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Realistic or Modern Ships Haven Split =Main=
- Thread starter apolla
- Start date
Qazi
Qāżī Saʿīd Qumī
“I need help, Jo.”
Her name was Joan but he liked to call her ‘Jo,’ and was likely the only person who ever did—excluding her parents and close relatives maybe. He'd never seen them, like some people don't see the wires above them, and probably never would. As far as familial sponsorships went, he'd never cared about them.
Jo looked at him with that confused look she loved to wear in liquor stores or pharmacies, which was then followed by a transition into shyness, anxiety perhaps—how does one describe it? with lips withdrawn, partially pursed, or was it a pout? and eyes settled elsewhere, nowhere, and head tilted downwards like extending a greeting of self-loathing and misery, hand in hand, hand forward, like a beggar stretched out under the kentucky rain and the no-frills sun. It reminded him of himself, even though she was older than him, back when he'd try to strut up to the record store's little social gatherings and then subsequently regret that course of action and curse its unchangeable route, inching closer and closer to an impenetrable fortress: ‘Why the heck did you decide to do that, Davy?’ and he was inclined to say that to himself right now, staring at a similarly impenetrable Jo: Davy, why'd you say that? Some compulsion, of course, utterly random but there was a sliver of truth to it, a closeted desperation, which made him feel older than he was. Even older than Jo, who wasn't much old to begin with, not when the mind was at hand. Not that it mattered much in the end.—of course it did, as long as he turned over the day in his bed, forgot about it, sure it did, made its mark in history—since Jo and him were growing farther everyday, ever since the school burnt down and he had to skip off. The smiles were nauseous, unsmiling: every step they took meant a leap backwards. At first, it wasn't much but complaining (“You eat gherkins now?” or, “You'd rather hang out with your friends, wouldn't you?” which he did actually prefer nowadays to fleeing with her to those paranoia fields), but now everyday there was a cold bridge between them. Arguments were frequent, disagreements dime a dozen, conversations tout naturel and off-hand swinging common; him looking at her, wanting to get with her, put his arms around her, but fact was he didn't reckon that ever before—and he thought that as they walked down the 39th Avenue Street, off the docks, split apart by a river of pedestrians and solid air between them, together but not together—because it just used to happen when the charnel house was burning.
“I don't know,” Jo said, slowly, enunciating her own words as if she didn't know what she was saying, which she did, “I mean, what are you talking about, Davy?”
“I don't know,” Davy automatically repeated. “I think you know better.”
“What is it that I know better than you that I don't know about?”
Davy shrugged. “I don't know.”
“What do you know?”
“Something,” he said with a wave of his hand. At seventeen, living off his father's benefits, investments in a pyramid scheme—car wax, he was sure, and he'd signed up while he was drunk on methadone and amphetamines and xanax and ketel one bought by Jo—, the 1% APY yield from his average savings, family savings, and his own riveting love affairs and publishing the so-so stories and verses at magazines, Davy figured he had a right to be blasé about the dangers in his life: number one being himself, of course, second being Jo. Why Jo? He didn't know why but some part of him accused him of being bad man, said that's why, and he knew that, and it was because of her that he felt like that. Was he a bad man? In the big-eye view of this town, he wasn't. The worst was still out there, hustling the beat pathways and the dead end woods and the fractals alleys and streets are: look out the west side, past the k-marts and laundromats and lofts and apartments, past the gulch, hanging clotheslines, barking dogs, trailers, the stench of meth, synthetics and booze and poverty and shit, the hammocks and trampolines, past the teeth gnashing and biting and smashing together into white ground powder, cursing the visceral living of the poor but hardly embracing it, just moving the way down their spiraling river like that, laughing sometimes, cursing too, rejecting every single argument like a telemarketer. It wasn't hard to see them, leather-garbed elbows scuffed against their wives and ladies, dealing prescriptions and hard woozies to kids, as low as fifteen even, grilling their own pet in their backyard to the amusement of their swamp sensibilities and their own desperation, keychains digging into cheek flesh turning it into head cheese, scamming their social securities and trying to mug the occasional personage who took the wrong turn into their alleyway or caught them in the act of ripping their local ATMs. Just like that.
Davy shook his head and continued: “The other day I met Peter down in the streets and he invited me to the diner. We had our lunch there.”
“What did you eat?” Jo said and with a vague smile at that.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I don't know. What did you eat?”
“Eggs, grits, bacon. I didn't have enough change for gravy but they offered it on the house, said I was a principal member of their little society.”
“Like that?”
He snickered. “Not like that, no, but like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Same I could ask you. Why are you smiling?”
“You know, don't you?”
“I don't but I want to.”
She was determined to change the subject. “What happened after you met Peter?”
“We split the bills. He'd invited me to talk about something. I think it was Meg—or was it Maggy? I forgot but she—it was a she, all I remember—”
“You've always been attracted to girls.”
“All kinds,” he winked at her and then continued: “Sheneeded to visit the laundromat but was afraid of the germs there. That struck me as funny. I said to Peter, ‘So we wash our clothes in germs, huh?’ What do you think?”
“I think it's funny.”
Davy nodded. “Me too. So I told Peter just that—‘It's a joke and you missed it’—but he ignored me. Told me anyway that he was going out of town. You know that school that burned down?”
“I do, you do, Peter does too.”
“That so?”
Jo raised a brow. “You used to study there, Dave.”
“Did I?” He looked around but he couldn't see the cameras or the gong—straight from a reality teevee show from the 70s-something—waiting to be struck. “When?”
“That's a good question.”
“A good question is what you can answer, right?”
“It's my opinion that a good question can't be answered.”
“That so?” he said again.
Jo paused and stared at him. He stared at her too, too stubborn to notice the awkwardness about it. She was scared—or was it him? That was the truth, he thought, she was his anchor. A blind anchor, at that, probably hooked together singularly by a rug of seaweed and corals. He wanted to lie down, crouch, envelope himself in a fetal embrace.
“School's out but there's a new one, opening in two days. They're commemorating it with a party. I'm going there. So you want to come?”
“I'm busy tonight.”
“That's. . . fair.” A few months ago and he would've asked her, ‘Why? what are you doing, Jo?’ except it wasn't that anymore.
“How can I help you?” she said after a while as they came to a standstill before a traffic light.
“Took you long enough.”
“For what?”
“To say that.”
Flatly, if unnecessarily loudly, “Okay.”
“Probably,” pensively, “you simply cannot help me at this point.”
He picked at his eggs with a fork. They weren't scrambled before, at least how he remembered them, but they were now. “Think this got bird flu?”
Peter looked up. He was the sort to eat staring at his food, which wasn't abnormal at all—some people do that. “What do you mean?”
“I was looking out from this elevator—from the mall, the fool's mall—today and I saw this chicken on the streets. It had rabies.”
“Chickens don't have rabies.”
Davy eyed him from the sides. “Men have rabies. Doubt that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I've been looking at calamities for a while, this farce—what was it called, huh?”
“That school?”
“From my lookout, it's a farce.”
“You were,” and with a mouthful of bacon, “saying somethin about bird flu?”
“Yeah, I mean. . . it's nothing. Forget it.”
“I'm gonna be busy for a while.”
“Waf 'at?” he said with a mouthful of eggs, scrambled or otherwise.
“I said I was gonna be busy for a while, Dave.”
“Oh,” and gulped down that mouthful, “and that means?”
“I need a favour from you.”
“Favour?”
“Andy's laundromat,” Peter pronounced it landramat, “Meg needs her laundry done—”
“Who's Meg?”
“My sister.”
“Oh, I remember her. Short, lean, looks like a kid?”
“Is a kid.”
“Oh boy.”
“She might need her laundry, would probably, inevitably, but she's afraid of germs she says are rife there.”
“Rife where?”
Peter snapped a finger in front of him. “Am I even getting through to you.
“Yes, you are.”
“Andy's laundromat—” landramat “—if you can, of course.”
“She seems to be implicating that we wash our clothes in germ. That sound funny to you?”
“She's always been that way.”
“It's a joke, Peter. You missed it.”
“Did I?”
“Do I get money out of it?”
“After I get back.”
Davy finished the last bits of his part of the meal, here and there, before dropping the fork and knife. They sounded a clattering echo on the ceramic plate. “Split the bill.”
Davy was watching the teevee: gongs were struck, laughs were had, remotes changed hands, screens paused, actors were locked in rictus grins, stasis, laughter, oh boy, good joy. . . and so on and on, till he found out that he could not handle anymore—not that he was fatigued but necessity demanded his attention, namely the six pm party, no directions, no address, you can notice it from miles away, they said. He taped a few hours of the show, wore his usual garb (a blazer, trousers, moccasins and a straw hat he found lying around, probably not even his, the belongings of a party dissident probably or the house cleaner), and then he went outside, breathed the seaside air, salty and bittersweet, and the sordid blues, tinged with medicine and mud and humans. The walk took a few minutes and circled the neighborhood and block, the suburbs, the freshly cut grass decorating the backdoor lawns, the staring gnomes, the occasional man or woman sitting out on their whitewashed porch, just as greyscale as a kentucky morning, and the ranging, winding and almost limitless (he imagined) asphalt road. He'd done this a few times already, exploring the outsides with an intensity he himself found disarming, searching in vain for something—a something that was beyond his grasps. But it made for some empty time, time spent thinking, thinking about the VHS left recording The Gong Show reruns, listening to that gong strike, looping it again, and again, and again, to an end comprehensible to engineers and enthusiasts and the machines themselves but not to him. The result was still the same: shit recorded.
Standing near the third intersection a few roads from his home, he texted Tyrell, a local of the town and a fellow intellectual, if ever there was a descriptor for it, at least compared to the rest of the masses: ‘Party at the beachside, 6 PM, right now, says you can see it from afar most likely. The portends are not very great but we'll have to attend—I mean, you will have to back me up here. There's foodstuff, there is.’ More people was always better.
Next was Ellie, a fellow youth—like Tyrell, unlike Peter and Jo—, deceptively female, not a much sought-after company but: ‘There's a party at the beachside, come around at 6 PM. There's probably meat, food, drink, other needful things. Who knows? Try your luck.’
He pocketed his phone and looked at the few cars driving by, a lazy day but a day nonetheless, at the listless swaths of clear skies, a gradient of yellow to a hazy purple—like a flame, he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating if, if he was dreaming it, or not—, as he slowed down to a crawl at the other side, the rolling metal, fortresses on wheels, wheezing behind him, fading away in the distance. He didn't bother to look back.
The party was signaled by a beacon of light, not too bright but noticeable against the darkening sky. Davy observed the few people there, the tables and the tools, the grilling kit, the food, against the coarse sand on the ground, the tacky t-shirts on the people. Messages were lining up against his log, telling him: ‘How's the party going, Paul. . . you even there. . . lol,’ which he ignored. He eyed himself—Too uptown? he thought, meditatively, anxiously, considering the brief possibility that a detour to his home wouldn't take that very long, to change into a havana shirt, bermuda shorts, huaraches and some eyeglasses. He touched the tip of his straw hat. At least he had that, even in the heat. It made for something to wear.
He shook his head—now wasn't the time to worry.
MahoganyLeaf
travelbypages
Her name was Joan but he liked to call her ‘Jo,’ and was likely the only person who ever did—excluding her parents and close relatives maybe. He'd never seen them, like some people don't see the wires above them, and probably never would. As far as familial sponsorships went, he'd never cared about them.
Jo looked at him with that confused look she loved to wear in liquor stores or pharmacies, which was then followed by a transition into shyness, anxiety perhaps—how does one describe it? with lips withdrawn, partially pursed, or was it a pout? and eyes settled elsewhere, nowhere, and head tilted downwards like extending a greeting of self-loathing and misery, hand in hand, hand forward, like a beggar stretched out under the kentucky rain and the no-frills sun. It reminded him of himself, even though she was older than him, back when he'd try to strut up to the record store's little social gatherings and then subsequently regret that course of action and curse its unchangeable route, inching closer and closer to an impenetrable fortress: ‘Why the heck did you decide to do that, Davy?’ and he was inclined to say that to himself right now, staring at a similarly impenetrable Jo: Davy, why'd you say that? Some compulsion, of course, utterly random but there was a sliver of truth to it, a closeted desperation, which made him feel older than he was. Even older than Jo, who wasn't much old to begin with, not when the mind was at hand. Not that it mattered much in the end.—of course it did, as long as he turned over the day in his bed, forgot about it, sure it did, made its mark in history—since Jo and him were growing farther everyday, ever since the school burnt down and he had to skip off. The smiles were nauseous, unsmiling: every step they took meant a leap backwards. At first, it wasn't much but complaining (“You eat gherkins now?” or, “You'd rather hang out with your friends, wouldn't you?” which he did actually prefer nowadays to fleeing with her to those paranoia fields), but now everyday there was a cold bridge between them. Arguments were frequent, disagreements dime a dozen, conversations tout naturel and off-hand swinging common; him looking at her, wanting to get with her, put his arms around her, but fact was he didn't reckon that ever before—and he thought that as they walked down the 39th Avenue Street, off the docks, split apart by a river of pedestrians and solid air between them, together but not together—because it just used to happen when the charnel house was burning.
“I don't know,” Jo said, slowly, enunciating her own words as if she didn't know what she was saying, which she did, “I mean, what are you talking about, Davy?”
“I don't know,” Davy automatically repeated. “I think you know better.”
“What is it that I know better than you that I don't know about?”
Davy shrugged. “I don't know.”
“What do you know?”
“Something,” he said with a wave of his hand. At seventeen, living off his father's benefits, investments in a pyramid scheme—car wax, he was sure, and he'd signed up while he was drunk on methadone and amphetamines and xanax and ketel one bought by Jo—, the 1% APY yield from his average savings, family savings, and his own riveting love affairs and publishing the so-so stories and verses at magazines, Davy figured he had a right to be blasé about the dangers in his life: number one being himself, of course, second being Jo. Why Jo? He didn't know why but some part of him accused him of being bad man, said that's why, and he knew that, and it was because of her that he felt like that. Was he a bad man? In the big-eye view of this town, he wasn't. The worst was still out there, hustling the beat pathways and the dead end woods and the fractals alleys and streets are: look out the west side, past the k-marts and laundromats and lofts and apartments, past the gulch, hanging clotheslines, barking dogs, trailers, the stench of meth, synthetics and booze and poverty and shit, the hammocks and trampolines, past the teeth gnashing and biting and smashing together into white ground powder, cursing the visceral living of the poor but hardly embracing it, just moving the way down their spiraling river like that, laughing sometimes, cursing too, rejecting every single argument like a telemarketer. It wasn't hard to see them, leather-garbed elbows scuffed against their wives and ladies, dealing prescriptions and hard woozies to kids, as low as fifteen even, grilling their own pet in their backyard to the amusement of their swamp sensibilities and their own desperation, keychains digging into cheek flesh turning it into head cheese, scamming their social securities and trying to mug the occasional personage who took the wrong turn into their alleyway or caught them in the act of ripping their local ATMs. Just like that.
Davy shook his head and continued: “The other day I met Peter down in the streets and he invited me to the diner. We had our lunch there.”
“What did you eat?” Jo said and with a vague smile at that.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I don't know. What did you eat?”
“Eggs, grits, bacon. I didn't have enough change for gravy but they offered it on the house, said I was a principal member of their little society.”
“Like that?”
He snickered. “Not like that, no, but like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Same I could ask you. Why are you smiling?”
“You know, don't you?”
“I don't but I want to.”
She was determined to change the subject. “What happened after you met Peter?”
“We split the bills. He'd invited me to talk about something. I think it was Meg—or was it Maggy? I forgot but she—it was a she, all I remember—”
“You've always been attracted to girls.”
“All kinds,” he winked at her and then continued: “Sheneeded to visit the laundromat but was afraid of the germs there. That struck me as funny. I said to Peter, ‘So we wash our clothes in germs, huh?’ What do you think?”
“I think it's funny.”
Davy nodded. “Me too. So I told Peter just that—‘It's a joke and you missed it’—but he ignored me. Told me anyway that he was going out of town. You know that school that burned down?”
“I do, you do, Peter does too.”
“That so?”
Jo raised a brow. “You used to study there, Dave.”
“Did I?” He looked around but he couldn't see the cameras or the gong—straight from a reality teevee show from the 70s-something—waiting to be struck. “When?”
“That's a good question.”
“A good question is what you can answer, right?”
“It's my opinion that a good question can't be answered.”
“That so?” he said again.
Jo paused and stared at him. He stared at her too, too stubborn to notice the awkwardness about it. She was scared—or was it him? That was the truth, he thought, she was his anchor. A blind anchor, at that, probably hooked together singularly by a rug of seaweed and corals. He wanted to lie down, crouch, envelope himself in a fetal embrace.
“School's out but there's a new one, opening in two days. They're commemorating it with a party. I'm going there. So you want to come?”
“I'm busy tonight.”
“That's. . . fair.” A few months ago and he would've asked her, ‘Why? what are you doing, Jo?’ except it wasn't that anymore.
“How can I help you?” she said after a while as they came to a standstill before a traffic light.
“Took you long enough.”
“For what?”
“To say that.”
Flatly, if unnecessarily loudly, “Okay.”
“Probably,” pensively, “you simply cannot help me at this point.”
He picked at his eggs with a fork. They weren't scrambled before, at least how he remembered them, but they were now. “Think this got bird flu?”
Peter looked up. He was the sort to eat staring at his food, which wasn't abnormal at all—some people do that. “What do you mean?”
“I was looking out from this elevator—from the mall, the fool's mall—today and I saw this chicken on the streets. It had rabies.”
“Chickens don't have rabies.”
Davy eyed him from the sides. “Men have rabies. Doubt that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I've been looking at calamities for a while, this farce—what was it called, huh?”
“That school?”
“From my lookout, it's a farce.”
“You were,” and with a mouthful of bacon, “saying somethin about bird flu?”
“Yeah, I mean. . . it's nothing. Forget it.”
“I'm gonna be busy for a while.”
“Waf 'at?” he said with a mouthful of eggs, scrambled or otherwise.
“I said I was gonna be busy for a while, Dave.”
“Oh,” and gulped down that mouthful, “and that means?”
“I need a favour from you.”
“Favour?”
“Andy's laundromat,” Peter pronounced it landramat, “Meg needs her laundry done—”
“Who's Meg?”
“My sister.”
“Oh, I remember her. Short, lean, looks like a kid?”
“Is a kid.”
“Oh boy.”
“She might need her laundry, would probably, inevitably, but she's afraid of germs she says are rife there.”
“Rife where?”
Peter snapped a finger in front of him. “Am I even getting through to you.
“Yes, you are.”
“Andy's laundromat—” landramat “—if you can, of course.”
“She seems to be implicating that we wash our clothes in germ. That sound funny to you?”
“She's always been that way.”
“It's a joke, Peter. You missed it.”
“Did I?”
“Do I get money out of it?”
“After I get back.”
Davy finished the last bits of his part of the meal, here and there, before dropping the fork and knife. They sounded a clattering echo on the ceramic plate. “Split the bill.”
Davy was watching the teevee: gongs were struck, laughs were had, remotes changed hands, screens paused, actors were locked in rictus grins, stasis, laughter, oh boy, good joy. . . and so on and on, till he found out that he could not handle anymore—not that he was fatigued but necessity demanded his attention, namely the six pm party, no directions, no address, you can notice it from miles away, they said. He taped a few hours of the show, wore his usual garb (a blazer, trousers, moccasins and a straw hat he found lying around, probably not even his, the belongings of a party dissident probably or the house cleaner), and then he went outside, breathed the seaside air, salty and bittersweet, and the sordid blues, tinged with medicine and mud and humans. The walk took a few minutes and circled the neighborhood and block, the suburbs, the freshly cut grass decorating the backdoor lawns, the staring gnomes, the occasional man or woman sitting out on their whitewashed porch, just as greyscale as a kentucky morning, and the ranging, winding and almost limitless (he imagined) asphalt road. He'd done this a few times already, exploring the outsides with an intensity he himself found disarming, searching in vain for something—a something that was beyond his grasps. But it made for some empty time, time spent thinking, thinking about the VHS left recording The Gong Show reruns, listening to that gong strike, looping it again, and again, and again, to an end comprehensible to engineers and enthusiasts and the machines themselves but not to him. The result was still the same: shit recorded.
Standing near the third intersection a few roads from his home, he texted Tyrell, a local of the town and a fellow intellectual, if ever there was a descriptor for it, at least compared to the rest of the masses: ‘Party at the beachside, 6 PM, right now, says you can see it from afar most likely. The portends are not very great but we'll have to attend—I mean, you will have to back me up here. There's foodstuff, there is.’ More people was always better.
Next was Ellie, a fellow youth—like Tyrell, unlike Peter and Jo—, deceptively female, not a much sought-after company but: ‘There's a party at the beachside, come around at 6 PM. There's probably meat, food, drink, other needful things. Who knows? Try your luck.’
He pocketed his phone and looked at the few cars driving by, a lazy day but a day nonetheless, at the listless swaths of clear skies, a gradient of yellow to a hazy purple—like a flame, he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating if, if he was dreaming it, or not—, as he slowed down to a crawl at the other side, the rolling metal, fortresses on wheels, wheezing behind him, fading away in the distance. He didn't bother to look back.
The party was signaled by a beacon of light, not too bright but noticeable against the darkening sky. Davy observed the few people there, the tables and the tools, the grilling kit, the food, against the coarse sand on the ground, the tacky t-shirts on the people. Messages were lining up against his log, telling him: ‘How's the party going, Paul. . . you even there. . . lol,’ which he ignored. He eyed himself—Too uptown? he thought, meditatively, anxiously, considering the brief possibility that a detour to his home wouldn't take that very long, to change into a havana shirt, bermuda shorts, huaraches and some eyeglasses. He touched the tip of his straw hat. At least he had that, even in the heat. It made for something to wear.
He shook his head—now wasn't the time to worry.
MahoganyLeaf
travelbypages
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Arielle had heard about the beach bbq from most of her friends. They’d urged her to go with them, to experience an east side party and have a good time. Seeing as she had nothing else to do for the rest of the day she had agreed without much of a fight. Arielle was all for having a good time, it didn’t matter who was hosting the party. If any of her soon to be schoolmates had a problem with her being there she would be perfectly fine with solving it. So with that thought in mind Arielle quickly informed her mother that she was heading out to a party before the older female left for work. As usual she was told to be careful and keep her stun gun close.
Arielle spent the next few hours getting ready. Every so often she receive a text, asking her if she was ready or if she’d made it to the party. After replying to a few text Arielle tossed he phone on her bed and focused on getting ready. Before long she’d finished. Her outfit of choice was the rather simple. Arielle wore a two piece and slipped some shorts over her bottoms until she arrived at the party. The young woman then grabbed her purse and made sure that she had everything that she needed inside of it. Before leaving Arielle walked over to the medium sized enclosure in her room. Her pet Pascal, a banana Ball Python, lay hidden away in his cave. Arielle had already fed him his dinner so there was nothing else that she had to do.
Finally Arielle was on her way. She left the house, locking the door behind her and left in her old Chevrolet Camaro. When Arielle arrived at the beach she noticed that there weren’t too many people out. She figured that it would start to liven up as night fell. She stepped out of her car and kicked off her flip flop, tossing them in her car before she headed down to the sandy part of the beach.
code by Ri.a
Last edited:
Akaelin
"Wha-?"
.
.
Elliot Scarborough
「Location : BBQ | Tags :
erzulie
」
erzulie
」Elliot was beyond bored.
She needed to do something. Just something. Productive or not, she didn't even care anymore. Her parents and sister Tasha were out on vacation somewhere - or at least what they wanted to call a "vacation". She knew it was just a few days to get away from Elliot herself. The imperfect, attention-seeking Elliot, as they say.
She remembered overhearing something about a beach BBQ that was being held, just on the day before school started again; namely today. At the time, she didn't hold much interest in it, thinking that she would have plenty of housework and cleaning to do. But with the family out of the house, there wasn't exactly much she needed to do. She could study perhaps, or go and re-read a book.
Not in the mood...
"I swear, I will kick boredom in the arse someday!" she exclaimed to herself. Picking herself up out of bed, she jumped to her feet and hoisted herself to her closet. She didn't think she would actually end up going to a social event. But she didn't want to spend hours doing absolutely nothing but sleeping in her room. Besides, maybe she might be able to make a few acquaintances. It would certainly help her on her first day to not look like a loner. Or like a mentally disturbed child. Well, actually, to be fair - she is mentally insane anyways, but she didn't have to look like one, right?
Elliot slipped on a pair of jeans and a basic black hoodie, and attached her earrings on. Taking a cheap, nearly-broken watch on her left hand, she tossed her keys into her pocket and proceeded to the front door of her small apartment. "Just... be natural, Elliot Scarborough. You're a normal sane person, without any problems in her life, and with a loving and caring family."
As soon as she opened the door, a rigid breeze smacked her in the face. Thanks. She stepped out and closed the door behind her, and made her way to the beach. Hopefully there won't be too many there. Just hopefully. Maybe she can be that invisible person again. Or.. actually try to make herself known in some way, as she thought earlier.
Puffing out a sigh, she sped up her pace. When she finally reached the beach, she noticed that it wasn't as crowded as she expected to be. Most looked to already be friends, but Elliot also noticed a girl, who had long curly hair with dark toned skin, who was in her car also looking out at the few on the beach.
Elliot stood back, and leaned on a lamppost. Why did I come out here again?
She needed to do something. Just something. Productive or not, she didn't even care anymore. Her parents and sister Tasha were out on vacation somewhere - or at least what they wanted to call a "vacation". She knew it was just a few days to get away from Elliot herself. The imperfect, attention-seeking Elliot, as they say.
She remembered overhearing something about a beach BBQ that was being held, just on the day before school started again; namely today. At the time, she didn't hold much interest in it, thinking that she would have plenty of housework and cleaning to do. But with the family out of the house, there wasn't exactly much she needed to do. She could study perhaps, or go and re-read a book.
Not in the mood...
"I swear, I will kick boredom in the arse someday!" she exclaimed to herself. Picking herself up out of bed, she jumped to her feet and hoisted herself to her closet. She didn't think she would actually end up going to a social event. But she didn't want to spend hours doing absolutely nothing but sleeping in her room. Besides, maybe she might be able to make a few acquaintances. It would certainly help her on her first day to not look like a loner. Or like a mentally disturbed child. Well, actually, to be fair - she is mentally insane anyways, but she didn't have to look like one, right?
Elliot slipped on a pair of jeans and a basic black hoodie, and attached her earrings on. Taking a cheap, nearly-broken watch on her left hand, she tossed her keys into her pocket and proceeded to the front door of her small apartment. "Just... be natural, Elliot Scarborough. You're a normal sane person, without any problems in her life, and with a loving and caring family."
As soon as she opened the door, a rigid breeze smacked her in the face. Thanks. She stepped out and closed the door behind her, and made her way to the beach. Hopefully there won't be too many there. Just hopefully. Maybe she can be that invisible person again. Or.. actually try to make herself known in some way, as she thought earlier.
Puffing out a sigh, she sped up her pace. When she finally reached the beach, she noticed that it wasn't as crowded as she expected to be. Most looked to already be friends, but Elliot also noticed a girl, who had long curly hair with dark toned skin, who was in her car also looking out at the few on the beach.
Elliot stood back, and leaned on a lamppost. Why did I come out here again?
template by astraea
travelbypages
dog mom
Elliot Covington
Elliot could hear the screaming and crying coming from the living room. Her mom, like always, was high and arguing with her boyfriend. This was normal. They did a bunch of drugs, fought, then made up by doing it somewhere random in the house.It's moments like this where Elliot wondered why she wasn't taken away like her siblings. Though it probably had to do with her being closer to 18 than the others were. The thought of her siblings always brought her back to the night the police showed up at the door to take them away. Lucky for them. Any place was better than here.
Elliot used to cry thinking about them. Her family had been close at one point, but then her dad had to go and fuck them all up. She didn't cry anymore. She coped. In whatever way that helped her escape. Maybe that is why her mom did drugs. To escape just like Elliot did. Scooting to the window in her room, she propped it open using an empty candle jar and pulled out a small tin from her purse. For now, it was weed. While the arguing was her background music, Elliot propped the already half smoked joint between her lips and lit it up. This was her escape for now. Maybe later she would do more.
Unlike her mother, she didn't shoot up. You could probably name every drug in the book and Elliot has probably tried it, besides the ones that involve needles. She wasn't that desperate. Pills and weed were so far her favorite. They gave her the right high, but were enough to not have her fuck up her life, not that it already wasn't.
As the burn came to an end, she heard her phone beep across the room. Putting it out, she made her way to her dresser and saw the text from Davy. A party. Not surprising. With a shake of her head, she opened the dresser and pulled out a makeshift outfit before grabbing her bag and going to the window. She had no energy to deal with Kevin - man, she hated him.
It didn't take long for Ellie to get to the beach on foot. She chose to walk everywhere because that's all she could afford. She could already see the glow of the bonfire against the darkening sky, and a small smile touched her lips. This was her favorite thing to do. Party, or crash parties. Didn't matter to her. But she always knew about them. Her choice of drink, whatever she could fit into her flask. So, before entering, she took a long drink, then lit up a smoke.
As she walked through the crowed, people were avoiding Ellie like she was the plague. Of course. They were rich, and she was not. Did she care? Not really... With the breeze coming from the water, she felt a chill run up her spine. The fire. She needed warmth. Hugging her sweater closer to herself, being careful not to burn herself or anyone around her, found her way there and took a seat beside a few people who were already seated, but far away enough that she didn't bother them. Maybe someone she knew would find her in the glow of the light.
Mention:
Qazi
Elliot could hear the screaming and crying coming from the living room. Her mom, like always, was high and arguing with her boyfriend. This was normal. They did a bunch of drugs, fought, then made up by doing it somewhere random in the house.It's moments like this where Elliot wondered why she wasn't taken away like her siblings. Though it probably had to do with her being closer to 18 than the others were. The thought of her siblings always brought her back to the night the police showed up at the door to take them away. Lucky for them. Any place was better than here.
Elliot used to cry thinking about them. Her family had been close at one point, but then her dad had to go and fuck them all up. She didn't cry anymore. She coped. In whatever way that helped her escape. Maybe that is why her mom did drugs. To escape just like Elliot did. Scooting to the window in her room, she propped it open using an empty candle jar and pulled out a small tin from her purse. For now, it was weed. While the arguing was her background music, Elliot propped the already half smoked joint between her lips and lit it up. This was her escape for now. Maybe later she would do more.
Unlike her mother, she didn't shoot up. You could probably name every drug in the book and Elliot has probably tried it, besides the ones that involve needles. She wasn't that desperate. Pills and weed were so far her favorite. They gave her the right high, but were enough to not have her fuck up her life, not that it already wasn't.
As the burn came to an end, she heard her phone beep across the room. Putting it out, she made her way to her dresser and saw the text from Davy. A party. Not surprising. With a shake of her head, she opened the dresser and pulled out a makeshift outfit before grabbing her bag and going to the window. She had no energy to deal with Kevin - man, she hated him.
It didn't take long for Ellie to get to the beach on foot. She chose to walk everywhere because that's all she could afford. She could already see the glow of the bonfire against the darkening sky, and a small smile touched her lips. This was her favorite thing to do. Party, or crash parties. Didn't matter to her. But she always knew about them. Her choice of drink, whatever she could fit into her flask. So, before entering, she took a long drink, then lit up a smoke.
As she walked through the crowed, people were avoiding Ellie like she was the plague. Of course. They were rich, and she was not. Did she care? Not really... With the breeze coming from the water, she felt a chill run up her spine. The fire. She needed warmth. Hugging her sweater closer to herself, being careful not to burn herself or anyone around her, found her way there and took a seat beside a few people who were already seated, but far away enough that she didn't bother them. Maybe someone she knew would find her in the glow of the light.
Mention:
Qazi
MadiRaiCat
Wine Aunt
Liliana Atwood
Location: Beach BBQ Party
Mentions: Elliot (
travelbypages
)
Interactions: Miles, Open
Clothing: x
Mentions: Elliot (
travelbypages
)Interactions: Miles, Open
Clothing: x
codedbycrucialstar
codedbycrucialstar
Last edited:
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Arielle had just stepped onto the cool sand when someone approached her. The young woman gave him a slow once over, in the end she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. Arielle stayed silent until she finished her lengthy examination. She’d never seen him before and from what he wore she figured that he was an east sider. Arielle would admit that she was surprised, she hadn’t been expecting to be approached by one of them or let alone to be talked to. “It's a 1969, belonged to my grandpa and uncle before it was passed down to me.” Arielle took note of the beer can in his hand and pointed to it. “Show me where you grabbed that from, I wanna see what type of alcohol you East Siders drink.” Honestly she wasn’t expecting anything too strong, maybe a couple of wine coolers and some soda. Again Arielle looked him over, admiring his muscled physique and handsome features.
code by Ri.a
Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
MadiRaiCat
Qazi
Interacting w/
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
With a sigh, Alice opened her walk-in closets door and started going through her clothes. Having a massive collection of clothes was a blessing and a curse - it was so hard to choose what to wear. Then, as if from nowhere, the red skirt almost stuck to her hand and a little smile rose on the girls lips. The skirt was a perfect "center piece", and from there it was easy to assemble the rest of the outfit.
After she put her clothes on, she walked in front of the mirror to admire herself for a moment - she felt beautiful, and the only thing missing was red lipstick to go with the skirt. Alice opened the drawer where her lipsticks resided, and it took her a moment to locate the red ones. Considering that she would most likely be drinking and eating something, a liquid lipstick sounded like the best option as it was the most transfer-proof. The girl grabbed a small, black backpack which she stuffed her lipstick, phone, car keys and cigarettes in. She smoked anything from a couple cigarettes a day to a whole pack a day - latter being on very bad days.
Once she finished her makeup, Alice made her way downstairs to inform her parents about her leaving the house. Her mother was knitting something while watching tv, and her father sat in his home office reading through some papers.
- I'll be going now. The girl said, and was about to turn her back to leave until her mother said something.
- Will you be drinking? If so, how did you plan to get your car back home? You know, we just bought you a new car, and you need to take good care of it. Carmen looked at her daughter with a stern expression, pulling a sigh out of her.
- Yes, I know. I'll get someone who is sober to drive the car, bye! Before her parents had the time to stop her, Alice rushed to the hall where the front door was located. She pulled some shoes on and walked outside to her car. Of course she would drive her car home by herself, depending on how she would be feeling, but her parents didnt need to know that.
The drive wasn't very long, but the traffic was beyond frustrating. It took every ounce of patience for Alice to not burst into a horrible case of road rage. Putting on some music, she nodded along - it distracted her enough from the traffic to keep her from piling some tiles on top of the throttle and ramming through everything in her way. If she couldn't speed, at least she could enjoy something about the ride.
Parking the car was no issue. In truth, Saul had allowed Alice to practice driving when he got his license, and it had made it much easier for her to get her license and learn driving - her parents didnt know, and merely thought that she was talented. A little smirk rose on her face as she got out of the car and proceeded to grab three cans of cider which she tucked into her backpack, in case the beverages available weren't tasty. Alice shut the door and locked the car, throwing the backpack over her other shoulder.
When she walked towards the barbeque area, her gaze went to the people already present. There was a good amount of people, but a few caught Alice's attention - they seemed like west-siders. Well, this would surely be interesting. There was also a couple of somewhat familiar faces - Davy and Miles at least. The girl walked a little closer to the crowd, looking around for someone who she could talk to.
[/div][/div]
[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
MadiRaiCat
Qazi
Interacting w/
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
With a sigh, Alice opened her walk-in closets door and started going through her clothes. Having a massive collection of clothes was a blessing and a curse - it was so hard to choose what to wear. Then, as if from nowhere, the red skirt almost stuck to her hand and a little smile rose on the girls lips. The skirt was a perfect "center piece", and from there it was easy to assemble the rest of the outfit.
After she put her clothes on, she walked in front of the mirror to admire herself for a moment - she felt beautiful, and the only thing missing was red lipstick to go with the skirt. Alice opened the drawer where her lipsticks resided, and it took her a moment to locate the red ones. Considering that she would most likely be drinking and eating something, a liquid lipstick sounded like the best option as it was the most transfer-proof. The girl grabbed a small, black backpack which she stuffed her lipstick, phone, car keys and cigarettes in. She smoked anything from a couple cigarettes a day to a whole pack a day - latter being on very bad days.
Once she finished her makeup, Alice made her way downstairs to inform her parents about her leaving the house. Her mother was knitting something while watching tv, and her father sat in his home office reading through some papers.
- I'll be going now. The girl said, and was about to turn her back to leave until her mother said something.
- Will you be drinking? If so, how did you plan to get your car back home? You know, we just bought you a new car, and you need to take good care of it. Carmen looked at her daughter with a stern expression, pulling a sigh out of her.
- Yes, I know. I'll get someone who is sober to drive the car, bye! Before her parents had the time to stop her, Alice rushed to the hall where the front door was located. She pulled some shoes on and walked outside to her car. Of course she would drive her car home by herself, depending on how she would be feeling, but her parents didnt need to know that.
The drive wasn't very long, but the traffic was beyond frustrating. It took every ounce of patience for Alice to not burst into a horrible case of road rage. Putting on some music, she nodded along - it distracted her enough from the traffic to keep her from piling some tiles on top of the throttle and ramming through everything in her way. If she couldn't speed, at least she could enjoy something about the ride.
Parking the car was no issue. In truth, Saul had allowed Alice to practice driving when he got his license, and it had made it much easier for her to get her license and learn driving - her parents didnt know, and merely thought that she was talented. A little smirk rose on her face as she got out of the car and proceeded to grab three cans of cider which she tucked into her backpack, in case the beverages available weren't tasty. Alice shut the door and locked the car, throwing the backpack over her other shoulder.
When she walked towards the barbeque area, her gaze went to the people already present. There was a good amount of people, but a few caught Alice's attention - they seemed like west-siders. Well, this would surely be interesting. There was also a couple of somewhat familiar faces - Davy and Miles at least. The girl walked a little closer to the crowd, looking around for someone who she could talk to.
[/div][/div]
Code by @Woebegone
With a sigh, Alice opened her walk-in closets door and started going through her clothes. Having a massive collection of clothes was a blessing and a curse - it was so hard to choose what to wear. Then, as if from nowhere, the red skirt almost stuck to her hand and a little smile rose on the girls lips. The skirt was a perfect "center piece", and from there it was easy to assemble the rest of the outfit.
After she put her clothes on, she walked in front of the mirror to admire herself for a moment - she felt beautiful, and the only thing missing was red lipstick to go with the skirt. Alice opened the drawer where her lipsticks resided, and it took her a moment to locate the red ones. Considering that she would most likely be drinking and eating something, a liquid lipstick sounded like the best option as it was the most transfer-proof. The girl grabbed a small, black backpack which she stuffed her lipstick, phone, car keys and cigarettes in. She smoked anything from a couple cigarettes a day to a whole pack a day - latter being on very bad days.
Once she finished her makeup, Alice made her way downstairs to inform her parents about her leaving the house. Her mother was knitting something while watching tv, and her father sat in his home office reading through some papers.
- I'll be going now. The girl said, and was about to turn her back to leave until her mother said something.
- Will you be drinking? If so, how did you plan to get your car back home? You know, we just bought you a new car, and you need to take good care of it. Carmen looked at her daughter with a stern expression, pulling a sigh out of her.
- Yes, I know. I'll get someone who is sober to drive the car, bye! Before her parents had the time to stop her, Alice rushed to the hall where the front door was located. She pulled some shoes on and walked outside to her car. Of course she would drive her car home by herself, depending on how she would be feeling, but her parents didnt need to know that.
The drive wasn't very long, but the traffic was beyond frustrating. It took every ounce of patience for Alice to not burst into a horrible case of road rage. Putting on some music, she nodded along - it distracted her enough from the traffic to keep her from piling some tiles on top of the throttle and ramming through everything in her way. If she couldn't speed, at least she could enjoy something about the ride.
Parking the car was no issue. In truth, Saul had allowed Alice to practice driving when he got his license, and it had made it much easier for her to get her license and learn driving - her parents didnt know, and merely thought that she was talented. A little smirk rose on her face as she got out of the car and proceeded to grab three cans of cider which she tucked into her backpack, in case the beverages available weren't tasty. Alice shut the door and locked the car, throwing the backpack over her other shoulder.
When she walked towards the barbeque area, her gaze went to the people already present. There was a good amount of people, but a few caught Alice's attention - they seemed like west-siders. Well, this would surely be interesting. There was also a couple of somewhat familiar faces - Davy and Miles at least. The girl walked a little closer to the crowd, looking around for someone who she could talk to.
After she put her clothes on, she walked in front of the mirror to admire herself for a moment - she felt beautiful, and the only thing missing was red lipstick to go with the skirt. Alice opened the drawer where her lipsticks resided, and it took her a moment to locate the red ones. Considering that she would most likely be drinking and eating something, a liquid lipstick sounded like the best option as it was the most transfer-proof. The girl grabbed a small, black backpack which she stuffed her lipstick, phone, car keys and cigarettes in. She smoked anything from a couple cigarettes a day to a whole pack a day - latter being on very bad days.
Once she finished her makeup, Alice made her way downstairs to inform her parents about her leaving the house. Her mother was knitting something while watching tv, and her father sat in his home office reading through some papers.
- I'll be going now. The girl said, and was about to turn her back to leave until her mother said something.
- Will you be drinking? If so, how did you plan to get your car back home? You know, we just bought you a new car, and you need to take good care of it. Carmen looked at her daughter with a stern expression, pulling a sigh out of her.
- Yes, I know. I'll get someone who is sober to drive the car, bye! Before her parents had the time to stop her, Alice rushed to the hall where the front door was located. She pulled some shoes on and walked outside to her car. Of course she would drive her car home by herself, depending on how she would be feeling, but her parents didnt need to know that.
The drive wasn't very long, but the traffic was beyond frustrating. It took every ounce of patience for Alice to not burst into a horrible case of road rage. Putting on some music, she nodded along - it distracted her enough from the traffic to keep her from piling some tiles on top of the throttle and ramming through everything in her way. If she couldn't speed, at least she could enjoy something about the ride.
Parking the car was no issue. In truth, Saul had allowed Alice to practice driving when he got his license, and it had made it much easier for her to get her license and learn driving - her parents didnt know, and merely thought that she was talented. A little smirk rose on her face as she got out of the car and proceeded to grab three cans of cider which she tucked into her backpack, in case the beverages available weren't tasty. Alice shut the door and locked the car, throwing the backpack over her other shoulder.
When she walked towards the barbeque area, her gaze went to the people already present. There was a good amount of people, but a few caught Alice's attention - they seemed like west-siders. Well, this would surely be interesting. There was also a couple of somewhat familiar faces - Davy and Miles at least. The girl walked a little closer to the crowd, looking around for someone who she could talk to.
Last edited:
frumpkinisgod
state of flux
Caleb Amoruso
"let's go team"
"let's go team"
location: Beach BBQ
mood: reasonably happy and foolhardy
with: bonfire squad
tags:
travelbypages
and
MadiRaiCat
travelbypages
and
MadiRaiCat
outfit: x
codedbycrucialstar
Qazi
Qāżī Saʿīd Qumī
“Hey, Paul, how are you doing? It feels great to hear your voice again,” said the boy's friend—if you could even call him a boy—on the phone. “I'm hearing that you are—I mean, er, what's up with the new town?”
“I hope I'm not betraying the acid with my voice.” Paul sighed. “The most you'll get out from me is this: life is dismal, life is a bodily abandonment, but nothing much has changed either way.”
“Eh, and?”
“Everywhere I look, it's still the same: parties, drugs, kids—”
“You're a kid yourself.”
“You're not making it any better.”
The sands moved underneath the pressure, they did, and Davy saw it with his own eyes. His mouth, dry and scalded by his nerves, moved by itself, murmuring: What the hell are they doing? on the sand? at a party? That feeling was there again. The question was better put as, what was hedoing here? he who probably had no business being here? wearing a straw hat? toying with his clammy fingers, his recently-clipped fingernails? That was it. He was going to buy the new Dustin Lio cassette that he'd seen on the record's shop window, the one Randy West's middle son owned whose name he'd forgotten or didn't even care to remember in the first place—setting aside the humanities and entities and societies, he was compelled to gravitate towards the release. It was fifteen dollars—or was it?—and he had twenty in his pocket; what was he going to do with the five more left? throw it at a body? what body? the bum by the souvenir, or information, shop near the horn of the cape and the left bank entrance to the city, the most popular one, which sold faulty maps to unsuspecting customers? faulty, in what way? And so on until the stream-of-consciousness reached a plausible, logical conclusion he himself couldn't realize.
He stuffed his straw hat in tight, shoved his hands into his pockets and waded into the thin crowd, the party, though he'd seen wilder ones—was why he preferred the claustrophobia of indoor, cramped spaces, people bumping into each other, creating breeding programs in the corners of the household, passing cocaine and heroin and cheap wine and LSD and other synthetics and pharmaceuticals pertaining to the individual or collective desire of students and half-way youths passed around from person to person. In comparison, this was tame, but there was food: yum, yum, some gooood eatin, he thought, bemused by the turn of events, or lack thereof—but things weren't exactly of the generic label. In fact, on the contrary, tides were moving ways which were perhaps asynchronous to the ideals and philosophies, as long as the immediate present was concerned, of the east-siders, the schoolboys, hipsters from silver lake, palisades, which he supposed he wasn't in connection with much at all. What way? He knew Tyrell, by chance got to knew him while squeezing the mileage out of his interest in the arts, and he knew the people Tyrell was affiliated, if only by the tangential relationship a person develops from their environs. Not that he ever got along with them but they were there: the west-siders, hooligans, chums, trickies, waxen fools just broke from their own horizons studying hand-in-hand at a school that offered more street knowledge than, well, knowledge; and they were here too, school's out, broke, burnt, and all the boys had to go somewhere, courtesy of some vicious government hand pulling a knob or three, pulling on the knobs of the people, the bourgeois, the proletariat—who the fuck cares?
He recognized Alice, a classmate, or was a classmate, and was about to call her when he realized something.
They were actually here, the west-siders, and he knew for a fact that he wasn't hallucinating, or maybe he was but he wasn't sure. The bonfire, with its rising smoke, what could be considered a beacon for the party, was where their odd congregation was being held, though he couldn't spot Tyrell in there, being one of the only two of those types he knew. He thought he recognized a few, what a person can from crawling the streets at night, but he wasn't no personage of the eye, much less memory—and there was Ellie there, isolated, perhaps buzzed out, drunken or high was it? tugging at her sweaters, looking, if his observations were accurate, off her element. He did reckon that she was a party animal, and that was what he liked her—and if liked was too strong a word, he could at least say that made her who she was, though he could also say that he didn't know her that much, as much as knew anybody else—, so, perhaps to remedy such inclinations towards boredom and tedium and banality, he decided to approach her.
Of course, running into the middle of a tirade wasn't his plan, or for that matter, to engage anyone at all, but what he heard was: “To be honest, it's good to see actual people. These people are just unapproachable, it's like I have the black plague or something.” Morose, coming from a guy his age, though he didn't exactly blame him.
From the rear: Ellie, at the wheels of the fire; Davy, also at the wheels of fire but standing, gawking at the group. “How's the party?” he said, pointedly at Ellie—he did invite her and such invitations held obligations with it—, but, heck, could've been anyone. The rest of them? If he did invite them, or if anyone did, though he didn't know anyone who would, at least anyone in this party or any of the parties he gashed his way into the last few months, he did not remember. Doper's memory. But he felt an obligation nonetheless—not an obligation, but a curiosity, a necessity towards knowing.
travelbypages
frumpkinisgod
MadiRaiCat
“I hope I'm not betraying the acid with my voice.” Paul sighed. “The most you'll get out from me is this: life is dismal, life is a bodily abandonment, but nothing much has changed either way.”
“Eh, and?”
“Everywhere I look, it's still the same: parties, drugs, kids—”
“You're a kid yourself.”
“You're not making it any better.”
The sands moved underneath the pressure, they did, and Davy saw it with his own eyes. His mouth, dry and scalded by his nerves, moved by itself, murmuring: What the hell are they doing? on the sand? at a party? That feeling was there again. The question was better put as, what was hedoing here? he who probably had no business being here? wearing a straw hat? toying with his clammy fingers, his recently-clipped fingernails? That was it. He was going to buy the new Dustin Lio cassette that he'd seen on the record's shop window, the one Randy West's middle son owned whose name he'd forgotten or didn't even care to remember in the first place—setting aside the humanities and entities and societies, he was compelled to gravitate towards the release. It was fifteen dollars—or was it?—and he had twenty in his pocket; what was he going to do with the five more left? throw it at a body? what body? the bum by the souvenir, or information, shop near the horn of the cape and the left bank entrance to the city, the most popular one, which sold faulty maps to unsuspecting customers? faulty, in what way? And so on until the stream-of-consciousness reached a plausible, logical conclusion he himself couldn't realize.
He stuffed his straw hat in tight, shoved his hands into his pockets and waded into the thin crowd, the party, though he'd seen wilder ones—was why he preferred the claustrophobia of indoor, cramped spaces, people bumping into each other, creating breeding programs in the corners of the household, passing cocaine and heroin and cheap wine and LSD and other synthetics and pharmaceuticals pertaining to the individual or collective desire of students and half-way youths passed around from person to person. In comparison, this was tame, but there was food: yum, yum, some gooood eatin, he thought, bemused by the turn of events, or lack thereof—but things weren't exactly of the generic label. In fact, on the contrary, tides were moving ways which were perhaps asynchronous to the ideals and philosophies, as long as the immediate present was concerned, of the east-siders, the schoolboys, hipsters from silver lake, palisades, which he supposed he wasn't in connection with much at all. What way? He knew Tyrell, by chance got to knew him while squeezing the mileage out of his interest in the arts, and he knew the people Tyrell was affiliated, if only by the tangential relationship a person develops from their environs. Not that he ever got along with them but they were there: the west-siders, hooligans, chums, trickies, waxen fools just broke from their own horizons studying hand-in-hand at a school that offered more street knowledge than, well, knowledge; and they were here too, school's out, broke, burnt, and all the boys had to go somewhere, courtesy of some vicious government hand pulling a knob or three, pulling on the knobs of the people, the bourgeois, the proletariat—who the fuck cares?
He recognized Alice, a classmate, or was a classmate, and was about to call her when he realized something.
They were actually here, the west-siders, and he knew for a fact that he wasn't hallucinating, or maybe he was but he wasn't sure. The bonfire, with its rising smoke, what could be considered a beacon for the party, was where their odd congregation was being held, though he couldn't spot Tyrell in there, being one of the only two of those types he knew. He thought he recognized a few, what a person can from crawling the streets at night, but he wasn't no personage of the eye, much less memory—and there was Ellie there, isolated, perhaps buzzed out, drunken or high was it? tugging at her sweaters, looking, if his observations were accurate, off her element. He did reckon that she was a party animal, and that was what he liked her—and if liked was too strong a word, he could at least say that made her who she was, though he could also say that he didn't know her that much, as much as knew anybody else—, so, perhaps to remedy such inclinations towards boredom and tedium and banality, he decided to approach her.
Of course, running into the middle of a tirade wasn't his plan, or for that matter, to engage anyone at all, but what he heard was: “To be honest, it's good to see actual people. These people are just unapproachable, it's like I have the black plague or something.” Morose, coming from a guy his age, though he didn't exactly blame him.
From the rear: Ellie, at the wheels of the fire; Davy, also at the wheels of fire but standing, gawking at the group. “How's the party?” he said, pointedly at Ellie—he did invite her and such invitations held obligations with it—, but, heck, could've been anyone. The rest of them? If he did invite them, or if anyone did, though he didn't know anyone who would, at least anyone in this party or any of the parties he gashed his way into the last few months, he did not remember. Doper's memory. But he felt an obligation nonetheless—not an obligation, but a curiosity, a necessity towards knowing.
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frumpkinisgod
MadiRaiCat
Akaelin
"Wha-?"
.
.
Elliot Scarborough
「Location : BBQ | Tags : Open」
Elliot approached the sand a bit closer, but not stepping onto it. Several people were already grouped around the flames, and a few others were scattered here and there between the cars. Elliot felt a bit too awkward to join them and be all friendly-like, and they would probably agree.
Why is this girl here? No one talks to her. She doesn't belong here, with the West or with anyone.
Shaking her head to disperse her thinking, she attempted to focus her attention on the ones by the fire.
Liliana. Or well, Lily as everyone else seems to call her. Nicknames are a strange thing, aren't they? Elliot never had one herself, and does not exactly wish for one. She disliked the idea that someone would give her an affectionate term, and then others using the nickname after hearing upon it, a bit like a domino effect. Despite that, she was kind of jealous of Liliana at one point. Having a great smile that can be pulled off so easily, and actually having social capabilities unlike Elliot. They haven't shared many conversations together, if any at all, and probably just consisted of "Yes" and "No" and "This class is boring".
Elliot's eyes shifted over to a more familiar face. Well, not that familiar, but at least she could remember that they had the same first name. The other Elliot's face was pale, and her arms were hugging her chest as to gain more warmth. She didn't exactly sit right beside the others, but rather on the outskirts of the group. That would probably be what Elliot Scarborough would do too. Although she did know that this Elliot - or Ellie - was far more outgoing and social than herself. There were times when she observed glints and glimpses of sadness in Ellie's eyes and expression, but she's able to change her atmosphere almost immediately.
I wonder if I'd be able to talk to her.
Nah, Elliot. No one likes you anyway. Why bother them?
Elliot walks forward nevertheless, letting her feet sink into the sand that was colder than she expected, sending chills up her spine. She didn't get close to anyone in particular, but rather sat behind the group and with a fair distance away from the fire. She reached for her pockets and took out her phone, so that she didn't look that lonely.
If it made any difference, that is.
Why is this girl here? No one talks to her. She doesn't belong here, with the West or with anyone.
Shaking her head to disperse her thinking, she attempted to focus her attention on the ones by the fire.
Liliana. Or well, Lily as everyone else seems to call her. Nicknames are a strange thing, aren't they? Elliot never had one herself, and does not exactly wish for one. She disliked the idea that someone would give her an affectionate term, and then others using the nickname after hearing upon it, a bit like a domino effect. Despite that, she was kind of jealous of Liliana at one point. Having a great smile that can be pulled off so easily, and actually having social capabilities unlike Elliot. They haven't shared many conversations together, if any at all, and probably just consisted of "Yes" and "No" and "This class is boring".
Elliot's eyes shifted over to a more familiar face. Well, not that familiar, but at least she could remember that they had the same first name. The other Elliot's face was pale, and her arms were hugging her chest as to gain more warmth. She didn't exactly sit right beside the others, but rather on the outskirts of the group. That would probably be what Elliot Scarborough would do too. Although she did know that this Elliot - or Ellie - was far more outgoing and social than herself. There were times when she observed glints and glimpses of sadness in Ellie's eyes and expression, but she's able to change her atmosphere almost immediately.
I wonder if I'd be able to talk to her.
Nah, Elliot. No one likes you anyway. Why bother them?
Elliot walks forward nevertheless, letting her feet sink into the sand that was colder than she expected, sending chills up her spine. She didn't get close to anyone in particular, but rather sat behind the group and with a fair distance away from the fire. She reached for her pockets and took out her phone, so that she didn't look that lonely.
If it made any difference, that is.
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dog mom
Elliot Covington
Ellie felt the warmth of the fire spreading through her body, quickly warming her from the cold she had felt earlier. With every sip from her flask she could also feel herself relaxing a little. As the familiar faces started showing up, she plastered on a tipsy grin and greeted them; giving a small acknowledging nod to Liliana when the girl took a seat a little ways away from her, laughing quietly at Caleb's outgoing personality as he talked a million miles a minute, giving a slight shrug to Davy when he asked how the party was, and giving the other Elliot a polite smile when she sat close to her.
These were her people, not the ones in tiny bikinis and expensive clothing. Now, to reply to all these friendo's. Flicking the butt of the cigarette into the fire Ellie listened to Caleb mentioned how people were avoiding him like the plague. She knew how he felt, people on the rich side did that to everyone who had less money than them, "trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague." She said, her words dark but her mood amused. "The party is shitty, like most East side ones are." She finally answered Davy with words, "but hey, there's good music." She said with smile.
She could also feel the high from earlier wearing off, so she took a few more swigs from the flask before placing it in her bag. Casually, she dug for her little tin and pulled out a joint, lighting it up as if it were no big deal. Already, people were looking at her with their noses wrinkled and a disgusted look, but she didn't care. She just took a few drags from it to replenish the high she so much enjoyed. Although she preferred pills, people were not drunk enough around her to not notice her taking anything yet, so she would wait until later on. Glancing around at the few people who sat beside her, she gave them each a look, a silent question as to whether they wanted some or not. She was not shy for sharing.
Interacting:
Akaelin
Qazi
frumpkinisgod
MadiRaiCat
(think that's it? Let me know if I missed you)
Ellie felt the warmth of the fire spreading through her body, quickly warming her from the cold she had felt earlier. With every sip from her flask she could also feel herself relaxing a little. As the familiar faces started showing up, she plastered on a tipsy grin and greeted them; giving a small acknowledging nod to Liliana when the girl took a seat a little ways away from her, laughing quietly at Caleb's outgoing personality as he talked a million miles a minute, giving a slight shrug to Davy when he asked how the party was, and giving the other Elliot a polite smile when she sat close to her.
These were her people, not the ones in tiny bikinis and expensive clothing. Now, to reply to all these friendo's. Flicking the butt of the cigarette into the fire Ellie listened to Caleb mentioned how people were avoiding him like the plague. She knew how he felt, people on the rich side did that to everyone who had less money than them, "trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague." She said, her words dark but her mood amused. "The party is shitty, like most East side ones are." She finally answered Davy with words, "but hey, there's good music." She said with smile.
She could also feel the high from earlier wearing off, so she took a few more swigs from the flask before placing it in her bag. Casually, she dug for her little tin and pulled out a joint, lighting it up as if it were no big deal. Already, people were looking at her with their noses wrinkled and a disgusted look, but she didn't care. She just took a few drags from it to replenish the high she so much enjoyed. Although she preferred pills, people were not drunk enough around her to not notice her taking anything yet, so she would wait until later on. Glancing around at the few people who sat beside her, she gave them each a look, a silent question as to whether they wanted some or not. She was not shy for sharing.
Interacting:
Akaelin
Qazi
frumpkinisgod
MadiRaiCat
(think that's it? Let me know if I missed you)
MahoganyLeaf
Member
The phone vibrated on his desk.
That instant, the noise of a pencil tip scratching against paper came to a halt. The writing hand, about to fish after the source of disturbance, hastily placed his leather case on top of the notebook to keep the pages from turning.
The notebook had a scent of cheap plastic.
Could it be...
Mom?
No.
Within a few swipes, the writer found himself staring down at a text from a guy he- relatively- knew.
One interesting individual with a peculiar mindset. But awfully- awfully, talkative for his taste.
Tyrell was invited to some beach party. The Tyrell Maccallum. The local lone wolf.
Very amusing- albeit pointless. Give it up, Paul. I'm not one for parties. You should very well know.
Ignoring the text, he flipped the phone so it bounced on his bed. He could've flipped the desk along with it.
A hand rose in aid for a sore neck. Lassitude engulfed him in invisible clutches. He felt his chest compress.
Tyrell blinked harder. Then it hit him.
He hadn't had water for a while. Hours ago to be specific.
Kate's iconic resonance rang across the hall just outside his territory- her clattering of feet thumped against the floor in rhythms along his heartbeat.
She picked her head slowly through a slightly opened door, ample enough to make her head fit.
"Yo! Did you see my phone?"
"No.
"........"
Kate was sigh-inducing.
"....Why?"
"I can't find it, duh."
"Okay. Where did you carry it last?" He leaned back in his chair.
She scratched her temples as she struggled to recall a past belonging not too far back in time.
"Um, pffft, uhhh the...the....the kitchen. But I already went it through and found nothin'."
"So?"
"So I wanted to borrow your phone so I can trail its ringing."
"Kay. Fine. I'll do it."
Then face did a U-turn. She seemed peeved.
"Wh..Why can't I ever borrow your phone?" Yours is so shiny, new and black, and I just got mom's old phone. This is hardly fair."
"Oh? And how many times did you drop your phone?"
"..."
Another sigh.
"I'm not helping you."
"Okay! Fine! Five! But it hasn't received one single scratch from it!"
"And that's why the two of you fit like harmony."
"Meanie. Now can I ask nicely for your phone? I'll give it back quicksies. Please?"
"Hm. I hope your hands are clean-"
"Ty! You chowderhead- I swear-"
"-Okay, okay. Take it. It's on the bed, kiddo."
Kate huffed, then mumbled a word of 'finally' as a smug triumphant smirk played on her lips.
On that moment. As if their bodies reacted simultaneously-
"Shit."
"OMIGOSH- you've been invited to a party and without telling?!! Can we go, please?! Please, please I'm so fucking boooored-"
She uttered a fake wail. If she wasn't annoying enough-
"Kate."
"Ty-"
"No."
"School is just around the cor-"
"No."
"I haven't had fun in monthsssssss-"
"I don't care."
"I'm too young to die of boredom-"
"You won't."
"I will! I need to experience something-anything fun before school star-mmph!-"
Tyrell stuffed a clean tissue in her mouth. She had a bad habit of opening her mouth wide while talking. And he did not want spit in his face.
"We're not going and that's final. It's not a place for us. Especially not kids."
"How unfair! I was just thinking we can stay there temporarily- just a little while- go grab some BBQ- listen to music, you can even bring your notebook while we watch the waves! Just the two of us!"
"I said no already. That's final."
"Aw, come on! I haven't been to a party for months. Months! The indoor life is killing me. I'm so bored, have literally nothing worthwhile to do. I did my summer homework, checked everything needing to be checked. And most of my friends have been to all sorts of exciting places. Even the park can be counted as exciting at this point! We've only gone back and forth from the hospital!"
Her lungs were emptied of air as her hand gripped the phone as if it could crumble. She inhaled sharply. Her eyes coated with glaze.
Tyrell contemplated for a moment whether to put on his headphones, but acknowledged the possibility of having them mercilessly yanked- likely with his skull attached.
"This is not just about me, it's also about you. Is it too much to ask for a little company from you? Days go by and it's usually just mom and me. You keep yourself in your stupid room, only get out so often to do your chores. You always reject my or mom's requests to spend quality time and instead lock yourself in. For how long will you treat us like this?!"
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
Boy.
"I'm fed up too! I feel very alone when mom isn't here. And you weren't always like this! We are a small family and need to do as much as we can for each other as you said. Once."
"I still recall you saying it. You did efforts back then to comfort me. Why did you stop? Do you suddenly care less for us?
-I mean, you help mom out with everything necessary even me, but it feels as if...your not really there for us. Uh- how do I put it- with your heart...wise. God I'm bad with words right now!"
No response from him. A knot was stuck down his throat. He'd caught himself eyeing the details of his carpet quite intently for a reason.
Their mom had been battling with cancer for years now. At this point, the three had grown accustomed- learned to cope- relatively.
For all that, his mom's condition still deteriorated during the course of the year.
Tyrell resolved to put her on a strict alkaline diet. Although difficult to observe improvements while she was receiving chemo. Her immune system was crippled.
In all fucking hell.
Where did the limit lie? In the end, what would she be left with?
His eyes traced a fallen tear drop colliding with the floor.
"Wait, Kate-" He tried again.
"Fine, I'll go."
Tyrell reached for her arm- then met a door slammed in his face. He gritted his teeth.
How the conversation escalated.
<Half an hour later>
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Kate was found by sitting on the living room couch. Her face was grim. Arms folded, as well as her back hunched into a protective shield.
Tyrell's presence was ignored. Something in him throbbed.
He wanted to make it up for her, he did undoubtedly did, he did not want to leave her in this condition- bearing a grudge towards him- For how long?
She blamed him for his detachment. His outward disinterest in bonding with his family- His only family for crying out loud- He wasn't there for them the way they needed him.
Why? He couldn't answer that any himself.
It frustrated him to become like this. Losing interest in living.
They weren't alone in this heartache.
"I'm sorry."
Kate didn't turn. Words came muffled when she spoke:
"...Oh, now you're feeling bad, so that's why you came down to apologize, I bet." Her head shifted slightly with a knowing look.
Tyrell drew a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, cuz' I realized you took the phone with you."
At that, she would've hurled his phone right back in his stomach area had he not caught it in time.
"Idiot." She huffed. Tyrell contemplated giving her the extra space. Just as he stood up to return to his room-
Kate heaved a dramatic sigh- as if it would make him budge.
It didn't.
Tyrell backed away slowly, one eyebrow raised with a squint. Slowly...
"JUST LET ME WALLOW HERE ALONE IN MY SADNESS."
"Oh, for crying out loud, Kate... Literally." He clasped his forehead.
"I JUST WANTED TO ENJOY SOMETHING GOOD FOR ONCE IN MY POOR LIFE."
She went on for twenty minutes. Why didn't he just walk out?
Minding his own business as he should've.
"Alright! Shut up!... We'll go. Christ." Her mouth was shut with a nearby pillow.
"Finally, baby!" She jumped up, smacking it away. Dashed to her room, changed her outfit- all in what felt like seconds.
From her left arm she held out a shirt, again she hurled it at him. "Here, put this on, The one you're wearing is ugly."
"You're tasteless" She blew him a raspberry. He rolled his eyes.
Regardless, he would make sure to keep her under tough surveillance.
Kate suggested for them ride on his bike with eager. Tyrell pushed her face away with disapproval.
They didn't have a car. So they took public transport.
He would likely come to regret this decision. He always did.
By no surprise was the place surrounded by rabblement.
Tyrell wanted to leave but Kate beat him to it, firmly dragging him around in search for food.
Babysitting was the worst.
That instant, the noise of a pencil tip scratching against paper came to a halt. The writing hand, about to fish after the source of disturbance, hastily placed his leather case on top of the notebook to keep the pages from turning.
The notebook had a scent of cheap plastic.
Could it be...
Mom?
No.
Within a few swipes, the writer found himself staring down at a text from a guy he- relatively- knew.
One interesting individual with a peculiar mindset. But awfully- awfully, talkative for his taste.
Tyrell was invited to some beach party. The Tyrell Maccallum. The local lone wolf.
Very amusing- albeit pointless. Give it up, Paul. I'm not one for parties. You should very well know.
Ignoring the text, he flipped the phone so it bounced on his bed. He could've flipped the desk along with it.
A hand rose in aid for a sore neck. Lassitude engulfed him in invisible clutches. He felt his chest compress.
Tyrell blinked harder. Then it hit him.
He hadn't had water for a while. Hours ago to be specific.
Kate's iconic resonance rang across the hall just outside his territory- her clattering of feet thumped against the floor in rhythms along his heartbeat.
She picked her head slowly through a slightly opened door, ample enough to make her head fit.
"Yo! Did you see my phone?"
"No.
"........"
Kate was sigh-inducing.
"....Why?"
"I can't find it, duh."
"Okay. Where did you carry it last?" He leaned back in his chair.
She scratched her temples as she struggled to recall a past belonging not too far back in time.
"Um, pffft, uhhh the...the....the kitchen. But I already went it through and found nothin'."
"So?"
"So I wanted to borrow your phone so I can trail its ringing."
"Kay. Fine. I'll do it."
Then face did a U-turn. She seemed peeved.
"Wh..Why can't I ever borrow your phone?" Yours is so shiny, new and black, and I just got mom's old phone. This is hardly fair."
"Oh? And how many times did you drop your phone?"
"..."
Another sigh.
"I'm not helping you."
"Okay! Fine! Five! But it hasn't received one single scratch from it!"
"And that's why the two of you fit like harmony."
"Meanie. Now can I ask nicely for your phone? I'll give it back quicksies. Please?"
"Hm. I hope your hands are clean-"
"Ty! You chowderhead- I swear-"
"-Okay, okay. Take it. It's on the bed, kiddo."
Kate huffed, then mumbled a word of 'finally' as a smug triumphant smirk played on her lips.
On that moment. As if their bodies reacted simultaneously-
"Shit."
"OMIGOSH- you've been invited to a party and without telling?!! Can we go, please?! Please, please I'm so fucking boooored-"
She uttered a fake wail. If she wasn't annoying enough-
"Kate."
"Ty-"
"No."
"School is just around the cor-"
"No."
"I haven't had fun in monthsssssss-"
"I don't care."
"I'm too young to die of boredom-"
"You won't."
"I will! I need to experience something-anything fun before school star-mmph!-"
Tyrell stuffed a clean tissue in her mouth. She had a bad habit of opening her mouth wide while talking. And he did not want spit in his face.
"We're not going and that's final. It's not a place for us. Especially not kids."
"How unfair! I was just thinking we can stay there temporarily- just a little while- go grab some BBQ- listen to music, you can even bring your notebook while we watch the waves! Just the two of us!"
"I said no already. That's final."
"Aw, come on! I haven't been to a party for months. Months! The indoor life is killing me. I'm so bored, have literally nothing worthwhile to do. I did my summer homework, checked everything needing to be checked. And most of my friends have been to all sorts of exciting places. Even the park can be counted as exciting at this point! We've only gone back and forth from the hospital!"
Her lungs were emptied of air as her hand gripped the phone as if it could crumble. She inhaled sharply. Her eyes coated with glaze.
Tyrell contemplated for a moment whether to put on his headphones, but acknowledged the possibility of having them mercilessly yanked- likely with his skull attached.
"This is not just about me, it's also about you. Is it too much to ask for a little company from you? Days go by and it's usually just mom and me. You keep yourself in your stupid room, only get out so often to do your chores. You always reject my or mom's requests to spend quality time and instead lock yourself in. For how long will you treat us like this?!"
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
Boy.
"I'm fed up too! I feel very alone when mom isn't here. And you weren't always like this! We are a small family and need to do as much as we can for each other as you said. Once."
"I still recall you saying it. You did efforts back then to comfort me. Why did you stop? Do you suddenly care less for us?
-I mean, you help mom out with everything necessary even me, but it feels as if...your not really there for us. Uh- how do I put it- with your heart...wise. God I'm bad with words right now!"
No response from him. A knot was stuck down his throat. He'd caught himself eyeing the details of his carpet quite intently for a reason.
Their mom had been battling with cancer for years now. At this point, the three had grown accustomed- learned to cope- relatively.
For all that, his mom's condition still deteriorated during the course of the year.
Tyrell resolved to put her on a strict alkaline diet. Although difficult to observe improvements while she was receiving chemo. Her immune system was crippled.
In all fucking hell.
Where did the limit lie? In the end, what would she be left with?
His eyes traced a fallen tear drop colliding with the floor.
"Wait, Kate-" He tried again.
"Fine, I'll go."
Tyrell reached for her arm- then met a door slammed in his face. He gritted his teeth.
How the conversation escalated.
<Half an hour later>
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Kate was found by sitting on the living room couch. Her face was grim. Arms folded, as well as her back hunched into a protective shield.
Tyrell's presence was ignored. Something in him throbbed.
He wanted to make it up for her, he did undoubtedly did, he did not want to leave her in this condition- bearing a grudge towards him- For how long?
She blamed him for his detachment. His outward disinterest in bonding with his family- His only family for crying out loud- He wasn't there for them the way they needed him.
Why? He couldn't answer that any himself.
It frustrated him to become like this. Losing interest in living.
They weren't alone in this heartache.
"I'm sorry."
Kate didn't turn. Words came muffled when she spoke:
"...Oh, now you're feeling bad, so that's why you came down to apologize, I bet." Her head shifted slightly with a knowing look.
Tyrell drew a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, cuz' I realized you took the phone with you."
At that, she would've hurled his phone right back in his stomach area had he not caught it in time.
"Idiot." She huffed. Tyrell contemplated giving her the extra space. Just as he stood up to return to his room-
Kate heaved a dramatic sigh- as if it would make him budge.
It didn't.
Tyrell backed away slowly, one eyebrow raised with a squint. Slowly...
"JUST LET ME WALLOW HERE ALONE IN MY SADNESS."
"Oh, for crying out loud, Kate... Literally." He clasped his forehead.
"I JUST WANTED TO ENJOY SOMETHING GOOD FOR ONCE IN MY POOR LIFE."
She went on for twenty minutes. Why didn't he just walk out?
Minding his own business as he should've.
"Alright! Shut up!... We'll go. Christ." Her mouth was shut with a nearby pillow.
"Finally, baby!" She jumped up, smacking it away. Dashed to her room, changed her outfit- all in what felt like seconds.
From her left arm she held out a shirt, again she hurled it at him. "Here, put this on, The one you're wearing is ugly."
"You're tasteless" She blew him a raspberry. He rolled his eyes.
Regardless, he would make sure to keep her under tough surveillance.
Kate suggested for them ride on his bike with eager. Tyrell pushed her face away with disapproval.
They didn't have a car. So they took public transport.
He would likely come to regret this decision. He always did.
By no surprise was the place surrounded by rabblement.
Tyrell wanted to leave but Kate beat him to it, firmly dragging him around in search for food.
Babysitting was the worst.
two
flames within
x
coded by nymphadora. ©
▌INFO: location: beach bbq - wearing: x - mood: curious - interaction: open
The sounds of laughter, silverware against plates, jazz music and interesting conversations filled the cafe on this afternoon- and almost evening. Sometimes George wondered whether there would be peaceful days where he didn't have to run around like crazy to serve every customer. Not that he didn't enjoy the bustle though, he'd prefer it anytime over a day with only three or four tables occupied. It's just that some time in between to.... to breathe would've been nice. While George started to clean one of the tables that just got available he noticed that one of the regular costumers, or better known as Norman, walked in. The male was seventy-three if George remembered it right and has been visiting the cafe every Saturday for as long as he can remember. "I almost thought you wouldn't show up today." George started with a light grin, looking over as he swept the last crumbles together in his hand. The response of the man was a rusty laugh followed by a subtle smack on the back of George's head. "Shut your lazy ass up and hurry with that table. Would've been way better if your mother hired your grandpa cuz i'm damn sure he's faster than you are." Norman eventually replied, sitting down at one of the chairs around the table. The two always communicated by joking with a light touch of roast behind it. It was amusing to see the look on customers who were questioning themselves if they really did hear what the two had just said. "I'd better watch out i if i were you or you might accidentally find some spit out of my mouth in your soup." George replied with a wider grin before he turned around and started to make his way back to the bar. He passed one of the other waiters by shifting his body horizontal so the two both fit in the passage between tables. Homemade tomato soup, a few pieces of bread, something to drink and their brownie speciality for dessert. It was always the same so there was no need to lead the conversation to what he wanted to order unless he indicated. George's mother approached him right when he started to fill a glass with beer. "You can leave after this, thanks for helping out g." she told him with her usual warm smile. "Have fun at the beach bbq, don't do stuff i wouldn't do and lock the door once you get home." she added before she dove back behind the cash register to continue her work. "Thanks, take care." George replied with a smile. The scrambled order note he wrote with Normanon it got passed to the kitchen and he made his way back to the table to serve the drink. "I guess it's your lucky day, grandpa will be here anytime soon." George jokingly said as he sat the glass down on the table. "See ya around!" was the last exchange of words between the two. A glimpse of Norman gesturing goodbye while taking a sip of his beer was the last thing he saw as he made his way out.
What to wear was rarely a question that popped into George's mind. Tonight he would wear in some people's eyes the most basic outfit ever while it was stylish in others: a black t-shirt, black jeans and a pair of custom nike af1's. The tattoos that covered the skin on his arms in combination with the painted sneakers would spice up the entire look. One of the pros of having a friend that can draw in the group. On top of that he didn't really care what people would think of it and in his eyes you couldn't really go wrong with an outfit like this. In the reflection of the mirror, George saw one of his younger siblings, Miro, half walking half crawling in. "Seriously? You've gotta stop climbing out of your crib." was George's first reaction. A happy squeal was the response of the four-year-old who stretched out his arms to make clear that he wanted to be held. While shaking his head George chuckled, picking Miro up before he returned to take a glance into the mirror again. "Do i look good?" he asked, knowing well that there wouldn't come out a sentence that made sense anyway. "You have silver ears!". The toddler was talking about the small golden hoop earrings that formed their way around his ear lobe. They were a gift from one of his uncles when he was around the age of nine, never took them out since. "Earrings Miro, earrings.". George grabbed the important necessities from of the closed toilet seat and made sure Miro wouldn't climb out of his crib again. Time to get to this beach bbq.
The bus ride wasn't very long but packed with people since it was rush hour. In general, George found it interesting to see all the kinds of people that moved around town by public transportation. From all dressed up men & women to children, elderly and homeless people. Ships Haven beach was the stop where he got out of the yellow vehicle and followed the small groups of people who seemed to be attending the same event. Here and there a few people caught his eye as he approached the bbq area. It was a combination of familiar and unfamiliar faces. At first glance he noticed Arielle in a conversation with a guy he'd seen around but didn't know his name of, Elliot behind a group of others close to the fire and duo that seemed to be brother and sister or something like that. It wasn't hard to tell who belonged to the eastsiders and who to the westsiders. If you didn't know for sure where they were from there would always be this small hint that would give it away. Most of the time how they carried themselves. There were a few individuals around who were eyeballing at him from a distance but George shrugged the thought of them off by checking out the table with drinks. Let's see what they've got here..[/I]
The sounds of laughter, silverware against plates, jazz music and interesting conversations filled the cafe on this afternoon- and almost evening. Sometimes George wondered whether there would be peaceful days where he didn't have to run around like crazy to serve every customer. Not that he didn't enjoy the bustle though, he'd prefer it anytime over a day with only three or four tables occupied. It's just that some time in between to.... to breathe would've been nice. While George started to clean one of the tables that just got available he noticed that one of the regular costumers, or better known as Norman, walked in. The male was seventy-three if George remembered it right and has been visiting the cafe every Saturday for as long as he can remember. "I almost thought you wouldn't show up today." George started with a light grin, looking over as he swept the last crumbles together in his hand. The response of the man was a rusty laugh followed by a subtle smack on the back of George's head. "Shut your lazy ass up and hurry with that table. Would've been way better if your mother hired your grandpa cuz i'm damn sure he's faster than you are." Norman eventually replied, sitting down at one of the chairs around the table. The two always communicated by joking with a light touch of roast behind it. It was amusing to see the look on customers who were questioning themselves if they really did hear what the two had just said. "I'd better watch out i if i were you or you might accidentally find some spit out of my mouth in your soup." George replied with a wider grin before he turned around and started to make his way back to the bar. He passed one of the other waiters by shifting his body horizontal so the two both fit in the passage between tables. Homemade tomato soup, a few pieces of bread, something to drink and their brownie speciality for dessert. It was always the same so there was no need to lead the conversation to what he wanted to order unless he indicated. George's mother approached him right when he started to fill a glass with beer. "You can leave after this, thanks for helping out g." she told him with her usual warm smile. "Have fun at the beach bbq, don't do stuff i wouldn't do and lock the door once you get home." she added before she dove back behind the cash register to continue her work. "Thanks, take care." George replied with a smile. The scrambled order note he wrote with Normanon it got passed to the kitchen and he made his way back to the table to serve the drink. "I guess it's your lucky day, grandpa will be here anytime soon." George jokingly said as he sat the glass down on the table. "See ya around!" was the last exchange of words between the two. A glimpse of Norman gesturing goodbye while taking a sip of his beer was the last thing he saw as he made his way out.
What to wear was rarely a question that popped into George's mind. Tonight he would wear in some people's eyes the most basic outfit ever while it was stylish in others: a black t-shirt, black jeans and a pair of custom nike af1's. The tattoos that covered the skin on his arms in combination with the painted sneakers would spice up the entire look. One of the pros of having a friend that can draw in the group. On top of that he didn't really care what people would think of it and in his eyes you couldn't really go wrong with an outfit like this. In the reflection of the mirror, George saw one of his younger siblings, Miro, half walking half crawling in. "Seriously? You've gotta stop climbing out of your crib." was George's first reaction. A happy squeal was the response of the four-year-old who stretched out his arms to make clear that he wanted to be held. While shaking his head George chuckled, picking Miro up before he returned to take a glance into the mirror again. "Do i look good?" he asked, knowing well that there wouldn't come out a sentence that made sense anyway. "You have silver ears!". The toddler was talking about the small golden hoop earrings that formed their way around his ear lobe. They were a gift from one of his uncles when he was around the age of nine, never took them out since. "Earrings Miro, earrings.". George grabbed the important necessities from of the closed toilet seat and made sure Miro wouldn't climb out of his crib again. Time to get to this beach bbq.
The bus ride wasn't very long but packed with people since it was rush hour. In general, George found it interesting to see all the kinds of people that moved around town by public transportation. From all dressed up men & women to children, elderly and homeless people. Ships Haven beach was the stop where he got out of the yellow vehicle and followed the small groups of people who seemed to be attending the same event. Here and there a few people caught his eye as he approached the bbq area. It was a combination of familiar and unfamiliar faces. At first glance he noticed Arielle in a conversation with a guy he'd seen around but didn't know his name of, Elliot behind a group of others close to the fire and duo that seemed to be brother and sister or something like that. It wasn't hard to tell who belonged to the eastsiders and who to the westsiders. If you didn't know for sure where they were from there would always be this small hint that would give it away. Most of the time how they carried themselves. There were a few individuals around who were eyeballing at him from a distance but George shrugged the thought of them off by checking out the table with drinks. Let's see what they've got here..[/I]
Last edited:
apolla
❛ it's only love, nobody dies ❜
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[div class=title]stella rhodes
[div class=line][/div]
[div class=lil]west side turned east[/div][/div]
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"You're not going."
Pausing in her attempts to pick an outfit, Stella dropped the shirt she was holding in front of her upper body, not bothering to turn around and face the speaker. "I'm going, and that's final."
Her stepfather sighed, and she couldn't hide the smirk that appeared on her lips. "Be home by midnight?" It was a question, not a statement, and it only made her grin grow wider.
"We'll see. Probably not, though." She responded easily, not moving until she heard him walk off, his feet barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. Glancing over her shoulder just to make sure, she dipped her shoulders in relief at his absence. Though she put on a good front, his happy go lucky attitude bothered her. And he and her mother were fools if they thought she didn't hear them fighting in hushed tones behind closed doors.
Lifting the shirt she'd been admiring a moment before, she suddenly found that she didn't like it. Tossing it onto a pile of discarded shirts on the bed, she turned back to her closet, digging until finding what she was looking for. The parentals would flip if they saw her wearing it. Did she care? No, not particularly. These were her last nights of summer before school started back up, and she was going to enjoy them.
Not much later, she stood in front of the mirror again, admiring the outfit. Satisfied, she started to head out of her room, pausing when she saw her mother in the doorway. Quirking a brow at her, she crossed her arms across her chest. The two were set to have a stare down until Stella broke the silence, her tone icy. "Coming to stop me, mom?"
"You should really put something else on." The woman didn't directly answer her question, her gaze flicking over her daughter's choice of attire.
"You bought me this shirt, remember?" Stella tilted her head, regarding the woman. What had she become so spineless? This wasn't the mother Lala remembered.
Tessa just shook her head, again not answering her daughter. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she seemed to change her mind. Turning around, she sent one last glance towards her daughter before disappearing into her bedroom. Stella watched her go, waiting a beat before sauntering past the room, heading downstairs and outside. Her jeep was parked there, and she hopped in, not wasting any time in starting it and driving towards the beach.
Once she arrived, she parked haphazardly on the gravel and sand parking lot, hopping out and heading towards the sound of people. She spotted many she knew, many she didn't care to know, but she pressed on. It wasn't until she saw George that she even considered stopping. Alot of west siders now looked at Stella as a traitor, though she was far from it.
"Hey there." She spoke proudly, confidently, hiding the worry that he would shoot her down like so many had done.
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[div class=stats]mood: slightly anxious | mentions: George | interaction: George (
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Pausing in her attempts to pick an outfit, Stella dropped the shirt she was holding in front of her upper body, not bothering to turn around and face the speaker. "I'm going, and that's final."
Her stepfather sighed, and she couldn't hide the smirk that appeared on her lips. "Be home by midnight?" It was a question, not a statement, and it only made her grin grow wider.
"We'll see. Probably not, though." She responded easily, not moving until she heard him walk off, his feet barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. Glancing over her shoulder just to make sure, she dipped her shoulders in relief at his absence. Though she put on a good front, his happy go lucky attitude bothered her. And he and her mother were fools if they thought she didn't hear them fighting in hushed tones behind closed doors.
Lifting the shirt she'd been admiring a moment before, she suddenly found that she didn't like it. Tossing it onto a pile of discarded shirts on the bed, she turned back to her closet, digging until finding what she was looking for. The parentals would flip if they saw her wearing it. Did she care? No, not particularly. These were her last nights of summer before school started back up, and she was going to enjoy them.
Not much later, she stood in front of the mirror again, admiring the outfit. Satisfied, she started to head out of her room, pausing when she saw her mother in the doorway. Quirking a brow at her, she crossed her arms across her chest. The two were set to have a stare down until Stella broke the silence, her tone icy. "Coming to stop me, mom?"
"You should really put something else on." The woman didn't directly answer her question, her gaze flicking over her daughter's choice of attire.
"You bought me this shirt, remember?" Stella tilted her head, regarding the woman. What had she become so spineless? This wasn't the mother Lala remembered.
Tessa just shook her head, again not answering her daughter. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she seemed to change her mind. Turning around, she sent one last glance towards her daughter before disappearing into her bedroom. Stella watched her go, waiting a beat before sauntering past the room, heading downstairs and outside. Her jeep was parked there, and she hopped in, not wasting any time in starting it and driving towards the beach.
Once she arrived, she parked haphazardly on the gravel and sand parking lot, hopping out and heading towards the sound of people. She spotted many she knew, many she didn't care to know, but she pressed on. It wasn't until she saw George that she even considered stopping. Alot of west siders now looked at Stella as a traitor, though she was far from it.
"Hey there." She spoke proudly, confidently, hiding the worry that he would shoot her down like so many had done.
two
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Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
travelbypages
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
As she approached the bonfire, Alice could see many people already sitting around it. The west-siders caught her attention, and she heard something she probably wasnt intended to hear.
- Trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague. The girl said, causing Alice to feel annoyed. They had been invited to a party and the girl had the guts to insult their "hosts". It was kind of admirable, but also very stupid.
- The party is shitty, like most East side ones are. But hey, there's good music. It seems the girl answered a question asked by someone. Alice couldnt help but smile a little - this party was already getting rather interesting.
She slowly lowered herself behind the girl and brought her head next to the girls, staring into the flames of the bonfire in front of them.
- You know whats worse than the rodents carrying the plague? Those that are stupid enough to attend the party aforementioned rodents are hosting - but I dont know if I can blame you, maybe the plague has already caused your brain to rot. She said in a calm tone, although a slight annoyance could be heard from it. Even though she entertained the idea of telling the girl how she could see herself to the closest taxi and go home - just before pointing out how it might be a tad too expensive. But that would've been a low-blow, and she refused to stoop there.
- If you are displeased with the party, you can close your pretty mouth and walk away. Anyway, welcome to the sewers, west-sider. Her voice turned from calm to sarcastically cheerful as she welcomed the girl. Alices gaze went to the girls face for a moment as she smiled and stood up again to pull a cider out of her backpack, open it and take a sip - she would not make it through the party without drinking at least a little, with the current situation, anyway.
Alice wasn't exactly hostile towards west-siders, and if she found some common ground with one, she wouldn't mind befriending them. But fact was that east-siders and west-siders were pretty much raised to dislike each other. Either west-siders would be very hostile because of the wealth the east-siders had, or east-siders would be hostile because they thought west-siders were all criminals or up to no good. It was an ugly cycle, but Alice had to admit to herself that she was guilty of judging books by the cover.
Just like that girl in front of her - she looked like the kind who was giving her parents a hard time in the name of "Nobody gets me" or "I'm too smart for this world, everyone else is stupid and boring". Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but it proved the point that she too was judgmental at times. Of course, she kept it to herself.
[/div][/div]
[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
travelbypages
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
As she approached the bonfire, Alice could see many people already sitting around it. The west-siders caught her attention, and she heard something she probably wasnt intended to hear.
- Trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague. The girl said, causing Alice to feel annoyed. They had been invited to a party and the girl had the guts to insult their "hosts". It was kind of admirable, but also very stupid.
- The party is shitty, like most East side ones are. But hey, there's good music. It seems the girl answered a question asked by someone. Alice couldnt help but smile a little - this party was already getting rather interesting.
She slowly lowered herself behind the girl and brought her head next to the girls, staring into the flames of the bonfire in front of them.
- You know whats worse than the rodents carrying the plague? Those that are stupid enough to attend the party aforementioned rodents are hosting - but I dont know if I can blame you, maybe the plague has already caused your brain to rot. She said in a calm tone, although a slight annoyance could be heard from it. Even though she entertained the idea of telling the girl how she could see herself to the closest taxi and go home - just before pointing out how it might be a tad too expensive. But that would've been a low-blow, and she refused to stoop there.
- If you are displeased with the party, you can close your pretty mouth and walk away. Anyway, welcome to the sewers, west-sider. Her voice turned from calm to sarcastically cheerful as she welcomed the girl. Alices gaze went to the girls face for a moment as she smiled and stood up again to pull a cider out of her backpack, open it and take a sip - she would not make it through the party without drinking at least a little, with the current situation, anyway.
Alice wasn't exactly hostile towards west-siders, and if she found some common ground with one, she wouldn't mind befriending them. But fact was that east-siders and west-siders were pretty much raised to dislike each other. Either west-siders would be very hostile because of the wealth the east-siders had, or east-siders would be hostile because they thought west-siders were all criminals or up to no good. It was an ugly cycle, but Alice had to admit to herself that she was guilty of judging books by the cover.
Just like that girl in front of her - she looked like the kind who was giving her parents a hard time in the name of "Nobody gets me" or "I'm too smart for this world, everyone else is stupid and boring". Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but it proved the point that she too was judgmental at times. Of course, she kept it to herself.
[/div][/div]
Code by @Woebegone
As she approached the bonfire, Alice could see many people already sitting around it. The west-siders caught her attention, and she heard something she probably wasnt intended to hear.
- Trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague. The girl said, causing Alice to feel annoyed. They had been invited to a party and the girl had the guts to insult their "hosts". It was kind of admirable, but also very stupid.
- The party is shitty, like most East side ones are. But hey, there's good music. It seems the girl answered a question asked by someone. Alice couldnt help but smile a little - this party was already getting rather interesting.
She slowly lowered herself behind the girl and brought her head next to the girls, staring into the flames of the bonfire in front of them.
- You know whats worse than the rodents carrying the plague? Those that are stupid enough to attend the party aforementioned rodents are hosting - but I dont know if I can blame you, maybe the plague has already caused your brain to rot. She said in a calm tone, although a slight annoyance could be heard from it. Even though she entertained the idea of telling the girl how she could see herself to the closest taxi and go home - just before pointing out how it might be a tad too expensive. But that would've been a low-blow, and she refused to stoop there.
- If you are displeased with the party, you can close your pretty mouth and walk away. Anyway, welcome to the sewers, west-sider. Her voice turned from calm to sarcastically cheerful as she welcomed the girl. Alices gaze went to the girls face for a moment as she smiled and stood up again to pull a cider out of her backpack, open it and take a sip - she would not make it through the party without drinking at least a little, with the current situation, anyway.
Alice wasn't exactly hostile towards west-siders, and if she found some common ground with one, she wouldn't mind befriending them. But fact was that east-siders and west-siders were pretty much raised to dislike each other. Either west-siders would be very hostile because of the wealth the east-siders had, or east-siders would be hostile because they thought west-siders were all criminals or up to no good. It was an ugly cycle, but Alice had to admit to herself that she was guilty of judging books by the cover.
Just like that girl in front of her - she looked like the kind who was giving her parents a hard time in the name of "Nobody gets me" or "I'm too smart for this world, everyone else is stupid and boring". Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but it proved the point that she too was judgmental at times. Of course, she kept it to herself.
- Trick is, is to ignore it. They're the rodents that gave us the plague. The girl said, causing Alice to feel annoyed. They had been invited to a party and the girl had the guts to insult their "hosts". It was kind of admirable, but also very stupid.
- The party is shitty, like most East side ones are. But hey, there's good music. It seems the girl answered a question asked by someone. Alice couldnt help but smile a little - this party was already getting rather interesting.
She slowly lowered herself behind the girl and brought her head next to the girls, staring into the flames of the bonfire in front of them.
- You know whats worse than the rodents carrying the plague? Those that are stupid enough to attend the party aforementioned rodents are hosting - but I dont know if I can blame you, maybe the plague has already caused your brain to rot. She said in a calm tone, although a slight annoyance could be heard from it. Even though she entertained the idea of telling the girl how she could see herself to the closest taxi and go home - just before pointing out how it might be a tad too expensive. But that would've been a low-blow, and she refused to stoop there.
- If you are displeased with the party, you can close your pretty mouth and walk away. Anyway, welcome to the sewers, west-sider. Her voice turned from calm to sarcastically cheerful as she welcomed the girl. Alices gaze went to the girls face for a moment as she smiled and stood up again to pull a cider out of her backpack, open it and take a sip - she would not make it through the party without drinking at least a little, with the current situation, anyway.
Alice wasn't exactly hostile towards west-siders, and if she found some common ground with one, she wouldn't mind befriending them. But fact was that east-siders and west-siders were pretty much raised to dislike each other. Either west-siders would be very hostile because of the wealth the east-siders had, or east-siders would be hostile because they thought west-siders were all criminals or up to no good. It was an ugly cycle, but Alice had to admit to herself that she was guilty of judging books by the cover.
Just like that girl in front of her - she looked like the kind who was giving her parents a hard time in the name of "Nobody gets me" or "I'm too smart for this world, everyone else is stupid and boring". Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but it proved the point that she too was judgmental at times. Of course, she kept it to herself.
Last edited:
MahoganyLeaf
Member
The music was boisterous, ear-splitting, half-naked were dancing around, many bearing resemblances of, dare he say it- suntanned sausages. And of course, alcohol was distributed amongst the gathering. Not to mention the smuggling of drugs.
The air was crisp and heavy. Instinctually, his nose wrinkled.
He laid out a plan: search for the dining area, let Kate fill up her plate full- and find some sweet spot isolated as far from the gathering as possible.
To his sister's glee, they were presented with a wide table of a large variety of buffet food. As expected of the eastern party people to whirl simplicity into extravagance. Their flamboyant lifestyles were clearly expressed in every pigment.
Kate was yelling incoherent words into his ears- whatever it was, irrelevant to his interest.
He didn't understand the hype surrounding chocolate fountains. Stationed on high pyramids of different sized blocky layers stacked on one another. Surrounding it was the decorations of silver trays of fruit as well as confections, ready to take a dip into the wholesome stream of a velvety mass of rich chocolate.
Despite his sweet tooth, he did not want to give in to pleasure. He despised the party and wanted to go home.
How his head hurt. It was an ear-splitting environment filled with drums and bass throbbing his head to pieces. Kate's loud volume could be justified in this case. He could hardly make out her words.
And Tyrell wasn't fooled, he felt people's gazes dig holes in his neck. Not so welcome, huh? His lips curled so slightly by the thought of stirring disturbance. Tyrell really did not need to lift a finger.
As long as his presence didn't get Kate in any trouble.
The last thing he wanted was running into people who recognized him from school. Especially of those he left on some pretty bad terms with.
Kate was possibly the only underage to attend the party- In entirety. The consequences of his irresponsible decision weighted a brick in his middles. If his mom texted him in this very moment, god forbid- he could not lie to her. Or maybe he would try- bearing her condition in mind.
But, he would bury his own grave after this. The concept of the afterlife did make him curious.
Awfully, curious.
Without notice, Kate needed to use the bathroom, and asap she demanded, that little.
"You should've gone before we went."
"And I did! I couldn't help it, I think I ate too much. But the food is just so gooooood."
And so she scurried to do her thing, Tyrell sat himself down at one of the straw chairs situated outside the rather fancy- public toilet. It was nothing short of size- unsurprising as people from the richer district would abhor the concept of confined spaces. But with luxurious framework followed strict hygiene control- a common thing which the west public toilets did tend to lack. That he appreciated.
He took out his phone and began writing on his notes.
And Kate took forever to finish.
At that moment, a group of females walked out of the washrooms in assembly.
Accompanied by the usual laughter and prattling, the girls would come too close for his liking. Long glances and flirty smiles flashed. He kept his face down pretending to be deeply occupied. He would roll his eyes so hard, they could drop at any moment.
Thankfully, they took the cue. That he ignored them on purpose.
Possessing good looks had its disadvantages.
After a long last. Kate got out, her face a little redder than the ordinary.
"I'm good with the food for now."
"Good. To. Know."
They found a corner near the seashore secluded by large rocks. Kate grabbed her sports bag, unzipped it and drew out a rug for them to sit on.
Tyrell emptied his sneakers for sand, while Kate opted for her glittery sandals. Her bracelets jingled as she momentarily got up for a good stretch before returning to her sitting.
The two were doused under sun's golden rays, bathed in enveloping warmth with the occasional winds drifting by.
Pink and purple clouds formed as striking colors collided in contrast to one another. Kate commented that it was breathtaking. He couldn't help but agree.
She also added she wanted to come here more often with him at some time when the beach was vacant. He said he would put into consideration.
Strangely, the view of the sea and its waves gave him a sense of calm. A sensation he'd yearned for but paid never heed to. A latent sensation.
He would consider it.
The air was crisp and heavy. Instinctually, his nose wrinkled.
He laid out a plan: search for the dining area, let Kate fill up her plate full- and find some sweet spot isolated as far from the gathering as possible.
To his sister's glee, they were presented with a wide table of a large variety of buffet food. As expected of the eastern party people to whirl simplicity into extravagance. Their flamboyant lifestyles were clearly expressed in every pigment.
Kate was yelling incoherent words into his ears- whatever it was, irrelevant to his interest.
He didn't understand the hype surrounding chocolate fountains. Stationed on high pyramids of different sized blocky layers stacked on one another. Surrounding it was the decorations of silver trays of fruit as well as confections, ready to take a dip into the wholesome stream of a velvety mass of rich chocolate.
Despite his sweet tooth, he did not want to give in to pleasure. He despised the party and wanted to go home.
How his head hurt. It was an ear-splitting environment filled with drums and bass throbbing his head to pieces. Kate's loud volume could be justified in this case. He could hardly make out her words.
And Tyrell wasn't fooled, he felt people's gazes dig holes in his neck. Not so welcome, huh? His lips curled so slightly by the thought of stirring disturbance. Tyrell really did not need to lift a finger.
As long as his presence didn't get Kate in any trouble.
The last thing he wanted was running into people who recognized him from school. Especially of those he left on some pretty bad terms with.
Kate was possibly the only underage to attend the party- In entirety. The consequences of his irresponsible decision weighted a brick in his middles. If his mom texted him in this very moment, god forbid- he could not lie to her. Or maybe he would try- bearing her condition in mind.
But, he would bury his own grave after this. The concept of the afterlife did make him curious.
Awfully, curious.
Without notice, Kate needed to use the bathroom, and asap she demanded, that little.
"You should've gone before we went."
"And I did! I couldn't help it, I think I ate too much. But the food is just so gooooood."
And so she scurried to do her thing, Tyrell sat himself down at one of the straw chairs situated outside the rather fancy- public toilet. It was nothing short of size- unsurprising as people from the richer district would abhor the concept of confined spaces. But with luxurious framework followed strict hygiene control- a common thing which the west public toilets did tend to lack. That he appreciated.
He took out his phone and began writing on his notes.
And Kate took forever to finish.
At that moment, a group of females walked out of the washrooms in assembly.
Accompanied by the usual laughter and prattling, the girls would come too close for his liking. Long glances and flirty smiles flashed. He kept his face down pretending to be deeply occupied. He would roll his eyes so hard, they could drop at any moment.
Thankfully, they took the cue. That he ignored them on purpose.
Possessing good looks had its disadvantages.
After a long last. Kate got out, her face a little redder than the ordinary.
"I'm good with the food for now."
"Good. To. Know."
They found a corner near the seashore secluded by large rocks. Kate grabbed her sports bag, unzipped it and drew out a rug for them to sit on.
Tyrell emptied his sneakers for sand, while Kate opted for her glittery sandals. Her bracelets jingled as she momentarily got up for a good stretch before returning to her sitting.
The two were doused under sun's golden rays, bathed in enveloping warmth with the occasional winds drifting by.
Pink and purple clouds formed as striking colors collided in contrast to one another. Kate commented that it was breathtaking. He couldn't help but agree.
She also added she wanted to come here more often with him at some time when the beach was vacant. He said he would put into consideration.
Strangely, the view of the sea and its waves gave him a sense of calm. A sensation he'd yearned for but paid never heed to. A latent sensation.
He would consider it.
MadiRaiCat
Wine Aunt
Liliana Atwood
Location: Beach BBQ Party
Mentions: Elliot S. (
Akaelin
)
Interactions: Elliot C. (
travelbypages
), Caleb (
frumpkinisgod
), Alice (
Jinx of Chaos
)
Clothing: x
Mentions: Elliot S. (
Akaelin
)Interactions: Elliot C. (
travelbypages
), Caleb (
frumpkinisgod
), Alice (
Jinx of Chaos
)Clothing: x
codedbycrucialstar
codedbycrucialstar
Ungifted ;-;
✨im on display for all you fu**ers to see✨
Autumn AdamsLocation: Home------>Beach BBQ Party
Mood: Calm
Interactions: None Yet
With: None Yet
Tags: Nobody
Clothing: Princess
Mood: Calm
Interactions: None Yet
With: None Yet
Tags: Nobody
Clothing: Princess
codedbycrucialstar
Last edited:
Cosmo
Does Not Know Kung-fu
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
Rolling drums filled the cab of the large red dodge pick-up as it lazily traveled down the busy beach side road, the sun was setting and there was to be a BBQ meet and greet between the East and West, an idea that was surely to go nowhere save for a few fights and snickers at the poor beggars who got lost on the way to the soup kitchen, or their working corners, and at the rich kids with sticks so far up their asses they could easily double as puppets if it was tweaked just enough. After all, there was nothing like an Us vs Them scenario to bring a new student body together in unity and harmony with the ever classy dash of prom night dumpster babies as was the legacy of all high schools. Why had this happened? Because some inconsiderate asshat had burnt down the West side school, and that inconsiderate asshat was none other then Alfred, the man driving his nice red pick-up to the gathering.
"Hey, Alfred, how'd that thing go? You know, asking that one girl from West side out?" a boisterous voice that was two octaves too high broke out from the seat behind him, Dave was leaning over the small center seat. From the corner of his eye, Alfred could see his other two friends turn their attention to them, a glint of mischief in their eyes, "Yes, do tell us that delicious tea!" Chipped in the much more feminine voice of Sophie from the passenger seat, her platinum blond hair tucked over her ear in painfully obvious manner to show off her new diamond earrings that her father had recently brought back for her from India.
"So, there I was," Alfred said, "I walk up to her and I'm like, 'Hey, you with the face, how you doin'?" he continued, telling them a far, far, far bastardized and fictional version of what happened because it wasn't their business and it was always fun to tell a good story, "And she looks at me and tells me that she isn't into 'my kind'"
A snicker from the corner told Alfred that Zach was awake and listening, "And at first, I was, you know, like oh, 'she isn't into rich guys', don't want her a sugar daddy, but then it hits me... It's cause..."
"Was it because you're black?" Dave said, his torso halfway into the front cabin now, his voice filled with mock shock and disgust.
"Black?" Alfred said looking up at him through the back mirror, "What? No, you racist bastard, it was because I had a Hello Kitty shirt on, obviously, Jesus man, I blame your parents for that ignorance right there."
Sophie snorted with laughter as Dave mouth hung low for a moment before his mind caught up and he hollered with laughter, "I blame them to."
"Yeah, you should probably blame the floor they dropped you on to," Zach added from his corner, his eyes half closed as the ever cool varsity linebacker did his best to pretend to not be as invested in the conversation as he was.
Alfred glanced out his side mirror to the cars behind him as the banter continued back and forth, locking on to one particularly fancy looking plastic sports car that screamed that lovely duo of midlife crisis and overcompensation that was so prevalent in East Side, when it finally got close enough to make out what it was, Alfred groaned, "Hey, look, its a Miata, you think he got a purse when he bought that?"
Dave glanced out the back window and shrugged, "Probably got it to impress his secretary, for those late, *long*, hours at work."
"Please," Alfred said, "The purse was probably the *longest* thing he ever gave to his secretary. You should have to hand over your man card if you drive that thing. Its like those fucks that do 'Molly'. Doing a drug called Molly is just dumb, I mean, who came up with that name? I'm embarrassed for them."
"Oh, come on, Molly can be fun," Sophie said as she raised a blond eyebrow at him, "Don't be such a prude."
"My dear Sophie," Alfred said taking his eyes off the road to look at her, "Just because I won't date you doesn't mean I'm a prude. Its not you, really, its not, its me. You see, I have this weird thing about not wanting to get the clap and I just can't seem to get over it, its shameful really."
It took Sophie a moment to process what he had just said before she smacked him on the arm, "Don't be a dick!"
"Aw, its okay Soph," Dave said, the large smile stretching across his face, "I'd do you whenever you want."
"Ugh, I'm sure," Sophie said, Alfred mused that if she rolled her eyes any harder she'd break them, "But I'll think I'll stick to the 'non-dropped baby' section of the man aisle, thank you very much."
"Hey, look whose in a hurry," Zach called up, his head turned out the back window. Alfred peeked out his side mirror in time to see the little Miata revving up as it weaved in and out of lanes, "Oh shit, boyos, we got a badass back there!"
"Don't do it," Sophie warned.
Alfred didn't look at her, instead, he kept his eyes trained on the Miata, "Do what? This?" At the last moment, Alfred turned the wheel hard, merging into the next lane right in front of the Miata and cutting it off, "Oops!" He called out the window, it wasn't like the man would be able to hear him, but it was the thought that counted.
The Miata paused for a second before it tried to go back into the lane Alfred was just in, but once again, Alfred jerked the wheel and careened back into his old lane, once again, blocking the small Miata, "Oh, no! I'm sorry! I was in the right lane the whole time!" His words were met with a chorus of giggles and howls of laughter from the occupants in his cab.
For the next few minutes, it became a game of blocking the Miata behind them with the Miata driver becoming more and more angry to the point he was taking some incredibly dangerous merges that nearly had them smashing into each other twice, "Oh, gawd, folks! Alfred is in two lanes at once! How does he do it!? What devil did he sell his soul to to be able to pull this off! How much juice did he drink! Is there no stopping him!" Alfred said as he continued his gag of being an announcer for his own life.
"Okay, okay, let him through, Al, this is dumb," Sophie said with a sigh, although the corner of her lip was curled up.
"Fine, fine, but folks, I think this guy deserves a salute, doesn't he?" Alfred said as he rolled down the windows. As one, four hands stuck out the windows to give the Miata the one-finger salute as he finally steamed by offering them a finger in return.
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
Alfred brought the truck to a stop at the beach, people were already gathering for the BBQ and a part of him warned him that tonight was not going to be a night he wanted to be at and he was better off home playing some games, but he was already here so.. "Okay kiddos," Alfred said turning to them, "If you get lucky, find your own damn rides home, if you want to go home before I do, find your own damn ride home, if I want to go home before you do, find your own damn ride home... Oh, and always wrap it up and make good choices~"
Rolling drums filled the cab of the large red dodge pick-up as it lazily traveled down the busy beach side road, the sun was setting and there was to be a BBQ meet and greet between the East and West, an idea that was surely to go nowhere save for a few fights and snickers at the poor beggars who got lost on the way to the soup kitchen, or their working corners, and at the rich kids with sticks so far up their asses they could easily double as puppets if it was tweaked just enough. After all, there was nothing like an Us vs Them scenario to bring a new student body together in unity and harmony with the ever classy dash of prom night dumpster babies as was the legacy of all high schools. Why had this happened? Because some inconsiderate asshat had burnt down the West side school, and that inconsiderate asshat was none other then Alfred, the man driving his nice red pick-up to the gathering.
"Hey, Alfred, how'd that thing go? You know, asking that one girl from West side out?" a boisterous voice that was two octaves too high broke out from the seat behind him, Dave was leaning over the small center seat. From the corner of his eye, Alfred could see his other two friends turn their attention to them, a glint of mischief in their eyes, "Yes, do tell us that delicious tea!" Chipped in the much more feminine voice of Sophie from the passenger seat, her platinum blond hair tucked over her ear in painfully obvious manner to show off her new diamond earrings that her father had recently brought back for her from India.
"So, there I was," Alfred said, "I walk up to her and I'm like, 'Hey, you with the face, how you doin'?" he continued, telling them a far, far, far bastardized and fictional version of what happened because it wasn't their business and it was always fun to tell a good story, "And she looks at me and tells me that she isn't into 'my kind'"
A snicker from the corner told Alfred that Zach was awake and listening, "And at first, I was, you know, like oh, 'she isn't into rich guys', don't want her a sugar daddy, but then it hits me... It's cause..."
"Was it because you're black?" Dave said, his torso halfway into the front cabin now, his voice filled with mock shock and disgust.
"Black?" Alfred said looking up at him through the back mirror, "What? No, you racist bastard, it was because I had a Hello Kitty shirt on, obviously, Jesus man, I blame your parents for that ignorance right there."
Sophie snorted with laughter as Dave mouth hung low for a moment before his mind caught up and he hollered with laughter, "I blame them to."
"Yeah, you should probably blame the floor they dropped you on to," Zach added from his corner, his eyes half closed as the ever cool varsity linebacker did his best to pretend to not be as invested in the conversation as he was.
Alfred glanced out his side mirror to the cars behind him as the banter continued back and forth, locking on to one particularly fancy looking plastic sports car that screamed that lovely duo of midlife crisis and overcompensation that was so prevalent in East Side, when it finally got close enough to make out what it was, Alfred groaned, "Hey, look, its a Miata, you think he got a purse when he bought that?"
Dave glanced out the back window and shrugged, "Probably got it to impress his secretary, for those late, *long*, hours at work."
"Please," Alfred said, "The purse was probably the *longest* thing he ever gave to his secretary. You should have to hand over your man card if you drive that thing. Its like those fucks that do 'Molly'. Doing a drug called Molly is just dumb, I mean, who came up with that name? I'm embarrassed for them."
"Oh, come on, Molly can be fun," Sophie said as she raised a blond eyebrow at him, "Don't be such a prude."
"My dear Sophie," Alfred said taking his eyes off the road to look at her, "Just because I won't date you doesn't mean I'm a prude. Its not you, really, its not, its me. You see, I have this weird thing about not wanting to get the clap and I just can't seem to get over it, its shameful really."
It took Sophie a moment to process what he had just said before she smacked him on the arm, "Don't be a dick!"
"Aw, its okay Soph," Dave said, the large smile stretching across his face, "I'd do you whenever you want."
"Ugh, I'm sure," Sophie said, Alfred mused that if she rolled her eyes any harder she'd break them, "But I'll think I'll stick to the 'non-dropped baby' section of the man aisle, thank you very much."
"Hey, look whose in a hurry," Zach called up, his head turned out the back window. Alfred peeked out his side mirror in time to see the little Miata revving up as it weaved in and out of lanes, "Oh shit, boyos, we got a badass back there!"
"Don't do it," Sophie warned.
Alfred didn't look at her, instead, he kept his eyes trained on the Miata, "Do what? This?" At the last moment, Alfred turned the wheel hard, merging into the next lane right in front of the Miata and cutting it off, "Oops!" He called out the window, it wasn't like the man would be able to hear him, but it was the thought that counted.
The Miata paused for a second before it tried to go back into the lane Alfred was just in, but once again, Alfred jerked the wheel and careened back into his old lane, once again, blocking the small Miata, "Oh, no! I'm sorry! I was in the right lane the whole time!" His words were met with a chorus of giggles and howls of laughter from the occupants in his cab.
For the next few minutes, it became a game of blocking the Miata behind them with the Miata driver becoming more and more angry to the point he was taking some incredibly dangerous merges that nearly had them smashing into each other twice, "Oh, gawd, folks! Alfred is in two lanes at once! How does he do it!? What devil did he sell his soul to to be able to pull this off! How much juice did he drink! Is there no stopping him!" Alfred said as he continued his gag of being an announcer for his own life.
"Okay, okay, let him through, Al, this is dumb," Sophie said with a sigh, although the corner of her lip was curled up.
"Fine, fine, but folks, I think this guy deserves a salute, doesn't he?" Alfred said as he rolled down the windows. As one, four hands stuck out the windows to give the Miata the one-finger salute as he finally steamed by offering them a finger in return.
━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
Alfred brought the truck to a stop at the beach, people were already gathering for the BBQ and a part of him warned him that tonight was not going to be a night he wanted to be at and he was better off home playing some games, but he was already here so.. "Okay kiddos," Alfred said turning to them, "If you get lucky, find your own damn rides home, if you want to go home before I do, find your own damn ride home, if I want to go home before you do, find your own damn ride home... Oh, and always wrap it up and make good choices~"
"Thanks dad," Sophie said with the long since mastered roll of the eyes as she hopped out of the truck.
Alfred followed suit and was flanked by Dave and Zach, "So where to first?" he asked as his eyes roamed the shoreline.
Alfred followed suit and was flanked by Dave and Zach, "So where to first?" he asked as his eyes roamed the shoreline.
Last edited:
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
“I had nothing to do with it to be honest, it was in good condition even when it was passed down to me.” Arielle didn’t even think much of the car, as long as it got her from point A to B she could care less about what type it was. It was only because her uncle had ranted and raved about taking care of his baby that she figured it was something of value. His comment about West-siders made her smirk faintly, so she had been right then. So the East-siders where a bunch of light-weights, she couldn’t lie and say she’d expected anything less. “Nah, whatever they have is fine.” She waved hand dismissively. Arielle had no intentions of getting drunk at the party, being around so many of them kind of made her antsy and when drunk she tended to become bold and loud.
Once they reached the coolers Arielle grabbed a wine cooler from the bottom. She noticed someone else checking out the drinks as well. Upon closer inspection she recognized him. She’d seen him many times in the underground scene. And if she wasn’t mistaken he was member of FLAME, Arielle didn’t know his name. She enjoyed their music though. The young woman gave him a simple nod, recognizing him as a fellow West-sider. She didn’t see if he’d noticed or not as her temporary escort had started talking again.
Arielle took note of his posture, he seemed more relaxed than before. She then held his gaze and seemed to be searching for something. His eyes were a little low as well. Arielle realized just what she was seeing but said nothing. What he decided to do was his business. “We’ve never met before. I’d remember someone like you if we had.” Arielle opened her drink and took a sip. Her comment could have been a compliment or an insult but due to her nonchalant tone it was hard to tell. “Miles the soldier or the merciful. I’m Arielle, not like them mermaid.” Arielle had stayed the meaning of his name without realizing. It was something that she did in her free time, especially when she was bored.
code by Ri.a
Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
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background-size:200px;
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border-radius: 250px;
border: 3px solid #8B0000 ;
transition-duration: 1s;
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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
MadiRaiCat
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
Alices attention was caught by a girl sitting nearby, as she was explaining her how plagues worked. Her quite sarcastic smile remained as she took another sip from her cider.
- Since this "plague" you have is imaginary, it is only fitting for it to have imaginary symptoms. But hey, good job on actually learning something - was it while you were taking a break from doing drugs? Im surprised you still have all your teeth. Even Alice could admit to herself that what she said was quite mean, but she was not going down without a fight - and especially not after the other girl made it clear that she imagined her being like Sharpay from High School Musical.
Being annoyed, Alice hadn't exactly thought through her words, and a slight regret flushed over her, but she brushed it off - it wasn't like it was any more ridiculous than the other girl assuming her powdering her nose and chasing guys. If she had learned anything from her experiences, it was that once you pissed off a girl you'd better reveal your claws and be ready to fight for survival - either figuratively or literally.
Parties were always fun, though - and Alice didn't intend to let herself stop enjoying her time, and as long as she didn't end up in hospital, the night was considered successful. Well, unless they were the kind of parties where nobody drank or talked to each other. But she had done her part - she had interacted with the west-siders, although they had left a foul taste in her mouth.
[/div][/div]
[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
MadiRaiCat
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
Alices attention was caught by a girl sitting nearby, as she was explaining her how plagues worked. Her quite sarcastic smile remained as she took another sip from her cider.
- Since this "plague" you have is imaginary, it is only fitting for it to have imaginary symptoms. But hey, good job on actually learning something - was it while you were taking a break from doing drugs? Im surprised you still have all your teeth. Even Alice could admit to herself that what she said was quite mean, but she was not going down without a fight - and especially not after the other girl made it clear that she imagined her being like Sharpay from High School Musical.
Being annoyed, Alice hadn't exactly thought through her words, and a slight regret flushed over her, but she brushed it off - it wasn't like it was any more ridiculous than the other girl assuming her powdering her nose and chasing guys. If she had learned anything from her experiences, it was that once you pissed off a girl you'd better reveal your claws and be ready to fight for survival - either figuratively or literally.
Parties were always fun, though - and Alice didn't intend to let herself stop enjoying her time, and as long as she didn't end up in hospital, the night was considered successful. Well, unless they were the kind of parties where nobody drank or talked to each other. But she had done her part - she had interacted with the west-siders, although they had left a foul taste in her mouth.
[/div][/div]
Code by @Woebegone
Alices attention was caught by a girl sitting nearby, as she was explaining her how plagues worked. Her quite sarcastic smile remained as she took another sip from her cider.
- Since this "plague" you have is imaginary, it is only fitting for it to have imaginary symptoms. But hey, good job on actually learning something - was it while you were taking a break from doing drugs? Im surprised you still have all your teeth. Even Alice could admit to herself that what she said was quite mean, but she was not going down without a fight - and especially not after the other girl made it clear that she imagined her being like Sharpay from High School Musical.
Being annoyed, Alice hadn't exactly thought through her words, and a slight regret flushed over her, but she brushed it off - it wasn't like it was any more ridiculous than the other girl assuming her powdering her nose and chasing guys. If she had learned anything from her experiences, it was that once you pissed off a girl you'd better reveal your claws and be ready to fight for survival - either figuratively or literally.
Parties were always fun, though - and Alice didn't intend to let herself stop enjoying her time, and as long as she didn't end up in hospital, the night was considered successful. Well, unless they were the kind of parties where nobody drank or talked to each other. But she had done her part - she had interacted with the west-siders, although they had left a foul taste in her mouth.
- Since this "plague" you have is imaginary, it is only fitting for it to have imaginary symptoms. But hey, good job on actually learning something - was it while you were taking a break from doing drugs? Im surprised you still have all your teeth. Even Alice could admit to herself that what she said was quite mean, but she was not going down without a fight - and especially not after the other girl made it clear that she imagined her being like Sharpay from High School Musical.
Being annoyed, Alice hadn't exactly thought through her words, and a slight regret flushed over her, but she brushed it off - it wasn't like it was any more ridiculous than the other girl assuming her powdering her nose and chasing guys. If she had learned anything from her experiences, it was that once you pissed off a girl you'd better reveal your claws and be ready to fight for survival - either figuratively or literally.
Parties were always fun, though - and Alice didn't intend to let herself stop enjoying her time, and as long as she didn't end up in hospital, the night was considered successful. Well, unless they were the kind of parties where nobody drank or talked to each other. But she had done her part - she had interacted with the west-siders, although they had left a foul taste in her mouth.
Last edited:
Ungifted ;-;
✨im on display for all you fu**ers to see✨
Autumn AdamsLocation: Home------>Beach BBQ Party
Mood: Calm
Interactions:
Jinx of Chaos
<----> Alice
MadiRaiCat
<------> Liliana
With: None Yet
Tags: Nobody
Clothing: Princess
Mood: Calm
Interactions:
Jinx of Chaos
<----> Alice
MadiRaiCat
<------> LilianaWith: None Yet
Tags: Nobody
Clothing: Princess
codedbycrucialstar
MadiRaiCat
Wine Aunt
Liliana Atwood
Location: Beach BBQ Party
Mentions: Autumn (
Ungifted ;-;
), Alice (
Jinx of Chaos
)
Interactions: Open
Clothing: x
Mentions: Autumn (
Ungifted ;-;
), Alice (
Jinx of Chaos
)Interactions: Open
Clothing: x
codedbycrucialstar
codedbycrucialstar
Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
[class=name]
font-size: 36px;
text-transform: uppercase;
letter-spacing: 4px;
color: #FF0000 ;
opacity: 0.7;
width: 280px;
margin:auto;
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margin-top:-20px;
text-shadow: 2px 0 0 #000000;
[/class]
[class name=picbox]
margin:auto;
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background: #e6c3a7 url('https://proxy.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fthefappening.so%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F05%2FSophie-Turner-Sexy-7-804x1024.jpg&f=1') no-repeat center center;
background-size:200px;
width: 200px;
height: 200px;
border-radius: 250px;
border: 3px solid #8B0000 ;
transition-duration: 1s;
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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
MadiRaiCat
Interacting w/
Ungifted ;-;
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
Alice was now having a staring contest with the west-sider. Clearly her remark was not appreciated, but neither was the other girls remark towards her. It was almost as if they were animals - if one was to show fear, one would come off as weak and always be the prey. And Alice was no prey, she was a predator, or at least she felt like one. Her own muscles tensed up as she tightened her grip around the bottle, mentally preparing to hurl it at the charging west-sider.
Suddenly, a voice next to her broke whatever was in the air, as Alice glanced next to her. It was Autumn. She was the kind of friend to her that she would talk to her and hang out if she was to meet her, but didn't necessarily seek her out actively. An interesting thing was that although sometimes she could come off as rude, Autumn was often trying to make peace between east and west, and as far as Alice knew, the girl had been a west-sider when she was a child.
Being scolded, Alice frowned. She felt shameful, but apologizing wouldn't work without her coming off as sarcastic, since currently neither she or the west-sider were in a state where they could play nice with each other. However, as she took a quick glance at the west-sider, the anger was reignited and she was about to open her mouth to say something. Alice was interrupted by the girl next to her, who declared that they would be leaving and judged by how she grabbed a hold of Alice, she had no choice but to go with her.
And so, Autumn dragged an upset Alice with her away from the situation. Once the other girl stopped and let go of Alice, she huffed a little.
- With all due respect, Autumn, I had everything under control and needed no rescuing. Alice looked at Autumn sternly for a moment before turning her gaze to the bottle in her hand. Usually drinking until everything was fun worked, so it was the next logical step. She downed the cider quickly in her frustration, still keeping it in her hand in order to toss it in a bag later since littering was not cool.
- Fuck them. Alice muttered while staring at the ocean.
[/div][/div]
[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: Beach BBQ
Mentioned:
MadiRaiCat
Interacting w/
Ungifted ;-;
Outfit: Clothes, backpack [/div][div class=name] Alice [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
Alice was now having a staring contest with the west-sider. Clearly her remark was not appreciated, but neither was the other girls remark towards her. It was almost as if they were animals - if one was to show fear, one would come off as weak and always be the prey. And Alice was no prey, she was a predator, or at least she felt like one. Her own muscles tensed up as she tightened her grip around the bottle, mentally preparing to hurl it at the charging west-sider.
Suddenly, a voice next to her broke whatever was in the air, as Alice glanced next to her. It was Autumn. She was the kind of friend to her that she would talk to her and hang out if she was to meet her, but didn't necessarily seek her out actively. An interesting thing was that although sometimes she could come off as rude, Autumn was often trying to make peace between east and west, and as far as Alice knew, the girl had been a west-sider when she was a child.
Being scolded, Alice frowned. She felt shameful, but apologizing wouldn't work without her coming off as sarcastic, since currently neither she or the west-sider were in a state where they could play nice with each other. However, as she took a quick glance at the west-sider, the anger was reignited and she was about to open her mouth to say something. Alice was interrupted by the girl next to her, who declared that they would be leaving and judged by how she grabbed a hold of Alice, she had no choice but to go with her.
And so, Autumn dragged an upset Alice with her away from the situation. Once the other girl stopped and let go of Alice, she huffed a little.
- With all due respect, Autumn, I had everything under control and needed no rescuing. Alice looked at Autumn sternly for a moment before turning her gaze to the bottle in her hand. Usually drinking until everything was fun worked, so it was the next logical step. She downed the cider quickly in her frustration, still keeping it in her hand in order to toss it in a bag later since littering was not cool.
- Fuck them. Alice muttered while staring at the ocean.
[/div][/div]
Code by @Woebegone
Alice was now having a staring contest with the west-sider. Clearly her remark was not appreciated, but neither was the other girls remark towards her. It was almost as if they were animals - if one was to show fear, one would come off as weak and always be the prey. And Alice was no prey, she was a predator, or at least she felt like one. Her own muscles tensed up as she tightened her grip around the bottle, mentally preparing to hurl it at the charging west-sider.
Suddenly, a voice next to her broke whatever was in the air, as Alice glanced next to her. It was Autumn. She was the kind of friend to her that she would talk to her and hang out if she was to meet her, but didn't necessarily seek her out actively. An interesting thing was that although sometimes she could come off as rude, Autumn was often trying to make peace between east and west, and as far as Alice knew, the girl had been a west-sider when she was a child.
Being scolded, Alice frowned. She felt shameful, but apologizing wouldn't work without her coming off as sarcastic, since currently neither she or the west-sider were in a state where they could play nice with each other. However, as she took a quick glance at the west-sider, the anger was reignited and she was about to open her mouth to say something. Alice was interrupted by the girl next to her, who declared that they would be leaving and judged by how she grabbed a hold of Alice, she had no choice but to go with her.
And so, Autumn dragged an upset Alice with her away from the situation. Once the other girl stopped and let go of Alice, she huffed a little.
- With all due respect, Autumn, I had everything under control and needed no rescuing. Alice looked at Autumn sternly for a moment before turning her gaze to the bottle in her hand. Usually drinking until everything was fun worked, so it was the next logical step. She downed the cider quickly in her frustration, still keeping it in her hand in order to toss it in a bag later since littering was not cool.
- Fuck them. Alice muttered while staring at the ocean.
Suddenly, a voice next to her broke whatever was in the air, as Alice glanced next to her. It was Autumn. She was the kind of friend to her that she would talk to her and hang out if she was to meet her, but didn't necessarily seek her out actively. An interesting thing was that although sometimes she could come off as rude, Autumn was often trying to make peace between east and west, and as far as Alice knew, the girl had been a west-sider when she was a child.
Being scolded, Alice frowned. She felt shameful, but apologizing wouldn't work without her coming off as sarcastic, since currently neither she or the west-sider were in a state where they could play nice with each other. However, as she took a quick glance at the west-sider, the anger was reignited and she was about to open her mouth to say something. Alice was interrupted by the girl next to her, who declared that they would be leaving and judged by how she grabbed a hold of Alice, she had no choice but to go with her.
And so, Autumn dragged an upset Alice with her away from the situation. Once the other girl stopped and let go of Alice, she huffed a little.
- With all due respect, Autumn, I had everything under control and needed no rescuing. Alice looked at Autumn sternly for a moment before turning her gaze to the bottle in her hand. Usually drinking until everything was fun worked, so it was the next logical step. She downed the cider quickly in her frustration, still keeping it in her hand in order to toss it in a bag later since littering was not cool.
- Fuck them. Alice muttered while staring at the ocean.
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