Realistic or Modern The Apartment In Character Thread

[PixieDust]

Four young upper class boarding school friends fresh out of university and four newbies to the inner circle decide to buy an apartment together in Kensington, the most sought after borough of London, to share the joys and pains of cosmopolitan life. First jobs at high flying careers, parties with other members of the upper class or with the more down to earth folks, doing their own laundry for the first time in their lives and simply learning how to land on their own two feet and live outside of their sheltered bubbles.

You will play as one of the eight young friends as we play through snippets of a year in their lives. Will the friends remain friends, form romances or schisms amongst each other and learn to appreciate making their own way in the world or will they crash and burn in a dazzling spectacle? You decide!

 

[PixieDust]

Oh hello there roommates! I am your Unspecified Narrator. I'll pop in from time to time to let you know little bits and pieces about what's going on in the story, just as a guideline really, nothing to worry about! Anyway, Anthea has decided to hold a housewarming party to celebrate moving in with her friends. Lovely sentiment isn't it? You've all only moved in with each other two weeks ago and I personally commend you all for not killing each other...yet. It's a Friday in August and you're all going about your daily business when Anthea reminds you all that the party is tonight and to bring along pretty much anyone you like, or no one. So now it's down to you! Dress up or dress down, plus one or none, but it's at the apartment and it's bound to be fun!

Right, I suppose I best be off back into the ether until I'm needed again. Cheerio, fellows!

riverlightning fairyfawn Gao @komo The Silent Z Sugarnaut

 

[PixieDust]

William wrapped his fingers upon the hard wooden surface of his desk as he plummeted the depths of yet another book on the history of the infamous Kray Twins. Staring at the various passages highlighted in neon colours had long since caused a headache for the young man, but he was not one to complain. After all, this was his dream job and he was reminded of this every time he looked out of the wide window opposite his desk that looked out onto Westminster. He often liked to look up and watch passersby (almost invariably tourists) admiring All Souls Church with its circular portico and spires. It was a far better pastime, he thought, than listening to his co-workers discussing such tedium as whether one of the Kardashian sisters had gotten more plastic surgery and whether it would make a good part of the commentary section of 'Have I Got News For You?'

'Hiya, love. Sorry to bother you, but I thought I'd bring you a cuppa. You haven't had a drink yet and it's half eleven...not that I was paying too much attention or anything...' William did not need to look up to know who was addressing him. It was the other new team member from somewhere up North, though where exactly he couldn't recall.

The woman smiled at him expectantly as she held the piping hot tea in both hands and attempted coyness. William sat up a little straighter as he turned in his seat to address the pretty blonde and take the cup from her. 'Thank you, Eleanor,' he said, not impolitely, but with a certain detachment. He had long since given up on telling her he disliked tea and that he would likely dispose of it in a plant pot at some point. She had taken this information as a joke every day for the last two weeks.

'Oh, you're welcome, Will. So do you have anything interesting planned for the weekend, going anywhere nice with someone perhaps?' Eleanor continued slightly breathlessly as she tucked her blonde curls behind her ear not so artfully and fluttered her eyelashes at him. It would be amusing if it weren't so cloyingly unprofessional of her. Before he could reply she added, 'The BBC Three lot have just been having a natter about your brother Viscount. You probably already know the news though, right? He's been done for speeding in his sports car down in Kent or something! He's a right one!'

William shrugged dismissively. Apparently Eleanor thought it was some sort of cute amusing quirk that his brother had such destructive tendencies. Then again, he was almost certain the only reason she, or most other people paid any attention to him was because he too was a Faraday.
'Yeah sure, listen I have to-' as if sent by providence itself, William's phone buzzed in his pocket and he took the opportunity he was given in his stride. 'Have to read this message. Thanks again, Eleanor.'

The man completely shut her out as he looked down at the notification on his phone:

Don't forget it's the housewarming party today, Will. Bring drinks! All the love, Thea xoxo Oh also, for the love of the gods, PLEASE wear some colour for once!

Will smiled a little and shook his head as he read the message. Of course Anthea wasn't going to let him get out of going to her housewarming party. He had to admit that it was a nice idea to celebrate the eight new roommates achieving such a milestone as sharing an apartment in Kensington, even if they had only gotten a couple of weeks to settle in before she sprang the idea on to them all. That was his cousin though, quite the live wire.

Where: work, Broadcasting House, Langham Place With: none Mentions: anthea Mood: she's off on one again...

 

[The Silent Z]

Jørgen Vestergaard
~~~~~​

It was maybe a bit past the eleven mark perhaps not even that and Jørgen, woken from a semi long rest after last nights play at the club. Freshly showered, dressed comfortably in Puma brand joggers and a branded Tee, socks and an older but well kept pair of sneakers. Looked about the room, pale hazel eyes almost wide, fingers rummaging through drawers of his desk, night stand, getting down to his floor and checking underneath the desk and around his bed, whilst almost feeling like a sweat was consuming and fever setting in, heart racing.

“Come on…. Blast it!! Come on!” He uttered to himself in frustration. It had been around two weeks since moving in with the roommates, nearly three months since his last game on the ice and suffering a multitude of painful injuries that sidelined him. A nearly forgotten but roughly similar timeframe since his surgery to repair the ACL, MCL in his left leg and knee along with other minor issues endured, his latest concussion also occurred around the time yet none of it could be present in his mind at this time.

“Where are you?! Need those blasted…..” Jørgen muttered again, normally a much happier seeming and upbeat bloke. The young man uncharacteristically was in a rough mood, temper barely contained behind gritted teeth and redness of face exposing his aims of attempted yet failed restraint and composure. When suddenly his ears perked up and head raised, the sun shining through his window just a bit and warming his face a tad more then it was already. A familiar tone ringing and buzzing about on his desk as his phone continued to ring. “Oh, who could that be now?! Still nothing here….”

Jørgen pondered slightly aloud and swearing he packed it with his other small necessities. He even could recall having them just yesterday before heading off to work for the night. Meanwhile he had gotten himself to his feet, made his way over towards the desk again closing the drawers he had earlier opened and rummaged through, while picking up his phone. The look on his face suddenly changed, slightly surprised yet mostly a forced calm coming over him to hide his prior state. “Brooke….??” Jørgen spoke softly in puzzled expression and furrowed of brow.

Answering the FaceTime while checking his leather jackets pocket with his opposite hand. A brotherly smile and nod as he greeted her in hopeful success of cheerful and positive of manner, while taking notice of a familiar feel and shape of a small bottle in his jackets pocket, providing a more calming and easy relief to wash over him. “Brooke, morning kid!” The guy greeted with a smile to his little sister. “Yes, I know it’s not quite that early of morning. Still a kid to me, Brookee, you’ll just have to get used to it, hey?” Jørgen chuckled while pulling out his pills and setting them down on the desk. “Nothing wrong… You didn’t go and get yourself in trouble, aye? Mum & Da alright?” He asked not expecting anything serious and hoping all was fine. Even if he had a falling out with his folks namely his dad, he still cared for them, of course.

“Oh, good then…. Nah, no, Brooke, we’re fine as we are now. Mum & Da haven’t spoken to me since, well, anyways they haven’t and neither have I where it concerns them. Never you mind it, Sis! You got more important matters to concern yourself with… hey.” Jørgen spoke brushing off her concerns and wanting to see them talking again. “Anyway, what’s your call then and FaceTime no less? Not exactly our normal means of talking.” He asked half thinking the cheeky girl had them on standby for a bit of forced contact and seeing if one another. He wouldn’t put it past his kid sister after all. “Audition? Hey, that’s what I like to hear. Good news there, Brookee! You’ll kill it and tomorrow no less? Well done. Bet the folks are proud and gushing over you now.” Jørgen congratulated and shared in her news in full support and certainty of her crushing the audition.

“What?!…. No, Brooke, you’ll be fine. You’ve got this in the bag, just relax a bit, I know your prepared if not overly so. Nah, Kid, look Mum is better for that one. If you really want to practice your choices to audition with then should ask Mum… No, I know, but I’m pretty rusty here, it’s been a long time since really playing classical. Especially those, look….ye-“ He paused getting cut off and being pleaded with by the girl. He fully understood why she didn’t want to ask their mum, they were no longer young kids just starting out or something and afforded more patience and room for errors. As loving and caring as their mum was she could be a bit stressful during her lessons as they got older and reached a certain point. All the while he now was getting the picture of why she face timed him.

“Yes, yes, alright…. Alright, face time for this hey?” He shook his head and slowly made his way toward his piano set before the window and sat himself down along with his phone, positioning it just right to allow for a view with his sister while keeping his hands free. “A form of mirror play? Yeah, I get it…. I don’t know what help I’ll be rusty as I am, Kid. But alright…” He shared his final thoughts on it and readied himself at the piano, fingers stretching slightly to loosen up and hovering over the proper keys. “Alright, are you ready? Good. Oh wait, come on relax a bit, hey! I’m not mum here, relax your posture and just loosen up here. Look too tense and ready to grind bones or something. There ya go”

Almost as if they’ve done it before and perhaps have. The two siblings in tune with one another began to play…..

*Piano Sonata No. 18*

His eyes closed and ears keenly listening, memories of his childhood swimming through his mind as they were brought back through their play. Words encouraging his sister to play through her occasional slip ups here and there, knowing it was all nerves, tension and not truly herself yet…. Encouraging her to relax and just play, allow their time together to be one that was positive, relaxed and chill as just two siblings playing a melody without anyone watching just them alone, playing.

Soon, Brooke was starting to relax and allow her fingers to flow gracefully across the keys, playing much smoother and beautifully. “That’s it! You got this fine. Just us, you and me.” He continued while it came back to him. “It’s all just a time together…. Just play through and don’t mind the pressures your putting on yourself. You’ll do fine like this tomorrow. Just relax and play like we all know you can, hey?!” Jørgen smiled playing through his own slip up as he spoke. “You’ve done this a thousand times before…. What’s one more?”

Talking her through quietly and encouragingly as they played. Knowing the pressures she’d likely have put herself through, desiring to play as a classical pianist like their mum once dreamed before settling down and becoming a music teacher. It was their Mum’s dream to have one of her children adopted or no, become a pianist playing classical music along side others or alone on stage at all the wonderful halls throughout the world.

As their play came to a end, Brooke offering a smile and thanking Jørgen again. He smiled almost forgetting least temporarily about his pills and the need he felt to take them again. “Aye, anytime kid. Just relax, remember to do so and that either way it turns out tomorrow, mum and Da plus myself, we all will be quite proud of you. Though I’d bet your going to kill this Audition hey?!” He smiled giving a nod. “Aye, I luv you too. Take care and maybe not slip to mum about this hey? She might be a bit hurt even if it’s understandable why.” He added slowly moving toward his pills with his phone in hand as he moved up and off the bench at his piano.

“Aye, I’m fine!…. Look I’m fine, sis, just a tad warm is all. Luv ya and talk to ya tomorrow hey? Bye” Jørgen waved and nodded assuring Brooke he was alright and nothing was wrong at all. Ending the face time and putting his phone in his pocket, pills in hand, hesitation suddenly coming over him to open the bottle and take the dose of pills. While all those earlier feelings collided with the hesitation in return to his body and mind.

Ultimately shaking his head and shrugging off the delay. Jørgen tossed back a few pills and closed the bottle again. Heavy breath and heart beating seemingly louder and harder til slowly coming down again to bring him closer to ease. Meanwhile starting to remember Thea mentioned a house warming party earlier or maybe yesterday was it? Putting the bottle in his desks top drawer and closing it shut behind him. He sat back down on the bench, hands rubbing his leg while his right brushed over the keys of his piano…..

Still a bit torn amidst his personal struggles and feeling of this morning. Memories of his childhood brought back through the play of different sonatas by Mozart alongside his sister in some FaceTime, mirroring play and practice

Suddenly taking a deep breath and exhaled, starting to play his piano again…. Mozart….he wasn’t entirely sure why but he did. While trying to do so quietly as not to bother anyone else that may or may not be in the house.

 

[Gao]

LUCILLE BLANCHET

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• How are you feeling?

  Irritable!
• OUTFIT
• LOCATION

  APARTMENT
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  Anthea

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Scavenger, carrion

glutton,

scrappy vulture, smother history in

gore

and lick the

carnage

from your

talon

fingers. Bones are

marble

and wet, cavities stutter,

blame

yourself,

a salted

clemency

of rich thyme.

L'œuvre d’art, c’est une idée qu’on exagère: A work of art is an exaggerated idea.

Ballet could morph children into beasts, rabid from diets of discipline and artificial protein. Broken down and rebuilt into more than marionettes of hair and skin, but the sharpness of tooth and rotting peel of cadaver toenails.

There lies breakage in bending beyond an idea, the limitation of tissues and cartilage that hold together mortal scaffolding of a body. An idea that hones skeletons into instruments of war, carves mutton into lean meat, bruises flesh to malleable pulp beneath unbroken hide; all for their twisted, sacrificial performance. The perfect torture to provoke retaliation, an execution, of its own.

Wounds had always been bearable for Lucille, divine scabs akin to bruised fruit spilled onto the bed of a truck. With blisters moist and indigo blue, what was one more dance? What was one more splinter in the crook of her ankle; in the cancerous vividity of success, in one more grand jeté? The Royal Ballet waits for nobody (not even a family-named Blanchet), and all awful machines are manufactured to lurch and strain until broken.

One sucked breath released not a celestial harp or choir, but an intolerable shriek of an animal in slaughter. Snapping tendon and dissonance as reality bent towards an unseen surface, hard flooring of failure.

That was July, and even now Luci reaped the copious consequences of pain.

Between light-footed velvet hooves tendering café floorboards and persistent training, there hadn’t been an opportunity— or option — for healing. Nor a chance to mingle with roommates, not that she prioritised the trivial subject of connections. Knowing Thea was enough to fulfil her social needs, yet it appeared by the text lighting her phone, the chatty Mistlethwaite didn’t share the sentiment.

A housewarming party.

Luci could spill saccharine to ballet board directors and discuss what she knew best: dance, but with the future company of strangers looming in her residence, the ballerina’s tensions were running high. As her job frequently proved, people were not her forté.

“Lu.” A short balding man, her boss, would motion at his own cheerful face with two-handed sitcom theatrics, “remember to smile~!”

Her torrid stare bored down, eyes hooded and eyebrows arched in perpetual repudiation. With pallor hair secured in a tight bun, the slopes of her unbarred features testified a shift of tension running through her jaw. Tongue held in teeth, half-moon arcs of discomfort fought to retain voicing her grievances.

Until she entered the privacy of the cafe’s kitchen.

“Petit pinhead!” The stack of dishes dropped into the sink with passive-aggressive vigour. “Order me like housewife? Me?!” If ranting was not a cue, the clattering cutlery warned those in the vicinity of the blonde’s mood. “Lucille, don’t forget to smile! Oh, ma chère! Why so sour?!” Shoving the plates into the dishwasher and kneeing it shut, she stormed past the kitchen staff with a determined hiss, “I break his little rat legs!”

It took isolation of the bathroom and two menthol cigarettes to quell the Frenchwoman’s anger.

“All must do,” Luci forced a taut, shaky smile into the illuminated glass of the mirror, “is look happy. Easy, non?”

The happy attempt held uncanniness to a homicidal Chucky-doll.

“Non. Non it is not easy.” The smile, intimidating grimace, dropped at her own sighed concession. “Bad,” she muttered, tip-tapping ash into the sink, “very, very bad.”

Seated on the bathroom counter with a cigarette held loose between lips, she pulled her pant leg above ankle to roam the bruising. Albeit soothed by a martini of medications and intersected with sports tape to hold weakened muscles in position, the ligament rupture stained her foot in colours ripe pomegranate and mustard Dijon. Bane of her existence, atrophied opal bone now held strength akin to slipping sand.

A curious press to discoloration gave a phantom ache even painkillers couldn’t hide, wellspring of malaise numbed down to waves of tepid scintilla. Crass words curled on her tongue, but locked in a ventriloquist act of composure, a grunted “damn,” was the most she’d allow to bounce the bathroom’s tacky watermelon-pink stalls.

Heat of smouldering embers nearing fingers, she took a final long drink of miasma smoke before stamping it out in the enamel sink; and against all civility, poked the cigarette filter down the drain.

Nobody’s gonna know.

Pulling her leg from the counter back to the uncomfortably-sticky tiled floor, Luci stood and smoothed the fabric of her outfit into tamed perfection. Fixing the apron back to her waist, she attempted one final smile, nope, before gathering her things and leaving the safe-haven wearing a scowl.

Petit Pinhead was generous (smart) enough to refrain from further encouragement, and Luci finished her shift with the honour of no broken plates or cups. Upon arriving home she dropped into the couch with uncharacteristic laziness. No stranger to physical exhaustion, it was a different type of tired when it came to handling customers.

Leather tote bag pulled closer, stiletto nails picked the bejewelled bottle from its contents and brushed over the golden seal. Even noosed with a wine-red ribbon, lavish champagne felt like a meagre housewarming gift. Sure, it may have cost more than what the average sally made in a week or two (Lucille was never one to skimp on spending), but it raised questions over whether half her roommates even liked champagne.

Setting the gift on the low table for later, she returned to the comfortable posture of macaroni. There was plenty of time to prepare for Anthea’s housewarming, rationalised Luci. And with nobody in sight, taking the opportunity to sink into the plush embrace of the couch for a minute or two would be harmless.

Faint piano, identified as Mozart, lulled faintly from somewhere in the apartment. Yet the longer she sceptically eyed the champagne, the quicker a realisation dawned.

Expensive as it might be, an obnoxiously gold rhinestone liquor bottle was kind of…

ugly.

coded by reveriee.

 

[PixieDust]

'Perfect, Madam! Vermillion Rose will complement your skin tone wonderfully. No, honestly it will go beautifully with the golden undertones in your skin.' Anthea let her smile extend to her blue eyes in a show of earnestness. Even after having spoken to at least one hundred customers today, her complements were still neither forced nor disingenuous even if the smile she plastered on her face was. The thin fabric of her black dress clung to her skin, beads of perspiration tumbled down the nape of her neck and the blonde was glad the Harrods dress code required that her hair be in an up-do. She handed the lady she had spoken to the lipstick she had been enquiring about and breathed a deep sigh of relief once the woman thanked her profusely and went on her way. Now, finally, she could go home and freshen up.

Anthea's heels clicked almost comically against the marble floor as she hurried to be out of sight before her name badge gave her away as a member of staff and someone collared her to ask a question. Other familiar staff members offered nods and smiles as she passed them and one in particular, who's name was Ioannis shot her a playful smile and greeted,
'Hey Thea, you are thinking it is hot here. Try living in Cyprus, eh?'

Anthea rolled her eyes and winked in the same playful manner. 'Are you trying to make me jealous that your homeland is far more glamorous than this little island? Shame on you, friend!' With mutual laughter, Thea carried on until she was finally at the staff cloakroom.

Taking her phone from her Burberry clutch bag, she decided to send a reminder text to her roommates about the housewarming party tonight. She was still not entirely certain Will or Luci would humour her and play along, but she was confident the others would.

It was then that a notification popped onto her screen from instagram:

heirs<graces just added to their story.

Without much thought, Anthea clicked to see what her boyfriend Thierry was getting up to in Calais. Her heart dropped as she watched the story and instantly recognised that he was nowhere near France. He was right here, in London near the statue of Anteros on Shaftesbury Avenue. Why had he told her he couldn't come to the party because he would be in Calais for 'important business' if now he was right here on the day of the party?

Perhaps, she thought, he wanted to surprise her and turn up unexpectedly. It would be just like him. Though she told herself this, and was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, the uneasiness she felt did not quickly subside.

It was not long before Thea was back in the beautiful and far less populated surroundings of Kensington. Though it was heavily secured and guarded owing to the nature of its residence, the security never felt oppressive in the short time she had been taking residence there. There stood the apartment, grand yet cosy, and nearby stood one of the guards whose name had escaped her. He offered her a friendly nod as he made sure she got in safely and she returned it, somewhat half heartedly since her thoughts were still rather distracted by the whereabouts of her significant other.

The girl was surprised when she crossed into the living room to find Lucille sitting so casually on the couch. She did not fail to note just how irritated she appeared to be either. Plastering on her smile once more, she practically bounded over to her friend and greeted her with exaggerated air kisses from a distance she knew Lucille would appreciate before taking a seat herself and unclipping her hair from its bun, letting it tumble around her shoulders.
'I am going to assume you've had a fabulous day, and you are going to tell me otherwise,' she said, her playfulness laced with genuine sympathy. 'But even on your least fabulous days you're still enviably gorgeous.'

Though Anthea herself was still feeling inexplicably tense, the faint melodies of Mozart coming from somewhere in the house began to calm her somewhat. Who else was here? She didn't know any of her roommates were quite so adept at classical piano.

Where: The Apartment With: Lucille Gao Mentions: Jørgen (indirectly) The Silent Z Mood: Uneasy Outfit: x

 

[riverlightning]

scroll !

mood

sleepy, disturbed, slightly hungover

location

apartment now, bar later

outfit

white tank top, black sweatpants

mentions

thea, luci

MORGAN KAZMIER

"Go fuck yourself."

Were those the first words that Morgan imagined uttering to start the morning? Not...necessarily? The post-mortem of being woken up by notes from a piano that felt like they were dancing across her brain with metal spikes wasn't going to be a pretty one. She groaned into the pillow covered by a quilted pillowcase and rolled onto her back. The room was dark. By design. Three days into this whole moving process, she scurried out to purchase blackout curtains that assisted in making those drunk nights slightly easier on the backend. A lone problem with the concept of blackout curtains - they failed to block sound. Morgan squeezed her eyelids shut looking through her memories to attempt to find a culprit. Did someone bring...drums? Did someone bring a....piano?

Well no shit, someone brought a piano. Dumbass.

"Fuck, man," she whispered as the answers didn't come easily. This time, Morgan's hangover wasn't awful. Instead, it nagged behind the eyes. Those were the worst ones. The ones where you could just feel the pain right behind the eye sockets that a properly trained Advil just barely got to after an hour. A gray alarm clock on a gray dresser read 11:21 AM. It was a Friday. At least that was nice. Not like there was anything else to take care of. The prospect of another unsuccessful day job hunting online in her pajamas was a thrilling one. It was a Friday. Who in their right mind was accepting job applications on a Friday, anyway? The smallest amount of bargaining created enough desire to roll over and go back to bed.

Instead, Morgan roughly balanced herself off the floor-bound mattress, mozied to her purse, then searched for a bottle of ibuprofen. She took a pair with her to the bathroom, where she used sink water to swallow them. Next came a shower. Steam helped with the headache. What didn't help it was running a brush through a tangled mess of hair that pulled at the roots. Curls were hard to manage, natural or not. An advantage Morgan possessed was that she could do virtually nothing to her mop and the curls would still be there. Most days it was a blessing from her mother. On rare ones, it was a curse.

All throughout the morning routine, Morgan racked her mind trying to figure out what would be on the docket. She was less than six hours away from the wretched alarm that reminded a bartender - or herself - to pour something tall and strong and to make it a hurricane before Morgan went insane. The past two weeks had been speckled with drinking at the new apartment, in her room, door closed, with the blackout curtains drawn tight. She'd sit with her back against whichever wall looked the best on a given day, laptop on her thighs, and a glass of rye whiskey in her hand. Somehow, Morgan found Knob Creek at a liquor store down the street from her new residence. The fifth was nearly empty by the time Friday rolled around.

A pair of jet black Ray-Ban sunglasses donned the top half of Morgan's face as she fumbled through her purse once more. This time, she grabbed her ID and Mastercard and stuffed each in the back pocket of the black sweatpants she wore to bed. In her customary ways, the 23-year-old failed to tell anyone where she went and failed to look Luci's way as she pushed toward the apartment door. Morgan knew she was there. The slight stench of menthol and cigarette smoke gave it away. The same couldn't be said for Thea, who Morgan blew past without any knowledge.

The first two weeks were awkward, at best. Morgan's prior knowledge of anyone in the apartment was shoddy, at best. She had spotted a flyer around campus just days after graduation of a girl named Anthea looking for a handful of roommates for off-campus housing. With zero post-graduation plans and a threat of being forced out of her dormitory, getting settled somewhere in London was a must. The place was nice. The place was big for an apartment. Nicer than any place she had lived before. When she discovered the wealth in the place, the dots connected. And Morgan felt plenty intimidated.

A handful of cumulus clouds peppered the sky and a yellow sun rained down through them. That's what the Ray-Bans were for. And they were great for keeping the clerk in the liquor store from snickering when he saw Morgan for the third time in ten days. She marched that way in a pair of black Nike shoes which met her sweatpants at the ankle. Her eyes stayed down towards the sidewalk, with an irritable disposition that pivoted into a curious one when she finally did take her sockets off the pavement. A couple of middle-aged guys, enjoying their Friday, were yelling at each other in joy outside of a pub that Morgan had never noticed before.

Quickly, her Friday plans manifested themselves.

Upon opening a wooden door that squeaked at the hinges, Morgan reveled in the darkness that was only interrupted by the glow of TVs and the occasional neon sign promoting the next Chelsea match. Her luck continued when a female bartender walked up to her.

"Holy... a lass walks in her by herself, at 11 in the morning wearin' that," she said in the English accent Morgan had gotten accustomed to. The bartender introduced herself as Marlene, who appeared maybe two or three years older than the girl on the other side of the bar. A brunette, with hair straight as a board. "What are ya drinking?"

Without a word, Morgan's eyes scoured beer taps and the full bar alike.

"Have any coconut milk," she asked, knowing her Moore Haven accent threw Marlene off at first.

"Woulda asked last week, I woulda said no. Some bloke ordered a White Russian two Friday mornings ago and nearly sued us for using cow's milk because he had some sorta dairy allergy."

"I don't have no allergy," Morgan replied. "I just want a piña collada. Missing home. Make it a doub- no, a triple, if you can."

After Marlene brought her the cocktail, Morgan scrolled through a beat-up red iPhone 11. The phone's screen protector had started to peel off the glass, and she had made a bad nervous habit of playing with it, further ruining the sticky backside. At noon, a lone notification lit up the screen after the blonde had placed the phone face up on the bar. It was from her calendar, reminding Morgan of a housewarming party that Thea was hosting.

"Fuck that."

The thought of socializing did not entice her whatsoever, and that thought pushed Morgan to down her drink prematurely.

Marlene looked over with raised eyebrows.

"Another," Morgan motioned.

coded by reveriee

 

[fairyfawn]

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sam tinnesz

play with fire

A messy bed. That’s what Otto wakes up to every single morning when his eyes flutter open from a good sleep. A clump of blankets on top of a mattress and some pillows, is the easiest way to describe the bed. Sheets? No. None of that. Needless to say, he most likely kicked the sheets off his bed in his sleep and now it’s just sheer mattress and blankets to roll up in. Otto’s warm brown eyes fluttered open before temporarily squeezing back shut to blink away sleep. The first thing he took notice of was the dull yet growing throb in his head. Sad. He must’ve slept wrong, yeah that’s all. Did he really have to get out of bed? Otto laid there for a few more minutes in contemplation, outstretching his legs on the exposed mattress.

Yes, he supposed he should get out of bed unless he could just... rest his eyes for a few more moments. It is just a simple resting of the eyes, that's all. No no, he shouldn't do that because he'll just end up falling asleep again and then he'll oversleep! His eyes reopened and he let himself sit upright in bed, running a hand through his messy, fluffy hair. He stretched his muscles out, rolling his head around a bit to ease up the stiffness. Right, he should get out of bed and get dressed. But his cat printed pajamas were so cozy and warm.

Otto would love a lazy pajama day. Then again, whenever he gets home from his job as a barista, he always puts on pajamas or something more comfortable. He slowly slid out of bed, giving his hair one last run through with his fingers. He wandered over to his dresser, pulling open one of the drawers where he had clothes very neatly tucked away. Yes yes, he is very neat when it comes to putting clothes away. Totally. For sure. Okay, so maybe he dumps clothes in there and wears whatever he pulls out first.

As much as he loved his job as a barista, it can be quite tiresome sometimes. Achy feet and legs from walking about to do the coffee, the milk, the syrup, checking what went into a particular order, that sort of thing. Speaking of aches, he should pop a pain pill for this throbbing headache of his and see if that hopefully does the trick. Otto pulled some clothes out of the drawer, closing it shut afterwards as he proceeded to get dressed. Otto could really go for a frozen coffee before work right now, or maybe a frozen hot chocolate! Hot chocolate over ice being blended in a blender sounds so refreshing.

Okay, let's not get too distracted. He has to go to work now and make coffee. Otto can think about frozen beverages later. He worked with Lucille, or as he called her Lu for short, ah yes, the lovely barista waitress duo. Even though Lu often talks down on him for being such a disorganized and messy person. How sad. Was Otto forgetting anything before he left? He always had a habit of going through things twice just to make sure. Otto popped a pill for the... what was it called again? Woke up headache maybe? Yeah, that must be it. Anyways, it should start kicking it soon, hopefully before he reached work.

Otto did not want to have to deal with a throbbing headache at work. That would suck big time. Alright, that should be everything and Otto should be off now!

*********************************** *****************************************

Otto was busying himself with making a salted caramel iced coffee for someone. Let's see what goes into that again? Otto's lips slightly pursed in thought when he was interrupted by the vibration of his phone, which brought him out of thought. Otto fished out his phone, fingers nearly slipping and almost losing grip on the device as he was starting to read the text. He should really take better care of fishing his phone out. Oh, it's just a text message from Thea.

A housewarming party.

That's nice. Parties are very nice. Was he going to bring someone? Most likely not. A quick scan of the text before he stuffed his phone away so he could refocus on what he was doing. Otto needed to finish up his shift at the café before he could think about the housewarming party. Must stay focused! Once he's off, he can think about it. Oh, right he was making a salted caramel iced coffee. He should really get back to that now, he didn't want to get caught slacking. Still though, he would love to get back to the apartment right now, but he was stuck behind the counter until his shift was over. Stuck with steaming milk, pouring coffee, blending ice and the likes.

Once Otto got off of work, he looked forward to returning to the apartment. Mostly because he would be able to change into something more comfortable and breezier, and of course there's the housewarming party. Was there going to be alcohol there? He wasn't sure but probably. Was Otto going to drink alcohol? Never! He didn't like it.

Anyways, Otto had arrived back at the apartment, him stepping inside and he was immediately making his way to his room. As much as he would love to just throw himself onto his mattress, he could not. Not right now. He must change into some casual, comfy clothes. A sweater and jeans will just do the trick. Otto entered his room, shutting the door behind him. Otto changed into a sweater and some jeans, and quite frankly the sleeves of the sweater nearly went over his fingers. With that out of the way now, he teetered out of his room.

There was faint piano music that Otto caught wind of. And if Otto was going to be honest, he didn't know the song. He stopped to listen for a moment before resuming what he was doing. He was making his way to the living room where he was soon met with Lucille and Anthea. Oh, hello. Is he interrupting something? Oh, well that's okay. Otto will simply give them a lovely, small, and very polite smile and take a free seat.

Don't mind Otto, he's just going to take a seat. He's exhausted! Tired! Drained of energy! He had a hard day at work today! He is very deserving of a cushiony seat to rest. Making and serving coffee sure is an energy drainer and Otto needs his short rest. As he settled himself down, Otto let out a somewhat exaggerated, tired huff.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Sugarnaut]

New layout pending sorry if this one looks weird. ):​

matteo vela

 The ray of light peeking through the cheap rainbow plastic film through the window projected the colors of day into the tiny 450 square foot office studio and laid the prismatic hues onto the lone boy with wild hair. He was sprawled onto the cough where his legs dangled over easily. The warmth of the sun was enough to awaken him, groaning at the soreness of a mad sleeping position before gathering any ounce of thought of where he could be. His mental GPS system, on overdrive just to land onto his recording studio, where he sighed in relief. At least he didn’t need to dash out of a stranger’s place this time around. No need to make up a bad excuse or worse - make breakfast.

 Matteo’s laptop screen still shined bright with the fan blasting from being idle for the whole night. He fell asleep while the program rendered too often to count but he was thankful he ran eight hours ahead of his client. In his disheveled state, Matteo sent over his song demo to the client. His brain turned its cogs to make sure he crossed all his t’s and dotted his eyes before he turned his brain off again to check his phone.

“Shit!” The text from Anthea worked better to spring Matteo into action than shots of espresso. He completely forgot about the housewarming party, meaning he was extra late for the rest of his plans for the day. Matteo was a minimalist when it came to his everyday travel: wallet, phone, keys. Good to go. He escaped his matching of a workspace he spent more time in than his own new apartment - let alone getting to know his new roommates. Matteo had almost no time to even respond to the text, peeling out of the underground parking lot straight to the airport. “Airport, cake shop, drinks, balloons…” Matteo repeated over and over to make sure he didn’t forget. He was already lucky his friend from abroad wasn't accosting him for being his usual late self.

 Matteo could feel the death glare on him when he turned into the pick up lane of the airport. She looked pissed with her arms crossed around her chest and shifting from side to side as all Americans did. Michelle still made sure she was primmed and polished before anyone saw her outside the airplane. Her pretty blonde hair down and wavy as if it was effortless still mesmerized Matteo even if she dropped the “girl” before the “friend” for many reasons... It was a mutual break up.

“Happy to see you too, motherf*r.” Her west coast accent rasp cut the London air clean as she pulled him into a big hug after he managed to put her luggage into the trunk. “You look like you just woke up.” Michelle teased him with her hands now reaching to ruffle up his hair like the good ole days. He happily let her, good ole days were few and far between these days, and today felt like a good day either way. The two of them barely got into the car before Matteo gave her the run down of his plans for the day. “Airport to pick you up, cake shop to pick up the cupcakes, grocery store to pick up drinks and buy balloons. All for the housewarming party my roommate’s hosting for us all.”

“Why balloons? Why not candles?” Her sneaky suggestion was just enough for him to smile with her. An old tradition to be passed down, he liked it.

“You’re right, both it is. Also, be nice to my roommates okay? No fighting, no name calling. I still need to make a good impression on them.” It was almost a plea the way Matteo spoke about them all. The only person he knew well was Anthea and even then it was barely anything to rave about. With Michelle, his errands went by quickly and much more successfully. Matteo was sure his order of four dozen cupcakes would tumble with one bad turn but with her they were safe.

 It wasn’t long until Matteo fumbled his keys to figure out which one was which to unlock the front door… maybe just try to open the door? It wasn’t successful. He sighed as he tried a random key with the twelve balloons bouncing on his left hand and Michelle balancing the tower of cupcake boxes with her small frame. Success! His very pleased grin opened up the nice pad he called home with seven other people. “Heyyyy.” He was awkward to find three of them within eye shot. Matteo only gave each of them half a second of time before making sure his special guest was in and the door was shut. Piano playing from afar, Matteo let the balloons drift up to the high ceiling while Michelle put the boxes onto the kitchen counter. “I got cupcakes and- Damn, I forgot the drinks.” The nervous chuckle he gave barely let his anxiety out. “Anyways, this is Mitch. She’s visiting from Cali.

“We don’t call it Cali. Just California. Nice to meet you all.” She was scanning the room for first impressions and where she would fit in tonight. Maybe she was expecting something more… warm? More Exciting for sure. Her analysis made Matteo sweat a little, moving over to the middle of the room to attempt to put himself somewhere between all his roommates. Michelle just standing at the front door, used to Matteo's nervous want to be included.

“Do we need anything? I can run to the store again? Also who’s playing the keys? Making this party a bit more formal than I thought.”

location apartment mood super nervous to make a good impression outfit black shirt, cuffed jeans, white converse. interaction vaguely anthea, lucille, and otto

[/i]

How Big is Your Brain?

Super American

______________

.

3:12

-1:50

coded by incandescent

 

[riverlightning]

scroll !

mood

tipsy

location

bar now, apartment later

outfit

white tank top, black sweatpants, black nikes

mentions

thea, luci, otto, matteo

MORGAN KAZMIER

The second piña colada went down significantly slower than the first one. Relative to how quick the first one was consumed, anyways. Marlene returned to the section of the wooden bar that Morgan had harbored and placed her elbows on it, palms up to plant her head there while the customer twirled a straw around the rim of the still-cool glass. Still curious of the girl that had waltzed into England's equivalent of an American dive bar before noon, the bartender studied her face in search of answers for questions that were asked only in her head. David Bowie rang over speakers over a few moments of silence between the two.

"I should probably slow down," Morgan said with her head continuing to point towards the cup.

There were a few types of drunks in the world. Some folks got happier when they drank. Boisterous, even. Perhaps even invincible. Some folks got sad. After all, grade school had taught that alcohol was a depressant. Other folks got mad. Destructive. Morgan had experienced plenty of that at the watering hole she was employed at back home. A frequent customer of hers would have exactly five drinks of Old Forrester whiskey. Never more, never less. He always asked for the 100 Proof. Then one day, the man, named Fred, stopped coming in. A week later, Moore Haven police officers showed up at her front door asking questions. They mentioned Fred would come home wasted on whiskey before beating his wife on a nightly basis. Morgan swore she gave him whiskey and a smile and hardly knew the guy beyond that.

"I don't even know your name, but you've come in my pub at...," Marlene checked an Apple Watch with a chipped screen. "12:30 now and have had six shots of rum in two drinks and you look like you haven't had a drink at all."

When Morgan drank, she didn't dive into the happy, sad, nor angry categories. She just became irritable. Minor inconveniences became ginormous deals in her mind. Instead of making her forget, drinking most nights amplified and put focus on the things in her life that didn't make sense. It made her mind heavy.

She replied to Marlene with an order, not a name. "Gimme a Coors Light," she said, with a slight slur off her tongue in between the 'o' and 'r.' "Bottle."

The woman on the other side of the bar did as she was told, turning on a heel to a refrigerator underneath tens of liquor bottles on the counter above. A silver lid popped off with a silver bottle opener before a clank on the bar from the bottle's bottom. Morgan clutched it with her right hand and stole a quarter of its contents with one swig. There would be no successive clank on the bar, as she kept it inches off the table before looking at Marlene again.

"Where I come from, drinking might as well be a sport," she said in a low southern drawl.

"And where's that, honey? Because you could say the same thing about every down-on-his-luck sucker that walks through those doors after their Prem team loses."

Morgan rolled her eyes, then downed the rest of the beer as it was a glass of water she was polishing off a night of drinking with. A clank ensued.

"Marlene, you want to go to a party," she asked, leaning forward with her eyes locked on the human opposite her.

She scoffed, smiled, looked away, then looked back at Morgan. "Oh, what the hell? I'm working overtime anyways this week. Let me let the boss know and let's go crazy. Drinks are on me."

Sure enough, the bartender kept her word. The duo, who stood nearly identical at 5-foot-8 apiece, pushed through the pub door, then turned towards the apartment. Morgan's Ray-Bans returned to her face as the sun returned to be further bothersome. Marlene placed her left foot ahead of Morgan to get her to stop, with the hopes of learning even the most minimal amount of context.

"Okay, okay, pump the breaks blondie," she said, as Morgan looked toward her. "First of all, who the hell are you? Who's party are we going to? Can a girl get any sort of background info?"

Morgan sighed.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I got a little juiced up there. I'm Morgan. I'm not from here. Not from London, definitely not from Europe," she said, pushing the sunglasses past her eyes on onto the top of her head. "I just graduated college, moved in with these folks I hardly know and I guess...I guess I just wanted to make an impact. There's a lot of fucking wealth in that apartment and I'm still searching for a job, so it's just not the most great situation. My roommate - one of them - wanted to have a housewarming party tonight and I had not a single fucking clue what to do."

Marlene's eyebrows raised again and she broke into a wide smile. "Well, why didn't you just say that, you cheeky bastard?" She lightly jabbed at Morgan's arm. "See, it's easy to talk to people. They want a party? Let's give 'em one."

Within a handful of seconds, Morgan's left hand was being dragged by Marlene's right as they crossed an empty street that housed the liquor store that the blonde wanted to hit before finding the pub. It all felt incredibly quick. Before either of them knew what came of the situation, a 24-pack of Budweiser cans had been purchased along with a fifth of spiced rum - Marlene's nod to Morgan's choice of drink at the pub. The bartender purchased everything, a shocking revelation.

As a card reader processed her payment, Marlene looked back at Morgan and winked. "Where I come from, drinking might as well be a sport, too."

The apartment wasn't far from the liquor store, so the duo made their way with a fresh treasure trove of booze without much of a problem. Morgan carried the case of beer, Marlene was charged with the spirits. When they reached the door, they set down everything on the doorstep to catch their breath. The excitement gave Morgan a renewed sense of energy, like if the wind had gusted through a pinwheel. "Okay, we get in there, set all this shit on the counter, and no matter who's in the room, we shotgun a beer each," she said.

"I'm game."

An unlocked door made things even easier, as Morgan walked in with Marlene following. Just like they scripted, the beer went on the kitchen counter, and so did the bottle. Crassly, they looked at Luci, Thea, Otto and Matteo before they each pulled out a set of keys to break into the Bud. They each needed 30 seconds to chug the liquid, then remnants of it splattered against the counter. Marlene and Morgan crushed their cans in the sink and high-fived, then walked past the quartet of roommates and back down the hallway towards Morgan's room.

"Y'all wanted a fucking party, didn't you?"

coded by reveriee

 

[Gao]

LUCILLE BLANCHET

• .
• .
• .
• .
• .

• ,
• How are you feeling?

  Why are they like this!
• OUTFIT
• LOCATION

  APARTMENT
• Mentions

  Same as Interactions

  Interactions

  PixieDust (Anthea) + fairyfawn (Otto) + Sugarnaut (Matteo + Mitch) + riverlightning (Morgan + Marlene)

Scavenger, carrion

glutton,

scrappy vulture, smother history in

gore

and lick the

carnage

from your

talon

fingers. Bones are

marble

and wet, cavities stutter,

blame

yourself,

a salted

clemency

of rich thyme.

For a woman bridled bone-taut, the satisfaction of bending poise into lethargic comfort dared not be voiced.

Verbally, that is.

Beguiled by feather-filling, Lucille realised how much she overlooked the apartment’s furniture. A busy schedule, being burrowed away in her room or fussing back and forth in the kitchen robbed her of simple hedonism.

Cutting through a sea of complacency, a sound, soon identified as footsteps, sounded the living room. Laxed reins slipped from the coil of Luci’s fists, and she surged upright as if slapped awake.

“Thea!” The reprimand, more exclamation, pooled from her mouth with such exasperation, it’d be easy to assume she’d been caught snorting lines of coke rather than just relaxing. Gathering composure with a cleared throat, Luci drew up from comfort and perched on the edge, straight-backed form and countenance resumed. “... Hello.”

“I was just-” taking a couch pillow, she squished it between hands like a ball of dough, “-checking the cushions.” Reins of self-command recollected as much as the startle permitted, Luci smoothed down the fur lining before meticulously placing it back. “They are good,” a pat-pat to the pillow, “très bon.”

Flurries of air kisses were half-heartedly waved off, and with words as sweet as cavities, Anthea never failed to be a beam of light, haloed with intentions of warmth and pretty fawn-like eyes. As for Luci’s fabulous day? Lamenting, a hand massaged the tension at her temple. “Short bald men,” summarised it perfectly.

Enviably gorgeous. How the relentless playfulness still managed to feel new and unexpected each time was unknown, resurrecting shy warmth to Luci’s skin and rendering her into temporary quiet. Like an instrument fallen out of rote, she froze, slowly glanced at Anthea in robotic silence, before turning back to her topic of fixation: “We should get more cushions, non?” Not weird at all. Always one to handle a flirt with no more than averted eyes and deterred subjects, pillows were, once again, the first thing that came to mind.

Morgan, her saviour from flirtations, entered sight in a sorry state. Sweatpants and sunglasses, a combination Luci would rather be found dead and—

Snubbed!

Spared neither glance nor greeting, Lu waited for the tell-tale sound of the door shutting before huffing an offended scoff at the slight. “She’s a chatty one, I’ll give her that.”

Another arrival, whilst silent, was at least accompanied with a brief smile to acknowledge their presence. She worked alongside Otto, café camaraderie between knotted aprons and steamed coffee. He was amicable and with that cosy sweater and nest of hair, not seen as a reasonable threat.

To most.

No matter friendly presence, seeing the barista at the apartment always filled Luci with something frantic. Desperation was measuring every second of interaction, scratching rodent-claws at urgency that beat in time to the drum of her ribs: he knows, he knows, he knows.

Living inside a scorching rift between the trust of Otto’s silence and when the lie unravelled ribbon-like and shameful in her own hands, she dared not let slate-grey hold his warm chestnut gaze longer than a second. Stuck in a checkmate and the double-bladed pendulum borne of July’s aperture, Otto was a risk, difficult to calculate, and currently sighing from his seat.

Working in hospitality did that to people.

A telltale, “Heyyyy.” —was next, signalling Matteo’s arrival. Without turning, Luci could already imagine the smile plastered over his face. Happy like a house-pet, yet by the presumed dishevelment of his hair she’d grown to side-eye with distaste, not pampered like one. The blonde craned her head back to acknowledge the pair. Mitch from Cali— California, as promptly corrected, Luci’s mind was quick to label: surfer.

Stereotyping was slain dead at the mere sight. Watching a dozen of balloons float and freely bob along the ceiling, Lucille’s deadpan stare conveyed everything she was feeling.

What the fuck were those.

“I thought it was a housewarming,” Luci drawled, “not children’s birthday party.”

Yet not even a surfer, cupcakes or balloons could have prepared Luci for the hurricane of curls that swarmed through the front door and into the kitchen. She should’ve known something was afoot by their glances, yet only gathered their intentions at the flash of keys. Day drinking. Beer. Excess leaked to the kitchen counter, left uncleaned as the pair sauntered out of view.

What was going on?!

With roommates running amuck, Luci could feel the tightening wind of something splentic. Jaw tense and itch flaring through fingers at the abandoned mess. “This is not happening,” voice faint with horror, “this is not happening.” The glamorised embers of a high-class event, champagne and cognac shrimp, had smouldered into ash. She’d desire nothing more than to reach for a cigarette again, let the tart burn inside her throat be something else to focus on— but perfectionist instinct would not be defeated so easily.

Try as she might to ignorantly swim past and swallow the taste of ire on her teeth, she was soon standing sharply with glacial conviction. It seemed she was going to say something. Insult the balloons, maybe, shout for Morgan to get back and clean her mess.

With a very shaky, meditative inhale, peace and tranquillity, Luci mustered enough self control to instead force leniency through the white blades of her teeth:

“I... need to lay down for a while.”

coded by reveriee.

 

[The Silent Z]

Jørgen Vestergaard
~~~~~~​

Time passed ever slowly if at all. Memories swirling around ones mind like a pool of water circling a drain, the all ever present wonder if the swirling down ever slowly… will ever end starting to nag at the back of your mind. Closed eyes peaking open the longer his play continued on, ignorant to any annoyance he caused over the period of Mozart that was played between his FaceTime with Brooke and there after upon pleasant surprise he could still play after all this time. Least…. Decently so, perhaps a tad better pending the critic and all details considered.

Those very pale hazel eyes opening ever more, head raising slowly turning a simple glance toward a familiar photo framed and set upon the piano, a glance turned into a hard stare as his fingers slowly let up from further play. Memories turning from childhood lessons and moments of bonding with his mum learning Mozart, amongst many other classical pieces that for a small child seemed beyond counting and endless. The sheer impact that one simple family photo had couldn’t be measured by any short and simple TLDR summary. Two middle aged parents happily posing with their two children in some park with a stranger kindly snapping the photo for them.

It was meant to be a day of celebration for his kid sisters birthday. Practically fresh out of post op, mere days prior was his last game that ended in frustration and pain with bad news from start to finish of his medical evaluation. Two major events for him personally yet filling the concerns from his loved ones with positivity and promises of being there, no matter what… he meant it. Full of meds, a walking boot he absolutely hated and a crutch or two to help keep him upright even if he was far from approval to be up walking again so soon especially alone, without aid from another person and limiting his time walking and the distance. But he made it by damn….

Ignoring the restrictions and doctors orders. He traveled back home to his parents, greeted them with a smile and hugged each before taking out Brookes present from his old pack and giving his best. A walk through the park nearby that would have seen Jørgen grinding his teeth together and hiding the grimaces of pain and curses muttered under his breath. Determined. Stubborn. Perhaps foolish. But he wasn’t about to miss his kids sisters birthday nor show his discomfort and pain or admit the doctor and others were right. The day was aside from that rather beautiful and like old times. They were happy and full of celebration, laughing and being quite merry all around with one another amongst the many family members and friends that were there and even after they all left. It was a great time truly….

But as always good times come to that moment of reaching the end. Tension and the inevitable return of his fathers remarks were bound to replay once again, they always found a way to be there whenever the slightest setback or bad game occurred for Jørgen in pursuit of his ultimate goal and dream he’s had since he was a kid. Jørgen hoped he could restrain his temper and mind his tongue better for mums sake and sister especially it being Brookes birthday of all events and gatherings. But the timing of it all, the persistence over time with each setback and resulting call or text from his father, the return of this cycle was too much for him to handle. Not amongst the physical pain, the mental health trying to deal with it all quietly and alone being as agonizing and difficult as it was…. No, it was one too many times and Jørgen exploded on fiery, stubborn pride and temper.

A father and son the same sides of a coin. Stubborn and same temper as the other. It was a complete mess and shite end to a otherwise wonderful day. A single photo brought a mixture of feelings boiling inside of him, happiness and good times to anger and frustration amongst others. It took awhile to make that up to Brooke and do more then repetitive sincere, heart felt apologies to her that day and since, plenty did it take for him to feel no longer guilty and correcting that great wrong. Though perhaps he still did from time to time. Meanwhile his Mum, she was right caught in the middle of it, trying to break apart the two stubborn mules and quiet the situation. No apology ever seemed enough.

Reaching over and flipping the picture face down, Jørgen gave a deep exhale and shook his head. Slowly turned his body in shift towards the opposite wall, mindful of his leg, trying to forget that time in his life and all the pain filled events that occurred in such short time of each other. None of which even mentioned his ex leaving him that very next day from his last game and injury news. No, he’d appreciate forgetting that all here and now.

Pushing himself up and walking toward his backpack, pulling out the only thing he could think of for the party and still uncertain if it was good enough. Jørgen has a feeling this party was going to be rather higher society and upper class as they say compared to his more humble means. A single bottle of one Kentucky bourbon, a deal brokered with the clubs supplier that had a few available with a few favors cashed in to match the trade. A shake of his head, a shrug of his shoulders and figuring it was better then nothing.

Jørgen began to walk over wearing his old Clyde puma sneakers, a slow and restricted motion, as he cursed that bloody thick brace he was wearing beneath his puma joggers hoping to conceal his feelings on the matter and limited pace he could do with it on without the reasons being too obvious like they would be if worn overtop. Coming to his door catching a glimpse of Morgan and another woman that wasn’t familiar to him or his business he felt go down the hall way. Then before he could step foot outside his door, he thought another was heading away perhaps down the hall, giving him pause.

Though Jørgen continued on down the hall towards the Kitchen and passing through the living area along the way, taking notice of Lucille and offering a mere kind smile and nod hello though getting the feeling it was best not to push it much further. Before turning his gaze towards the ceiling and balloons, then down towards the many cupcakes, suddenly feeling rather short handed and underwhelming with his offering. “Hej….” Jørgen offered in greeting and smile to Thea, Otto, Matteo and his friend or least presumed friend given the scene. Given a thought about the sighting of Morgan and her friend, the potential state of Lucille plus the current temperature of the room upon reading…. It was a odd mix perhaps and again felt like it was best not to push it with questions as that too wasn’t his business.

Instead he offered a corner grin and smile, nodded politely to each before heading to the kitchen to set his offering of Kentucky bourbon on the counter. Taking note of the spiced rum and opened pack of Budweiser beer already there, a prior thought to have spotted bottle of champagne leaving Jørgen shaking his head and simply nodding off the certainty he was perhaps mistaken and brought the wrong thing. Though still, he wouldn’t have a clue on what would have been the right thing to offer the house party.

“This should be a interesting night…” Jørgen thought to himself before turning and slowly making his way back out of the kitchen. Uncertain of what he’d find to do next to occupy him, but certain he could find something good to shift his mind off memories and such and towards something more akin to his usual self, more fitting of a night made for a house warming party…

 

[PixieDust]

It was not even slightly likely that Anthea believed Luci when she insisted that she had not been relaxing and had simply been 'checking the pillows'. She thought it almost comical how highly strung the woman was. 'Oh, but of course! The pillows. I am quite glad they are to your liking, cherie.'

It was not long after that Otto arrived in the room, trying to act as though he was not. She knew that he and Lucille both worked at the same coffee shop, but she hoped Otto had a better work day than Luci. Looking around the apartment reminded her that their were still little things she needed to do for the party. It wasn't exactly necessary to decorate the place, but she did like the added touch. The chocolate cake she had baked the day before on her day off was stored for the party too. She hoped it would be well-received Even if she was not the best cook, she knew without a doubt that she could bake.

The front door clicked open again and in stepped Matteo and his friend Mitch. Her eyes lit up at the sight of them. It was a great chance to play hostess even if it was not quite party time.. She rose from her seat and walked over to them, taking the cupcakes from him and admiring the balloons A little on-the-nose for her tastes but balloons did have a tendency to put one in a good mood.

'Thanks Matteo, you're an absolute doll!' she enthused and offered a warm smile to Mitch, extending her hand to shake. 'It's lovely to meet you, Mitch. I've heard so much about you! All good things of course. Have a seat if you like.' She gestured to the cosy sofas with one hand whilst balancing the cupcakes in the other.

Before she could say anything more, a rush of blonde hair practically rushed through the room in a whirlwind. It was Morgan along with another girl she had never met. She hardly had time to process what was going on until she saw the spilled can of Budweiser on the kitchen worktop and Morgan spouting something about them wanting a party.

Thea blinked, completely nonplussed by the occurrence and more than disappointed with such a crass choice of alcoholic beverage. 'Uh, well..' she muttered, lost for words for once. 'Anyone for drinks?'

She looked around her hopefully, noting that Luci looked positively mortified. This was hardly as sophisticated as a gala and Anthea was certain it would only get worse now, especially since her sister would be coming and would most likely be judging the entire thing. She kept up her sunny veneer however and turned to the person closest to her which happened to be Jørgen. Now that the moment had passed, she realised that the dulcet tones of Mozart had faded entirely and had only done so when he had joined them downstairs.

'Oh so it was you then!' She enthused with her eyes sparkling, it not dawning on her that he would have no idea what she was on about. So much for decorum. Any pretence at it might as well be thrown out of the window now that the room was filled with balloons and cheap beer. Oh if only Will were here already. He would probably pour all the remaining Budweiser down the drain in disgust.

Where: The Apartment With: Lucille Gao Otto fairyfawn Jørgen The Silent Z Matteo and Mitch Sugarnaut Mentions: Morgan and Marlene riverlightning William and Poppy Mood: Bemused and slightly disappointed Outfit: x

 

[fairyfawn]

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play with fire

Otto's already bad posture was slowly starting to slump in his very comfortable seat as he began to pick and pull at the sleeves of his sweater out of boredom. He must've left his phone upstairs, a long distance away from where he was right now and he wasn't keen on getting up to go get it. His phone could wait for now. Otto's gaze flicked back over to the champagne bottle that Lucille had brought for the housewarming party. That reminded him... was he supposed to bring something for the party? He hadn't thought about stopping by anywhere to pick something up as a little housewarming gift, rather he had been so focused on returning to the apartment after work. Besides, what would he have bought anyways? What would make an excellent gift?

Oops.

Well, the champagne and whatever else was being brought for the party should suffice. Speaking of champagne, should Otto say something about the bottle, or should he hold his tongue? Otto was quick to move his gaze away from the champagne. Hmmm, maybe later perhaps. The sound of the front door, also followed by a "Heyyyy" had caught Otto's attention. Oh, look! There's Matteo and someone that he didn't really know! But Otto was eagerly eyeing the cupcakes that Matteo had so kindly brought for the party. Matteo is so kind. Cupcakes are sweet treats; Otto loves sweet treats. Can he sneak a cupcake or two before the party starts or does he have to wait? What do you mean he has to wait? Can the party start now please? Otto's gaze went to the balloons that were freely hitting and bouncing along the ceiling, here's to hoping that they don't pop.

"I thought this was a housewarming, not children's birthday party."

Lucille's words made Otto turn his head to look at her. Hey now, cupcakes are a lovely gift for the housewarming party! The balloons were alright, though. Besides, cupcakes and balloons were much better than a bottle of champagne. At least to Otto it sounded much better. He began to sit upright in his seat, lips pursing as he wondered if he should mention the champagne bottle. "Well, cupcakes and balloons are much better than-" Otto began to speak up, but he was so rudely interrupted! His mouth clamped shut in response as Morgan and Marlene made their presence known in the apartment. With... beer. Alcohol. Budweiser beer. Otto's nose wrinkled at the sight of the beer, especially when it was being chugged down.

Well, yeah, they wanted a party, but Otto certainly wasn't expecting to see beer get gulped down. Otto didn't press on the fact that he had been trying to say something to Lucille before he had been interrupted. He fidgeted from where he was sitting, hearing Thea say something about if anyone is up for drinks. "Nonalcoholic drinks?" Otto murmured as a brief response. Why, yes, Otto would love a drink!

Another presence was in the apartment, Otto looked up to see Jørgen had decided to come downstairs, how nice of him to join them. Oh, a piano wasn't being played anymore. Well, this is a nice start before the party.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[The Silent Z]

Jørgen Vestergaard
~~~~~~~~​

A quiet almost upbeat mood. The keeping up of appearances while down from his room and about the apartment with his roommates and friends of roommates, thoughts on the party and his little gift for the house warming set away from his mind. He had been content for now leaning against the wall outside of the kitchen and view of the others with his shoulder pressed against the surface, side leaning into the right side of him. He was slightly amused by the atmosphere around him, but kept it quiet and hidden behind a subtle poker face. Meanwhile eyes turning toward Anthea as she spoke with her own eyes sparkling and enthused, mentioning it was him. Truly, Jørgen hadn’t a clue of what she meant or was talking about exactly. little did it phase him that his little piano playing was heard and either enjoyed, despised or indifferent by the others in the house.

It simply hadn’t occurred to him that it could have been noticed. Although, in truth, he wasn’t the most aware of the others schedules and routines of each day just yet, still plenty to learn and become more aware of over time. A brow slightly raised higher then the other, a empty and confused look as he tried to figure out what she could mean, then it struck him to fill the brief silence with some attempt of humor as the timing seemed alright with the opening. “Oh, yes, it was me….” Jørgen slipped in allowing for a brief pause and slight smile though a little touch of serious. “I did it with a candlestick in the kitchen.” He added further referencing the Clue board game and movie. A soft chuckle escaping him before his brain started to fill in the blanks and connect the dots, putting two and two together slowly and lowered his head a bit and shook softly. “Oh, yeah…. I gotcha you now. That was me aye, did I bother anyone?” Jørgen asked looking up toward Thea, Matteo, Mitch, Lucille and Otto. He wasn’t intending to bother anyone… yet wouldn’t make a excuse or anything if he had been a annoyance. simply the guy would apologize and promise to try to be more mindful in the future should it be necessary and right to do.