"Am I still in Wyoming?!". That was Ember's first thought as she approached the well-kept four-story brick house (it was a mansion really), disbelief etched onto her fine features. Scratch that. She was sure it was NORMALLY well-groomed but on this particular night, the sprawling lawn was littered with teenagers who were all eager to try their hand at drinking (but obviously failed seeing their knocked-out stages) with the said drinks discarded. Their owners had long since then lost their interest in the contents of the plastic red cups and ended up littering the lawn with them. Making her way across the yard, the black wing could see the French-styled front doors were propped open by two sofa chairs, almost inviting Ember to step inside the cave of closely-knit bodies, blaring music, and flashing lights that would surely give any person an epileptic seizure.
Almost immediately upon entering the house, the attractive girl received stares. But then again, why wouldn't she? She was far more gorgeous than the human girls here and, with the way she walked with confidence and swinging hips, everyone at this party knew it. Especially with how she was dressed. A small sigh of content escapes her chest, immediately feeling relaxed in this wild atmosphere. Without another moment wasted on sentimental thoughts, a plastic red cup finds its way into her hands from the original origin of a nearby table and she goes to work, diving into the heart of the crowd. She was ready to have some fun.
With a groan, Ember blinks her eyes in protest at the watery sunlight filtering onto her eyes. Coming to, she gives a quick glance around, it taking a few seconds for her location to settle in her mind: a white leather couch with drunken teenagers, all fast asleep, sprawled out around. It was like she was a goddess with her deities surrounding her pedestal. Rolling her teal eyes at the loud snoring that erupted from the other humans, she ignores the pulsing ache in her head and winds up with closing her eyes. Not a moment passes, however, before she shoots up, realizing the Black Wings were suppose to meet today. A slew of curses escapes her confines as she rashly pulls on her high heels, grabs her black Coach sunglasses and purse, before nearly running out the door. With grace, she steps over the inebriated bodies on the dewy morning grass, not pausing a second to kick one in the stomach that was laying in front of her car door. With a flip of her hair, she puts on the sunglasses to help soothe her hangover before peeling away from the house.