugs him "THANK YOU" The painter of pictures tilts his head as he looks at the shot glass standing in front of the boy. "Have you been drinking?" He laugh brightly, as if a mirror is breaking and the sun is falling onto the reflection. "Can't I indulge once in a while?" he asks with an innocent smile. The painter looks at the influence that has an aristocratic title. "You asshole." He turns around and walks away furious at the foolishness of thinking that egotistic prick wouldn't damage that fragile rose of a boy. Rose? No not even a rose, he cannot protect himself he does not have thorns. "Eden....." he turns around as he hears the soft voice of the porcelain doll that could be considered a human. "Stay.....for me." He says with a light mischevious smile. The photographer sighs and follows him to the dancefloor as the boy mesmerises more people than he is aware of. "How much did you drink?" The concerned man asks to the one he vowed to himself to protect. Although for selfish reasons he thought he could shelter him, this purity, this beauty. Why couldn't he? "Enough to enjoy life." He says with a smile

The roads are dark and gloomy as the boy cycles home with a foolish smile on his face belting Auld lang syne as he rides along the stretching green fields of the countryside, plainly drunk as you can see by the way he meanders over the roads. He takes his hands off the wheel and spread his arms as he chuckles, he hasn't felt as great as this. He whispers and says: "I am not trying to be pessimistic I am just honest with myself for one time." He hardly feels the impact as he falls on the road and doesn't worry about the road rash he will probably have he hums as he stumbles into the grass next to the road and closes his eyes, right now everything is safer than home to him.....