Realistic or Modern Autumnvale

[Peepa]

Casey was lost in her thoughts until Cam, caught her attention. Instantly, her demeanor shifted from reserved to relaxed. She lifted her glass in a nonchalant gesture, offering a toast.

"A classic that never goes out of style." taking another small sip.

Trying to avoid the penetrating gaze of the other man, who observed her furtively, Casey couldn't shake off a sense of suspicion. His expression was inscrutable, leaving her wondering if there was a connection between them. That or he was simply just too inebriated to tell who from what.

As soon as the man interrupted the silence with an awkward greeting, Casey's perception altered slightly, yet suspicion lingered.

A faint, almost unnoticeable smile played on her lips as she watched him stumble over his words. She responded in a playful tone, "I think what you really meant to say is, 'Hey there, come here often?'"

Casey sipped her bourbon again, making an effort to control her intake. She didn't intend to get too intoxicated tonight.

 

[Dummy Dumbo]

It's raining where I am, I just finished all my finals (so long as one of my profs doesn't change anything like he has done before), and I don't have work until this weekend! RP writer's heaven! Mobile still isn't letting me change the colors of my text, but that is not too bad.

---------------



Saying that Martin “light headed” was a massive understatement. He could barely comprehend Casey's witty response. All he could do was tilt his head back and wait for his senses to return to a slightly more sober state. If he tried speaking again, he may say something he could never take back. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to forget that he was drunk.

His neck was beginning to ache, so he pressed his cheek to the bar-top. The pose reminded him of being a middle schooler. As a kid, he would hide his face from the teacher in the hopes that he would not be called upon to answer geometry questions. It never worked. Still, the cool surface of the counter was therapeutic.

The woman was still waiting for a response. What felt like hours for Martin was actually just a couple awkward seconds. He kept his face on the table as he replied with a wobbly thumbs up. Then, despite his fear of revealing something terrifying, he grumbled.

“Yeah, that. ‘Hey there, you come here often?’”

 

[fieldofclover]

• Chris
• August

• 
  
  christian.

  
  

  Sometimes Chris wished that he was born into a different family. Today was one of those days. If he had been born to different parents, then there was a greater possibility that they would accept him for who he was. But, of course, he just had to be born to a weak-willed woman and a man who stubbornly refused to embrace the changing times. Luck had never been on his side. How wrong he had been to assume that he had even a sliver of luck in him. At least Ella was putting as much effort as he was into tricking the Autumnvale public into believing that they were a couple. She snuggled up to him as if it came natural to her as they made their way over to the bar. He could certainly use a crisp bottle of Michelob Ultra right about now. And as soon as they reached the bar, it's exactly what he ordered from the bartender.
  
  This town did have its shining moments sometimes. An open bar was one of them. Faking a relationship would definitely come easier if he had some liquid courage flowing through his body. Though, he wasn't that good of a conversationalist - he was more of the type to grunt a two word response and go on with his day. There was no need for communication on the farm. He was more expressive in writing lyrics to his songs about heartbreak and loneliness. But speaking? Christian didn't have the quick wit or good comebacks within himself, at least not when it came down to being on the spot. And when Ella asked him about New Year's resolutions, he was drawing a blank. Even as something as mundane as talking about resolutions took him a few moments to come up with an answer to. "Oh, uh...no, not really." Chris rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, a sheepish smile finding its way onto his lips. "But hey, maybe it'll come to me during the year. Sorry, I'm really bad at...this."
  
  Luckily, his beer had finally been delivered, and he quickly downed the first few sips. His eyes followed hers as they landed on her brother. He knew damn well that Sheldon wasn't pleased with the whole concept of his sister marrying a total stranger in a sham marriage, so he was determined to stay as far away from the other Lawson as possible. Christian wasn't familiar with the Lawson family, but at least he knew of them. He took another sip from the bottle, but nearly choked on the amber liquid upon hearing the fact that Sheldon wanted to kick his ass. After his brief coughing fit was over, he sputtered out a "Thanks." Chris could defend himself if it came down to it, though he'd rather stay out of trouble if he could help it. And fighting with his future in-laws was not what he had in mind. "Maybe he won't be so angry if we can get out of this? I know it's not the ideal situation for either one of us, but..."
  
  

  the regal • trying to stay positive • smoke a little smoke • interacting with ella • Lizy
  
  
• 
  
  august.

  
  

  August's intrigue never left his side as he continued to observe the woman, who once again held the cigarette between her index and middle finger. Her eyes were so captivating, but she was off-limits. Perhaps he could be friendly with a woman without having any ulterior motives behind it. It would kill him, but he'd do anything to keep her around in his life, even after this, their first chance encounter. No other woman had ever made him feel so puzzled before. It was a foreign feeling, but yet, he wanted more and more of that feeling.
  
  He couldn't help but let out a chuckle when she called him Mister Perfect once more. "Oh God, please tell me you're not going to keep calling me that." August shook his head, a slight tint flushing his cheeks. No one had ever given him a nickname before. Sure, the occasional Aug or Auggie was expected, but Mister Perfect came out of left field. The woman herself had, too. But it was a welcome surprise, because if they had never crossed paths, he'd probably be stuck locked into mundane conversations with people below him for the rest of the event. It was a good thing that she had come along when she did. And the spontaneous way that this conversation was going was keeping him on his toes. She was truly an enigma that he was determined to figure out.
  
  "I'm much more than what my name suggests. I'm not just a pawn in the game, you know." His words bordered on a flirtatious nature, but he didn't plan on it - it was just part of who he was. No wonder he had many women all over town. With a charming personality, good looks, and more money than he knew what to do with, August was a prime candidate for the affection of any woman. He didn't move from where he was standing, though he easily could have crossed the threshold and closed the gap between them. Since he couldn't pick up on what she was feeling right now, he decided against making a move. August didn't want to scare her away.
  

  the regal • intrigued • get me out of here • interacting with hazel • Hazel_
  
  

 

[Hazel_]

Hazel couldn't help but stifle a subtle eye roll at August's response. His slight embarrassment at being dubbed 'Mister Perfect' only reinforced her initial impression of him. She found herself oddly drawn to his complexity, yet equally aware of the well-practiced charm that seemed to exude effortlessly from his persona.

"Of course, you're not just a pawn," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. Hazel understood the game he was playing, the carefully curated façade that came with his status and upbringing. She had encountered his type before, well-versed in the art of veiling their vulnerabilities with an air of confidence and affluence. "Were your pawns...the people lower than you...the women.." she gave him a glare "were all just a game for you in your perfect little world"

She took another drag from her dwindling cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around her before dissipating into the cool night air. Her gaze lingered on August, his words carrying an undercurrent of flirtation that she recognized all too well. Hazel had navigated the waters of such interactions before, and she knew better than to be swept away by the allure of a man like him.

A subtle smirk played on her lips as she met his gaze. "I'm sure you're much more than meets the eye," she retorted cryptically, her blue eyes holding a certain knowingness. Hazel was perceptive enough to see beyond the facades people presented, and August was no exception.

Despite the underlying attraction that simmered between them, she had no intention of indulging in a game she knew she couldn't win. His massive ego and the penchant for the thrill of the chase were familiar traits in men of his caliber. Hazel had learned the art of keeping her distance, a form of self-preservation in a world where superficiality often trumped sincerity. She finished her cigarette and glanced up at the stars the only thing she found certain in the world...the facts and the numbers. She couldn't handle dealing with guys...much less anymore heartbreaks.

"I should get going...dont want to ruin your chances at finding another girl to spend the night It's been... interesting, Mister August," she remarked casually, her tone laced with a touch of finality as she took a step back, signaling the conclusion of their impromptu exchange.

 

[Peepa]

Casey, attuned to the subtle shifts in the man's demeanor, felt her former lawyer instincts stir. A sip of her drink accompanied a slight furrow of her brow as she silently parsed the changing cadence, attempting to decipher the unspoken cues.

Casey found herself reflecting on her self-imposed seclusion. Ever since, well, the incident, she rarely ventured outside. The message served as an unsettling reminder of the lurking threat, sending shivers down her spine.

"Now that I think about it, not too often," she admitted.

Despite her proficiency in conversation, Casey disliked engaging in small talk. Her interest was piqued earlier when she overheard the man discussing a loose killer. It was a topic that resonated with her hidden fears. Casey sensed there might be additional details she needed to uncover or verify. Eager to dispel her suspicions and ascertain whether the threat was directed at her, she sought to delve deeper into the matter.

Based on her understanding, assassins typically operate in volume, indifferent to the method—be it clean, loud, or inconspicuous—as long as the job is done. In her quest for information, Casey aimed to discern the nature of the threat and whether it aligned with the patterns she knew from her past experiences.

As their dialogue unfolded, Casey subtly steered the conversation toward an unrelated, but steering subject, seeking to unravel the mysterious topic.

"So, know any good crime novels lately?" Casey cringed inwardly as her attempt at subtlety took an unexpected turn. An invisible facepalm accompanied her mental acknowledgment of the awkwardness she had just revealed. Small talk was never her strong suit, and bourbon wasn't helping her finesse.

"You know, sometimes reality can be stranger than fiction, right?" She pushed through her performance, eying at the man with grievous intent, making it as obvious as she could about her recent fluff.

Dummy Dumbo

 

[Dummy Dumbo]

“I can give you something better than book recommendations.”

Dukakis's brain was going to boil over if he didn't confess to something. He knew that admitting his own behaviors would be insane, but he had to say something stupid for the sake of comedy. It was a compulsion; a way to come clean without having to change himself. He was drunk enough where he could get away with saying idiotic crap, and he knowingly took advantage of it. As long as he never revealed their identities, Martin could talk about the terrible lives of his patients. It was the one perk of being a therapist. It made him fun at parties, he thought! He could just play off what he revealed as rumors he heard outside his office.

“There is one girl in town who has an addict father. Hooked on painkillers, from what I can gather. When he was about to be cut off from his supply, his daughter mysteriously broke her leg. While she won't come right out and say it, it's obvious that he was behind it.”

He sat up, looking around the room. He could see at least five people with terrible secrets in just one corner of the room. They may not have been his patients, but his patients would tell him their secrets too. There were so many secrets he knew, it was hard to explain the most incriminating without accidentally revealing who it belonged to.

“Another onr. There is a lady that tried throwing boiling water at her husband. She was pissed that he had left the front gate open. Of course, she later apologized. Then slammed the door on his foot when she turned to leave. Repeatedly.”

A sardonic snort came out of Marty's nose. He could go on for hours, but that would probably scare the lawyer away. As a therapist, he had heard every trauma under the sun. Nothing shocked him anymore, yet he was still enraged.

“Perfectly fine arms and feet, stuck in casts! These abusers are sick. They make the recent strangulations look like acts of mercy! At least suffocation is painless… mostly. Not that I would know, but it seems like a logical conclusion. Everyone in Autumnvale is drunk on violence – I am the only sober one here.”

For the first time, he was looking at Casey dead-on. His lips pouted. He no longer felt the urge to divulge any more information. He had his fill of morbid fun. Rant over. If he carried on, he would start sounding too passionate about justice.



“...but, uh, if you wanted a good novel, I could lend you a copy of ‘In Cold Blood.’ I re-read it for, like, the seventh time. Technically, it is a true crime.”

 

[Peepa]

The atmosphere in the bar seemed to shift as he shared the dark secrets lurking beneath the surface of Autumnvale. Casey's gaze lingered on Dukakis, her mind a swirl of contemplation.

Heavy with the weight of the disclosed secrets, she couldn't help but wonder how many more tales this small town held.

As Martin hinted at the pervasive violence and dysfunction in the town, Casey's lawyer instincts kicked in. She noted the nuances in his expression, the subtle dance between amusement and genuine concern. "Sounds like you've got a front-row seat to the drama of Autumnvale," she quipped, attempting to keep the conversation light.

Amid his revelations, Casey's mind raced with questions. As he spoke of the town's collective secrets, she couldn't help but reflect on her hidden chapters. It was a town seemingly bound by a tapestry of undisclosed truths, each resident carrying their share of burdens and concealed narratives.

"In Cold Blood, huh?" Casey replied, managing a wry smile despite the weight of the conversation. "A fitting choice, considering the stories you've just unraveled. Seems like you've got enough real-life drama to rival Truman Capote."

Casey's gaze met Dukakis's dead-on, her own eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and a readiness to delve into the complexities of the human psyche. She had a feeling that beneath the morbid fun and the facade of nonchalance, there was more to the therapist's story than met the eye.

Dummy Dumbo

 

[fieldofclover]

august.

August didn't see himself as a complex, deep individual. To himself, he was just...well, August. There wasn't anything special about him, save for his name and his wealth. But there must have been something about him that continued to draw people to him. He just couldn't put his finger on it yet. When the woman began to speak again, his expression turned from a blank expression to that of a sad sort of confusion. "What are you trying to get at? I've never considered any of the women I've been with, either physically, romantically, or just platonically, to be anything but my equal." Sure, he might not have been in love with any of them, but he didn't disrespect them one bit. The woman's words were like a stab wound to the heart. He didn't appreciate it at all.

He decided not to address his underlying anger. August didn't feel like arguing with anyone today, especially this stranger. She didn't even seem phased by the words that had cut into him so deeply just moments before. Instead, she made a comment that could be seen as bordering on flirtation, though he decided against giving an answer. August just gave a roll of his eyes, about done with the whole situation in general. Maybe she wasn't worth the chase. He certainly could do better. But her beauty shone through all of the darkness. Sure, the girls he usually associated with were pretty, but none of them compared to this mysterious woman standing before him. He was undecided. That was the only word he could think of that fit what he was feeling right about now.

Before he could get out another word, the woman had all but dismissed him entirely. So he just gave her a curt nod acknowledging the end of their conversation before he slipped out of the alleyway and back into The Regal, disappearing out of her line of sight. His father would surely be looking for him right about now. He had to look promising so that Atticus could gloat about his only son. It was utter torture.

end of scene, at least on august's end

the regal • intrigued • get me out of here • interacting with hazel • Hazel_

 

[Dummy Dumbo]

This lady wasn't terribly shaken – at least Martin wasn't able to spot any disgust in her eyes. He read people’s faces for a living, yet he could not decipher Casey's expression. Maybe she was used to this kind of talk. That would make two in a room of dozens.

“I'm like a poor man's Capote; I've been told that I am morbid, an alcoholic, and have a massive ego. If only I had actual talent!”

Martin's fleshy lips formed into a grin as he jokingly raised his glass. He wasn't used to saying these kinds of things without evoking some sort of visceral reaction. Most of the things he did were to create controversy. He didn’t want to constantly stir shit, but he liked the idea that people would go to sleep thinking about him. When he wasn't doing that, he went into hiding. Go big, or go home, Marty thought. Either say what is on your mind or leave the room. There is no use in loitering in a situation you couldn't control. Of course, he could never directly recommend that to his patients. They'd call himself a control freak.

“I never have the time anymore to hunker down. Only snippets here and there for me. The last non-true crime book I read was by Yukio Mishima. 'Confessions of a Mask.' Strange little man he was. How about you? Any good reads?”

For the first time in forever, Martin actually wanted to listen to someone ramble on about something freely. Typically, he didn't give a shit about what someone else had to say. He wasn't sure if he would end up befriending the classy woman, but he at least found her interesting for the time being. That was enough insensitive for him to ask her what books she liked.

Peepa

 

[Peepa]

Casey raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her eyes as Martin playfully labeled himself a "poor man's Capote." She nodded in acknowledgment of his self-deprecating humor, a subtle smile betraying her intrigue. "Well, friend, talent or not, you certainly know how to spin a tale. A skill that's worth its weight in gold, especially in a town like this."

She clinked her glass against his in a casual salute, appreciating the candor that unfolded in the conversation. As Martin shifted the focus to her reading habits, Casey leaned back, considering her response. "I'm a bit eclectic, to be honest. Lately, I've been delving into some classic mystery novels. You know, the kind that keeps you guessing until the very end."

The air in the bar seemed to settle, the heavy undercurrents of their earlier conversation fading into the background. Casey's eyes met Martin's, a genuine curiosity sparkling within them. "But enough about me. It's been an unexpected pleasure--" Casey paused, her eyes locking onto Martin's with genuine interest.

"By the way, I don't think I caught your name earlier." Her words were casual, a subtle inquiry lingering in the air.

Dummy Dumbo

 

[Dummy Dumbo]

He tilted his head. His eyes closed for a minute, thinking about all the who-done-its he has read over the years. There were more than he initially thought. They always made him happy. The books were like guides for him – what not to do. Guilty pleasures. The only thing more frightening to him then getting caught was people finding out that most of his crimes originated from kitschy pulp novels. Still, the lady asked him a question.

“Martin Dukakis.”

He chose not to divulge his occupation. Beyond forbidden gossip, there was not much to talk about involving his career. Talking, listening, more talking, and screaming into his pillow when he got home. It was a sad existence.

“And you are?””

Maybe this woman was equally as pathetic as he was. Hell, she could be just as much of an outlaw. Beyond her makeup and outfit, maybe she too screamed into her pillow. Then again, maybe not. She'd get lipstick on her furniture if she did that… Lipstick wouldn't stop her from being a criminal, though.

Peepa

 

[Peepa]

Casey observed Martin's contemplative demeanor. She sensed a peculiar dance between vulnerability and guardedness, a narrative woven from the threads of his confessions and unspoken fears. As he disclosed his name, "Martin Dukakis," she couldn't help but wonder about the layers yet to be peeled back.

In response to his question, Casey offered a warm smile, a glint of mystery in her eyes. "Just Casey," she replied, opting for simplicity while masking the complexity beneath the surface. The subtle interplay between their shared secrets left her intrigued, and she found herself navigating uncharted territories.

The night, filled with confessions and cryptic tales, seemed to unfold like a novel with unexpected twists. Martin, with his confessions and guarded demeanor, became an enigmatic character in the unfolding story of Autumnvale.

As the conversation continued, Casey couldn't shake the feeling that beneath the veneer of their interactions, deeper currents ran. The bar, with its dimly lit corners and hushed conversations, promised more revelations. With a final sip of her drink, Casey contemplated the mysteries yet to be unraveled. The night was young, and in Martin, at least for now, she sensed a companion on this unpredictable journey through the enigma of Autumnvale.

Dummy Dumbo

 

[fieldofclover]

AUTUMNVALE, SKIP 2: THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS

One of Autumnvale's oldest traditions. Release lanterns and enjoy the soup cookoff, live music, and cocoa. Takes place at the fairgrounds.

(As long as one character is here at the festival, the other(s) can have interactions taking place elsewhere.)

coded by archangel_

 

[Hazel_]

The soft melodies of live music drifted through the fairgrounds, creating an atmosphere of joyous celebration. Hazel meandered through the lively crowds, appreciating the diverse aromas wafting from the food stalls. Her path led her to the soup cookoff, where local chefs vied for the title of the best soup in town. The enticing scent of various broths and spices filled the air, tempting her taste buds.

Opting for a cup of hearty chicken noodle soup, Hazel found a quiet spot to savor the warm, comforting flavors amidst the bustling festivities. She relished the richness of the broth, the tender chunks of chicken, and the intertwining flavors of herbs and vegetables that danced on her palate.

With the soup warming her from within, she ventured toward the stall offering rich, creamy hot cocoa, indulging in the sweet and velvety drink as she continued to absorb the jovial ambiance.

 

[red.blue.hues]

Cameron stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his beanie pulled down low over his eyes. The letters AFD were embroidered in bright red, a silver shield behind them and his bright blue eyes right below that. He was working the booth for the fire department, though he would rather be anywhere else. After vanishing from the party without a trace, he had been ripped up one side and down the other. Not that anyone had even noticed....

Maybe Martin, and even then the brain doc was a little tipsy, so it wasn't like Cam's presence was missed. He sighed as the last group of kids and their parents left to go to the next small over, and he released his hands from under his arms to rub his temples. Between the yelling and the live music, he felt a migraine coming on and then some. Something in his system sounded like a half decent idea, maybe he was just hangry.

After being relieved from standing at the booth, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black cargo pants and joined the line of people at the soup cook-off table. A radio crackled with sounds on his left hip, his pockets flashing silver and bright colors of pocket sheers, penlights, and markers. He kept his head low and his eyes on the boots in front of him, though his height made it slightly harder to blend in with the current crowd of little old ladies and teenagers excited for the lanterns.

 

[Mr.Floppah]

Artie was walking around, looking if anyone wanted anything from his store if they ran out of anything, since he owned the grocery store, he had a good excuse to be out and about, and he had considered joking the cookoff, but the only caldos he knew how to make were menudo and pozole, the former being made mostly of tripe, which he didn’t like, but he knew how to make it if someone wanted and the latter being his favorite, with beef or chicken and hominy.

He got a cup of cocoa and shivered a bit, even though he had a sweater on, he was cold, he was built for the hotter temperatures of the motherland, not any sort of cold.
“Brr… me estoy congelando…”