『 ✰ ┃ close enough to fake it ┃ ic 』

VALEN T.

VALEN T.

Member
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font-weight: bold; font-size: 10px; color: #f0fbff;[/class] [div class="background"] [div class="welcomewin"]
if it was love
[div class="welcomeclose"]
[/div]
Hi and welcome to Chili's Botanica Weddings, the best, most luxurious wedding planning service available to you. We strive to make your special day the most incredible day of your lives and If you're seeing this, we hope we were able to achieve just that!

After you have submitted your forms at the front desk, we worked gratuitously to tailor a post-wedding, honeymoon package that would cater to both, yours and your partner's, expressed wishes and filled-out answers.

We'll be sending you a follow-up email soon, attached with more details and niceties about your trip. In the meantime, feel free to look around, and don't hesitate to ask any questions you have - our agents will get back to you as soon as possible!


*Note: the name of the wedding planning service mentioned above, Botanica Weddings, is fictitious and any resemblance to already-existing agencies and businesses is purely coincidental.


A/N: choose any of the icons on the left of the desktop screen to navigate between the different windows, and click/tap the x on the top right of any window to close it.


*
* *​
[/div] [div class="storywin"]
and if this is what love means
[div class="storyclose"]
[/div]
There's a reason why every King needs a Queen to rule with propriety, and said "reason" is found within a simple, black-and-white game of classic chess: the King needs his Queen to survive. She runs the show behind the scenes and she protects him when his own servants refuse to submit, refuse to bow.

That's... how every classic fairytale goes, right?

The fairytale our parents promised us late at night when they tucked us in bed, kissed us goodnight. If only they'd told us how cruel the real world is instead of drilling our heads with fruitless ideas of love and happy endings. As Ebenezer Scrooge once said, and I quote: "Bah, humbug!"

It's nonsense.

In the real world, women are seen as inferior, lowly beings. They're merely trophies to wealthy business tycoons; and more women you have on-hand, the more polished your name and status become. But it's not just women they want, oh no, no, no: it's too easy to buy a hooker from one of those shady brothels, there's no way you can impress anyone with just those. People want to see wives: they want to see women devoting their lives for your sorry-ass, kissing your feet after you return from work tired and irritable.

It's sad but it's our reality.

The situation has definitely improved over the years but who's to say what transpires, what conspires behind the drawn curtains? Because amongst the upper class, the vile act of arranged marriage is still imposed on innocent youngsters for the sake of conceiving an heir and running the family business!

Money can buy you happiness - fuck anyone who says so otherwise. But love and loyalty? From someone who isn't lacking in fortunes either?

Well... we can put that to test right here.

Right now.


*
* *​
[/div] [div class="roleswin"]
then maybe it was my greed
[div class="rolesclose"]
[/div]
Pairings:

• Violent Delight x Warning Sign
.. truthofself truthofself & byeol byeol

• Capricious Prince x Iridescent Riptide
.. izayoiix izayoiix & @arbiter

• Fickle Abstraction x Holographic Flashbang
.. VALEN T. VALEN T. & thirteen thirteen

• Aeonian Dream x Golden Keeper
.. erzulie erzulie & DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein



*
* * ​



Violent Delight — truthofself truthofself
With mysterious eyes that glint like the edge of a blade, and a powerful personality that asks—no, demands your attention, he's the worst and simultaneously, the best thing that could ever happen to you - it all depends on the situation you catch him in. While he can be playful and charming, the other side of the coin is just as deadly and lethal: he has a hard time accepting errors and moments that don't go exactly according to plan so you best play along. Don't want to end up like the last man that double-crossed him, right? No one ever heard about that because that's just the upper hand money can buy you.
TL;DR: he's the impatient fucker with anger management issues.


Capricious Prince — izayoiix izayoiix
The epitome of every Jason and Brian in your everyday, low-budget teen romance movies: he's the man every girl dreams of marrying at one point in her life, and we don't blame them. Who wouldn't fall for that megawatt smile and chiselled jaw? He's been confessed to by countless people and praised all his life, it's not surprising that he allowed it to get to his head. Which is exactly why he wants a partner that can level him and isn't afraid to tell them exactly where they're lacking and how they can "better" themselves. Strap in, girls and boys, and get ready for the biggest guilt-trip of your life.
TL;DR: he's a patronizing asshole disguised as Prince Charming.


Fickle Abstraction — VALEN T. VALEN T.
It's what growing up as the youngest in an extremely successful household does to you: makes you question whether you'll ever be something other than a diamond that reflects your siblings' achievements, whether you'd swap lives with the next pedestrian you see behind the seven-figure fast car you bought last weekend, whether you even deserve to stand amidst your magnate family members, your mogul siblings, your own parents. It started sometime in his mid-teen years: when he shut off his emotions, turned the switch off to his own wants and desires and faced the girl his parents set him up with. "Will you love me?" He'd kissed her for good measure, "Always." (They lasted about two weeks.)
TL;DR: he's the compulsive liar with verbal skills that could rival a door-to-door salesman selling essential oils to soccer moms in the suburb.


Golden Keeper — DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein
He really should've paid attention in seventh grade when one of his classmates gave that presentation on how money is an unfaithful lover: it will take you wherever you wish, give you the taste of freedom but never let you take the wheel because... little did his thirteen-year-old self know, at the age of ___, he'd end up signing a metaphorical slave contract, selling his entire self off to acquiring more, accumulating more. It doesn't matter how he gets his dirty little hands on it; be it by blackmailing smaller businesses, drafting misleading contracts, seducing CEOs - he'll do whatever it takes because after all, according to him and what he proudly tells his co-workers over drinks, if you can still count your money, you aren't rich enough.
TL;DR: he's the sneaky, sleazy, sly gold-digger who'll be eyeing your watch before deciding if you're worth "pursuing."


Holographic Flashbang — thirteen thirteen
She's the icon that not only the women in our society need, but the men equally so if not more: the perfect example of harmonious and professional, having found an equilibrium between balancing her personal life and devoting time to herself while maintaining a hectic, full-bodied career at the same time. You won't ever catch her slipping on camera and her Twitter feed is filled with nothing but positivity. She's very open about her past life and struggles, letting every girl in the world know that it is possible to start from scratch and build an empire. Patience is key and she's got tons.
TL;DR: she's a self-made queen who frequently holds seminars to promote mental health and well-being.


Aeonian Dream — erzulie erzulie
Born with a silver spoon shoved three metres up her ass, to say she's a little bit of a brat would be a major understatement. From a young age, her parents spoiled her and bought her her every wish before it even managed to leave her lips - and it doesn't help that she was their only child and constantly hogging the spotlight to all their attention. They overlooked her increasingly disrespectful attitude, blinded by rose-coloured glasses of love and splurged and splurged on their only daughter. Weekend trips to Tokyo, Spain, Bordeaux weren't uncommon either. Neither were seeing her Snap stories filled with pictures of customized jet planes, holy fuck.
TL;DR: she's daddy's precious princess with a god complex bigger than Faye Dunaway's ego.


Iridescent Riptide — @arbiter
Referred to by the masses as Nation's Fairy and Nation's Little Sister, she might actually be some kind of God-descent angel sent to motivate the rest of humanity to improve on some of their "less gallant" qualities - as she likes to phrase it. She's a sweetheart who'll bring her entire precinct floor coffee during her morning round and remember everyones' orders down to a tee. It is her extremely gregarious that's earned her an antagonistic mass of haters as well, and it may or may not also have something to do with the video that leaked last year of her [doing something problematic]...
TL;DR: she's an absolute dear who'll greet you with a smile every morning but won't hesitate to square you the fuck up if you take advantage of her compassion.


Warning Sign — byeol byeol
She swears she doesn't have a personal agenda against your sorry ass but it's really difficult to tell with her sparkling eyes and amused simper, the dice she mindlessly tosses from one hand to another before rolling them onto the wooden board sitting in between both of you and smiling, "Chess is my game, love." The frayed thread doesn't tie up, do they? And yet, you believe her like the fool you are, flowing like putty in her hands while she pulls on your ripped edges. You almost make it too easy, to be honest.
TL;DR: the two-faced manipulative freak who's 100% out to get to you behind your back - and no, for the last time, it doesn't matter what you didn't do.
[/div] [div class="formwin"]
trying to equal myself to you
[div class="formclose"]
[/div]
001 Decent grasp on spelling, grammar and sentence structure.

002 A minimum of 500 words per post.

003 3rd-person-perspective.

004 A minimum of one post per week.


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This is a basic, general, post layout. You are welcome to customize it as you like.

It is entirely up to you to fill the optional bits but the rest is mandatory.


Role: the one assigned to you

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[/div] [div class="appcolumn"]
[div class="welcomeapp"]
welcome
[/div]
[div class="storyapp"]
story
[/div]
[div class="rolesapp"]
roles
[/div]
[div class="formapp"]
layout
[/div] [/div] [div class="mobilewin"] [div class="mobilename"]
let's follow our hearts and close our chapter
[/div]






if it was love
and if this is what love means
then maybe it was my greed
trying to equal myself to you ​






Hi and welcome to Chili's Botanica Weddings, the best, most luxurious wedding planning service available to you. We strive to make your special day the most incredible day of your lives and If you're seeing this, we hope we were able to achieve just that!

After you have submitted your forms at the front desk, we worked gratuitously to tailor a post-wedding, honeymoon package that would cater to both, yours and your partner's, expressed wishes and filled-out answers.

We'll be sending you a follow-up email soon, attached with more details and niceties about your trip. In the meantime, feel free to look around, and don't hesitate to ask any questions you have - our agents will get back to you as soon as possible!


*Note: the name of the wedding planning service mentioned above, Botanica Weddings, is fictitious and any resemblance to already-existing agencies and businesses is purely coincidental.


A/N: choose any of the icons on the left of the desktop screen to navigate between the different windows, and click/tap the x on the top right of any window to close it.


*
* *​

* *
*​


There's a reason why every King needs a Queen to rule with propriety, and said "reason" is found within a simple, black-and-white game of classic chess: the King needs his Queen to survive. She runs the show behind the scenes and she protects him when his own servants refuse to submit, refuse to bow.

That's... how every classic fairytale goes, right?

The fairytale our parents promised us late at night when they tucked us in bed, kissed us goodnight. If only they'd told us how cruel the real world is instead of drilling our heads with fruitless ideas of love and happy endings. As Ebenezer Scrooge once said, and I quote: "Bah, humbug!"

It's nonsense.

In the real world, women are seen as inferior, lowly beings. They're merely trophies to wealthy business tycoons; and more women you have on-hand, the more polished your name and status become. But it's not just women they want, oh no, no, no: it's too easy to buy a hooker from one of those shady brothels, there's no way you can impress anyone with just those. People want to see wives: they want to see women devoting their lives for your sorry-ass, kissing your feet after you return from work tired and irritable.

It's sad but it's our reality.

The situation has definitely improved over the years but who's to say what transpires, what conspires behind the drawn curtains? Because amongst the upper class, the vile act of arranged marriage is still imposed on innocent youngsters for the sake of conceiving an heir and running the family business!

Money can buy you happiness - fuck anyone who says so otherwise. But love and loyalty? From someone who isn't lacking in fortunes either?

Well... we can put that to test right here.

Right now.


* *
*​

*
* *​


Pairings:

• Violent Delight x Warning Sign
.. truthofself truthofself & byeol byeol

• Capricious Prince x Iridescent Riptide
.. izayoiix izayoiix & @arbiter

• Fickle Abstraction x Holographic Flashbang
.. VALEN T. VALEN T. & thirteen thirteen

• Aeonian Dream x Golden Keeper
.. erzulie erzulie & DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein



* *
*​



Violent Delight — truthofself truthofself
With mysterious eyes that glint like the edge of a blade, and a powerful personality that asks—no, demands your attention, he's the worst and simultaneously, the best thing that could ever happen to you - it all depends on the situation you catch him in. While he can be playful and charming, the other side of the coin is just as deadly and lethal: he has a hard time accepting errors and moments that don't go exactly according to plan so you best play along. Don't want to end up like the last man that double-crossed him, right? No one ever heard about that because that's just the upper hand money can buy you.
TL;DR: he's the impatient fucker with anger management issues.


Capricious Prince — izayoiix izayoiix
The epitome of every Jason and Brian in your everyday, low-budget teen romance movies: he's the man every girl dreams of marrying at one point in her life, and we don't blame them. Who wouldn't fall for that megawatt smile and chiselled jaw? He's been confessed to by countless people and praised all his life, it's not surprising that he allowed it to get to his head. Which is exactly why he wants a partner that can level him and isn't afraid to tell them exactly where they're lacking and how they can "better" themselves. Strap in, girls and boys, and get ready for the biggest guilt-trip of your life.
TL;DR: he's a patronizing asshole disguised as Prince Charming.


Fickle Abstraction — VALEN T. VALEN T.
It's what growing up as the youngest in an extremely successful household does to you: makes you question whether you'll ever be something other than a diamond that reflects your siblings' achievements, whether you'd swap lives with the next pedestrian you see behind the seven-figure fast car you bought last weekend, whether you even deserve to stand amidst your magnate family members, your mogul siblings, your own parents. It started sometime in his mid-teen years: when he shut off his emotions, turned the switch off to his own wants and desires and faced the girl his parents set him up with. "Will you love me?" He'd kissed her for good measure, "Always." (They lasted about two weeks.)
TL;DR: he's the compulsive liar with verbal skills that could rival a door-to-door salesman selling essential oils to soccer moms in the suburb.


Golden Keeper — DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein
He really should've paid attention in seventh grade when one of his classmates gave that presentation on how money is an unfaithful lover: it will take you wherever you wish, give you the taste of freedom but never let you take the wheel because... little did his thirteen-year-old self know, at the age of ___, he'd end up signing a metaphorical slave contract, selling his entire self off to acquiring more, accumulating more. It doesn't matter how he gets his dirty little hands on it; be it by blackmailing smaller businesses, drafting misleading contracts, seducing CEOs - he'll do whatever it takes because after all, according to him and what he proudly tells his co-workers over drinks, if you can still count your money, you aren't rich enough.
TL;DR: he's the sneaky, sleazy, sly gold-digger who'll be eyeing your watch before deciding if you're worth "pursuing."


Holographic Flashbang — thirteen thirteen
She's the icon that not only the women in our society need, but the men equally so if not more: the perfect example of harmonious and professional, having found an equilibrium between balancing her personal life and devoting time to herself while maintaining a hectic, full-bodied career at the same time. You won't ever catch her slipping on camera and her Twitter feed is filled with nothing but positivity. She's very open about her past life and struggles, letting every girl in the world know that it is possible to start from scratch and build an empire. Patience is key and she's got tons.
TL;DR: she's a self-made queen who frequently holds seminars to promote mental health and well-being.


Aeonian Dream — erzulie erzulie
Born with a silver spoon shoved three metres up her ass, to say she's a little bit of a brat would be a major understatement. From a young age, her parents spoiled her and bought her her every wish before it even managed to leave her lips - and it doesn't help that she was their only child and constantly hogging the spotlight to all their attention. They overlooked her increasingly disrespectful attitude, blinded by rose-coloured glasses of love and splurged and splurged on their only daughter. Weekend trips to Tokyo, Spain, Bordeaux weren't uncommon either. Neither were seeing her Snap stories filled with pictures of customized jet planes, holy fuck.
TL;DR: she's daddy's precious princess with a god complex bigger than Faye Dunaway's ego.


Iridescent Riptide — @arbiter
Referred to by the masses as Nation's Fairy and Nation's Little Sister, she might actually be some kind of God-descent angel sent to motivate the rest of humanity to improve on some of their "less gallant" qualities - as she likes to phrase it. She's a sweetheart who'll bring her entire precinct floor coffee during her morning round and remember everyones' orders down to a tee. It is her extremely gregarious that's earned her an antagonistic mass of haters as well, and it may or may not also have something to do with the video that leaked last year of her [doing something problematic]...
TL;DR: she's an absolute dear who'll greet you with a smile every morning but won't hesitate to square you the fuck up if you take advantage of her compassion.


Warning Sign — byeol byeol
She swears she doesn't have a personal agenda against your sorry ass but it's really difficult to tell with her sparkling eyes and amused simper, the dice she mindlessly tosses from one hand to another before rolling them onto the wooden board sitting in between both of you and smiling, "Chess is my game, love." The frayed thread doesn't tie up, do they? And yet, you believe her like the fool you are, flowing like putty in her hands while she pulls on your ripped edges. You almost make it too easy, to be honest.
TL;DR: the two-faced manipulative freak who's 100% out to get to you behind your back - and no, for the last time, it doesn't matter what you didn't do.


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001 Decent grasp on spelling, grammar and sentence structure.

002 A minimum of 500 words per post.

003 3rd-person-perspective.

004 A minimum of one post per week.


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[div class=tag3]mood
relaxed/delighted.
[div class=tag3]location
airplane; first class.
[div class=tag3]outfit
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[div class=tag3]interactions
sebastiano damiani
[div class=tag3]mentions[/div] none
[div class=tag3]tags[/div] DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein [/div] [/div]
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the
aeonian dream

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“Principessa, è tempo di incontrare il tuo fidanzato.”

Valentina had stopped brushing her hair as her father uttered those horrible words long ago. Clearly her parents were trying to ruin her life. At the time she was sure of it. Her life was perfectly fine without a husband to disrupt everything. She didn’t need someone who thought that he would believe himself to be in control when it came to her and her life, and all because of a ring and some papers. Yes if it were up to her, she would go her whole life without a husband and be perfectly fine. But life didn’t work that way for someone like her. As her parents had before her, she would marry a suitable man and produce heirs to carry on the names of their families. It was surprising that she’d managed to hold off for as long as she had. It seems that her father had been tired of her excuses, of her rejecting proposal after proposal, until he’d finally put his foot down. There was nothing that she could do with his mind already made, so she relented.

Despite her acceptance of her situation her mind still raced with rather worrying thoughts. What would become of her career? Her hard work? Her freedom? Too many times had she heard stories of woman becoming little more than machines to produce heirs , look after their children, and cater to their husband’s whims. Valentina vowed that she would fight tooth and nail before she ever let that happen. She would very well make his life hell if she needed to do so and oh how she had been prepared.

When she had first met her fiancé she had looked him over carefully, her shape gaze looking for any sign of weakness or imperfection. She took note of his features firstly and call her shallow but Valentina had been relieved to see that he was attractive, stunning actually. His appearance was neat and he held himself regally. As he’d approached her confidently, bowing slightly as he kissed her hand, Valentina had to admit that her parents had picked well. But what had she been expecting? Since she was a mere baby they had always provided her with the best that life had to offer. And so began the courtship period of their relationship. It was backwards seeing as they were already engaged but Valentina hadn’t thought much of it. She wanted to get to know the man who she would be spending her life with.

And get to know him she did. Who would have known that the two of them would have gotten closer as time went on. Valentina has been rather frosty in the beginning. No matter how charming or handsome he was, she still remembered that she didn’t have much of a choice in the end. It had taken for a few weeks to defrost however. She had come to realize that they were both victims of their families' wishes. And why spend the rest of her life in misery when she could try to get along with her husband.

Now look at them now, half a year later and they were happily married. Valentina had certainly grown to care for her husband, and had even come to respect him as well. As it turns out, the two of them had quite a bit in common. Both appreciated the finer things like life and they certainly had an eye for fashion. But most of all he hadn’t tried to control her or treat her as if she was lesser. Sebastiano respected that she was an independent individual and admired her drive and ambition. Valentina couldn’t have asked for a better partner honestly.

And speaking of her partner, Sebastiano sat in front of her. Like herself, he held a glass of wine in one hand. Their flight from NYC to LUC had been lengthy but pleasant. Of course they had been placed in first class. During their flight Valentina had decided to handle some last minute business before they arrived in Fiji. Valentina crosses one smooth leg over the other. “I’m looking forward to this honeymoon of ours Caro. Lord knows that we deserve a little break after all the planning we did for the wedding.”

Thankfully the two of them had been given enough time to plan their dream wedding. Seeing as both Sebastiano and herself were picky individuals and perfectionist the whole event had been planned carefully. There was also the matter of upholding the traditions from their respective homes. Yes, the pair had been busy indeed. When their parents had been kind enough to find a suitable planner for their honeymoon, Valentina had been glad to sit back and let go.
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fickle_abstraction
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fickle_abstraction
❝ and i know there's a blade where your heart is
and you know how to use it ❞... [div class="more"]more[/div] [/div] [div class="comments"] [div class="viewcomments"]View all 6 comments[/div]
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fickle_abstraction
❝ and i know there's a blade where your heart is
and you know how to use it ❞
VALEN T. VALEN T. [div class="credit" style="cursor: default;"]#marcel
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mood
tired; can't wait to get to the hotel and sleep for the next three thousand years
mentions
Roswitha (sister), Seraphine (therapist), Lydia (ex-wife)
interactions
Irene ( thirteen thirteen )
location
Plane (NYC > Lacaula)
outfit
basic bitch
post
Marcel swears he's been sitting in the same position for the past three years, his muscles are starting to—Remind him please, what exactly muscles and tendons are? Because it seems that his disintegrated to nothing quite some time ago (he lost count after the fourth hour.) If he ever admitted to feeling tired to and around his sister, she most definitely would have brought the age factor up with a snide quip, "You're getting old, baby brother." Which Marcel would have, no doubt, replied with a comment about her being no less than an "old hag" and that would have certainly resulted in a nasty scene between the two siblings (flight attendants would have gotten involved too - he can say with firm convictions due to unfortunate past events.)

Why am I thinking about this, he groans internally, pinching the bridge of his nose in order to spritz the throbbing headache away. Alas, it doesn't do him any good and he's left rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger instead (immediately regretting it afterwards too because it sprays his vision with little bursts of colourful static that have him feeling like he's about to fall comatose. Not to mention how he hasn't been able to properly sleep in the past sixteen hours as well because Marcel, for the life of him, cannot get even an ounce of shut eye on a moving vehicle. It was something he brought up to his psychologist, Sera, as well and she'd given him an hour-long lecture about REM sleep and the paralysis-like state one enters right before. Marcel doesn't think the answer lays in textbook pages though - much to his disdain because the real reason is ridiculous, especially for a grown man such as himself: he simply doesn't want *strangers* to catch glimpse of him sleeping. He's seen too many "gossip" news articles on his Twitter timeline and doesn't want himself to be used as one of their models as the pinnacle of their joke. (Besides, he just can't bring himself to fall asleep in moving vehicles.)

Marcel squirms around in his seat, trying to stretch his sore limbs. He's riding first class, "But this is pretty shit quality for first class." There is plenty of leg room and with one click of the button, the upwards seats slide into horizontal positions so that one can easily recline while enjoying their favourite T.V. serial in the screen fit at the back of the seat in front of them. Marcel isn't quite fond of this set-up and will, after they land, raise his complaints: he's more than willing to pay extra (and if the others who chose this vacation package out of their own volition then they should be just as lief for paying a couple of extra grands for better service) to travel in a plane with proper cabins next time. Then he just might be able to doze off for more than thirty minutes before wildly jerking awake and frantically questioning his surroundings.

"Well, if you weren't so goddamn tall," he hears his sister's nagging voice grate at his skull, only amplifying the drums constantly pounding against the bone. He did not agree to this holiday to have his sister's phantom linger in his thoughts, fuel the negativity already growing in his mind (because a fatigued Marcel is a grumpy Marcel who wants nothing to do with the next person, himself, and the world - in that order.) The primary reason he considered taking this trip was to relax and draw himself away from the stress of daily life, take a break from his research and all those essays he's yet to grade (if someone had told him how difficult and exhausting the life of an academic truly was, he would never have pursued a career in this direction when there were an array of different options splayed out for him to choose from.) The primary reason he agreed to taking a sabbatical leave for this is because his parents kept pressuring him to, "She's your wife now! Take her some place romantic!"

'Wife,' huh... the word doesn't sit right on his tongue, there's no sugar in it to balance out the sludge it coats his palate with because mere weeks ago, his wife had been—Stop, his own voice reprimands sternly and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, blinking rapidly as if he thinks doing so could clean the slate for good. Move on, Marcel tells himself, You can't go back to what you once had if it's your fault it fucked up, in the first place. Besides... he has a... new wife now and he wants to rid himself of all thoughts about anyone else because thid is what she deserves: Irene—No: every woman deserves a partner who will prioritise her and love her without hesitation. Marcel hopes he can do this much for her at least: he hopes that over these few counting days he has with her, he can learn to love her or if not that, then be on amicable terms because the least he can do is ensure she has a good time even though that will never be enough to make up for the predicament they've tangled themselves into. And all because of a silly comment passed by his family that he and Irene played into thinking it was just that: a silly comment.

Marcel turns to look at the dark-haired woman. Only momentarily though because he realises he's been using words such as holiday, vacation and trip to describe their voyage when he's just scared to use the real word for it: honeymoon - isn't that right? Friends and family expect them to be spending this time getting to know each other better without the professional boundaries keeping them at arm's length. And they expect good news, pictures, videos when the two haven't held a proper conversation ever since they boarded the flight last night. What are you doing? He runs a hand over his face, fishing for his phone from where it's tucked inside the pocket of his jeans. Marcel barely pays any mind to the twelve percent battery warning and snaps a quick picture, as discreetly as he possibly can, of Irene while she's staring out the window: or maybe she's asleep? It's hard to tell from this angle. Not to mention the two empty seats between them. Marcel had booked four seats for themselves because he didn't like sharing and wanted to give Irene her space (this is an adjustment for both of them, remember? He doesn't want to accidentally cross some line.) Deciding that it doesn't matter and that the minor "flaw" in the picture would only be noted if he highlights it, Marcel posts it to his Instagram with a sappy caption containing too many emojis: "Looking forward to our time here! Can't wait to discover what secrets and adventures Lacaula has in store for us!"

Then he shoves his phone back into his pocket and pretends like his body isn't about to give up on upholding his dead weight. At least, however, judging by the daylight illuminating the airplan's grand wings cutting the fluffy clouds as it glides right past them, it shouldn't be all that longer before they finally touch down.
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Sebastiano Emiliano Damiani
The Golden Keeper​

Location: Plane, NYC > Fiji

Interaction: Valentine Rose Darling erzulie erzulie

Mention: His parents

Mood: Relaxed and reminiscing

Outfit: Ermenegildo Zegna Summer Suit and Gold/Red Tie
Sebastiano hummed softly as he turned his head from the window towards the beautiful lady that sat across of him, when her sweet soft voice filled the silence between them. His lips curled up in a gentle smile as he gave a soft nod. "Yes, my Tesoro, we have certainly deserved this relaxing honeymoon," he agreed with her. Honeymoon. A few months ago they were nothing but strangers and now they were wed and on their way to the Laucala Island. His gaze slid over her body, as she sat there across of him. One of those smooth long legs crossed over the other, golden dress hugging all her curves just perfectly. She was a stunning woman, he had to admit that. Just as stunning as she had been on their very first meeting, or date. Though was it really a date if you were already engaged? She had been wearing that beautiful lavender dress back than, which perfectly complimented her darker skin tone and those thick full black locks that had played down her shoulders. From the first moment he had seen her, she had captivated him like no other woman had done before. Yes, it had been obvious from the start that this was a choice his mother had made and not one of his fathers offers.

Sure, the women that his father had picked out for him had been beautiful as well, but that was all they had. Beauty and nothing more. Their personality so meek, so submissive, so boring and superficial. The only thing that kept him seated through the whole date was general manners and of course whatever price he would be given at the end. For his time wasn't free and thus his dates had a price, unless he would have agreed to a second date, which had happened exactly zero times. Until Valentina Rose Darling. Though again, could you really speak of a second date if you already knew you were engaged? It wasn't like he could have said 'no' to any of this. They had only the option to make the best of it and Sebastiano would have been lying if he had not gone over a million scenarios that would have gotten him out of this obligation. Some that may or may not have included some illegal actions...

Though that was all before she walked into the room. Tall and proud, stunning and confident, elegant and graceful. Sure, all other ladies had been graceful and stunning as well, but none of them had had her fierce confident. This female... oh she didn't need a man to make her shine and that was exactly what had captivated him from that very first moment on. Was it love at first sight? Definitely not. Women, in general, were not his thing. Besides in his opinion love was not something that would struck you out of nowhere, it was something that needed to be build and cherished and grown. That, they had learned to do. Love each other. His free hand reached out as he gently took hers. His thumb carressing the back of her hand, that same place he had kissed on that very first day and each time again. He would never take this lady for granted, that he had sworn. To himself and to her in their vows. He would never be that husband his father was. Disgusting pig he was. He would never bring her the pain his mom was living with. Though he still had no idea why she would not simply leave the sorry excuse his father was.

"Especially you, my Tesoro," Sebastiano spoke softly. Sure, they had planned the wedding together, but somehow it was always more stressful for the women wasn't it? He had noticed that most people asked her first, before they turned to him. He had even noticed how people had been that stupid to try and influence the strong lady that was sitting opposite of him. Simply because she was a woman. Though he had also very much enjoyed watching her lash out and her sharp tongue practically ripping those who dared to question her or present her with anything less than perfect into a million pieces. She was not a woman, one wanted to cross. Her independence and strenght had been what made this all a success, together with her acceptance of him and this never being a traditional marriage. And just like she did not try to change him, he let her be free. Just because she was his wife now, that didn't mean he had any right to keep her from doing what she wanted. Valentina was her very own person and happened to be his wife as well. And he would forever be a proud husband with all the things she accomplished by his side.

That was the whole reason there was no Mrs. Damiani. They had agreed early on to break that tradition as well... Something that had caused a lot of backlash towards him, though all he had to say to those laughing at him that he had no balls or was whipped, he only had one message: "Try finding a woman like Valentina first." She was one of a kind, and if they said they had managed to find a woman just as amazing? Well there was a second part to his message: "And see if you can survive caging her." Impossible. "I am looking forward to have a moment for just you and me and no one else," he said with a soft smile. No prying eyes, no last minute calls, no family to keep in the loop, no intrusive questions about whether or not she was pregnant already. They would have to find out a way to make that work, they had to produce a heir at some point. However everyone pushing their nose into their bedroom antics and sex life was sure as hell not helping. Though maybe by the time they were flying home, they could tell them all to shut up and wait nine months. "That we deserve very much as well, if not even more."
 
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This position sucked. Seriously. Irene's elbow was hurting from being pressed into the arm rest, the sharp ridges of her wedding rings were cutting into her chin, but for some reason, she couldn't figure out a way to get her muscles to cease their rigid lock. So she stayed in that position, head angled out towards the window, eyes fixated on something that only she could see. At the beginning of the flight, Irene had closed her eyes, trying to catch-up on some desperately needed sleep, but she had found that the realm that lay behind her eyes was far more frightening than in the present. She wasn't quite in the mood to wake up screaming, so she desisted in her quest to seek slumber.

And of course, Irene could have been productive on the flight as well. There was plenty of paperwork that she was neglecting, forms that needed to be marred with the graceful curlicues and smatterings of her black pen, forms that quite literally held the fate of people within the neat typeface. She could have been writing her speeches, her addresses, notes on her colleagues and enemies, but couldn't bring herself to pick up a pen. Besides, who does work on a vacation?

So that only left the other option, staring out the window. Irene had half-a-dozen analogies for the way the nearly translucent tufts of clouds held far more opacity than what was seen to the naked eye, and could have easily allowed herself to engage in that train of thought. And despite the philosophical beauty of it all, her mind wandered to other things. Namely, the husband who had elected to sit a far expanse away, the fact that she actually had a husband, and also the fact that her number was up. Neither of those three options was particularly apt discourse for such a plane trip, but here she was, thinking about it anyways.

The cold metal wrapped around her ring finger on her left hand was indication enough of her change in circumstance--a permanent one at that. She had a husband, her last name was no longer the one she had picked out for herself so long ago, and said man was next to her--and they were heading to their honeymoon. Irene so desperately wanted to smack whoever had put the notion of "true love" in her head, considering that with her current situation, she was farthest from that premise. This had all started with a global summit, a hesitant partnership, and at the crux of it all, a comment that seemed to tie her life thread to Marcel Ackerman's.

And of course, despite it being quite a terrible circumstance for her husband, it wasn't all peachy-keen-jellybean for Irene herself. Now, her security was even more important, quite possibly because there was someone that could get caught in the crossfire. Andrew had been adamant that she tell Marcel about her current problems, but Irene had refused any option of telling her husband about her situation. There were much better things for Marcel to worry about. That had made her bodyguard's face smooth into the carefully crafted blank expression, the same face that he gave her whenever he particularly didn't agree, but Irene had been unwavering. Marcel would be the last person she would involve in the craziness of what was going on.

She wondered if this was how inmates on death row feel. After all, she could feel the lingering taste of the death, the spoiled, lightly rotten taste that subtly filled her mouth when she thought about her future and only saw darkness and the wood of a coffin. Irene wasn't scared of death--she refused to be spoiled by the notion that a natural and preconceived end could ever be something that made her lose sleep. No, Irene isn't scared of her end at all--she's more scared about what happens after. Her name--is it soiled and in disrepair? Does it vanish once her mortal body leaves?

Lord, she was such a loser.

Breaking her from her spiral of depressing thoughts, Marcel shifted, four seats down. Her peripheral vision was rather blurry from the angle that she was situated at, but she could distinctly make out a phone. She waited for him to put the phone away before breaking her position for the first time since getting on the plane. She turned to him, a small smile curling on her lips. "I do hope that you got my optimal angle. I heard my profile accentuates my jawline." She teased, a small indication to let him know that she's quite aware of him snapping photos of her. She wasn't upset, and she isn't naive. He isn't taking a picture to be in awe of her presence and beauty, he's taking a picture to sell the world on the lie they've crafted.

"Are you doing okay, there?" She asked lightly, carefully choosing a neutral tone. "You don't have to sit that far, you know? I swear I don't bite." She grinned, the smile genuine on her face. She can almost hear Andrew's dry "Yes, she does," in the back of her head, and if she focused, can almost imagine him sitting next to her, shooting that millimeter smile that she was only privy to.

--​

irene illeana ackerman (née lovett)
holographic flashbang
with: marcel VALEN T. VALEN T.
outfit: soft bbygirl
mentions: andrew (her bodyguard) , Sharma (implied)
mood: pensive
song choice: leena - caravan palace
location: air vroom vrooming to lacaula​
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⠀♡coded by uxie♡


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background-size: cover; background-position: center; [/class] [class="circlea"] height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: black; display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; [/class] [class="circleb"] height: 23px; width: 23px; border-radius: 100%; background: rgba(237, 237, 237, 1); display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; [/class] [class="circlec"] height: 21px; width: 21px; border-radius: 100%; background: url('https://i.vloggerreview.com/thumbnails/edward-avila-vidmjsynaxa-n.jpg'); background-size: 150%; background-position: 30% 15%; [/class] [class="ddcmmnt"] height: 30px; background: transparent; border-radius: 20px; box-sizing: border-box; border: 1px solid #bdbdbd; display: flex; align-items: center; font-size: 12px; color: #bdbdbd; padding: 0 10px 0 10px; overflow: hidden; cursor: auto; [/class] [div class="container1"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background1"] [div class="phonebar"] [div class="a"] [div class="b"] [div class="signal"][/div] [div class="mobnetwrk"]AT&T[/div] [div class="wifi"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="time"]3:00 P.M.[/div] [div class="c"] [div class="d"] [div class="percentage"]98%[/div] [div class="battery"][/div] [div class="charging"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="igbar"] [div class="kcab"][/div] [div class="photo"]Photo[/div] [div class="e"][div class="refresh"][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="igbar_2"] [div class="k"][div class="back"][/div][/div] [div class="photo"]Comments[/div] [div class="e"][div class="dm"][/div][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="border"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container2"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background2"] [div class="postbar"] [div class="f"] [div class="b"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="charging"]violent_delight[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="ellipsis"][/div] [/div] [div class="post"][/div] [div class="postoptions"] [div class="f"] [div class="b"] [div class="redheart"][/div] [div class="whiteheart"][/div] [div class="commentsign"][/div] [div class="dmsign"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="g"] [div class="blackbookmark"][/div] [div class="whitebookmark"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="likes"] [div class="h"] [div class="likesafter"]4,485,340[/div] [div class="likesbefore"]4,485,339[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="caption"] [div class="username"]violent_delight[/div] gon be flyin' high as if i hadn' ... [div class="more"]more[/div] [/div] [div class="comments"] [div class="viewcomments"]View all 6 comments[/div] [div class="ago"]7 minutes ago[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container3"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background3"] [div class="details"] [div class="j"] [div class="notherpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]violent_delight[/div] gon be flyin' high as if i hadn't been higher before.
truthofself truthofself [div class="credit" style="cursor: default;"]#simon_xu[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mdpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mood[/div] tired, slightly annoyed and just outright bored out of his mind. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mntnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mentions[/div] deceased family, Fee. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="ntrctnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]interactions[/div] byeol byeol (Fee) [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="lctnpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]location[/div] airplane. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="tftpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]outfit[/div] e-boy [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="pstpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]post[/div] Uncommon to public knowledge, Simon wasn't just some boy born into money and granted things because of this feat. Simon worked his way into being able to handle that money. He wasn't spoiled growing up; nor was he even meant to be the heir to any of his families money. But he didn't study what he had studied to appease his parents or get on their good side to get the money. Simon hadn't ever cared for his parent's approval or money. he was always far more interested in earning it himself. So he had started young, learning skills and practising to find a way for him to obtain the skills without his parents knowing. But he also picked up several different hobbies growing up. And his parents took notice.

After already being a family with a widely popular clothing brand across the world; they picked up other small projects, modelling agencies and even a makeup brand that they poured millions into and soon it was popular worldwide like the rest of their projects. And Simon was forced to model and be the display toy for each new company his father picked up. Which he hated, because it was always him; and never him But that quickly changed that one fateful Christmas and his family fell into despair. It was always guessed that was the root of his issues. The way he sat on the plane rethinking all the paths of his life, nails digging into the back of his hand. Hearing the sounds of other couples and families on the plane set him off too. A low growl admitting from him as he turned to glare at his reflection in the window. Another pretty face with server issues below the surface. He groaned throwing his head back.

Times like this he did wish he had more people in his life to comfort him and talk to him like he could overhear of the other patrons on the flight. But at the same time; he didn't care too much about it. He did what he needed to do, and he was fine with it. So what if his parents were dead at 57. It didn't bother him too much, they weren't the best parents to him in the end. One would think the loss of both parents in such an accent would scar someone more. The amount of news coverage the accident had gotten back in Hong Kong and the publicity his now newly obtained companies had gotten due to that event helped him get more customers and sales skyrocketed. It even seemed as if people were excited that the Disgraceful son of the Xu family was taking over the companies and giving them a new face and a new way to exist. Even if he did just finished getting his degrees. But to him, none of that was even relevant at the current moment. Simon was married. He got married to some pretty lady; who actually makes sense to him. Some rich bitch he met; and honestly adored, even if he wouldn't dare say it out loud.

Simon glanced to his side as he thought of said women. She really left him breathless with her beauty. It was laughable, that he somehow ended up with a bitch like Fee. So laughable he chuckled to himself as he looked at her. it was funny to him, how he could go from being lonely without family to now having a new family with Fee. [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container4"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background4"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar"] [div class="home"][/div] [div class="search"][/div] [div class="add"][/div] [div class="m"][/div] [div class="circlea"][div class="circleb"][div class="circlec"][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container5"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background5"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar_2"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="i"][div class="ddcmmnt"]Add a comment...[/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
 
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[class=link] display: inline-block; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; transition: 1s; font-size: 9px; font-family: Avenir; padding-top: 5px; color: #999; [/class] [class=tag] display: inline; margin-top: 10px; padding: 1px 1px 2px 1px; font-family: Playfair Display; font-weight: bold; color: #333; font-size: 12px; border-bottom: 1px solid #d69754; margin-right: 3px; [/class] [class=tag3] display: inline; margin-top: 10px; padding: 1px 5px 3px 5px; font-family: Playfair Display; color: #000; border: 1px solid #d69754; background: #fff; border-radius: 5px; font-size: 10px; [/class] [class=home] color: #fff; width: 60px; height: 60px; margin: auto; box-sizing: border-box; background: #000; padding-top: 5px; border-radius: 100%; border: 1px solid #000; font-size: 25px; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; transition: all 1s; [/class] [class name=home state=hover] color: #d69754; transition: all 1s; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=tab] box-sizing: border-box; background: #fff; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #000; padding: 1px 5px 1px 5px; display: inline; color: #000; text-align: center; transition: all .5s; font-size: 12px; font-family: Avenir; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class name=tab state=hover] color: #d69754; border: 1px solid #d69754; transition: all .5s; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; [/class] [class=tabContents] position: absolute; opacity: 0; transition: all 1s; width: 294px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 26px; background: #fff; color: #000; height: 400px; box-sizing: border-box; [/class] [class=show] opacity: 1; z-index: 1; [/class] [script class=tab1 on=click] addClass show tabContents01 removeClass show tabContents07 [/script] [script class=home on=click] addClass show tabContents07 removeClass show tabContents01 [/script]
[div class=home]
[div class=tag3]mood
relaxed/delighted.
[div class=tag3]location
airplane; first class.
[div class=tag3]outfit
x
[div class=tag3]interactions
sebastiano damiani
[div class=tag3]mentions[/div] none
[div class=tag3]tags[/div] DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein [/div] [/div]
[div class="tabContents tabContents07 show"]
the
aeonian dream

is
here
[div class="tab tab1"]read more
[/div] [div class="tabContents tabContents01"]
Valentina would never understand this man she called husband. He seemed like something out of a fairytale, someone who was too good to be true. A tiny, minuscule part of her was afraid that it was so, that he was only putting up a front until her guard was down. For her sake she ignored that feeling. Valentina had sat back and analyzed her feelings as she often did, she knew that they were only a product of what she had dealt with in the past, a defense mechanism to avoid being hurt again. For a split second her eyes seemed to darken, her facial expression was troubled before it was gone. Valentina chastised herself mentally. This was not the time to thing back. She was on her honeymoon with her wonderful husband, heading to a beautiful tropical island. She refused to let anything get in the way of her enjoying herself.

Smiling came easier to her when in his presence. Like any person of her status and wealth, she had been taught the ways of hiding how one felt. But as her feelings for Sebastiano began to change into something deeper, she allowed herself to open up to him. It helped that he seemed to know how to make her smile. A feat not easily accomplished by those other who she wasn’t close to. It was another testament of how far that had come as a couple. Oh how she adored this man of hers.

And speaking of being adored Valentina noticed how his gaze traveled over her. While she knew that she was certainly confident about her looks it was always nice to have others recognize it as well. She couldn’t help but preen when those chocolate brown eyes took her in. Honestly Valentina could get lost in those eyes if she wasn’t careful and not to mention that smile. Yes, she’d have to thank her parents for their choice. He looked just as delicious as he had when they first met. Of course during that time she had refused to appreciate his looks. Valentina was pulled from her thoughts when he grabbed her hand and caressed it ever so gently with his thumb. His words made her smile and her eyes seemed to brighten. “Yes I did work rather hard didn’t I? How fortunate was I to have to by my side to ease the stress and tension amore mio.” Sebastiano had been there to plan with her while also making sure that she wouldn’t stress herself out or overwork herself too much. A simple forehead kiss had eventually been enough to soothe her.

“As am I Sebastian. While I adore our families, their constant probing and mettling was taking its toll on my temperament.” Valentina cared for her parents deeply, her family was very important to her as a whole but there were times when they could be bothersome. She was looking forward to this time away, soaking up the sun and spending time with her husband. Valentina took another sip of her wine and peered out of the window for a moment. She turned her attention back to Sebastiano. “Amore mio, we deserve the world and together we could have it if we so choose.”
[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div][/div] https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]
 
[class=link] display: inline-block; cursor: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/6fb38fc5e97353c67e3fc3a2e2b29bf9/tumblr_inline_ol4nwisGdu1uxxza6_75sq.png), auto!important; transition: 1s; font-size: 9px; font-family: Avenir; padding-top: 5px; color: #999; [/class]
ofelia borceu
location
airplane.
outfit
x.
interactions
simon.
tags
truthofself truthofself .
❛
An exasperated sigh escaped the plump rogue lips belonging to the colombian woman. her honey brown orbs were focused on the darkened screen of the smartphone that rested in her perfectly manicured hand. boredom seeped into her expression as she tried to readjust her posture to relieve the discomfort on her back. planes had never been a preferred for the young millionaire but when you traveled as much as she did there was really no other choice. this whole situation had put her in an aggravated mood, even after she had opted to let the company plan the event her parents had still managed to disapprove of the tiniest details, hounding her and her new husband about the lack of elegance.

how much more elegance had they wanted? basically everything had been top of the line, even the linen napkins had detailed embroidery with their initials. of course she knew their distaste had not been the wedding, but the man she was marrying and a man whom she'd surprisingly grown to tolerate. simon xu, the bane of her existence, was the last person that her father had wanted for her. of course, she cared very little about what her parents thought or wanted, for understandable reasons. in the beginning ofelia had engaged in the very physical relationship to spite her family but overtime she figured that she couldn't manipulate simon as easy as others which only made her want to claim him even more. mattias had been so adamant that things would not end well but things never ended well for her anyway, what was one more thing?

a very familiar chuckle made her gaze drift toward her husband, raising an eyebrow at him with a questioning look. "what?" she leaned closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek. her lips pulled into a slight grin as she spoke again, this time her tone coming off as playful and the tiniest bit aggressive.

"are you thinking about how lucky you are to be on this plane with me?" the two were known for their questionable comfort with each other. some would even say it was staged, the way they switched their moods so quickly. then again, fee had never been a stable person so it wasn't too out of ordinary.
❜
[div class=link]coded by christy.
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[div class=container][div class=holder][div class=contents][div class=container][div class=top][div class=toppic]
[/div] [div class=topinfo][div class=scroll]// mood [div class=toptag]groggy, awkward.[/div] // outfit [div class=toptag]x[/div] // location [div class=toptag]plane to laucala.[/div] // interactions [div class=toptag]nina chong.[/div] // tags [div class=toptag]@arbiter[/div][/div][/div] [div class=post]"How are you feeling? About everything?" Caleb blinked slowly, turning his head in one long but smooth motion so that he could face his new wife. It took a few moments for her words to sink in and make sense in his muddled brain, his eyes staring blankly at her until they sparked with understanding. How was he feeling about everything? It was such a good question. Shame he didn't really have an answer. Especially since he didn't want to disappoint or anger the woman before him. It was such an unusual circumstance they had found themselves in and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't too upset about it all. His mother had been wary and extremely hesitant when he first brought it up to her after catering the dinner for Nina and her family. She hadn't been aware of her late husband's dealings with his old friend and although she had tried to hide it, both Caleb and Rochelle knew to steer clear of the woman for a bit longer. Jolie Isaac was a very kind and caring, maternal woman, but the second she became angry....well the siblings hadn't survived this long by gambling. He blinked again before clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting in his seat so he was leaning closer to his wife. It was a wonder she hadn't thought he was mad yet due to how long it took him to answer her sometimes. "Fine....I guess." he grunted, his voice rough from sleep. He cleared his throat again and rubbed at his chin, wondering how she was doing. He could tell this all happened so fast, and while he tended to take things head on in life, Caleb knew not everyone did the same. His wife was not one of them he believed. His wife. It was still such a strange description to think about. He was getting the feeling that Rochelle would hit him if she was here and could figure out what he was thinking. Internally, he sighed. He didn't even understand what he was thinking. In an effort to calm and help her feel better, he moved, shifting so he was close enough to gently grab one of Nina's hands. "How're you doing?" he turned the question back to her, voice low. "I know this has been quick and all, and I know we haven't really had a chance to talk or anything and...." he trailed off, feeling even more awkward than he had when he had first seen Nina after finding out about their arranged marriage. He sighed and made to take his hand back. "Sorry..." he mumbled, even though he didn't know what he was apologizing for.[/div][/div][/div] [div class=sideholder][div class=name]caleb isaac || capricious prince.[/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div]
 
tl;dr for everyone ( erzulie erzulie , DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein , thirteen thirteen , truthofself truthofself , @arbiter, byeol byeol , izayoiix izayoiix )
p.a. for landing


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when the lights go down ❞... [div class="more"]more[/div] [/div] [div class="comments"] [div class="viewcomments"]View all 6 comments[/div] [div class="ago"]3 minutes ago[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container3"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background3"] [div class="details"] [div class="j"] [div class="notherpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]fickle_abstraction[/div] ❝ i think about you most
when the lights go down ❞
VALEN T. VALEN T. [div class="credit" style="cursor: default;"]#marcel_ackermann[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mdpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mood[/div] physically and emotionally tired, "and we aren't even there yet" [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mntnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mentions[/div] Lydia (ex-wife), the other passengers [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="ntrctnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]interactions[/div] Irene ( thirteen thirteen ) [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="lctnpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]location[/div] Plane (NYC > Laucala) [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="tftpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]outfit[/div] still a basic bitch [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="pstpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]post[/div] Marcel would gladly call himself out for lying if he even tries to insinuate that he hadn't spent a moment too long staring at the picture he'd snapped of the brunette. But that wouldn't have been the first time did, right? Lie. It's what wound him up in this hissing snare in the first place, and it's moments like these when he recalls all those behaviour and conduct lessons his nannies would give him and his sister in their childhood. "The truth always sneaks through," she'd said, looking right in twelve-year-old Marcel's direction as if she was under the delusion that it would make him confess to breaking the floral vase in the hallway. (He had, she knew, but she wouldn't blame him for it unless he said anything. Marcel was good - and has improved marvellously - at that too: keeping his mouth zipped into a tight smile when it has to be.)

So it isn't the casual falsity of the claim he wants to make that would bring abou—On second thought, it's always there; better to say: that would punctuate the ever-present feeling of chagrin at his own actions. No. If he thinks about it too long, he'll be reminded (there he goes reminding himself) of how his melancholic hazel orbs had traced his wife's outline and compared it to his paramour's. He knows it shouldn't matter. Irene and Lydia have met before, and were both extremely genial towards each other. What left an acerbic taste of venom on his palate that night were Lydia's parting words to him: "Have a good life, Marcel." The silent implications opposed every one of Marcel's intentions to keep in contact, to keep in touch, to continue their relationship while his facade with Irene continued to amuse his parent on the fore-front.

This happened the night before his and Irene's flight to New York, two days ago, so the scene still plays fresh in his mind. How is this any fair to me? (As always, a selfish man thrusts himself to top of the priority list, completely and blissfully ignorant to his partner's troubles—He needs to talk to Irene properly. Later, what really stings is how it's the conscious part of his brain requesting him.) He does argue: his side of the story must be just as tragic as his counterpart's, if not more (which he likes to believe is the case.) He's expected to recover overnight, supposed to forget someone he poured years of himself into, meant to meteoric-learn how to love this person whilst simultaneously making the next month memorable for both of them. It'll end. Will it though? Does Irene see a future for them?

You promised you wouldn't think about it anymore, rings a bell in the back of his mind as his fingertips brush over the cotton over his pocket cavity, feeling the stiffness of his phone cover underneath. Better lock it. In your pocket, he taps to the beat. It's unsatisfying, Taking this one to the grave. Not the grave. To tonight, at most - he doesn't trust himself to last longer than that (doesn't trust himself to make through the next seven hours without cracking either but he chooses not to dwell on it for the sake of his sanity.) It's all you've done the entire flight: gorged on packaged salted peanuts and thought about how he's never going to recuperate from this while some nameless, soundless, captionless movie played on the screen in front. Till tonight, he promises himself right as he hears Irene shift in her seat, and his eyes are on her before the first words even leave her lips.

They bring a light, trace-of-a smile to his, as well, and he finds himself thinking, There's the Irene I know. which is inane, really. She's always been there, you douche, he's just been too preoccupied with himself to take notice. Besides, you don't really know her, comes a squeaky, antagonizing voice from the back of his head but he doesn't have enough time to brood over it because Irene is addressing him. "Uh," he chuckles, ruffling the hair at the back of his head as if it could get any more mussed than it already is. He's waiting till they arrive at the hotel to shower and change - doesn't trust these compact airplane cubicles nearly as much. "Think I did?" He crinkles his nose at her, "Might have to double-check with you on it though." It's how effortlessly he slips back into this comfortable banter with the woman that has him... hoping...

...that it... might turn out alright?

But then he remembers what he'd just been lamenting about and the hand falls to his lap. "I'm kidding, of course. You're stunning from every angle. I would know, right?" Perhaps not. Perhaps he doesn't have the right to know. But a little banter doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

It should, and it rightfully does because no, Irene, he's not okay, can't you tell? "Yeah," he says, despite that, smoothing the pad of his thumb down the nail of his other one, making a face, "Just a little stiff." He stretches his legs in the space available for him. "This must be so much easier for you!" He exclaims in pseudo-agony when the seat in front of his prevents him from doing so. "If I could, I'd gladly donate a few inches to you, darling," he snorts. It's more of a light-hearted quip than anything: maybe a joke to distract them from Irene's comment about the space between them. "I swear," Marcel groans, resigning from his vain attempts and slumping back into his seat. Last time he checked, it was already two in the afternoon so it shouldn't be too much longer before they land. "The first thing I'm doing when we get to the hotel is booking us a nice massage; I'm probably already developing sores, Irene, this is no joking matter," he tries to conjure his most earnest austere expression.

And almost on cue, there's a high-pitched ding! coming from the audio system, denoting another airline announcement from the pilot: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, and I want to inform you all that we will be touching-down in approximately twenty more minutes. It is a lovely day in FIji: last of the light summer breezes. It is currently twenty-seven degrees Celcius, or eighty-degrees Fahrenheit out and—There we go! Our first preview of Laucala Island through the cloud cover."

Marcel waits a couple of extra passing moments after the second ding! to confirm that was the end of the announcement before turning to Irene again. "Speak of the devil, right?" He chuckles, propping his elbows on the armrests (one advantage of booking the entire row: you get both armrests to yourself.) "Do I look alright?" He whisper-asks, adjusting the stray strands of hair falling to the front of his face, splaying across his forehead - it's probably sticking out all over the place. "Don't want to be caught looking anything less than perfect in this crowd," he vaguely gestures to the rest of the passengers with a jerk of his head. "I think I saw someone in a suit too. Is that what I should've gone for?" He's barely making small conversation for the sake of making conversation at this point but that isn't necessarily a bad thing and he genuinely cares about making a good impression on strangers (he really wishes that was sarcasm too.) [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container4"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background4"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar"] [div class="home"][/div] [div class="search"][/div] [div class="add"][/div] [div class="m"][/div] [div class="circlea"][div class="circleb"][div class="circlec"][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container5"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background5"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar_2"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="i"][div class="ddcmmnt"]Add a comment...[/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
 
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Sebastiano Emiliano Damiani
The Golden Keeper​

Location: Plane, NYC > Fiji

Interaction: Valentina Rose Darling erzulie erzulie

Mention: Tony (NPC) and Majesty (Valentina's cat)

Mood: Slightly annoyed and a tad bit petty

Outfit: Ermenegildo Zegna Summer Suit and Gold/Red Tie
Sebastiano chuckled as she took the compliment and only agreed with it. Too often women were taught to reply with a shy thanks or making such things seem like it was nothing, but not Valentina. She knew her worth and she owned her work. Another thing he admired about this strong woman by his side. Others might see it as arrogance or her being bitchy, but he could not understand why. For a man it was normal to accept and agree with a compliment, so why could women not do the same without being given a bad reputation for it? Sadly, true emancipation and equality between the genders was still quite a few steps away. Something that shouldn't be too hard. Could people not just judge a person on what they truly did? Regardless of their gender or background? Though he had to admit he was quite hypocritical in that. He judged on someones wealth, after all. Still wealth was definitely something a person could create for themselves if they were smart enough. So that was different. He didn't allow himself to go off on another deep mental argument with himself as her sweet voice called him back to the conversation at hand.

A bit of a smirk came to his face and an almost boyish twinkle to his eyes. "Oh, yes it certainly did. I was sure you'd start spitting fire at some point," he teased her. He had a bit of a mischievous look, but mostly loving towards her. If she would spit fire, she sure would have all right to do so. "The world-" He was interrupted by the ding and the announcement from their captain. His lips pursing as he was interrupted and he sure as hell didn't like to be interrupted. It was highly disrespectful, no matter who it was or for whatever reason. Unless of course it was a matter of life and death. This announcement however wasn't and therefore hit a nerve within the Italian male. Annoyance played over his face for a second, before he pushed it aside when their captain announced the view. His brown eyes slide towards the window and the lovely island that was visible surrounded by azure blue ocean. It was breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as the woman beside them. Truly something they did deserve after all the trouble they have been through. That second ding sounded to show the message was ended. He better not be interrupted again. "As I was saying, the world is already ours, mio reginetta," he said with a soft smile. And once they were back from their honeymoon they would seize it and lay their law down.

But first it was time to concentrate on that and right now it was almost time for touch down. 20 more minutes that annoying voice had annouched. Yes, Sebastiano was not over the fact the captain had dared to speak through him. If he had been able to, he would certainly have said something about it and glared the male into oblivion, but alas the man was safe in his little cockpit and well had more important things to do to get them safely through the ground than worry about a displeased passenger. Even if that passenger was Sebastiano Emiliano Damiani. He finished his glass of wine and put it away. He had zero interest in holding onto that when the plane would lower and get ready for touch down and risking to spill the red liquid all over his suit. Good thing they would at least be allowed off the plane first, before the commoners would be allowed to start moving. How chaotic and unorganised that could be. As if they were animals. Though what more could be expected from the mere sheep. He sighed deeply as he wished they could have gone with their private jet. Which would have been much quicker and much easier. And much more comfortable. Even if they had all space they wanted, it was nothing like their own planes. Either of theirs.

"I hope that Majesty and Tony survived the travel," Sebastiano suddenly spoke. Unlike them the cat and its bodyguard had not been allowed up to this class. Something that both of them had shown their disagreement over. It had almost made them decide not to chose Botaica Weddings after all, but some extras had been promised and the cat would have her very own row of seats. So they had finally agreed, more so because they had no interest on going for a search for something else that would be up to their standards without asking too much of their effort. "I still cannot believe they did not allow her to travel with us," he said. He knew how much that fur monster ment to his wife, so by default it was of the utmost importance to him too. Even though he and the cat had had their differences. Definitely in the beginning when she had found her way to one of his wool suits and shredded into little pieces with her nails. He had threatened to wear her as a scarf next winter, which in return had resulted in three days of a cold shoulder and not being allowed to sleep in his bed. Or any other bed for that matter. Valentina had made sure to exchange all bedroom locks and hold onto the only key. It had not been a fun week. Yet here they were, all happy and in love on their honeymoon. Sebastiano also had to admit that was one of the reason he held so much respect for this woman. She really was not someone to be crossed and that was what made her so suited to be his wife.
 
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Oh, Irene knew damn well that she didn't look that cute. Anyone who managed to step off a plane, regardless of flight duration, looking perfect as hell was a spawn of the devil. At best, someone could look presentable, but perfect? On a flight? Ha! She had a better chance of convincing the Russian diplomat to stay out of Syrian affairs. Call her cynical all you want, she was simply stating the facts. Irene was no exception to the aforementioned rule. Tenderly, she reached up to pat her hair, pinned up into an elegant bun that hung around at the nape of her neck. Maybe she had tied it a bit too tight, because she could feel the familiar tingle of an oncoming headache, but Irene made no move to undo the strands from its position.

Acetaminophen was her best friend, after all. In fact, there was a particular white bottle right in one of the first zippers of her bag, stowed in front of her. On a good day, she wouldn't have to touch it. It had been quite a while since she'd had one of those. Andrew even kept a bottle in his pocket, one of those mini ones in the event that she didn't have her bag. Despite not quite liking the fact that she had such a dependency on the medication to alleviate her headaches, she couldn't deny that it brought her much needed relief.

After all, there was only so much that her mind could take. A part of it was worrying about her country, a part of it was worrying about her, and then there was this whole charade going on. It was enough to drive someone insane. Diplomats had, of course. Gone mad. It was a risk of the job, something that was as common as a side-effect being listed on one of those suspiciously-happy medicine advertisements. No one had questioned the mysterious disappearance of the ambassador of the Philippines or the ambassador of Chile. (Though the last one hadn't been much of an ambassador--there was insider speculation that he had been caught up in a drug ring.)

Irene slowly slipped her fingers under the fleecy material of her cardigan, rolling up the sleeves for her wrists to be exposed as she turned to her husband. The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled at his response. She could feel the awkwardness--and for the sake of their charade, she hoped the wall melted between them. "Mmm, I'll have to see later, dear. But then again, I have all faith in you and your photographic abilities. I'm sure you make my non-existent luminance shine quite brightly." At his sly little compliment, an airy laugh was drawn out of her, one that was sweet and understanding, not wry and twisted.

"All angles? I'm sure that's a bit of a stretch. In fact, I think I might look like a bit of an ogre from where you're sitting. Not my fault of course, flights always do that to me." The joke slipped out of her mouth, effortlessly. Irene wondered if Marcel ever got tired of her never-ending stabs at humor. After all, jokes at a conference weren't really the best place to try them out, and Andrew wasn't the most receptive to any sort of humor. The only time Irene had ever seen the Robot laugh was when she had tripped and landed on her ass after a very drunk stint.

"There's four seats, you could have stretched your long string-bean legs out at anytime." Irene countered playfully, accentuating her teasing with a familiar eye-roll. Should she have broached the subject about the space between them when it had gone unanswered? No, but Irene wasn't about to let that bother her. "But then again, that's the downside of being tall." She grinned, as though she hadn't spent most of her adolescence wishing for a growth spurt. "Mmm, I'm good, thanks. Not really sure I want to be in your position, sweetie. I enjoy being short." Irene said, and paused comically.

"Well, most of the time. It's all fun and games until someone steps on me." She sighed, as though this was something that she dealt with on the daily. Her husband's comment about the hotel made her sigh. "Oh, such a shame dear. I'll make sure to give your sores the attention they need, hm? We wouldn't want you to have to deal with the regular results of a long flight now, would we?" Irene tosses her head, her voice adopting a blowzy tone to imitate the upper class' struggles. "But in all honesty, a massage sounds wonderful. I can't wait until my legs are firmly planted on the ground--and I think I'm stiffening up too." Irene reached upwards, her hand resting on the back of her neck. She gently kneaded the skin that she found there, working out the tension in her muscles.

When Irene heard the dings of the announcement, she could barely stifle a sigh of relief. Almost done. She truly regretted sitting in that one position for the entirety of the flight--surely she could have had some common sense to realize that staying still wouldn't have been the best course of action. "You look wonderful, dear." She praised, injecting the right amount of enthusiasm that would have been required of her. His remark about his outfit is brushed off with a slight scoff and a shake of her head. "My lord, could you have imagined if you had been in a suit and I had been in a dress? We would have been stiff to the point where our clothes would have stiffened with us, and this flight would have felt much, much longer. Let this crowd be perfect all they want--I'd rather riot rather than wear something formal on a plane. So, no. I like us just as we are, comfortable and cozy." She winked, finally reaching up to undo the bun. Her dark hair, now freed from the constraints, tumbled down her shoulders.

--

irene illeana ackerman (née lovett)
holographic flashbang
with: marcel VALEN T. VALEN T.
outfit: soft bbygirl
mentions: andrew (her bodyguard)
mood: tired, playful.
song choice: leena - caravan palace
location: air vroom vrooming to lacaula​
[/div]
[/div]
⠀♡coded by uxie♡


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[div class="more"]more[/div] [/div] [div class="comments"] [div class="viewcomments"]View all 6 comments[/div] [div class="ago"]7 minutes ago[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container3"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background3"] [div class="details"] [div class="j"] [div class="notherpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]violent_delight[/div] hot weather, hotter girl.
truthofself truthofself [div class="credit" style="cursor: default;"]#simon_xu[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mdpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mood[/div] tiredly annoyed, but a little playful. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mntnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mentions[/div] Ofelia [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="ntrctnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]interactions[/div] byeol byeol (Ofelia) [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="lctnpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]location[/div] airplane. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="tftpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]outfit[/div] e-boy [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="pstpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]post[/div] He didn't pull back at the women's touch; like he said with others in his life. On the contrary, he moved closer to her, resting his head gently against his wife's hand. He grinned and hummed softly at her words, not giving her an immediate reply like he knew she would want from him. Simon understood Ofelia very well, as the aspects that made her; were similar to elements that made him. He sometimes couldn't help but think of her being his soulmate. A complete accident it had been to meet her; let alone marry her.

He stared at her with a similar gaze; something soft-hearted by with undertones of annoyance. "Ofelia, sweetie," Simon has begun, he loved using her full name, along with his many nicknames and pet names for her. "you are full of yourself to think that I'm only and always thinking of some bitch like you." Simon was rude, crude even. But he said what he wanted and hadn't let it bother him. He knew Ofelia was mean, and honestly to him; it was fucking hot. "But, you also aren't entirely wrong." He smiled at her this time. "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are, and how I now get to make everyone jealous that someone like you belongs to me."

Simon couldn't help it, but he moved his hand closet to her to rest on her thigh. He wasn't wholly cold-hearted. Just very. He enjoyed giving her small signs of affection to remind her that he did care about her and was only being himself and hadn't meant it entirely a hundred per cent. But he had also suggested it a pretty big per cent, maybe something closer for 60%.

He was comfortable letting some of his aggression dispose when he was with her. Often finding himself oddly comfortable and calm around her. Like he was in a rush to put someone in their place or show off that he was far greater than the rest. He felt like he had everything he needed with the women sitting next to him. He could've said more and done more to annoyed Ofeliain the moment as his train of thought was quickly and quite rudely being interrupted by the PA announcement about their current status of the flight. Although he was about to be annoyed, the pure mention of how much more time he was stuck on his place made his almost giddy as he smiled more. Simon hated long rides, whether he was in the car, in a plane, in a helicopter.

He lightly tightened his grip on Ofelia's leg, to show his excitement a bit as he forced himself to stop smiling. "Finally, we can get off this cursed flying bullshit in 20 minutes. A nice leg stretch for myself, and whatever my dear lady wants to help her unwind from this cursed tiny space." It was a joke to give her whatever, because she could ask for al his money and a divorce; so he hasn't meant it wholeheartedly just mostly. He paused for a minute before speaking again. "Do you, remember exactly what the plans were? I've been cooped up too long; I forgot them amidst the amount of bordem and lack of stimulation"

Simon glanced to his side as he thought of said women. She really left him breathless with her beauty. It was laughable, that he somehow ended up with a bitch like Fee. So laughable he chuckled to himself as he looked at her. it was funny to him, how he could go from being lonely without family to now having a new family with Fee. [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container4"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background4"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar"] [div class="home"][/div] [div class="search"][/div] [div class="add"][/div] [div class="m"][/div] [div class="circlea"][div class="circleb"][div class="circlec"][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container5"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background5"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar_2"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="i"][div class="ddcmmnt"]Add a comment...[/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
 
[class=container]width: 600px; height: 450px; margin: auto;[/class] [class=holder]box-shadow: 2px 2px 30px #262626; position: absolute; width: 600px; height: 450px; background-color: #f3f3f3; border-radius: 6px; overflow: hidden;[/class] [class=contents]position: absolute; top: 20px; left: 20px; width: 410px; height: 450px;[class] [class=top]position: absolute; width: 410px; height: 160px; border-bottom: 1px solid #bbb;[/class] [class=toppic]position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; height: 140px; width: 200px; background-color: #107910; padding: 10px;[/class] [class=topinfo]position: absolute; width: 190px; height: 143px; right: -20px; top: 0; padding: 8px 0px; overflow: hidden; font-family: montserrat; font-size: 10px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #8d8d8d; white-space: pre-line; line-height: 110%;[/class] [class=toptag]margin-left: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; font-family: poppins; font-size: 13px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #107910; display: table; padding-left: 8px; padding-right: 5px; line-height: 110%; margin-top: -4px; margin-bottom: 5px;[/class] [class=post]height: 230px; width: 390px; margin-top: 180px; margin-left: 10px; overflow-x: hidden; padding-right: 5px; font-family: 'poppins'; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px; color: #8d8d8d; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-line;[/class] [class=scroll]width: 100%; height: 100%; overflow-y: scroll; padding-right: 20px;[/class] [class=sideholder]position: absolute; height: 450px; width: 150px; right: 0; top: 0; background-color: #107910;[/class] [class=name]width: 500px; font-family: montserrat; font-weight: 800; text-transform: lowercase; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #424242; display: table; text-align: center; position: absolute; bottom: -175px; height: 150px; line-height: 150px; padding-bottom: 0px; transform: rotate(-90deg); transform-origin: left top 0; float: left; text-shadow: -1px -1px 0 #fff, 1px -1px 0 #fff, -1px 1px 0 #fff, 1px 1px 0 #fff;[/class]
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[/div] [div class=topinfo][div class=scroll]// mood [div class=toptag]groggy, awkward.[/div] // outfit [div class=toptag]x[/div] // location [div class=toptag]plane to laucala.[/div] // interactions [div class=toptag]nina chong.[/div] // tags [div class=toptag]@arbiter[/div][/div][/div] [div class=post]Caleb paused, feeling her hand turn under his so that she could grip the appendage. It soothed something hidden in his chest that he wasn't sure he should or even could acknowledge. This whole situation was so new. He still wasn't sure how he'd found himself agreeing to the proposal. Not that he regretted it, Nina was lovely, both in looks and personality and he knew he could do a lot worse. Rochelle loved to remind him of that. His family's doubts aside, Caleb found himself....happy? He wasn't too sure, he was never too in touch with his emotions to begin with, but he found that having someone emotionally attached to you makes things somewhat difficult. Well difficult wasn't the right word, just...different. He wasn't used to having to be open with someone else, someone who didn't just know what was going through his mind. Not that his family tended to know what he was thinking in the first place. "Good....good, I'm...I'm glad." he nodded slowly, the words tumbling awkwardly from his mouth. He still didn't know much about his new wife but he recognized that he needed to work more on voicing his thoughts, not just assuming his feelings were known. "That you're fine too..." But that was what marriage was he guessed. It was something to work on. Not that he had had the best example growing up, considering his parents arranged marriage ended on his terms instead of theirs. Something dark in him smirked at the thought, but he forced himself to ignore it, now was not the time to be going over that decision. He cleared his throat, reaching up with his free hand to scratch at his cheek as he looked away and out the window. "It's....it's fine," he winced as the word 'fine' escaped his mouth once again. Idiot, he chastised himself, almost feeling his sister's hand smack the back of his head. "I mean, it's fi-Fuck." his hand fell away from his face and he let his head drop. He let out a groan and ran his hand through his hair before he closed his eyes and tried to figure out how to say something to reassure his wife without ruining things at the start of their honeymoon. "I mean, I don't mind." he finally managed, refusing to look up. Luckily or unluckily, considering the moment was officially ended and he wasn't sure if he'd gotten his point across to his wife, the announcement system went off, announcing their arrival. He cleared his throat and began to stretch his legs out so he could stand up, removing his hand from hers. "You're....you're not a bother." he grunted, glancing at Nina for a moment before looking straight ahead.[/div][/div][/div] [div class=sideholder][div class=name]caleb isaac || capricious prince.[/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div]
 
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[div class=home]
[div class=tag3]mood
relaxed/delighted.
[div class=tag3]location
airplane; first class.
[div class=tag3]outfit
x
[div class=tag3]interactions
sebastiano damiani
[div class=tag3]mentions[/div] Tony, Majesty
[div class=tag3]tags[/div] DarkiusHeavenstein DarkiusHeavenstein [/div] [/div]
[div class="tabContents tabContents07 show"]
the
aeonian dream

is
here
[div class="tab tab1"]read more
[/div] [div class="tabContents tabContents01"]
“Not fire, but rather harsh insults certainly.” Valentina chuckled. It was a talent of her, tearing others down with her words alone. Finding their weaknesses and dragging them out in the open as her words reduced them to a pathetic state. There had been many times where she reduced others to tears. But just has she could easily hurl insults she was just as adept at getting others to bend to her will with just a few words of sweetness and temptation in her accented voice.

Just as her husband parted his full lips to speak again the audio speaker dinged, signaling that there was an announcement about to be made. The look on her husband’s face was one of annoyance though it disappeared shortly after. Valentina knew that he hated to be interrupted. That if it wasn’t a matter of life or death he felt as if he was being disrespected. During their time together, she'd learn to read him, even if he didn’t say anything. Valentina was sure that he was capable of doing the same when it came to her. He relaxed however after gazing at the view of the island. Valentina took a moment to look herself. It was a truly beautiful sight. She couldn’t wait to land and for their honeymoon to truly begin. Twenty minutes had never seemed to lengthy before.

“You’re absolutely right husband. And when we return we’ll make sure that everyone is aware of this.” Valentina returner his smile with one of her own. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence after they had nothing to say. Valentina finished off her wine as she looked out of the window once again. Already her mind was filled with all of the things that they could do, both as a pair and by themselves. Valentina was especially looking forward to the spa and the shops on the island. She’d also enjoy sunbathing and relaxing on the beach.

The smooth, baritone of Sebastiano voice pulled her from her thoughts. She admired the low rumble of his voice as he spoke to her. Valentina frowned openly as he mentioned Majesty. Despite her complaints and a few thinly veiled threats, her beloved feline couldn’t enter first class with them. It was a shame too. Majesty was such a well behaved girl, she wouldn’t have caused any trouble. The feline would have been curled up on her lap, sleeping soundly or purring as Valentina pet her. “If anything happened to Majesty, there will be hell to pay. I’ll make sure that this airline suffers.” Her tone was rather harsh, her love for Majesty obvious. People often said that Valentina treated her like a child rather than a pet, and they were correct. Majesty was much more than a pet to Valentina.

“And as for Tony, he should be fine. If it wants to make it in this family, something as horrible as first class should not be a problem for him.” Valentina smirked as she thought of Majesty’s bodyguard. He was very handsome, but not in the way that Sebastiano was. Those blue eyes of his were absolutely stunning and those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass she was sure. Valentina was a lover of all things beautiful, and he was a beautiful young man.
[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div][/div] https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]
 
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