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Multiple Settings The Loop | IC | Timeline 1

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elytra

a beetle may or may not be inferior to a man
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The Loop (Timeline 1)
Current Mystery
: #1 The Loop​

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Current Date & Time: August 16th, 9:00 PM
Weather: Clear skies
Current Event: End-Of-Summer Party

Introduction

1983. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police has topped the charts, while Atari gaming systems have become all the rage in households across the US. The last Star Wars movie released a few months back as well, and people can't seem to stop talking about it. The moonwalk, despite existing earlier, has recently become popular through Michael Jackson, and excitement can be found in the success of the NASA STS-7 mission, making Sally Ride the first American woman to go to space. These are things that have captured the attention of the population of the United States and, despite everything, Boulder, Colorado is no different.

Boulder, to any outsider, would sound like an exciting place to live. Sitting atop the worlds second largest particle collider, something that has allowed for extreme advances in technology, it seems like an ideal place. Residents would likely disagree with this notion. At the best of times, Boulder could be like any other place, with its run-down theater and a sitting-right-at-average high school. The people that lived there were just going about their lives in the ways they would in any other town. So, it wasn't all that surprising that the teens of Boulder, sitting atop one of the great technological wonders of the world, decided to ignore it completely and throw a rager to get one more ounce of celebration in before the summer finally came to an end.

Janice Wilkman, who's parents have decided to leave her unsupervised for the weekend, decided to throw a party at her home and invite anyone and everyone who heard about it. To say the least, the place is packed on this particular Saturday night. A pack of beer has been cracked open, and someone seems to have gotten shoved into the pool, while music is blasting from a boom box. It's a miracle the police haven't been called yet, but the partygoers seem to be milking it for all its worth.
 
Kristi 'Coop' Cooper
Location: The Wilkman's Residence
Interactions: N/A; Open
Mentions: Tammy ( cadence cadence ), Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly )

Coop wasn't really a party person. It wasn't as if she had anything against them, really. She could sort of see the appeal. It was just a very big, very noisy social gathering, sometimes with free food and drink. That said, she had never felt the need to go to one. They didn't have the sort of people she tended to hang around, though to be fair there were few people she tended to hang around in general. They also tended to get chaotic very quickly. With those things in mind, she had decided early on that she wasn't really interested in taking part in them, and would rather spend her time doing other things, like art.

And yet here she was, sitting on a couch at a party.

It wasn't a particularly comfortable couch, either. It was fake leather, the sort that stuck to your skin if you pressed against it for any amount of time, and managed to be as hard as a rock despite (supposedly) having stuffing in it. There was a couple making out next to her which had caused her to slot herself as close to the arm of the couch as possible, and she was pretty sure she'd seen someone just drag another person into the pool outside in a manner that was similar to an attacking sea monster, though she couldn't be quite sure seeing as there were quite a few people standing in front of the window. She wouldn't have been surprised if she'd seen correctly. It seemed like the sort of thing that would happen.

To say the least, the party wasn't meeting expectations. The only reason she'd come in the first place was because it was the sort of thing that both Tammy and Delia went to, and seeing as they were just about her only friends....well. She wanted to see what the fuss was about, you know? Get a taste of what they were up to when she wasn't around. She wasn't impressed with what she found. Her eyes flickered to the couple that was next to her briefly and she pressed herself to the arm of the couch even further. Parties, she decided, were uncomfortable. She was going to stick this one out since she wouldn't be giving it a fair shot if she did otherwise, but it wasn't looking good for the concept as a whole.

She attempted to distract herself a little so she wouldn't unintentionally seem disgusted by the people next to her (though, they probably wouldn't notice anyway). From her bag, she tugged out her sketchbook, flicking it open to a new page and taking her pencil out of the small holster that was on the spine. Then, she picked a random person from the crowd and began to sketch.
 
DELIA CARRON
Wilkman House - mentions: Coop elytra elytra - interactions: Tammy cadence cadence

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At least someone had the good sense to throw a rager before the beast known as senior year. Delia was starting to think she'd have to do it herself.

Going to a party meant a lot of things for Delia. It meant a very blurry morning and a very wild night. It meant a slushy of drugs and alcohol enough to make her forget whatever had been gnawing at her insides at least until tomorrow. It meant mingling with people she might have never spoken to all under one roof with a common goal; to get fucked up. And it meant a serious wad of cash, from selling to all the stoners, preps and whoever else wanted a good high before the new school year. In every way, parties were a pretty big win for her. And they were not complete without her cavalry. Well. Singular.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Thrice Delia slammed the horn of her clunker of a car, a very beloved Ford Country Squire she’d rescued from the junkyard like a puppy sent for slaughter. Francis had helped her fix it up, on the days when he’d decided to be an actual human being and brother, and not just a piece of shit. Because of the hours, sweat and cash she had poured into that thing, Delia loved it to death, and had bestowed upon it the name Jerry.

It just seemed like a Jerry, you know? Kind of a family man. Sweaty wife beater aura. Lots of chip bags on the floor.

“Get the fuck out here or Jerry’s gonna have somethin’ to say about it!” Delia shouted playfully from the driver’s seat, laying on the horn a couple more times for good measure. When Tammy finally hauled her ass into the car, Delia made sure to shoot her the dirtiest look, arms crossed for dramatic effect. “I can’t believe you. I said I wanted dinner ready at six, sharp, when I get home from work. How are we supposed to make this relationship work if you don’t do anything I ask?! I work nine to five, for Pete’s sake!”

Pause.

“Just fucking with you I brought takeout.”

The act dropped instantly as Delia pulled from her purse a freshly wrapped blunt, handing it to Tammy and then slamming on the gas with a flamboyant cackle. She turned the radio all the way up to blast the new Police song, shouting the words along with it, as if she knew them. She did not. Tammy knew the drill, and for this, Delia loved her. Almost as much as Jerry. And Coop, of course. But somehow, some beautiful way, Coop had stayed innocent, and out of the hoodlum life that she and Tammy lived. Without her presence, Delia was free to be… well. High. Very high.

They arrived in style, tires screeching onto the pretty paved driveway of Janice Wilkman’s house. The music already boomed from within, and a smile grew on Delia’s face as she weaved her way through the bodies, grabbing Tammy’s hand to drag her along to the kitchen. This was her element, and it was obvious. In the chaos, Delia glowed, and she looked back to Tammy with a grin. “I want a cold beer. Always gotta start with a cold beer, right? Gets ya warmed up for the night’s festivities. Hey, that shit I just gave you? Straight out of the kitchen, freshly rolled, and top tier, if I do say so myself. But you know, on the house for my wife, of course.”

Ah, the red solo cups of divine heaven. She poured two, and clinked cups with Tammy’s. “To the shitshow that will surely be senior year!”
 
b0d02c5388d47a23a9803893cbf07d2c.jpgRyan Netzine
Location: The Netzine Home==> Wilkman Residence
Character Interactions: Coop elytra elytra
Character Mentions: Story smolfluffball smolfluffball

Ryan Netzine had used the time before the Party wisely, especially given the circumstances.

Though not on a game day, having a party the same day as Practice meant he had to coordinate his prep hours. Ryan took practice serious, too serious some as some of his teammates would say. He'd meticulously assembled a meal prime for nutrients and ease of digestion so that by the time they were getting lined up for drills, he had the highest potential for energy and activity that he could offer. It was similar to his prep work for football games, and just as effective. But after practice was not him at his best for the interactions of a party, his reactions would be too fueled by any leftover energy or drained too much to maintain his efficiency.

So after practice he entered the second stage of prep, returning home and engaging in some light yoga to ease his body from the strain of practice. Fort-Five minutes of sleep and a light bath to wash off the musk and muck of the field, his movements through the large Netzine home were mechanical and effective. He didn't go through his entire routine, as something of that scale was reserved for formal events. Attending a high school party decked out in all the exfoliants and self-care at his disposal would be far too much, and would cut into his schedule.

Instead he settled for maximum casualness, wiping away the strain of Practice and setting himself up for the ideal portrayal as young guy just trying to have a good time. Compared to some of his pursuits it was an easy appearance to set up, and left him with just two hours to get some extra work in.

Free time such as this was reserved for extra studying or relaxants, and due to the nature of practice he leaned more towards relaxants to get himself in a proper hanging out mood. Forty minutes of light studying, twenty minutes of lounging with some music to wind down, and ten minutes chatting with Story about the party they'd attend.

About thirty minutes before the party was set to start, he walked outside of the large Netzine home and waited out front for his ride.

Though old enough and with the means to acquire his own vehicle, Ryan had found that biking was far more useful for maintaining his physique. But to bike to an event such as this would undermines some of his prep work, and so had set up to be picked up by one of his acquaintances.

They were late, of course, making Ryan wait fifteen minutes outside his home before a large pick-up truck rounded the corner onto his street and approached the path leading to the Netzine home. He had planned for this, of course. Arriving too early would be time wasted, and the guy providing transportation had never been as punctual as Ryan. He could hear them long before he saw them: A truck loaded with six people, three up front and three in the back.

As soon as they spotted him, a chorus of hoots and greetings erupted as several even slammed the side of the truck inb greeting, earning harsh words from the driver.

"Yo, no screwin' with the wheels, assholes!" Chase shouted from the driver's window "Don't think I ain't willing to crash this fucker with all o' you in it!"

"You mind waiting till' after you drop us off?" Ryan asked as they came to a stop "I've kinda got a thing I need to get to."

Chase leaned out of the window as Ryan approached, "Well shit, wouldn't want to ruin ya day, Ry." he nodded towards the back "Mind keeping these guys from denting my ride or something?"

"Ah, the thing needs a couple of dents, C-Man." Theon shouted from the passenger's seat as Ryan pulled himself into the bed of the truck "Real ride needs some battle damage or else it looks a like a Bitch-Seater."

Ryan paused as he settled in between Reina and Tosh, "Do I even wanna know what that is?"

Theon didn't even hesitate "Yeah, rides so clean and untouched you know whoever's driving 'em's a bitch. Scars, dents and wear aren't only a symbol of how much shit your ride's withstood, but how much you're willing to put it through."

"Clean and untouched..." Reins reiterated as she kicked some of the dirt in the bed of the truck "Think we can toss that crap out the window."

"Will that be enough to counter this Bitch-Seater effect?"
Ryan asked as the truck began moving

"Pfft, dirtying it up's one thing." Theon began, much to Chase's distaste "But its way too easy to fake, damage speaks way more, brother."

They made their way to Janice's house with this conversation following them, but Ryan's mind was elsewhere. He'd gotten used to the banter his 'Friends' were used to, and could effectively turn his thoughts on on coordinating his approach to the party.

It wasn't as though they could tell the difference really, the Rogues had long since gotten used to his manner of interaction. Chase had been willing to ferry anyone who didn't have a ride, but thankfully wouldn't be attending. Him and Theon had something to get to at that time but had been unwilling to disclose what it was, though Ryan had a sneaking suspicion that it would land them in trouble sooner rather than later.

He was more willing to play uninvolved bystander where that stood.

The bigger matter was Reina, as Ryan knew exactly why she would be willing to ride in the back of Chase's truck. She had plenty of folks who'd be more than willing to give her a ride, yet the fact she chose the one option which would keep her as close to him as possible spoke volumes. He wouldn't take the bait, her overly friendly mannerisms would bear no fruit. He'd spent enough time with her to know how to sidestep her attempts at dragging him into anything more.

The Netzine Home was on the other side of town from the Wilkman residence, leaving them fashionably late by some time with the party just ramping up as they approached. People were still arriving, with Ryan putting as many names to faces as he could while Chase pulled to a stop. As soon a s he did, the rest of them disembarked save for Theon. Hopping out, Ryan took a moment to examine the house from a distance while pulling on the information he had on Janice herself.

Before he could get too into it, Reina pressed against his side before urging him forward. It wouldn't do to be seen examining the house as he had been, so he was quick to smirk and let her lead him into the house with the other Rogues already looking for their pals who hadn't needed the aid of Chase's truck.

Even without the Rogues, Ryan would've been drawing attention from the crowd due to his status, but the rowdiness of his pals was more than enough to draw a varied reaction from those already there. Whether they were eager to see what kind of fun the Rogues would bring, or spiteful at such folks for arriving, everyone had their own reactions to seeing them. Ryan kept tabs on these reactions, but was mostly scanning the crowd whilst looking for a particular friend of his who he wouldn't classify in the same category as the Rogues.

Story and him had spoken about the party earlier over the phone, and Ryan was eager to at least chat before he got into the nitty gritty networking that he was intending to use the Party for. Thankfully, Reina and the other Rogues split from him to seek their own ventures, most in small groups with some going on their own. That left Ryan to mingle with his less controversial peers. Of course, his reputation made such attempts a mixed bag, ranging from glamour and praise to absolute avoidance. It was this reason why he wanted to speak to Story, as they had a far more consistent basis of interaction compared to the others.

But during this, he paused upon finding that he was being watched, and not just by the usual crowds. Whilst wrapping up a chat with one of his teammates and his girlfriend, Ryan caught a glimpse of Kristi Cooper drawing out of the corner of his eye. What's more, despite giving some greetings to another classmate he was able to ascertain that she seemed to be drawing something in his general direction.

With the current stock of conversation dry at the moment, he figured he had the time for a quick quip.

"You think I should do a pose, Kris?" he asked her whilst giving a stretch "Not sure if I'm getting the best lighting with this one."
 
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Skylar Wiley
Location: Wilkman’s Party
Interactions: N/A; Open
Mentions: N/A

______________________________________________________________

“Skylar! Go! Cool off!”

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He slammed the screen door to his mother’s shout in his abrupt departure from the heated conflict which had boiled over after a tantalizing t.v. dinner. He could still feel the searing warmth from where his mother had put her hands on him, rejecting his advance toward her new husband, pushing him toward the back door. His face felt hot to the humid summer air, a thick, uncomfortable warmth sticking under the collar of his shirt. He was fuming in his feelings of unjustness, angrily fumbling with the tangled cord of his headphones while gripping his Walkman rigid in his opposite hand. He stumbled over the uneven sidewalk, picking up his pace while he threw his headphones over his ears, jabbing the 'play' button with his thumb to be rewarded with a burst of garbed static crunching over a cassette recording of Joy Division's disorder.

He walked. He walked past the park and over the bridge, veering away from the neon hum from the cornerstore and plunging past copypastes of America's achievement called suburban paradise. He kicked loose gravel into the road, crossed unlawfully, flipped off a billboard advertisement for a real estate lawyer, and came to a stop some forty minutes later on the other end of town. It wasn't the music that had drawn him to this place-- he couldn't hear less than a car collision over the triumphant baseline sung to him through his headset. Nor was it the crowd-- he had always been one to avoid crowded spaces. It was the distinct, skunk-reminiscent stench of weed which had lured him from the backstreets behind the record shop and the creamery. He'd followed it all the way to Wilkman's, where then, upon seeing the gathering, he came to remember the party happening there in the first place. He thought for a minute that it could've been his subconscious, knowing of the party, which had directed his wandering to this scene. But his subconscious was not an easy target to blame. He blamed basic human psychology. The way a person can think their thoughts are their own, that the direction they walk is one of their own choosing, until group polarization is considered, and maybe one realizes that every decision they've ever made has been influenced by something or someone else.

He dropped his headset around his neck and shoved his walkman into his jacket pocket. Feeling wronged by the world is an easy excuse to convince yourself you deserve something free. And the brutish interruption of an aggravated argument is cause enough to want to get a little fucked up. The walk had done very little to cool his jets, and he walked in through the backdoor still reeking of ill-intent. Maybe he'd entered his own house the same way earlier today. He'd been prone to picking fights since the moment his mother had said "I do" to that insufferable balding prick. Now he sported his winnings across his face, a cacophony of blossoming color spreading from his cheek to his temple.

He entered through the gate into the backyard in time to watch some drunk geezer go flopping into the pool. He picked up a beer from a pack sitting on top of the grill and chugged it. He'd never been much of a partier. Not that he didn't like drugs or alcohol. It was the people he couldn't stand. Grinning dumbly, drunkenly fumbling, buoyant and bubbly, talking loudly, excitable, insatiable, beaming, broiling, wasting, gorging, pillaging, toying. He let the can drop to his feet and then he kicked it as hard as he could, watching it ricochet off the side of the house and fly into a bush. He picked up another can, popping the tab open so aggressively that the pull-tab snapped off.

"Who're you gonna give that to?"

It was Kathrine. A girl he infrequently spoke to from his biology class. She was nice, if not a little bookish for his palette. He wasn't surprised that she would be at the party exactly, everyone from the entire school was likely there. He was more surprised that he would be approached by someone he knew at a place like this. It perturbed him to realize that she might believe he had come here on his own violation. Instead of by some unrighteous plotting of the universe dragging his unconscious subconscious here. "Pardon?"

"The tab." she said, smiling. She had braces. But they didn't look so wrong on her. "Means you wanna make-out with someone."

"Oh." He looked down to the tab in his hand. And then his brow furrowed. "Nobody. Here- you take it. I don't want it."

"Don't give it to me!" She was teasing, but Skylar wasn't in the teasing mood, so he pocketed it and began to vigorously consume his second beverage. "Are you here with anyone?" She asked, sparing a glance back to what was presumably her group. Which apparently included the pool diver.

"Yeah. Bye." Skylar tossed the empty can in the general direction of the trash can and then pushed past the girl, making his escape from her pestering by entering the house.

 
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Story
[ Location: Home → Wilkman House | Interactions: Skylar Jewel Jewel | Mentions: Ryan GrieveWriter GrieveWriter and Kristi elytra elytra ]

“Are you sure you’re not coming?” Story asked through the door, arms crossed.

“I’m dying, brother.” Stella let out a loud and obviously fake cough. Story rolled his eyes. “I can’t go. I don’t want to get all of those unfortunate students sick.”

“It’s the last party before school starts,” Story reminded his sister, drumming his fingers against his arm. This was ridiculous. “If you don’t go and regret it later, then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

There was a thumping behind the door, and his sister soon twisted the handle open. She peeked at him between the crack. “Is Ryan going to be there?”

“Obviously.” Story frowned. “I was on the phone with him earlier. Don’t you remember asking me who I was talking to? Or is your brain broken?”

“It’s not broken.” Stella reached out and swatted at her brother. He scoffed and moved backwards. “If Ryan is going to be there, then I can’t go.” She closed the door in Story’s face, and he scowled at the wood. “Have fun by yourself, Tory.”

“You’re being a moron, Tella,” Story said, kicking the door. Stella let out a scream and he snorted. “It’d be more fun if you came with me,” he mumbled.

His sister didn’t respond. Ugh.

“Fine.” He stepped away from his sisters’ door. “Have fun being lovesick in your room by yourself.” He heard some thumping and smirked, but he turned away as his sister opened the door again.

A pillow hit his back and he quickly scooped it up and threw it back, but Stella closed the door. It hit the wood and fell uselessly onto the floor. He frowned down at it, then went over to it and picked it up. He knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer and opened it. He smiled at his sister, who was back by her bed already, then he threw the pillow at her face. She let out a shout as the pillow whacked into her but he slammed the door shut and ran toward the stairs, nearly falling when the bump in the runner rug caught on his shoe.

He listened for a moment to hear if his sister would follow him out. She let out an angry “Story!” but didn’t open her door again. He eyed the crease in the rug and went back toward it, stamping it down with his foot. If his sister went out late to get a snack she might trip over it, and Story would hate to hear about her broken nail or bruised knee.

“I’m leaving,” he called, moving toward the staircase.

“Have fun!” Stella called back cheerfully.

Story scowled but went down the stairs. He did not think the party would be that fun, but sure. He’d go and have fun.

Quickly, he left his house. His parents were away on some business trip so he didn't need to bother saying anything to them. The dogs greeted him in the yard, and Story gave a few pats to his favorite ones. He eyed the Akita, Eric, then reached forward when the dog panted at him. He rubbed the top of the dogs’ head and pulled back, trying to ignore his racing heart. When the dog didn’t do anything, he cleared his throat and sent them all on patrol.

He left his property after double checking that the gate was locked behind him. The party was located at Janice Wilkman’s house, and Story thought he probably knew where she lived. He turned and started walking. He’d be late walking on foot, but he hadn’t made arrangements with anyone to pick him up. His sister, before she changed her mind, had been his ride. But she was being stupid and ridiculous, so he had to suffer in the summer heat and hope the bugs left him alone.

After about twenty minutes, Story decided he did not actually know where the fuck Janice Wilkman's house was at. He thought it was by the stream, but no. Of course it wasn’t. He was just about to give up and go back home, skip the party entirely, because he really didn’t want to go, but there was a beeping behind him. He knew the horn and kept still as his sister rolled up to his side. She flashed a grin at him through the window, which he completely ignored as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“Did you get lost?”

“I refuse to talk about it.”

She laughed and waited for Story to put his seatbelt on, then took off.

In a much shorter amount of time, Janice Wilkman’s house finally appeared on the side of the road. Story studied the cars to see what ones he recognized, then glanced at his sister when she parked the car. She waved him out and he knew she wasn’t going to change her mind, so he resigned himself to dealing with all of the annoyances alone. He closed the door gently and waved to his sister, and she pulled up the corners of her mouth to remind him to smile. He didn’t.

His sister pulled away and he looked back at the house. Meh. It wasn’t anything that fancy. He could already smell the pungent scent of booze and weed and various other drugs from his spot in the street. This was going to be annoying. He’d just do his best to avoid the drunks and high flyers. Maybe he’d laugh at them if any of them were stupid enough.

Inside of the house, the stench was worse. He let out a breath and looked around. He spotted Ryan talking with a girl he recognized— What was her name again? Kristi? He didn’t linger in the living room and decided he’d speak with Ryan after he was done conversing with the freak, and instead moved further into the house. He didn’t have to travel far before he saw Skylar enter through the back door.

He checked to see if anyone was paying attention to him. Everyone was too busy being drunk or hanging off of each other. Perfect. Story approached Skylar and looked him over, then offered a smile. “Did you just get here or are you already wasted?”
 
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Kristi 'Coop' Cooper
Location: The Wilkman's Residence
Interactions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter GrieveWriter )
Mentions: Tammy ( cadence cadence ), Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly )

Ah, she'd been caught. Usually Coop tried to fly under the radar when it came to her people watching. She did it because it was good practice, but she knew some people found it 'creepy', mostly because they'd told her so in no uncertain terms. Of course, she respected that enough to not draw those specific people ever again, but she liked to try and avoid the judgement a little. She'd thought the party would be a good cover with the number of people there that were much more popular and attention-drawing than she was. Apparently not. Unfortunate, but at least she wasn't getting told off. Or, she didn't think she was being told off, at least.

Then again, it was hard to tell. She was no good with that sort of thing, and considering who Ryan was and who he hung around with, she couldn't be sure. The Rogues were at best confrontational, and she'd never had the easiest time with them. But this reaction seemed to be leagues better than others she'd gotten, so she was going to assume that it was a positive one. Hopefully. If it wasn't...well, she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

"Lighting is bad, but luckily I'm not taking pictures! Looks fine on paper." She said, flipping her sketch book towards him briefly. The picture was still in the early phases of sketching, but if it continued going well, she'd probably get around to trying water colors on it. Her art was good, but it had come after years and years of practice. She still made mistakes and it wouldn't surprising if later on in the process she ended up not liking it enough to finish it. She turned it back towards herself, absentmindedly erasing a stray line. "But hey, if you wanna pose like one of those Sports Illustrated covers, be my guest! Not often I get models who are staying still instead of moving all over the place. Do you prefer flexing or, like, crossing your arms in a very stoic manner?"

Hopefully joking right back wasn't seen as over-friendly or anything. The party could be fun if she managed to have one positive interaction instead of just sitting alone on the couch the entire time. Tammy and Delia were probably somewhere around, but she didn't really have any plans to seek them out at the moment. While she'd come to see where their interest in parties had come from, it'd be awkward. She knew it would. She was oblivious when it came to reading a room- she knew that -but she knew from past experience that the two of them finding her at this party would end in discomfort for all of them.
 
d01d01d3572fd93c43d484cc69cccdbc.jpgRyan Netzine
Location: Wilkman Residence
Character Interaction: Coop ( elytra elytra )
Character Mention: Tammy ( cadence cadence ) , Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly )

Kristi Cooper wasn't exactly someone Ryan kept on his radar too often, due to just how inoffensive her antics were most of the time. Compared to her friends, she could often be safely ignored or engaged with rather regularly without many strings being attached. Even though he wouldn't classify them as friends due to the infrequency of their interactions, Ryan was still fairly certain that she was not fond of the party scene. Compared to many of those at Janice's home that night, she stood out like a sore thumb without her friends to draw attention away.

Even though the folks next to her on the couch were practically melting their faces together by this point, the sight of them fit into the image of a high-school party more than her with her drawing skills.

And it wasn't even that they were bad drawing skills. After she flipped her sketch book over to show him what she'd gotten done, Ryan confirmed that she was still adept at the medium. It was just that a loud party chock full of semi-drunk or high teenagers didn't seem fit for the task.

Then again, he wasn't an artist, so who was he to say?

At her question of what his preferential pose was, he gave a humored shrug before crossing his arms across his chest.

Maybe in his early years he would've been more inclined to flex for a sketch, as he definitely remembered doing so several times with great acclaim. But even though he unquestionably had more muscle to work with, he knew now how to play to his strengths. Crossing one's arms brought attention to the chest whether directly or purposefully, and a subtler touch of peacocking felt more effective for a sketch.

Besides that, after practice today he wasn't quite willing to put his muscles to work just yet. They were to relax and prepare for more training tomorrow, so the more stoic pose would work far better for what was required.

"Play to your strengths I say." he said before giving Kristi a tilt of his head "Speaking of which, I never figured I'd see you at one of these things."

Maintaining his stance, he cast his gaze to the nearby party-goers, "Special occasion? Or did D&T finally win you over?"

While Kristi may have been easy to let slide into the background whenever she wanted, the same couldn't exactly be said for her friends: Delia Carron and Tamara Torres . While it could safely be assumed that they would be in attendance, given who they were, Ryan figured there was no harm in getting some confirmation. Given their presence, it'd be even more likely that at least some of the Rogues would be leaving this party wasted out of their minds, which meant Ryan would have to organize some form of insurance for later on.
 
Kristi 'Coop' Cooper
Location: The Wilkman's Residence
Interactions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter GrieveWriter )
Mentions: Tammy ( cadence cadence ), Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly )

Right. She probably should've expected Tammy and Delia to be brought up. It wasn't uncommon knowledge that they were her friends, especially considering how long they'd been friends for. Further, it wasn't uncommon knowledge that this was not her scene but it definitely was theirs. So, it wasn't shocking that they'd be brought up, nor was it that she'd be asked why she was around in the first place. Honestly, the only reason she assumed it wouldn't come up in conversation was because she hadn't been expecting someone to actually speak to her.

She erased part of her drawing, reworking the pose she'd already gone for in favor of sketching the pose that Ryan had generously done for her. She hadn't been lying when she said very few people posed for her, so she planned to take what she was given and run with it. Besides, she was sure it'd come out nicer this way. It'd been a bit since she'd had a drawing she considered worthwhile enough to actually color. While she worked, glancing up now and again to get a good look at him, she decided to answer his questions honestly.

"Well, a little bit of both, but also neither." She began, shrugging her shoulders absentmindedly "It's right before senior year and I've never been to a party, yknow? I figured that I might as well come to one for the experience and see what the fuss is about. Delia and Tammy are probably here, but honestly, if they see me here, they'll probably try to kick me out. Del is always telling me not to go to these things."

Which was weird and frustrating, to say the least. It was confusing to offer to go to something with your friend and then have them tell you basically to not bother. Sure, Delia was nice enough about it, but there were certain implications that came along with telling you friend not to hang out with you. She didn't really see the big deal about her going to a party. So what? Sure, she had some trouble with people, but it was unlikely they would go out of their way to bother her. It really didn't make sense to her why Delia was so against the idea.

She pushed those thoughts aside, deciding to instead just enjoy the conversation and hope that she wouldn't be caught. "But, here I am. Thinking about trying a beer. I'll probably hate it, but hey, why not give it a shot?" She said, grinning "I saw they have, like, 2 different sorts around here. I'm not really sure what the difference between them is, but I'm willing to find out." She finished up the quick sketch she had going before turning it towards him "Thoughts? It's rough right now, but once I line it I might add color. Not here, obviously, but later."
 


Skylar Wiley
Location: Wilkman’s Party
Interactions: smolfluffball smolfluffball
Mentions: cablebelly cablebelly cadence cadence

______________________________________________________________

Weed. The party reeked of it. Only question left to answer... where to find it?

Skylar let the screen door slap shut behind him when he entered the house, glancing around to gather his bearings inside the kid-packed space. The air inside was hot, and humid, and the place was compact with bodies circulating around in their social spheres, gladly chatting about sports, television, and the hottest celebrities of the year. Skylar thought he would have it easy slipping into the masses of them, hidden under the cloak of anonymity, a loner unbothered to the tight-knit groups and teenage cliques. But no, no sooner had he stepped foot into that damn damp hellhole of a house he heard his name on the tongue of another. His harsh judgements fell to a stop when he saw who it was that was approaching him. 0751b29a71a05204ed2772ed4f4a2cf4.jpg

"Oh lookie who we have here." He said with a slurred smile, waving away a haze of smokey air as he ambled a pace toward the other. "Boulder High's own golden child, prom king extraordinaire, mister prissy pants himself." He was teasing, but there was some level of malice in his tone which might've communicate the truth of his foul mood. "I am honored that you would grace me with your superior presence." Maybe shotgunning two beers straight off the bat hadn't been such a great plan. But fuckit, the world could go fuck itself tonight, he was sick to his stomach trying to appease the patron saints at this holy party. All of the pressure, all of the damn pressure all of the time. The glare out of the corner of the eye of some fussy pop-culture-clad fashionista, the shove of some built-body gym bull, the leering, the jeering, the jarring realization to the realness of reality, the bragging, the boasting, the dragging, the sulking, the gross incestuous slurry of muddled emotion sweat from the pubescent bodies of a thousand drunk hormonal teenagers packed together in one tiny house. In one tiny school. In one tiny town. And for what? Was all that promise to be squandered? To become cogs in a machine that only functions to repeat the past-- to copypaste prom queens and make prom queen daughters, to reprint tired old broken athletes into highschool jocks again. For all of them to grow up to be their parents, and then to live in the same ten houses, and to never question the authority set in place above them, and to have the same problems over and over again.

Skylar blinked the bleariness from his eyes. He'd gotten lost in his thoughts for a second, the roar of sound in his ears receding to let wild, rampant tipsy thoughts steal his mind. He was staring at his hand. There was a tremor there.

If Story had been talking to him he hadn't heard it. He lifted his head and looked at the taller boy. He had it fucking made. Skylar was envious of him. And he hated him. And he hated that he was envious of him, and that his envy made him hate him. But deep down he knew he didn't really hate Story. He just thought he did. Fuck, he wanted to get high. "Forget it," he shook his head, moving to step by Story. "I'm not staying long I'm just..." passing through. He went toward the kitchen hoping that Story would shake off.

Weed. The stench was unmistakable, present, and everywhere. Dalia might have some weed-- and where there was a party there was almost certain to be Dalia (and her chaotic friend Tammy who Skylar tended to avoid). But if at all possible, he didn't want her to see him here. It was weird enough that he'd come inside in the first place, and now on his lonesome in a crowd of people he vaguely knew, the feeling of being an outsider returned. He didn't belong here.

He stumbled over something and it took a laugh for him to realize that it hadn't been an object. He turned about, blue eyes stormy to a tall, broad boy in a black varsity jacket. "Who let the gimp in here? We're really just letting anyone in here, huh?" The boy was joking, and his friends were laughing, and the sound was like cold steel-on-steel screeching in Skylar's mind. He knew the kid-- Parker Ridge. A senior this year, and one of the lame-ass motherfuckers pretending to be hood by playing "gang" with each other in the hallway. They called themselves the Rogues. And they were blessed with being the most aggravating, depraved group of highschool boys Skylar had ever met. That is all to say-- him and the Rogues did not get along.

"Hey Parker. Real funny. Speaking of funny, I saw you on Saturday in the mall parking lot. I don't think you saw me, you were pretty busy fingering... Jessica Langmore?" He feigned a little gasp. "Does your girlfriend know? She's here, right?" He pointed over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. "Or... maybe I mistook you and it was your ol' jailbird pop. I know he likes 'em young, but, thought he'd learned his le-."

He didn't even get it all out. He hadn't even seen Parker move. He'd been too arrogantly absorbed in his mocking that the heat in Parker's face, the flare of his nostrils, and the sudden rising was all blurry background shit. Wham, fist connected with temple, and one drunk teenager went spiraling. That did it. A quick gasp, blinking, senses slowly coming back into focus. The most present, lucid thought was a rewarding one. That did it. Skylar's palm connected with Parker's second oncoming fist and then Skylar's elbow connected with Parker's nose. And then they were off! Playball!



 
DELIA CARRON
Wilkman House - mentions: Coop elytra elytra - interactions: Tammy cadence cadence Skylar Jewel Jewel [& the Rogues]

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While some felt smothered by the chaos of a party, Delia seemed to thrive. She asked herself a lot, why she liked the mess of a crowd more than the solace of her mind. The answer was always obvious, but it was at least nice to pretend there was something to philosophize about. There were good parts, of course. Delia liked people, and a good part of the time, they liked her. Her smile was bright, her eyes mischievous, and anyone could join her for the ride if they ever wanted to. While blunt, she was sincere, and told people the truth, whether they wanted it or not. But her true finest quality, was that Delia was not a pretender. She couldn't be. Not with her family's business on display for the town, the Carron name on everyone's lips for Best Deadbeats and Producing More award. She had no choice but to live freely, so she did. Wildly. Gleefully. She could do whatever she want, so she did. She lived for the moment and not for tomorrow.

But for all the moments that Delia lived for, there had become cracks in her armor. And doubt had seeped in through the crevices. Maybe the blur of a party suited her not because she loved to tune into people, but because she refused to tune into herself. Maybe the truth that spilled from her lips came because she avoided her own. Parties meant quick rewards. Money. Attention. Highs. Highs that meant feeling nothing but good things, fuzzy things, blurry things. Better than sharp, right in front of your sightline things. Better than watching your parents waste away on the couch. Better than watching your brother dig his grave deeper. Better than watching the best of you the family ditch you because he just didn't think that there was any hope you were gonna make it out of here with him.

She wanted out. That thought gnawed at her, and Delia didn't really know how to deal with a worry so deep it gripped you from the inside out and worked its way to chew up to your heart. Her parents dealt by getting high. So she did too. It was senior year. She was freshly eighteen. The geeks were applying for college, the jocks getting football scholarships, the snobs having their parents fling their money at an ivy league of choice. And what the hell was she supposed to do? Her parents had already spat upon the terrible bureaucratic inspirations that were universities, schools that sapped you dry, took your individuality and taught you nothing. She wasn't stupid enough to want that. Except, she sort of did. College seemed like... a fresh start. A chance to get away and be something that she hadn't discovered yet in a cesspool pit of likeminded idiot teenagers who were in the same boat. But her grades were shit. They had no money. And she sure as hell didn't have any academic talent, either. And she felt it was so damn dense to want to go to college more than anything.

It was probably just the idea of it, really. Rodney jumped ship and went to the army. What was she gonna do, become a Navy seal? She was built like a twig. Sounded nice, though. All expenses paid for, save for the risk of getting blown to bits. Yeah, maybe not so nice. Rodney didn't even care about her. As a kid, she'd thought that maybe wherever he went, he'd take her with her. He always talked about getting a job in California, some pretty big city. He promised he would take her and show her the sights. Wiggle her into some producer's booth. Fall into the lap of someone famous. Have it made. Then he left. She guessed he'd given up on his dreams, too. It was a Carron family trait.

She chugged another beer without so much as a flinch.

At least Coop never saw her like this. A couple beers down, blunt lit, the comfortable fog settling in. Delia lingered in the kitchen, getting high, making deals, shooting the shit with Tammy, letting the night consume her. Her worries faded away. The inner monologue diminished. Finally the Rogues rolled in to the kitchen, the hulking gaggle of her best paying customers, and she didn't have much resolve left to play mad at them as they handed her wads of cash. They knew by now that empty flirts wouldn't get them anywhere with her, nor would it lower the price, but she still engaged in small talk with them as they crowded around the island.

"Who let the gimp in here? We're really just letting anyone in here, huh?"

"Hey Parker. Real funny. Speaking of funny, I saw you on Saturday in the mall parking lot. I don't think you saw me, you were pretty busy fingering... Jessica Langmore?"


Delia paused, slender hand in the middle of pocketing a nice amount of crumpled twenties. It wasn't unlikely that the Rogues were here to start trouble, because they tended to enjoy doing that, but the voice of tonight's victim sounded familiar. "Hold up." She muttered to the one Rogue in front of her, who had not yet received his weed, and a string of angry curses followed her as she left the deeper back of the kitchen to peer towards the entrance. Just in time to watch the one and only Skylar Wiley get whammed in the face.

There were a lot of thoughts that swam up in her head, and none of them very quick due to the concoction of drugs and alcohol that was now brewing in her system. First of all: Skylar? At a party? Yeah, they got high together, but those were exactly the days when Delia never heard the end of Skylar's rants about how terrible the whole popularity scene was, and that included the party life that Delia partook in. She was never offended. It obviously wasn't Skylar's method of enjoyment, and to be honest, Delia agreed. In the suffocating scene that was a highschool party, short-fused Skylar would not have lasted long. So, the next thought was: How long has he been here, and how long did it take him to get in a fight. Because she was sort of curious how fast it had happened, actually. Probably very fast. Delia could have probably thought on the subject a little more before she realized Skylar was already up and lunging.

Oh, shit, they were gonna kill each other.

"H-- Hey! HEY! Leave him alone, dipshit!" Delia shouted, having finally finding her voice, wove through the rest of the Rogues that had been crowding around her, as cheers and jeers broke out. They didn't do much to stop her, but when she reached the scene of the crime, Delia faltered. Out of her little friend group, it was usually Tammy getting into the physical scraps. Delia was lanky, thin, and overall built like a terribly long stick. She had basically zero say in this fight physically other than to maybe catch Skylar's attention enough for him to falter and scramble the hell away, because if the entire pack of Rogues descended on him, he'd be toast. Not to mention that Tammy had seemingly vanished into thin air, her attention likely being caught by a stray snack table rather than be interested in the squabble of Delia's little smoke buddy.

Instead, Delia tried her best to bar the exit of the other Rogues should they care to help their pal, as she narrowly avoided an elbow to the face. "Tell your Rogue buddy to back off him or I'm done selling to any of you shitheads!" She spat menacingly at his pals, and this seemed to strike a small glint of fear in their hearts. "Skylar, leave the motherfucker alone!"
 
b0d02c5388d47a23a9803893cbf07d2c.jpgRyan Netzine
Location: Wilkman Residence
Interaction: elytra elytra (Coop)
Mention: cadence cadence (Tammy) cablebelly cablebelly (Delia)

There was plenty of things in life that Ryan knew required stringent effort in order to gain. Success and notoriety were only easily attainable by those who leech it from somewhere else, all others sweat for it in one way or another. He understood this thoroughly, and had grown accustomed to putting effort into almost everything he did. Despite this, it wasn't as though he didn't enjoy some things coming to him with ease. Not everything, of course, for that would leave him doubting the honesty of his rewards if he didn't have to work for them.

But one thing he could appreciate coming to him naturally was opportunity, for even the false ones could be utilized.

Yet when Coop answered his questions, he didn't feel the need to analyze her words for half-truths or subversive wording. This wasn't a Reina scenario where he'd have to play games just to keep her from outmaneuvering him. Perhaps he was still relaxing after practice earlier today, or maybe Coop just pulled the naïve innocence card to honestly for him to doubt it, but he'd take her word at face value for now.

He nodded occasionally as she spoke, but only slightly so as not to risk breaking his stance. Though not an artist himself, he'd heard enough complaining from one of the Rogues to know that a shifty subject wasn't exactly conducive.

Delia and Tammy, two individuals that were probably at the same party. If he didn't already suspect as much due to their particular reputations, Coop's words essentially confirmed it for him. That meant the question was less about if something would go down, and more of when it would go down. That piece of information was his focus only until Coop mentioned that they wouldn't approve of her being there. that got his attention immediately as a detail he was unaware of.

Kristi not going to parties was understandable even taking her previous statements into account, but he'd been under the impression that Delia and Tammy would offer to take her along while she'd refuse. She might not seem like the type for it, but even then her friends were trying to curb her potential enjoyment of it? That didn't exactly seem like a D&T kind of thing to do. Then again, Ryan would be quick to admit he was unaware of how their particular friendship went. If anything, that almost seemed protective.

After that she spoke of how she'd attempt to try one of the beers on offer. Her lack of famliarity with the scene came out once more upon admitting to not knowing the difference between the two beers on offer. Ryan closed his eyes for several seconds at that, realizing that her familiarity with different alcohols was even worst than he thought. He opened his eyes just in time for her to finish, taking a look at the sketch while trying to not get distracted by the increasingly loud and handsy couple occupying the other side of the couch.

The sketch was about the quality he'd expected: better than he could do.

While he could draw comparisons to other artwork he'd seen, the first thing that came to mind was that one guy among the roads who got pissy whenever someone commented negatively about his graffiti. Though the linework for the sides of builds was far different from the kind used on simple paper, Ryan could tell it was good. It captured the casual display of bravado well enough that he figured anyone who would look could get the impression.

"Still better than what I could do," he nodded before waving a hand around and clenching it into a fist "These arms might be good for tossing and pushing, but the most artistic these hands are getting is probably cursive or-"

A loud moan caused him to pause, and he finally had to turn his attention to the couple. Without pause he raised a hand and gave a sharp whistle that made them pause in the middle of their groping.

"I hear Jay left the guestroom unlocked." he said with a gesture towards the stairs "Might not want to waste the opportunity."

Though they seemed irritated at first for being interrupted right as zippers and buttons were getting undone, a simple glance at Ryan was enough to put the breaks on their fun for the time being. Whether it was intimidation or a desire to pick up where they left off, Ryan didn't know or care necessarily. What mattered was that soon they were off towards the stairs, no doubt about to desecrate something in Janice's home.

Then again, it wasn't as though they were the only ones.

Ryan closed his eyes for a second before turning back to Coop, "Lager and Ale, Janice packed two different types of beer. Pretty sure its Antelager and Pinefield Ale, though." he said before reaching up to run his fingers though his hair "If you haven't had any before, go Antelager. Pinefield brews their stuff for a punch that you probably wouldn't be able to take even if you were familiar with common drinks. Guy I know chugs it like water but you probably aren't looking to go pro for a first time drink."

He gave a brief look around at the rest of the partygoers before taking a seat in the couch next to Coop and whispering, "If you really don't think you can handle the Ale, dilute it with half a cup of water after two sips. Should get you a buzz at least."

<==(Meanwhile)==>
Interaction: cablebelly cablebelly (Delia) cadence cadence (Tammy) Jewel Jewel (Skylar)
Delia's threat had given pause to the Rogues who were with Parker pause, but Parker wasn't in the mindset of giving two thoughts about anything other than breaking Skylar's jaw. A few more seconds of watching the two beating the crap out of each other was enough for one of the Rogues to shake off the threat of not getting his hits.

"Oh come the fuck on, D!" he griped before pointing towards the fight, "You of all people should know the ole' saying: Talk shit get hit! Fucker can't just not expect us to lay him out!"

"Hold on a minute, Trent!" another Rogue grabbed his shoulder "The guy from the Bowling Alley is like twice her price-"

"Oh so we're supposed to let bitches make deals now just cuz' your broke ass needs the cheap stuff?!?" Another behind him snapped whilst flipping him off "The fuck made you the big man in charge? Ryan retire or something?"

For a second, it almost looked like they'd devolve into arguing with each other, but then a voice cut through them.

"Puh-lease~!" it sang out, as two students were shoved aside by the hands of Reina, who took one humored look at the increasingly intense fight between Skylar and Parker before turning on Delia and the other Rogues "Since when did Parks need help when kicking ass? Really gonna start fronting with Mini-tits over this? If she wants to protect her new boy-toy I say let her. Have some compassion guys, its not like T's putting out like Skyguy over there. Deli needs this!"

Slowly but surely Reina's words led the other Rogues to go from griping to laughing, with some even cupping hands and offering cheers to Parker as a circle began naturally forming for the two.

"Yeah, he don't need us to throw down!" one high-fived another before shouting "Fuck 'em up Parks!"
 
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Story
[ Location: Wilkman House | Interactions: Skylar Jewel Jewel and The Rogues GrieveWriter GrieveWriter | Mentions: Delia cablebelly cablebelly ]

Okay, he was definitely wasted. He was already slurring his words and his movements were sluggish. Something had to have happened at home. Skylar rarely came to parties, and the bruise on his face was evidence enough that some shit happened with his step-dad. Again. Story really wanted to have a word with him one day and mess up his face as badly as he messed up Skylar’s face. He watched carefully as Skylar stared off into space, unsure about what to do. Normally he’d pull Skylar somewhere else and wait until he calmed down, but he couldn’t do that at a party. The entire school was here. Everyone who knew Story was here. He wouldn’t risk his friendship with the angry nerd being exposed, especially right before senior year. He had perfected his image and he refused to let it be ruined.

Skylar brushed him off and headed toward the kitchen, and Story watched him go. He narrowed his eyes. This reeked of trouble. Skylar being drunk and pissed was not a good idea. He should just leave him alone. Just let him go get in trouble by himself. He didn’t need to involve himself in whatever drama Skylar was going to go get in.

Ugh.

Story followed after him after rolling his eyes. Caring about an angry computer nerd was proving to be so stupid and annoying. Why couldn’t he just ignore his friend? Let him go be an idiot by himself? Why was he going after him? Why was Skylar always so difficult? Why was Story even worried about him? Because he was his friend, sure, but come on. He needed to just leave it alone. Getting involved would do nothing but damage his reputation and make everyone wonder about him. He did not want people to wonder about him.

He didn’t hear whatever Skylar said to Parker as he pushed through the crowd, but Story saw the punch. He froze and tried to contain his sigh. Of course. Of course this was how this party was going to go. He should have skipped it. His sister had the right idea. Staying at home instead of coming to this party would have been the smart move. If he stayed home, then he wouldn’t have to deal with the horrible smell permeating every inch of the air in this house. If he stayed home, he wouldn’t have seen his moronic friend get involved in some completely ridiculous fight. If he stayed home, he wouldn’t end up getting involved in the stupid fight.

Skylar was his friend though. He already had a bruise on his face. Story didn’t want him to get even further wounded.

He watched for a moment until there was a break in the fight, and the hippie girl Delia’s interjection was a good enough distraction. Parker and Skylar were still going at it, but Story grabbed Skylar’s shoulders and yanked him backwards. He felt something solid and pointy hit near his eye and grunted, then realized it was Skylar’s elbow, but he didn’t let go of him until he had been separated from Parker.

He moved around Skylar quickly to block him from lunging again and held his hands up, to try and placate his friend. He knew Skylar was pissed off, but he sincerely doubted he’d lash out at him. God, his face looked even worst now. So swollen and damaged. “Take a breath, Sky,” he said quickly, quietly, then looked back at Parker. He fully expected to be punched, since Parker was major pissed, but Story did not care.

“And you, go get some weed and some beer and fuck off. Don’t kill the fun of this party with a pointless fight. I’m sure you can think of something more fun to do than getting into a fight with someone who’s not even worth it.” He snorted and gestured haphazardly to Skylar. “I mean, seriously. This guy is way too lame to get so pissed off over. Why are you letting some freak like him get to you? Don’t you know how pathetic that is?”
 
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Skylar Wiley
Location: Wilkman’s Party
Interactions: smolfluffball smolfluffball cablebelly cablebelly GrieveWriter GrieveWriter
Mentions: N/A
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The air was alive, buzzing, crackling, fizzing, fuzzing, every fiber in the room ready to pop.

Blood had spurted from Parker’s nose upon contact with Skylar’s elbow and it bubbled down his lips and chin, dripping between them on the tile. His next swing went wide over Skylar’s head as Skylar stumbled, reeling from the blow to the head, bending forward while the room spun, and while Parker, blood smeared across the sleeve of his jacket, he grappled for a fistful of Skylar’s shirt. Skylar threw up his arms to block Parker’s onslaught of punches aimed at his face but while dizzy, disorientated, and drunk, he struggled to tell where Parker’s attacks were coming from.

Delia’s voice c0751b29a71a05204ed2772ed4f4a2cf4.jpgutting through the crowd was enough of a break and distraction for him to move in close, seizing the opportunity to get an arm between Parker’s, and grab Parker by his hair to yank his head back, opening him up to a fist to the face. Parker spluttered and gurgled, and then spat. Instead of trying to pull away from Skylar as he had been, he suddenly surged toward him, breaking apart enough of the circle surrounding them to slam Skylar against the counter. Skylar fingers failed him and his grip on Parker’s head was released as his knees buckled in. Parker looked like a mad dog, blood spilling from his nose, eyes wild and fierce, looming over him. Skylar pressed a hand against the counter and slowly pulled himself back to his feet, meeting Parker’s gaze with dizzying ferocity.

He felt a pair of hands grab his shoulder and for a second, he thought it was another one of the Rouges, an unbaked gut-reaction enough to send an elbow into Story Langdale’s face. But still he was yanked, cussing and terribly off-balance, the tang of blood on his tongue and the harrowing scene narrowing between storming eyes. He could feel Parker’s eyes burning into him from the other side of Story Langdale. Distantly, he had the thought that Parker looked as bad as he was feeling, and this brought him some palpable feeling of morbid satisfaction.

He turned his eyes away from Parker, finding a place to settle on the back of Story’s head while he tried to wrap his mind around the words he was saying. And the more he heard, the deeper his brow furrowed. Why are you letting some freak get to you? Skylar wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or to hit Story next. What a jackass. He returned his eyes to Parker and watched as the taller jock spit out a wet coagulated glob of blood at Story’s feet.

“Fuck off, freak.” Parker said, directed toward Skylar. He spared a semi-wary glance around the overcrowded room. “I’ll finish with you later.” And then he pushed off.

Skylar was prepared to quip right back with something snarky, but his long-lost preservation instinct must’ve kicked in because he held his tongue. He swallowed and found his mouth thick with the taste of iron. His face hurt. His head hurt even more. He needed to sit down. Get his head to stop spinning. And then get out of this fucking goddamn madhouse.

He might've felt lucky to walk away without any broken limbs. That fight could've gone on a lot longer and gotten a lot bloodier without intervention. So, perhaps Story was owed some credit. But in his muddled state of mind Skylar couldn't muster appreciation for the popular boy. He was too busy being bitter, and sore, and selfishly absorbed, and the idea that Story had put his precious ego in jeopardy for him was an afterthought he hadn't yet had.

 
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DELIA CARRON
Wilkman House - interactions: smolfluffball smolfluffball Jewel Jewel elytra elytra GrieveWriter GrieveWriter

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As the Rogues barked between each other, Delia did her best to keep an intimidating glare on them all while stealing glances away at the fight. Her gut churned to watch Skylar get pummeled, and her posture tensed as she wondered if maybe throwing herself between them would be the best way to stop this since Things 1, 2 and company were busy bickering over prices. It was definitely true that Delia was cheaper than the rest, and she gave the Rogues good discounts for their bulk orders. They were a gang of idiots, but idiots bought good amounts of weed, and she wasn't going to pick and choose her audience. She hadn't much thought about the repercussions of losing their business if they really agreed to politely back off Skylar as if his fight with Parker were a shareholder transaction, it had more been an on the fly declaration. Lucky and unluckily, it didn't come to pass as Reina appeared.

Uhg. Delia hated the bitch. She didn't bother to stifle the eye roll that escaped her as she parted the crowd of Rogues like the red sea. With the insults of mini tits and boy toy dropping from her mouth, Delia's nostrils flared. "At least I don't need to have a Rogue orgy to satisfy my ego." She retorted, brows pinched with anger. Without her intervention, her threat might have worked, but as the Rogues descended into more laughter, Delia jutted ahead to try and stay within the circle that they formed around Skylar and Parker. She was about her mouth to shout to Skylar one last time, still trying to brace herself against the thought of jumping in, when an unexpected face appeared in her sightline.

Delia couldn't help but allow her mouth to fall open just the slightest as Story Langdale entered the picture and received a weak elbow to the face. To his precious, stupid face! He slid himself right in between the two and whispered something that seemed to be vaguely reassuring to Skylar, by the nature of his hushed tone, and then turned to Parker and gave a little speech about how Skylar was too pathetic to be beat down so mercilessly in the center of the kitchen. Her mouth turned upward in a scowl.

Perhaps another moment where she could blame her slow thinking on the smoothie of substances in her system, but for the life of her, Delia could not imagine why Story would ever do such a thing. Way too lame to get pissed over? Either someone had possessed the uppity snob, or something about Skylar had caught his eye. She hardly believed for a second that Story would make a scene just for the hell of it, so something had to motivate him to save Skylar's ass. Did the two make a deal of some sort? Skylar have dirt on him? She'd have to ask.

For now, Delia used the pause in the commotion to shove brutally past Reina and the rest of the Rogues, making sure to bump Reina particularly hard with her shoulder as she retreated back to the kitchen. She flung open the freezer and retrieved any bag of frozen vegetable that she could find, which only involved one packet of peas and the other of broccoli. She wrapped them both in kitchen towels and then pushed her way right back into the diminishing circle, Parker having already pushed off and leaving Skylar a dazed mess in the center.

Without giving Story time to dote on Skylar, if that was his plan, Delia knelt slightly and looped Skylar's arm around her shoulder, putting one of the bags of frozen vegetables in his other hand as she hoisted him up. Luckily her lanky frame made it pretty easy to do such, and as she did, she shot Story a glare. "Hope you enjoyed the show." She muttered, before attempting to drag Skylar along. Whatever Story wanted from this, she couldn't help but think his intentions were less than pure. Turning her attention to Skylar, she near cringed at the sight of his face, reddened and swollen, but more than anything she couldn't help but wonder what had lead Skylar to burst into the Wilkman house so ticked off that he immediately brewed a fight. It had to be something to do with his stepdad, of course. That was his usual antagonist and the reason Delia found him at odd hours of the night. But it hadn't ever been enough to drive Skylar to a crowd like this.

"So now I get why you don't go to parties. Put the peas on your face, idiot." Delia huffed, her tone sarcastic but still with a touch of concern. Her plan was to usher him to the front steps, let him catch a breath of fresh air, give him an escape route if he decided to disappear. Which was a very plausible Skylar move. It should have been a clear route to the exit, most of the onlookers fading away and the living room being not terribly crowded. Of course, the exit was not as open as she had thought, and caught a glimpse of two figures on the couch. More visible was the hulking form of jock supreme Ryan, who had surprisingly been absent from the fight. For a reason she now understood.

Coop.

Delia skidded to a halt, despite a very bruised Skylar draped around her figure. She blinked once, twice, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things, like her dearest friend fraternizing with one of the most shady figures at school. What the fuck? Coop was not supposed to be at a party. Coop was not ever supposed to be a party. Truthfully, aside from Tammy, there were few people that Delia cherished more than Coop. But for her to be at the place where Delia gave in to all her demons, selling bountiful amounts of drugs and usually getting totally wasted, or carrying her casual smoke buddy out of the house after he'd been beaten to a pulp. Delia never wanted Coop to be here, and up until this point, Coop hadn't expressed much interest in being here. For that, Delia was endlessly thankful. And now, what, she had just shown up without saying anything? Decided to stroll in? Worse, got invited by some sleaze like Ryan?

"C-Coop, what the hell are you doing here?" Her normally solid exterior failed her, sputtering out her friend's name before getting a grip on the rest of her words. She shot an evil glare at Ryan, teeth grinding together. "You know your new buddy over there puppets the gang of shitheads just beat him up, right?" She gestured to Skylar's form, before continuing her vicious stare in Ryan's direction, though her grip on Skylar tightened. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone and get both he and Coop out of here at the same time. Fuck, she was done with this party.

"Back off." She hissed at Ryan.
 
Kristi 'Coop' Cooper
Location: The Wilkman's Residence
Interactions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter GrieveWriter ), Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly ), Skylar ( Jewel Jewel )
Mentions: N/A

Coop practically beamed at the comment. It wasn't shining praise, but she was happy with any feedback she got. There was little opportunity to show her work off to anyone else and while she didn't like to think she had an ego, she loved getting positive comments on things she did. After putting so much work into her art, it was nice to know it showed. She was close to flipping through the ages to show off some other work, but she didn't think it was the time or the place for that, so she instead just closed the book carefully to avoid smudging what was on the page.

She really didn't have a moment to say anything either since the couple next to her was getting particularly loud. Her nose scrunched up a bit and she looked away; she'd forgotten they were there, frankly, until they'd made themselves known again. She was thankful when Ryan shooed them away to some open room. Instantly, the party became ten times better, and she relaxed a little, slumping in her seat. Hopefully, that would be the last couple making out directly next to her for the rest of her time here.

"Sound advice." She said, smiling a bit at his suggestion, before lowering her voice in a jokingly conspiratorial manner "I probably could not handle straight ale, so added water it is. But don't let anyone piece together that alcohol intolerance is one of my very few weaknesses, ok? I'm sure is shocking, since I'm so well known for being a party animal."

And it was nice, honestly, to just talk to someone. She'd been a little worried at first, but he seemed to be alright with her general attitude, not to mention had been the one to remove the weird couple. Sure, she wasn't used to parties, and she knew nothing about alcohol or drugs, but he didn't seem to be mocking her for it. She had hope it would stay that way. She even had hope that maybe the party would turn out better than it'd been going, but that was ruined by her being startled by Delia's voice.

And she loved Delia. Really. They went way back, and they were close. Coop loved to hang out with her. At any other point, running into her would've been great and she would've been glad for it. However, in the middle of the party? That wasn't ideal. She felt like she was getting caught in the middle of a crime, despite her not being legitimately banned from being there in the first place. She sat up straight again instantly, feeling less relaxed than she had been a few moments prior.

"What-- huh?" And there went any ability to coherently justify herself. Her eyes flickered between Ryan, Delia, and Skylar, and her expression soon settled into a solid frown. Well, that would explain the commotion that had been coming from the other area of the house. She'd ignored it, since she figured it was just something that happened and it didn't concern her, but apparently it did concern her and she wished that she'd paid a little more attention. Not that she would've been able to step in and stop it, but damage control would've been easier if she actually knew what happened.

"I'm just....here?" She said lamely, hands in her lap holding her sketchbook maybe a touch too tightly as she tried to get rid of some of the tension "You know, to just hang out before the school year starts. I didn't have anything else to do." It was true enough. She didn't need to delve into her actual thought process behind coming. "And he wasn't even over there, Del! He's been over here the entire time. I mean, I'm sorry you got beat up, that's...um..." She paused, looking at Skylar with a look that suggested that she was unsure what the right thing to say was "...well, it sucks. I hope you're okay? Make sure to keep icing it and stuff. Bruises can be nasty. And try to not put too much pressure on any of them." She decided on, before looking back to Delia "But he can't really control what his team does when he's not there? I think it's a little unfair to put blame on him for this."

It probably wasn't what Delia wanted to hear, and Cooper certainly didn't feel great saying it, but she really didn't want Ryan to get the blame pinned on him for something he didn't do. Sure the Rogues were....the Rogues, but it wasn't like he was some evil puppet master who had told them to beat some dude up. That was their choice. He'd been over here the whole time, and she wasn't eager to have the only person who'd talked to her positively the entire party be made out to be some scheming villain. She was hoping Delia could at least understand that.
 
<==(The Rogues)==>
Location: The Wilkman Residence
Interaction: Skylar( Jewel Jewel ) Story ( smolfluffball smolfluffball ) Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly )​

If anything Delia's show of irritation only seemed to humor Reina more, she kept her shit-eating grin on full even as she held out an arm to keep the other Rogues from jumping in. To her credit, she had managed to pacify the rest of the rogues, as the majority of them had devolved into a mocking audience to Delia and Skylar's struggles. The only one not taunting was Parker who had grown increasingly violent in the scuffle with Skylar. He'd thrown taunts completely out the window, seeking instead to beat Skylar to the ground as many times as it took. Even when Reina called out to try and draw him into their interactions, it was as if he couldn't even hear her.

He was laser focused and unwilling to give reprieve, the wild look in his eye giving even Reina pause. But he was spurned on by the encouragement of the other Rogues, and seemed gearing up to make their taunts a reality for Skylar and anyone who even tried stopping him.

But that went out the window when the next person to try interrupting the fight wound up being none other than Story goddamn Langdale.

That spread a wave of visible confusion on most of the on-lookers, as Story Langdale wasn't often the type to put himself in situations like that. Even the other taunting members of the Rogues found their jives and insults interrupted as they began questioning each other on what the hell he was doing. For once almost everyone in attendance, Delia, Reina, and even some who'd been trying to ignore the fight and keep partying were all sharing in mutual confusion.

It had even managed to disrupt the rage Parker had been drive into, as the sight of Story of all people getting in his way seemed to break his focus on Skylar. His expression didn't change as Story started talking him down, locked somewhere in-between vicious intent and abject confusion. That only halted when Story suggested that Skylar wasn't worth it, as it brought Parker's attention to his target once more. At first it looked as though Parker was going to launch into another furious assault, but whether it was Story's words or Reina's calls for him to come try some of the weed the rogues were enjoying, he finally unclenched his fists.

Standing straight, Parker brought one hand up and tried at first to wipe some of the blood now liberally leaking from his nose. When that failed, he snorted it into his mouth before spitting it at Story and Skylar's feet, gave Skylar a proper Fuck You, then strode off back to the cheers of the other Rogues. Plucking one's joint right from their fingers, Parker and several of the Rogues finally broke from the circle.

Reina remained, her smile returning even as Delia side-checked her on her way to Story and Skylar. She brought a hand up to the point of impact, but kept her shit-eating grin at max power. It was only amplified when she raised an eyebrow at the sight of Delia practically stealing Skylar away from Story, but she made no move to follow as she essentially carried him away.


0bcf8d079ccf8eb4fb5093d4b011093e.jpgRyan Netzine
Location: The Wilkman Residence
Interaction: Coop ( elytra elytra ) Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly ) Skylar ( Jewel Jewel )​

Completely unaware of the scene wrapping up elsewhere in the house, but noticing something drawing partygoers elsewhere, Ryan tried not to let his curiosity interrupt his interaction with Kristi.

His suggestions seemed to have worked, as not only did she seem highly receptive of them, Kristi was even starting to joke back. He could tell her mood was improving, and even cracked a smile of his own at her implication that the worst thing he could do was tell everyone she wasn't exactly a connoisseur of the alcoholic arts.

It wasn't... not by a longshot, but Ryan found the implication of such a thought alone humorous enough to respond.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to find other horrible secrets to utilize." he shrugged "Maybe that you use illegal drawing techniques in your pictures, I'm sure the masses will be up in arms over-"

"C-Coop, what the hell are you doing here?"

Ah, and there was a voice he'd been expecting far sooner. With how Kristi had described it, Ryan had figured Delia or Tammy would sniff her out in an instant. Instead, Ryan had been able to get through the majority of the first impression before finally hearing it. Delia had spotted them, and had displayed her dismay at her friend's presence in record time. It was a tone Ryan wasn't used to hearing from Delia, as she was often more vitriolic when he interacted with her.

But as Kristi seemed to lock up from her friend's approach, Ryan merely turned to look at her with a blank expression. He was sure he was probably the last person she'd want to see Coop with, especially if she really was as protective of her as was implied. But before he could even speak, his eyes fell upon the battered form she was lugging with her. As one of the Rogue's primary source of weed, Ryan had expected her to be at the party and probably in close proximity to whatever was drawing people's attention, but the person she was carrying hadn't been one of the faces Ryan expected.

"Is that Skylar?" he found himself asking out loud before anything, only for Delia to demand answers as to why Kristi was hanging out with him.

In the midst of that demand, Delia spoke of the reason Skylar looked as if he'd been recently been dragged into a no-holds barred mosh pit. Turns out, he kinda did. Not twenty minutes out of his sight and some of the Rogues had already reduced the angry computer kid into the equivalent of an old sack of potatoes.

"Ahhh, so that's what happened." he gave a sigh at that, already planning how he'd have to handle that situation when he was done here. No doubt the Rogues were probably chatting each other up and having a good laugh over it by now, but Ryan was more focused on who could've done it among the group that had come for the party. Chase and Theon were the obvious suspects for getting into scraps, but they hadn't been able to make it. If Delia was here, then most of the other usual suspects would be too stoned out of their minds to jump in unless someone else kicked it off for them.

Then just scratch off the names of folks Reina wouldn't be able to talk down, factor in Skylar's propensity for trash talk, and Ryan gave a low breath as he arrived at the most logical culprit behind Skylar's current state. And if he really was the one who'd gotten into the brawl, then it was no wonder Skylar looked like a crash test dummy at the moment. His eyes wandered over towards the kitchen, but Delia's demand for him to back off merely resulted in him giving a hum of consideration to the notion.

But then Kristi started explaining why she was there, and even started defending Ryan. While her words were true, that he wouldn't have been able to control the actions of the Rogues from his current location, the fact that she was insisting such to Delia felt surreal for a moment. But Ryan was never one to leave an opportunity uncapitalized on, and Kristi's refusal to simply let him take the blame for the Rogues' actions in front of an already distressed and aggravated Delia was too much of an opportunity.

Once she was finished speaking, Ryan gave a shake of his head, "Sorry Kris, but you're wrong." he stated with a straight face before folding his hands together in his legs and admitting "I've been orchestrating the majority of this party using telepathic powers, and only your pal over here is able to see through them."

He gave a shrug before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a notepad and pen, "Its pretty sad that my plans could be foiled so thoroughly, but what can you do?"

He rose from the couch, scribbled several things into the notepad before tearing out the page, "Seems I gotta start making amends for my wicked deeds," he turned and offered the page to Kristi "but if you ever need help picking out that drink, my number and hours are on here."
 
Earl Ashbridge
Wilkman Residence

elytra elytra - Coop smolfluffball smolfluffball - Story

Earl creased his brows a bit while walking by one of the darkest alley ways in town, he heard whispers sort of lingering but decided against investigating as he had a destination in mind. The Wilkman's party. When it came to parties, he didn't enjoy them all that much. The stench, the fights, and all the drama that came along with it just pissed him off but he was admittedly homeless... Free food was nice.

In school, Earl was well known but not for expected reasons. He was sort of an outcast but popular all at once. He was popular because he was an outcast and because he was ruthless. Most knew not to mess with him at all, avoid him at all costs even. Besides, who wants to get to know a ghost believing asshole? Coop apparently.

A car of some kind came speeding past him, he managed to catch a glance at who was in it. Recognizing some of them and he almost sped up to a run in order to hitch a ride. They wouldn't stop him... It was too late for that thought, as soon as the headlights came they disappeared down the road as well. A sigh sort of escaped his mouth in a puff the visible air, it was sort of chilly out. The more he walked the louder the distant noises of the Wilkman party became and soon he stood before it all.

The smell of alcohol sort of sent a burn down his throat, making him a little excited. A shudder ran up his legs as he ran a hand through his delicate hair. The house itself was rather large, very fitting to hold a party here. The Wilkman's were obviously loaded which further peaked his interest. Parties may not have been his favorite due to all the people but they meant food.

The inside of the party was lively to say the least, a fight seemed to just have been deescalated and a few people roamed around that he recognized. Coop, his friend. Delia, their relationship being sort of undefined one at the moment. Story... A bad taste was left in his mouth at the sight of him. Ryan, their relationship was also sort of undefined but they spoke on occasion. Skylar, his childhood best friends... Things were complicated with that though. Then Tammy, his wannabee bully who wanted to be his bully but Earl just didn't care enough to take her insults to heart. She did annoy the hell out of him though.

His brown eyes set themselves on Coop though, the girl that had known him for a few years and likewise. The two hit it off pretty nicely, Coop being really friendly and accepting. Earl took to her immediately, she made him comfortable and relaxed. He adored her to death and if anyone touched her... He'd make them wish they were never born. He slowly started to head toward her, avoiding everyone there, especially the lit ones. High was manageable but some of these kids had raging issues that came to the surface when they drank too much.

Coop's form came closer as he approached but soon was stopped as a shoulder slammed into his. He was grabbed by the shirt and yanked forward to a random jock, his hands still in his pocket which obviously infuriated the jock more. This was Benjamin or Benji for short, a well known kid from town. He was joining the school this year and didn't know Earl just yet, his mistake.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He bigger male snapped as Earl furrowed his brows and his lips pressed into a firm line. Earl didn't even get the chance to answer before someone stepped in, gently pushed the Jock away from him.

"Hey man... You really don't know who the fuck you're dealing with." He laughed a bit while putting an arm around Earl's shoulders. These two did not know each other at all so Earl just shrugged his gesture off, moving away. The stranger became visibly nervous at this and grabbed some beers. "Why don't we settle this with a shot gunning contest."

A nasty remark almost left Earl mouth which left his mouth slightly agape before closing it once more. The ghost seer decided against being a bitch... just this once.

"Sure." Earl grabbed a beer sort of harshly and Benji did the same, their gazes met before someone called them to start. Beers lined on a table near them.

Earl easily ripped a hole in the bottom with his thumb and downed the first one within seconds. It was obvious he had practice at this sort of thing. Another found its way into his hands and this kept going for quite a while. At least it felt like a long time for the two of them. This was annoying to Earl if anything, he hated dealing with idiots. Especially ones that couldn't back their word. This was true for Benji as he was slowly but surely getting slower and slower.

Some people gathered around and cheered loudly, loving that Benji was Earl's next target. Minutes went by before Benji couldn't go any longer and panted loudly.

"Ashbridge wins!" Someone exclaimed which made Earl roll his eyes a bit.

"Fucking lightweight." Earl's tone was harsh as he pushed the ego-hurt jock out of his way, making eye contact with Story a bit in an annoyed manner. To him all of the Jock were one of Story's goons... Someone that just happened to follow behind Story. Earl wasn't sure if Story knew him or not but he didn't like the man either way. He didn't say anything though and finally reached Coop. His face melted into a soft smile, forgetting the event that happened moments before, as he caught sight of her art. "It looks nice..."

He stood behind her left shoulder when he said that and tried making himself quiet as not to startle her but he doubted she didn't notice him after all of that shenanigans. Nonsense, really. "Keep it up, Coop... You're doing great."
 
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Story
[ Location: Wilkman House bathroom | Interactions: Skylar Jewel Jewel , Delia (silently) cablebelly cablebelly , Reina (kinda) GrieveWriter GrieveWriter | Mentions: Ryan, that guy? (Earl) and that girl? (Coop) ]

Story’s involvement in the fight got the result he was looking for. Yes, that’s right, folks. Story Langdale, Story goddamn Langdale, intervened. If it was any other moment, any other person who had been wounded, then he might have made it into a big deal. Because it was, for him. Involving himself like this was such a disaster and he had no idea how he’d manage to salvage it. It didn’t matter, though. Parker was backing off and Skylar was beaten to a pulp.

He turned to his friend and reached forward to touch him, but hesitated. There were too many people watching. There was no way he could talk to him about this asinine fight now. His hesitation was the perfect moment for Delia to snatch Skylar and say something stupid to him. Enjoy the show? Fuck that. Of course he didn’t. He never liked getting involved in any fights, anyway. Why would he have enjoyed seeing Skylar get totally pulverized? He scoffed and had a perfect counter prepared, then the girl started dragging Skylar away from him. He watched them leave and eyed the Rogues, checking to make sure none of them were still paying attention. Reina, one of Story’s most disliked Rogue members, was watching. He didn’t care about whatever she thought of him. He rolled his eyes at her, as if saying can you believe it, then went after Delia and Skylar.

He was so annoyed. This was beyond stupid. It was stupid times a hundred thousand. He wanted to shake Skylar for being his friend and making him feel so pissed off. Like, fuck. Why did he get into a fight when he was so angry? How much of an idiot could someone be? What compelled him to come here? Was he secretly a masochist or something? Story did not understand.

The front of the house was still full of teenagers, though there was something peculiar going on. The group of people all talking together was odd. He briefly surveyed what was happening. Ryan was talking with that freak girl, for some reason. Delia was upset about something, and Story connected the dots almost instantly. Right. They were friends. Kristi and Delia, along with that one girl who hated his parents. Ryan was somehow involved in them, and now there was that weird homeless guy making an appearance here as well.

Whatever.

Skylar was Story’s friend, and he needed to bring him somewhere else so he could cool his head off. Story watched silently as the scene in front of him unfolded, waiting for the perfect moment to pull Skylar away. What was Ryan’s goal with this? To piss off Delia? For what reason? Story thought he was crafty on occasion, but he could see no reason as to why Ryan would be trying to antagonize the girl who was still holding onto Skylar. He watched as Ryan slipped Kristi a note and noticed Delia stumble, so he quickly moved and grabbed Skylar while she was distracted with being drunk or high or overly protective of his friend. He didn’t wait for her or anyone else to notice him and instead guided Skylar away from the room and to a bathroom that he saw in his peripherals earlier.

He didn’t care if Skylar was objecting or mad at him. He did let go of him for a moment and twisted the door handle, checking to make sure Skylar wasn’t going to leave. The bathroom door swung open, revealing a couple of girls inside helping their friend, who was hunched over the toilet. He glared at them and they scrambled out of the room, muttering a couple of apologies, and the girl over the toilet flushed it, then grabbed some toilet paper and covered her mouth. She left as quickly as her friends had. He made sure they were far enough before he grabbed onto Skylar again and pulled him into the bathroom.

He moved around Skylar and slammed the lid of the toilet down, then pushed Skylar onto it and made sure to lock the door. He noticed the bag of frozen vegetables in Skylar’s hand and gestured to them. “Put that on your face if you want to be able to see anything tomorrow.” He grabbed a hand towel off the rack and ran cold water from the sink over it, noticing his face in the mirror. Ugh. Was that a bruise by his eye? Fuck. That would be annoying to explain to anyone who asked about it. He pressed the fingers of his free hand against it and found it didn't hurt too badly. Not like how Skylar's face must be feeling. He wrung the towel out so it wasn't soaking and went back over to Skylar. He looked at him for a moment, then sighed and crouched down in front of him. "What were you thinking, Sky?" he asked, pressing the washcloth against a nasty red mark on his face. "Do you have a death wish? I'm seriously starting to think you might."
 
Kristi 'Coop' Cooper
Location: The Wilkman's Residence
Interactions: Ryan ( GrieveWriter GrieveWriter ), Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly ), Earl ( Kattzillaa Kattzillaa )
Mentions: Tammy ( cadence cadence )

Cooper tried her best not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. Conflict....wasn't her thing. Actually, if it was in her power, she did whatever she could to avoid it. She was, unfortunately, a bit of a people pleaser. Having people unhappy, no matter the scenario, made her feel bad to put it simply. Even in situations where it wasn't exactly her fault she'd feel as if maybe she could've done something to diffuse the situation. In this case, once Ryan started to talk she immediately looked guilty.

His comments were a little funny. Maybe at another point she would have laughed. But Delia was here and since she wasn't exactly fond of Ryan, the jokes felt less like jokes and more like jabs. She had a feeling that was how Delia would take them, anyway; she wasn't exactly sure of the intent on Ryan's end. She didn't know him well enough to truly hazard a guess, but she did hope it was all in good spirits. Not that the intentions would help to keep Delia from being annoyed. Still, it'd make her feel a bit better.

When given the piece of paper, she did smile genuinely, folding it up carefully and slipping it into her sketchbook for safekeeping. "Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." She said, keeping it neutral in hopes that Delia maybe wouldn't catch on that she was honestly thinking about using the number "Hope you enjoy the rest of the party!"

Then, once he'd left, she slumped in her seat with her eyes closed, letting out a big sigh. She only opened her eyes again when she heard someone behind her, glancing over her shoulder to find Earl there. Not the best timing on his part; not his fault, of course, but she had already begun thinking of ways to run even more damage control if Tammy decided to wander over and start another fight. It was looking like her first party was coming up as a disaster.

"Hi, Earl. I didn't think you'd be here." she commented, offering him a weary grin "Thanks. Think I'm done sketching for the day, though." Her eyes flickered back over to Delia, and she opened her mouth to say something, before closing it again, unsure of what to say. Instead, she sunk further into her seat, looking like a scorned child.
 
DELIA CARRON [shiny post!]
Wilkman House - mentions: smolfluffball smolfluffball Story Jewel Jewel Skylar cadence cadence Tammy - interactions: GrieveWriter GrieveWriter Ryan elytra elytra Cooper

b29a6bdb751dd77d780c966026f2c848.jpg
As reactions settled in on everyone’s faces to her abrupt appearance, Delia felt her resolve slipping. The night was getting to her head, and she could feel her body begging for a quiet place to submit to the effects of whatever she’d ingested, not a fight with jock supreme. Delia didn’t have much personal experience with Ryan. She sold, he bought, that was that. It was simple, and they knew that their acquaintanceship didn’t need to expand far past it. Delia knew that Ryan wasn’t just a normal, run of the mill boneheaded jock. He had a strange look in his eye, always, surveying the school like they were all chess pieces to be played. She didn’t know much about how he operated, but something about him had always rubbed Delia the wrong way.

Perhaps it was because he seemed put together, rich, and powerfully connected by means of his family. All the things Delia wasn’t. Maybe she just imagined him with his nose upturned and arms crossed in true villainous posture. Whatever picture she’d dreamed up of him in her mind, she refused to believe otherwise, and that picture had no business being anywhere near her best friend.

She stumbled slightly, and found that the weight she’d been carrying had suddenly disappeared. It might have been true that she had started to use Skylar to steady herself just as much as she was steadying him, and Delia looked around wildly, not fully processing Story’s theft of the beaten boy from her arms. Instead, she assumed that he must have pushed off and stumbled to sulk alone. She looked at the bag of broccoli in her hand, knowing the peas were in his, and swallowed past the lump in her throat.

Coop was, of course, placant and friendly as always. Her eyes melted with a certain level of sympathy as Delia watched Cooper explain away Ryan’s involvement. Of course, it wouldn’t matter to her that Ryan was a shady figure in Delia’s eyes. He’d shown her kindness in her absence and that was enough. Of course it was enough. Dimly she wondered how long this had been brewing within Coop. How long the need for someone to ask her to come instead of beg her to stay away had eaten her up. How long she had wished to join them in whatever escapades they got up to at these stupid parties, not even realizing that it was never anything but Delia and Tammy losing their heads for one thoughtless night. Maybe Delia told her to stay away because she’d never understand, and better than understanding, would be to stay the hell away from whatever Delia was becoming.

Except Delia wouldn’t let go.

A certain amount of clarity returned to her gaze as she narrowed in on Ryan. Her nostrils flared, and a fire lit behind her eyes as he spoke. She watched silently as he nonchalantly made her seem like a crazy bitch, and stared so firmly at the little paper he handed to Coop that it almost seemed like she might burst it into flame and dust with her intense look. Her hazel eyes followed Ryan even as he skulked off, her lips pressed tightly together, like a dragon holding fire within her maw.

When he was gone, she rolled her shoulders back and took a steadying breath. The arrival of the weird homeless kid behind Coop startled her slightly, but her eyes narrowed further as she pushed forward, ignoring his presence. “Coop, let’s blow this place, alright? Grab Tammy and get Sonic or something.” She was already thinking about ways to snatch the jock’s number from her sketchbook, but all she wanted now was to get out of here with Coop. Skylar, unfortunately, was out of her reach, but she had faith that the idiot had regained enough of his self preservation to make it through the night. Delia stepped forward, reaching her hand out to Coop and inviting her to take it.

She didn’t make contact with Coop’s hand. Instead, a terrible, screeching noise stopped her in her tracks and caused her to cringe. Like nails on a chalkboard, the rest of the party goers stopped whatever they were doing and suffered the sudden onslaught of shrieking noise. Her hands whipped to her ears and her eyes scrunched shut, but when she did manage to peel them open, blue lights flickering off the walls of the Wilkman house as the screeching turned to sirens.

Through it all, Delia tried to force herself to stare ahead, keeping her sight on Coop. But the lights were blinding, the sounds deafening, and with her head spinning, Delia found the blue turning to black as darkness swallowed her. As it did, she couldn’t help the feeling that those lights, that sound, had made her gut churn in a familiar, sickening way, not very long ago.

Blackness.

Location: The Carron Residence
interactions: elytra elytra - mentions: Wiley Family House

She woke slowly to the familiar hum of music outside her room.

The 13th Floor Elevators always seemed to rouse her on weekends. Her parents would blast the vinyl loud enough to shake her from her intoxicated coma, otherwise, it was less likely that Delia would rouse prior to 12pm if there weren’t any obligations. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth. Her eyes were filled with crud. On her desk was a particular line of white dust next to some business cards. But as Delia rose from underneath her sheets, bringing a head to her forehead as a pounding headache reared its ugly head, her mind began to swim with memories.

How the fuck did she get home?

Delia threw off the covers and went straight into panic-dress mode as she tried to regain enough consciousness to think over the events of the night prior. Party. Day before school party, which meant today was school. Which meant she was already very late. Which meant she must have passed out after getting out of there, maybe Coop brought her home? Tammy? Someone must have. Christ, could they have set an alarm for her at least? That would’ve been appreciated. Oh god, what if Coop went off and found Ryan or something? The taste of bile rose in her mouth as the thought came to her. No, no, Coop would never leave her. Delia was surprised she couldn’t remember much after that. Oh god. Did that mean she’d fucking passed out in Coop’s arms? Normally she had way more tolerance! Coop must have been scared out of her mind. Oh no, oh no, oh no...

Rushing out of her pajamas and into a simple dress and boots, she hopped on one leg out of her room while attempting to lace the other foot. As she left her rooms, her parents became visible in the kitchen. They were cooking something together, humming and spinning and swaying to the woodstock music. Her father was puffing a blunt in the corner of the kitchen, staring into space with a dazed smile. Her mother, long gray curls swept up in a bandana, was stirring something that smelled rather putrid on the stove.

“Mom, didn’t you make whatever the hell that is yesterday for lunch? I thought we had leftovers in the fridge.” Delia huffed, reaching for her bag from where she thought she’d left it in the corner of the living room yesterday, giving hungover-her the leg up in case she woke up just as dazed. It wasn’t there, and she turned around with a furrowed brow. “Why didn’t you wake me up for school?”

Both her parents, though high out of their minds, stared at her like she was out of hers. “Delly, it’s Sunday.”

She snorted without missing a beat, finally finishing the laces on her boot. “Ha, ha. Funny. Where are my car keys?”

They continued to stare. Her mother stepped forward and pressed a hand to Delia’s forehead, but Delia swatted her away. “Come on, mom. Where are my keys? I probably already missed like half the day. But that’s the way we Carrons like to start senior year, right?” She snorted under her breath, now looking through the casual hoarder mess that filled up her parents living room. Stacks of CDs, vinyls, magazines, letters and bills piled up upon every table and space they could possibly occupy.

The two exchanged looks, and her father erupted in a wheezy laugh that came to a cough rather quickly. “Dellybear, go back to bed. Seems ya had a little too much fun last night, eh? School’s tomorrow. Almost done with the shithole that is highschool!” Both her parents gave a meek little cheer. “Frankie said he wanted to have lunch with us, so I’m making stew!”

Delia stood a little stiller. “No, Frankie came for lunch yesterday.” That was why she remembered the horrible smell. “Frankie came for lunch yesterday, asked for money for one of his ponzi schemes or whatever the fuck, and then you told him you had none left and we were going under to boot. Then he stormed out of here like a two year old.” Her voice rose as she spoke, wobbling with an emotion that she couldn’t name. Her parents continued to stare. “Delly, dear, I can roll you a fresh one for your headache, it’ll do good for you!” Her mother cooed, as their backyard garden was usually the solution to all hayfevers and hangovers.

But a dread had settled in on Delia, unlike one she had ever felt before. Nausea rising, she shook her head and ran back to her room, slamming the door like she often did as a child, and collapsed on her bed.

There, where they usually were, on the ring of her bedpost, were her car keys. It had been an easy to remember spot that Delia hung most of her bags and important keychains, as of course, it was her bedpost, the place where she spent a large majority of her time and the place where she ended up after most hazy nights. But another reason that had become her defacto hook was because when they were eight years old, Delia and Coop had carved their initials into the now old wood.

Coop’s initial was gone, leaving an awkward space in its place, next to the letter D.

Delia did a lot of things in the next few moments after that. First, she almost violently tucked herself under the covers and scrunched her eyes up. Bad dream, definitely. That’s what this was. Bad dream bad dream bad dream. Sleep did not consume her. She did not awaken differently. She waited a few minutes longer, and then shot out of bed like a rocket. She touched her fingers to the bedpost, waiting for the letter C to magically reappear underneath her fingertips. It did not. She scratched at it. Nothing. She shook the bed. Nothing.

Haha. She was actually losing her shit.

Her purse was there, though, so she grabbed it along with her keys and stormed out of her room, past the kitchen and past her parents, with a new ferocity. “Going out.” Was all she muttered, and slammed the front door behind her. Her parents shared a mostly unbothered shrug, and cranked the music up louder.

Delia didn’t climb into her car right off the bat. First, she stormed down the street. Her hair was a mess, a decent amount of makeup stained her eyes, and she pulled up the strap of her dress as she hustled outside of her house to at least stop it from being lopsided. Like a woman on a vendetta, she marched. Past the Pattinsons, past the Greenes, past the Wileys. The sun beat down and the summer heat had already begun to glare down on Boulder. Delia had never checked the time, but it was almost nearing midday now. She marched until she reached the Cooper household, and then banged on the door.

“COOP? Cooper, are you in there?!” Pleasantries had left her, and she barely stopped to think that she was pounding on the door of Cooper’s parents, too. All she cared about was seeing her friend.

date: August 16th, again.
 
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Earl Ashbridge
Wilkman Party
elytra elytra - Coop, cablebelly cablebelly - Delia
He was almost regretting coming to this party at all. In the ways of food it was lacking greatly. Instead, there was alcohol and drugs. A plethora as well. Didn't these people get ragingly hangry after they got drunk? He sure did but luckily it took him while to get to that point. The boy could definitely hold his alcohol like no other, it was almost inhuman.

Earl snorted a bit at Coop, amused by her as he always was. There wasn't any particular reason for it, she just made him chuckle a lot.


"I thought I'd come see you... and food." He admitted while shrugging his shoulders a bit but frowning as she closed her sketch book. He seemed to sense something was wrong as he watched her visibly sink into the chair, opening and closing her mouth as if to speak. "Hey... Are you ok-" That was all he could get out before shit hit the fan. A screeching sound effectively had him gritting his teeth and trying to plug his ears. It was skull shattering, as if someone had blow his eardrum. A ringing that was excruciating and that he felt throughout his whole damn body.

Earl wanted to make an attempt to get out but a blue light blinded him as well. There wasn't anything he could do to remove himself from this situation. It made his body ache as he just toppled over in agony, curling up into a ball seemed like the best solution. At least he'd die comfortably. That's what he felt was happening anyway.

Back To The Beginning
Earl's head was pounding loudly as if someone had tried to bash his skull in. It wasn't beyond logic, people probably passed by him sleeping all the time. Homeless people didn't get a good rap.

He slowly lifted himself up from the uncomfortable concrete of the alleyway and did some stretches, trying not to move too much as all he felt was a soreness throughout. The sun had barely begun to peek out from the horizon and a soft breeze blew through the confined space. A sigh escaped his lips and an unexplained confusion surrounded him.

"What the hell..." His voice muttered as he collected most of his things and began the long trek to the gym. The gym was where he could shower and he liked to do so everyday. Even he knew one had to keep appearances up. His freckled face sort of glowed in the fresh sunlight and his hair was a mess from sleeping that night. Messy hair meant good sleep some would say. The homeless boy walked down the sidewalk slowly and rubbed his head, trying to free himself of some pain. It didn't seem to be helping at all so he hoped to death maybe a hot shower would.

His steps got faster as he was desperate to feel the warmth of water and feel clean. Sleeping on the ground left him feeling horribly grimy and disgusting but Earl couldn't complain too much as it was all he had. One could wish for more though. The clouds were beautiful orange and yellow colors that slowly just turned to white the more the sun appeared in the sky. The buildings blurred by him before the gym seemed to stop in front of him. It was a godsend that the place opened so early. There was no hesitation in his step as he walked in and headed for the showers.

Water streamed own his back and face as a sigh left his lips. He hummed softly, not to sing but to show content. No one was there yet to bother him and he loved it that way. Not many people he recognized came here anyway so this place might as well have been his happy place. The shower rooms were tiled and had no windows so they got steamy as fuck. Earl adored that, he loved just being enveloped in warmth. The water almost kept him trapped there forever but Earl still had this sense of confusion and worry despite the new relaxation.


The water stopped and Earl put his fresh clothes on that had been washed at a laundry mat the day before. Out of instinct his hand reached for the folded up paper in his pocket, slowly unfolding it to let his eyes lay on the masterpiece Coop had drawn for him. It was simply an drawing of him. He loved it, not because he was vane, but because it was a permanent sign of his friend. This happiness was only temporary though as his eyes drifted to the signature... or where it should have been. At first he shook his head, brushing it off and going to put it away. Then reopened it up again and scrunched his face up in confusion. Dread inched through his body. Maybe he was a schizo or completely out of his mind. Did Coop even exist? The dread turned to panic as he took off running, making sure to grab all his things.

"Coop, Coop, Coop..." He muttered to himself while bolting down alleyways, streets, and sidewalks to make it to her house. Earl had a deep feeling of doubt set in his bones, he doubted himself. His mental stability. He felt fine but sometimes these things had a way of sneaking up on people. What if Coop was just a hallucination or an imaginary friend and he was losing it?

He sped up once more as he saw her house, seeing Delia there as well. He didn't mind her, more concerned about Coop at the moment.

"Is she here!?" This was directed right at Delia as he helped to knock on the door, yelling Coop's name. When there wasn't an answer immediately he found some pebbles and threw them at her window, not caring if he broke it or not. Her wellbeing was way more important. "Coop!?" He yelled after each throw.

Earl looked to Delia is panic, hoping their worst nightmare had not come true.
 


Skylar Wiley
Location: Wilkman’s Party
Interactions: smolfluffball smolfluffball cablebelly cablebelly GrieveWriter GrieveWriter
Mentions:
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Skylar was furious. Just pissed.


He’d been too dazed, too drunk, too disorientated to put up much protest against being led out of the kitchen, his narrowed, seething gaze stuck to the last place he’d seen Parker’s backside. He had a vague feeling of gratitude masked by the cloud of anger billowing like smoke in his esophagus, choking any sounds which might’ve come from him. He’d give anything to undrink himself stupid right about now. The whole world was whirling sideways, round and wound up on dizzy wonderings, decrepit dream-like thoughts dancing in his head and flickering in his peripherals. Everything skewed at odd angles, vision distorted, and dreary suppressants of limelight glimpsed between areas of nothing, hyper focused on places that were nowhere, prying eyes seeing into nowhere, footsteps retreating, voices muddled like through fog, sideways, everything tilted. Skylar could hardly keep his eyes focused, intoxication weighing heavy on the forefront of his mind. He kept to simple thoughts. The peas were cold. Delia was angry. Everything hurt.

He didn’t like Ryan’s tone. He didn’t like Ryan. That wasn’t a new thought. Ryan was both the most of his problems and the least of them. He was the leader of the self-proclaimed kid-gang that ran around beating on everybody while managing to be Boulder’s #1 shittiest fratboy applicants, each locked in on little poles perfectly positioned like rotating players in a big foosball table, malleable to the hands of Ryan and that girl Skylar couldn’t remember the name of right now. Fuck her, whatever her name was. Ryan struck him as the kind of guy who thinks he’s better than everybody else. And yet there was something strikingly ruthless about him. Skylar avoided him whenever possible. But barriers became misty under the influence and Skylar was just coming around to thinking he ought to give Ryan a piece of his mind. But he didn’t get that far.

He was being man-handled again. He clumsily went along with the taller boy, peas to the swelling, unfocused and unsteady on his own. Not so much that he couldn’t spare a longing look toward the front door. He could make a run for it. Frolic off into the night. The absurdity of the idea drew a smile from him just as he was ushered into the bathroom.

He’d almost forgotten he was angry with Story by the time the preppy kid was fussing over him. “Fuckin’… calm down.” He said, the edges of his tone slurred, eyes hazy to the yellow glow of the bathroom light illuminating Story’s figure bent over the sink. He watched Story, leaning back slowly until his back was touching the cold metal back of the toilet. “’m fine. I’ve got peas.” He gestured with the frozen vegetable bag to illustrate his point before returning it to his cheek. He found it contradictory that Story would be so worried about him, having just essentially inferred to that jock that he was not worth anyone’s time. But he knew Story, and knowing the fussing was a thing of familiarity kept him from outright rejecting his help.

The bathroom smelled like bile. His body felt heavy, and everything about him felt sluggish. He wanted out of this house. He’d thought the anger had gone from him but like bile it rose up in his throat again. “Fuck you,” he swatted Story’s towel away. “Seriously—what the fuck? You think I’d want your help after that?” Consideration to Story’s own risks required clarity, a thing Skylar was sorely lacking presently. “You called me a freak—fuck you!” He sat forward, reaching a hand to grab a fistful of Story’s sweater. “Is that what you think of me?! You think I’m not good enough—that why you’re so embarrassed to be seen with me? Huh?!” He knew it was irrational to get into a fight with Story right now but he’d lost track of his rational side. He pushed to his feet, yanking Story with him, but nearly ended up falling into him. “Shit- sorry.” He spoke quietly, barely able to hear himself over the pounding in his head. “Just—”

It was ungodly loud. The shrieking— the sirens-- whatever it was—Skylar’s hand grappled for Story’s shoulder to keep himself from falling over, the other hand, devoid of the frozen peas, flew to his head. His head throbbed like nails were being driven into his skull. It was overwhelming, overbearing, over everything and filling his senses down to the air he breathed in. And then, nothing.



Skylar Wiley
Location: The Wiley Residence
Interactions: cablebelly cablebelly Kattzillaa Kattzillaa
Mentions: N/A
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He woke. Something was nagging him. He’d forgotten something. He sat up quickly, hand flying to his cheek. There was nothing there. Why would there be? He turned over and glanced at his alarm clock. It was bothering him, the feeling, like it was just on the tip of his mind, a thought he’d just had and now he couldn’t remember. A hand came up to drag over his face and then push through a disheveled tangled mess of bedhead. He blinked at the glow stars plastered to his ceiling and let the feeling pass. Must’ve been a hell of a dream.

He slipped out of bed and dressed himself in the bluish light of pre-dawn, a t-shirt, some jeans, his favorite throw-over, socks and his converse. It was Sunday so he left home before the sun had finished peaking over the dust-quiet neighborhood, the gears of his bike churning to the like sound of rubber on asphalt as he made his way to KGNU-FM station headquarters above the Aristocrat restaurant at Broadway and Spruce.

A quiet morning. The buzz and hum of the city awakening felt overly familiar. But something remained amiss. During his shift he changed the tracks, sorted vinyl, sat back, let the jazz play, and let his thoughts wander. College students came in and went through. Another intern took over for him at around 10:30. He left on his bike feeling restless.

He returned to his house and pulled the bike into the garage, dropping it amid the other junk and clutter. The garage was his sacred space. There was no room for the car in there, much to his stepdad’s persistent complaint. The garage was filled to the brim with treasures. Anything his dad had left behind he hoarded. Old suitcases, tools, knick-knacks, all of it clues in the grand conspiracy outlining the mystery of his dad’s disappearance. He pulled the garage door shut when something caught his eye. There was a picture frame propped up on his dad’s workbench, no picture included. Skylar couldn’t say where the picture frame had come from, but he was certain it belonged with his dad’s things. But hadn’t there been a picture in there? For the life of him he couldn’t remember; but he was immediately pissed off about it. Somebody had been down here going through his dad’s stuff! No doubt it was that fucking asshole, his stepdad, Chris. He snatched up the picture frame and entered the house ready to demand the return of the missing photograph.

He found the guy sitting at the breakfast table, newspaper in hand, coffee mug in the other. It was so wrong. It’d been years but every time he looked and saw Chris sitting there, or standing in the house, it was jarring and unsettling to him. He did not belong here. He’d stopped short at the top of the stairs leading into the kitchen, fingers tight around the wooden frame in his hand.

“Good morning sweetheart.” His mother was in the kitchen. Her tone had a touch of worry to it, like she could sense his intentions. Skylar chewed the inside of his cheek. His stepdad pointedly did not look up. Skylar drew in a deep breath. He went over, put down the picture frame on the table, hard. Chris looked up then. Unimpressed.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” He said, biting off every word. He left then, abruptly, for his mother’s sake. He could hear her calling after him, but he’d already gone out. He stood on his porch, fuming, and furious that he couldn’t remember what had been in the frame. Maybe there hadn’t been anything at all. Maybe… maybe nothing.

His eyes shot toward the street when he heard a yell. It sounded like Delia. Willingly drawn from his self-loathing to distract himself by other means, Skylar circled around to the front of his house and toward the street in time to watch Earl tearing his way across some guy’s front lawn. He felt it creeping on him like a chill, winding itself up in the pit of his stomach: dread. But, ever the curious type, he breathed a sigh and started toward the source of all the yelling.

He rounded the bend in time to see Earl hurling stones at Coop’s house. “Hey!” He shouted, brow furrowed. “Quit that! You’re waking the entire fucking street with your screaming.” He didn’t exactly mean to sound so mad, but the whole situation was irking him, and he didn’t like whatever was going on here. He glanced to Delia then. Her hair was sticking up. If in a better mood he might’ve pointed it out, but instead he cut himself off with a curt question. “What’s wrong with you?”
 
Interactions: Delia ( cablebelly cablebelly ) Skyler-ish ( Jewel Jewel ) Earl ( Kattzillaa Kattzillaa )

Tammy Torrez was all too familiar with the effects of a hangover. Most of her mornings since middle school had been spent hunched over the side of her toilet. She was familiar with the sensitivity to light and sound. The nauseous feeling in her stomach that left her near debilitated and wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. But this wasn't like most of the hangovers she'd experienced. The sound of ACDC'S Back in Black blaring through the local rock station on her alarm clock radio made her ears ring a little more than normal, causing her to groan at the sound and swiftly unplug it from the wall. Her bedroom lights shone like the sun when she cracked her eyes open, immediately bringing up a hand to shield her eyes from them. The feeling in her stomach felt a little less throw-uppy like most hangovers did and a little more like the feeling she got when something bad was about to happen. Or had happened. Guilty. Full of dread. Unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Her blankets suddenly felt suffocating so she pushed them to the ground, now desperate to resolve the feeling in her stomach. She wasn't hungover. And she wasn't high or withdrawing, judging by the lack of needle marks in her arms. But it wasn't too late to change that. There were few things a good high couldn't fix, and she knew just the girl to see. She wasted no time finding something cute to wear, instead opting to throw on dirty clothes from the floor. Not like it mattered much; they all smelled like booze and weed despite the amount of times she washed them. And she needed to see Delia now.

She was pleasantly surprised to find Bobby, her no-good of a father, passed out on the couch, empty bottles of beer and liquor littering every floor and table around him. She snorted at the sight. Truly pathetic. On another day, she might wake him up for the fun of it. Push his buttons and run to Delia just when he got mad enough, just so she'd have an excuse to stay at her place for the night. But she decided it would be more trouble than it was worth. Tip-toeing over empty and half-drank beer cans, Tammy carefully fished his car keys from his pocket. If she was lucky, he'd stay passed out the majority of the day and wouldn't notice his truck missing until later. She pocketed the keys with a relieved sigh, noticing he was still an unconscious. And as a farewell to her beloved father, she flipped him the bird as she left.

She could walk, sure. Delia's house was only a good fifteen minute walk from the trailer park, but she was a little desperate. And driving was more fun anyway - not that she knew how. Delia never let her drive, understandably so. And it wasn't like she could afford to pay someone to teach her; her father sure wasn't going to teach her. But none of that really mattered to her anyway. She could drive perfectly fine - only pussies needed a card to tell them they could. Tammy could do anything - including drive with expert skill. Which she managed to do, more or less, only going about twenty miles over the speed limit and managing to knock over only two trash cans.

She didn't need to make the stop at Delia's house to know that she wasn't home, the sight (and sound) of her screaming at Coop's doorstep making her presence known. She stepped on the gas at the sight, the feeling in her stomach only getting worse at the sight. If something had happened to Coop, she'd insure vengeance on whoever was responsible. She barely managed to finish the thought before she was pulling into Coop's lawn, slamming on the brakes just in time to avoid both running into Skyler who was just arriving and sending her vehicle through the Cooper's home.

"What the fuck, Delia?" She was yelling before she even stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She would've sounded angry if the slight waver in tone gave away that she was, above all, worried.

She was just about to make her way towards her, question why she was screaming so fucking loudly, or if Coop was okay, when she noticed him. Earl. She wasn't sure what it was about him that sparked all the anger inside of her, but the sight of him throwing pebbles and stones up at Coop's window made her want to drag him into the street and hit him with her truck. Repeatedly. She didn't want to be arrested for manslaughter, however, so she decided she'd settle with giving him a taste of his own medicine. She kneeled down, scooping up a handful of pebbles and, without any warning at all besides a quick "Hey, dumbass!", threw them at Earl.

"Go throw rocks at your own house!" She yelled, cupping her now dusty hands over her mouth. She then paused, plastering an obviously fake, overly exaggerated frown on her face. "Oh... Wait."
 
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b0d02c5388d47a23a9803893cbf07d2c.jpgRyan Netzine
Interaction: smolfluffball smolfluffball (Story)
Location: Netzine Estate

Something was wrong, wrong in ways Ryan didn't allow.

He was in his room, with the morning light filtering through a small gap in the curtains. Peaking outside he found the great lawn of Netzine Estates looking as well maintained and glorious as ever. His Father's car missing just like yesterday, the glow of the Sun slowly waking up the city.

By all accounts it should've been like a normal day, but to Ryan there were only ever mounting issues with everything he looked upon.

First and the most glaring of problems, he had no idea how he'd returned home last night. Ryan was not the type of person to just blank out on extended periods of time, and ha d been running through the last memories over and over trying to pinpoint what had happened. He designated the cut-off point at the party at Janice's, and just had to go from there.

He proceeded with his routine as usual, getting ready for school several hours before the fact. But even while scrubbing himself clean in the shower, he was going through a step by step process of the night, starting from Delia's interruption of his chat with Coop. She'd informed them of a fight Skylar had gotten into with one of the Rogues, proceeding to question Coop on her presence. Ryan had seen the way Coop responded, and capitalized on it to simultaneously conclude his conversation with Coop, excuse himself to deal with the aftermath of the fight, and slightly snub Delia all at the same time.

He'd been leaving just after Coop accepted his number, noticing Skylar having been snuck away by a fairly familiar face and Earl greeting Coop before he made his way to the Rogues. He'd found that the Culprit engaged in the fight was who he expected: Parker Ridge. He'd just been in the middle of getting a play by play from Reina when... what?

There was that screeching noise, the light, and then waking up in his bed.

He was just finishing drying off when he made for his desk, drawing a folder from it and laying it across his chair before returning to finish off drying his hair. Only for a knock at his door to give him pause.

"Ryan?" his sister, Brenna called out "Your friend's coming up the driveway, I'd suggest getting to him before N&N do."

His thoughts stopped at that, right in the midst of trying to figure out what that noise was. Brenna's footsteps led away from his room, and made Ryan go still for a moment as his hand went for the folder. In it, were his records from yesterday. His schedule and anything which would cause him to part from it, the reminders on little notes were carefully placed into a baggie for future reference, a list of activities that may impede his usual schedule. All of which was on record and used to plan out his days...

...at least, that's what it should have been like.

None of his records from yesterday were there, not his health diagnostics after his jog with Parker, not the reminders set for study subjects, not even the record of how yesterday's practice went. Everything was gone, leaving only the records from the day prior for him to go over.

Ryan frowned at this, closing the folder and checking the desk for anything else that might have gone missing. His room wasn't frequented often by others, save for several friends, and not many of whom were willing to rifle through his things. Even among the Rogues, only Reina was ever bold enough to ask to see his home, and Ryan worked to keep her at a proper distance lest she gain insight into his workings.

So his suspicion fell upon those of his family, and he began checking names. Finishing with clothes, he made his way downstairs to the dining hall where he knew he could find Brenna in her usual spot. Their mother rarely joined them for breakfast, often sleeping in late or showing up whenever dad got back. Upon entering, his eyes went to Brenna. She was looking through a newspaper with one hand while the other cut into an omelet with a knife.

At the other side of the table was one of his younger sisters, Natalie, half of a pair of twins who were mostly told apart by their different hair styles. She was picking at her eggs, sunny side up with toast and bacon to the side. Natasha was nowhere to be seen, but Ryan couldn't focus on that at the moment. He'd been in the process of opening his mouth to ask whether any of them had been in his room, but Brenna's omelet gave him pause.

"Didn't you have that yesterday?" he noted, only for her to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Waffles and sausage, Ry." she stated whilst briefly lowering the newspaper "I take it that gym work last night took it out of you?"

Ryan went quiet for a moment, only to nod his head and fold his arms "I suppose so, might've rolled into a weird position in my sleep."

Brenna gave a small chuckle at that and returned to her reading, but Ryan's expression soured.

He'd gone to the gym two days ago, even without his records on hand he knew he'd only spent half the usual time there than usual. It was to keep his muscles from being too sore during practice yesterday. Overexertion was a good way to interrupt his training regime, and Ryan would not be having any of it.

Furthermore, he knew that his sister made an effort to switch up breakfast every morning. She said it was to keep her meals from getting dull, but she'd been consistent in this up until today. And then there was Ryan's dad, Richter Netzine. He wasn't home yet, which made sense on weekends, but wasn't scheduled to be working today.

In fact, so much of the scene around him was playing like yesterday's morning, but he hadn't even managed to focus in on it too much. Despite wanting to be ready for practice, Ryan had set up a jog with one of his teammates so that he could energize himself the natural way after a sufficient night's sleep. So he'd told his siblings not to set a plate out for him, as he'd grab a bite at the end of the jog.

His spot at the table this morning was missing its plate, leading Ryan to turn his attention to the hall leading to the front door. He'd been wondering what Brenna had meant when she said his friend was waiting for him, but if everything was occurring like yesterday morning...

He found Natasha peaking out the glass of the front door, but upon spotting Ryan she grinned before making her way back towards the dining hall. Ryan hesitated before opening the door, knowing that his expectation for what was waiting outside was ludicrous.

But when he opened the door, he found Parker Ridge waiting outside with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jogging shorts.

"Oh, there you are, man." he said as he looked to Ryan, frowning as he looked him up and down "You runnin' in that?"

Parker was a lot of things, but a practical joker he was not. Ryan could picture Reina or maybe Theon orchestrating some elaborate prank with his siblings, but not Parker. Parker was a different kind of problem, though one Ryan considered manageable most of the time. He could easily let himself get swept along, quietly going about his day and following whatever orders he needed to get through. But put him in a group of friends, comrades, teammates, and suddenly he needed to prove himself worthy of belonging.

Parker was a textbook example of peer influence, as just being with a lot of friends easily transformed the apathetic and passive Parker into an enthusiastic explosive. It was perfect for playing with a team, as Ryan found Parker more than willing to put one-hundred and ten percent into any push they made, but it also made him a perfect fit for the Rogues as well. With them urging him on, Parker was the member Ryan had to keep a watch over the most. For while the others would make threats and start fights, none were more willing to do it than Parker as longa s the others cheered him while he did it.

Thankfully, Ryan found that his position in both the Rogues and the general Social structure led folks like Parker to give him a lot of leeway, so setting up friendly workout methods to keep him from ruining his physique was rather easy. That being said, he should not have been there.

Especially with no sign of the fight from yesterday.

Ryan had seen the leftovers from his bout with Skylar and, while nothing that would threaten his performance on the field, those weren't exactly wounds that popped out of existence overnight. Yet here he was, standing before Ryan on what was supposed to be a school day wearing the same jogging clothes he had yesterday. Not only had all traces of the brawl been removed, but Ryan had to do a double-take at the blonde hair Parker sported.

Couple months ago, Chase and Theon had managed to talk him into dyeing his hair black, which he'd kept since. But now his golden locks just managed to cap off the bundle of absurdities Ryan had been collecting all morning.

Taking a breath, Ryan strode out to clap Parker on the shoulder, "I'm sorry, Parks." he said "Something's come up that I need to look into, so I can't hit the streets."

"Oh..." Parker's hands went back in his pockets as he looked around "That uh... that mean I should ring up Chase and tell him ya don't need his ride for the party tonight?"

Ryan took a deep breath before walking to his house, "No, he's not getting off that easy. See you at practice?"

He grabbed hold of the door and looked back as Parker shrugged and turned away, "Yeah, see ya."

Mere moments after the door was closed, Ryan was on the phone. He held it in one hand while using the other to scribble furiously on a notepad. He needed to confirm several things right at that moment, and there was one person he knew that could help with that confirmation.

"Come on, Story." he muttered to himself, "Gonna need you to pick up."
 

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