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elytra

elytra

a beetle may or may not be inferior to a man
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
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Current Scene: Scene 1, The Party

Past Scenes: N/A; check back later

Important Events: The party for lottery winners, investors, and employees is full swing! Everyone is mingling and either talking shop or actually having fun.
 
Scene 1: The Party​

Description: The party for lottery winners, investors, and employees is full swing! Everyone is mingling and either talking shop or actually having fun.
Location: The Welcome Center (Main Park)
Time: Night
Weather: A slight chill; cloudy skies, bordering on rain, but there was no storms forecast for the night.
 
barbara halcomb
the invest. journalist
adjoining hall outside main room
elated, talkative
interactions

bailey elytra elytra
“Surj, babe-- hon. Tell me you’ve got something good for me. I’m taking a lot, whatever I can fit that isn’t my personal belongings, but there’s shit at all there in terms of connection they say. Closed circuit bullshit. Am I supposed to wait for the fucking promo photos? Or can I take my own shit?”

The day before the event, one of those crude early morning flights to be settled at the hotel before boarding the boat to take, later, to get to the remote island, was full of many phone calls made by Barbara Halcomb, someone who was not at all accustomed to being completely stripped of her media devices. Exclusivity, they said, which seemed like a bullshit way of controlling the narrative to her. Part of her enjoyed the appeal of being cut off, having wanted something similar for years now and refusing to admit it. The other part was ferociously mad that she would be cut off. It felt almost like a challenge to see what she’d try to bring, and if it would be useful.

“It’s not looking good. They don’t do overnight shipping, and they haven’t responded to any of my emails all day. You got a disposable camera? They still sell those at the drugstores, you know.”

Barbara snorted, her shoulder digging into her ear through the thin phone she held, both hands occupied with getting her journals put together. She’d write whatever she could beforehand, sorting observations from reviews from impressions, and whatnot, to make the experience a lot more live. More live than whatever mystery it was that Dawson Creek was putting together.

“You’re funny, you know that? Hi-larious. And you know what-- I did get one. If they try to take it I’ll bite their hands off. If something happens how am I supposed to document it? Is this the fucking Middle Ages?”

“May as well be,” Surj replied. “When’s the last time you had no wi-fi?”

“Tunnel. Yesterday. I’m not so fucking out of touch, Surj, grow up.”

Barb’s voice bit but she smiled through her words, and it was audible. Surj laughed, a deep baritone in harmony with her higher pitched chuckle, something between a giggle and a real laugh.

“Have a little fun, would you? I feel like that’s what they want, that’s why they’re doing all of this. Real, genuine first impressions. Nothing that’s been fact-checked, no pulling up receipts or political documents. You’re doing a real one of a kind thing. Everyone on the team wishes they could be you. Jumping into a real mysterious company opening-- you’re a real Nancy Drew now. Haven’t you always wanted that?”

Barbara laughed again, this time letting it fade out, her smile falling. Maybe he’d had a point.

“A woman is nothing without her arsenal, Surj.”

A small silence fell between them, each trying to find the words to ask what was on Barb’s mind. Her real concern for going dark.

“You talked to Mackenzie today?” Surj asked. Barbara inhaled quietly, tapping her fingernails now on the desk in front of her. She dropped one of her pens and adjusted her grip on the phone, now holding it in her hand. Swinging a rope of blonde hair away from her face, she leaned forward.

“Did, yeah. As soon as I got in. Before she went to school. Told her I’d be gone for a week… I think she sounded happy for me. It’s not often I take time for myself. She’s too smart for her age; she already knows that life’s a fucking chore.”

Surj hummed in acknowledgement from the other line, and Barb felt a real smile fall on her lips. “I haven’t been gone this long in forever. Too fucking… caught up in everything I guess. There’s always some bullshit some fucking CEO is up to, and there’s always a waterfall of shit that needs to be dealt with. Who do they go to?”

“Not you, for a week. Anyone else, really." Surj answered this plainly, earning a scoff from Barbara.

“It’s horrible how quickly you’d move on. If I died you wouldn’t blink. Fucking vultures.” At this, they shared a laugh over the phone, Barbara’s gaze slipping to the changing sky outside her window.

----

The party was far from quaint; prolific even. Clearly they’d put every cent left over into the affair, decking out their Welcome Centre to something tolerable for a preview pre-show. Barb had seen a few of the same kind, usually decked out in whatever colours the political party who hosted it was wearing, but never failing to hold the same charms to them. It was picturesque, paired with the night’s pleasant chill. Arriving and settling had been brief, but Barbara was really looking forward to the painted faces she’d meet. All things considered she knew so little about everything, which was unnerving, but there was that investigative spark inside of her that ignited at the thought of it all. It’d been a long time since she’d met someone new, let alone a whole group of people, and the experience was always exhilarating. The quick release of alcohol on the system of others tended to get loose lips flapping, and Barbara never rejected it. While she’d sip on her sparkling water, or some other non-alcoholic variation of bubbling, she’d pry and ply where she could. It was a fine art, requiring a wordsmith’s refined edge and a charismatic touch.

And well, while Barb could press, she knew exactly when to ease off too. It was all about impressions, emotions, and the fleeting trustworthiness that others could grasp or let fly away. Finding and applying whatever one was appropriate was usually prudent, though there existed the odd chance of flying by the seat of one’s pants.

In this case, Barbara was wearing a dress. A chiffon pink number, tight at the bodice and slimming at the hips. She could thank her aerobics classes and personal trainer for the ability to wear such a look without worrying about hips or thighs resisting their prison. She could move, fairly well at that, but the fabric was tight enough that it left little to the imagination that was not otherwise covered in some floral addition or bundling of fabric. It was something she’d worn only once before, but had changed out of upon seeing that another blonde journalist was wearing the same thing-- and while Barb would have liked to own that she was the first of her kind, it was better to adapt where given; pretend that it was the intention all along.

Barb hoped the same fucking thing wouldn’t happen here.

Trailing around the room she made small conversation where able, all wide smiles and glowing skin. People were pleasant, though Barb figured she’d do better to take advantage of looking and admiring beyond interrogating anyone. What good would it do? Parties were for mingling as much as they were ogling. She’d seen too many ice sculptures to be convinced that parties were simply for chatting the ear off of whoever you could find.

Outside of the main room there was a hall, Barbara took an indignant sniff to see someone else there. No one that she knew (but what had she really expected). Yet, company was company. It appeared she wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to see the exhibits that adorned the hall. Part of her imagined the future park goer and if they’d see this, or some truncated version that was ‘general-public’ safe from roaming hands.

The stuff was fascinating, even if she’d prefer not to audibly admit it just yet. Never one for dinosaur bones of the past, Barbara could still admire it from afar. Museums made her eyes ache, preferably for sleep. This would be an exercise in true, unadulterated restraint.

It did make her wonder about the rest of the park, as well.

Coming to the individual, Barbara came to a rest. Posing, pursed lips as she stared at the fossil hung up, something small and light enough to rest on its chains, her gaze slipped to the other.

“It’s so emotional, isn’t it? The juxtaposition of colours, and the negative space. You can tell the artist really put their whole self into it. Their shell, even.”

She tried not to laugh, her joke was terrible.

Looking down to the other, as she triumphed most of the average sized folks at the event in her heels, Barbara smiled.

“I don’t know too much about fossils. Are you always bone? Or are they sometimes imprints, sort of like when we leave footprints in the sand?”

She looked a little further at it, unsure what to really make of the shape of it.

“Tell me it’s not fossilised fucking shit, is it?”
coded by natasha.
 



bailey doyle.





































  • mood



    wondering if this is a scam
















When it came to travels, there was little Bailey hadn't done.

Not on his own dime, obviously. The last 3 years had been spent tagging along with Shura, bouncing between the other's work and hobbies and whatever locations Bailey would make demands for when he had something specific in mind. Guam, the Galapagos, Greece, the list went on. Things never got boring. That said, where they currently were had to be one of the more unique places.

Would be, at least, if they'd actually done what they said they did. For the sake of the money Shura had spent, Bailey hoped they were telling the truth, but on the other hand...well, he had opinions, to say the least. The genetic recreation of long-dead animals was the sort of thing that had pros and cons. Pros? It was cool as fuck. Cons? Basically everything else. Now, Bailey was participating in the spectacle- had demanded he be brought along, in fact -but that was simply because in his mind, someone was going to do this eventually and even with the downsides, he wanted to see it.

He'd hoped to see some proof at the party, but it'd become clear that it wasn't about to happen early on in the festivities. The polite thing would've been to stick around and talk to some people, yet he'd also come to the realization that many of the people there would drive him absolutely insane if he tried to act polite and nice for more than a consecutive 5 seconds. He'd also had a soul-leaving-his-body moment when he unexpectedly locked eyes with an old undergrad friend who he hadn't seen since college and decided that maybe taking a bit of time outside the main room would be beneficial. He hadn't bothered to tell Shura, figuring the other was too busy chatting it up with some important figures or something.

So, there he was, in the hall staring down at some exhibits that had been set up, swirling his wine glass idly as he read the information plaque. Nothing he didn't already know, but it was engaging enough that he hadn't totally noticed when someone walked up beside him. He only looked up when the woman began to talk, saying a joke about the exhibit. He had to look upwards, being reminded of how he short he was in that moment.

Didn't recognize her. Lottery winner, maybe? No, that didn't seem right. Maybe an investor, but he didn't think that quite fit either. Not an employee, that was for certain. His gaze went back to the exhibit, taking a moment to figure out how he was going to act in this situation. He could be ditzy, slap on a smile and flutter his eyelashes and say oh gosh, I'm not sure what a dinosaur even is!, but it was late and he was tired and they were out in a private part of the building, so the option seemed less than desirable.

"Technically speaking, if it's a bone, it's not a fossil. It's gotta mineralize. "
He commented, leaning forwards slightly to get a better look at the specimen that was perched on a display on the wall.
"But yea. Trace fossils exist. Footprints, burrows, stuff like that."


He paused, then added
"It's a Crinoid, though, not shit. That said, it'd be pretty hysterical if that's what they decided to display in their fancy theme park welcome center."


In a museum? It'd be acceptable, sure. But in a park where the main scope seemed to be entertainment and not education? Yea, no. Probably not the most elegant thing to put out on display for guests. He took a sip of his wine, before finally turning to face his new companion.

"I'd offer to look up a picture of it, but unfortunately we're apparently in the Fort Knox of amusement parks."
He offered up his free hand for a shake, along with a smile.
"Bailey Doyle. Managed to tag along as a plus one. Now tell me who you are so I can stop theorizing whether or not I'm talking to a big-shot investor and should be more polite."


































pacific



chase petra










♡coded by uxie♡
 



sasha.





































  • mood



    don't bother me i'm working
















Sasha had done security for fancy parties before. It wasn't hard. It was, in fact, mostly extremely boring. However, the last time he had done this sort of thing, he'd been doing it for state functions, and he'd been in uniform. He hadn't really expected that to make a difference, but a uniform was a comforting declaration of nonpersonhood. Don't bother me right now, I'm working. Please pretend I'm furniture.

The black tie suit did not have the same effect. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the room, Sasha missed his boots and his leather jacket and his sunglasses, but Cinnéidigh had been very firm that they had to look nice. From his post at the edge of the room he could see the other security guards at their positions, all in variations of the same suit. Most of the male guests were in variations on it as well, like they were all secretly working the same gig. Which may have just been to make all the other guests, in their bright dresses and flashy colors, look more impressive.

Which of course made Sasha think of Kali. He'd had to come in far earlier than she did, since he was working the whole event, so he had no idea what she was wearing or when she would arrive. He was keeping an eye out for her, of course, even though he wouldn't be able to actually hang out while the party was in swing. Sasha just thought he'd feel better knowing where she was.

The cut of his jacket was just loose enough to obscure the shoulder holster where his Glock and his knife were in comfortingly easy reach. It also meant that the little box in one of the jacket's interior pockets wasn't noticeable. He still wasn't sure if he was going to propose tonight or not--it depended on how things went, he supposed. It was nice to know he was ready, if it felt right. It was very nice to day dream about, in the back of his mind, while the rest of his thoughts were taken up with watching the flow of guests into the main room and out into other parts of the Welcome Center.

It was going to be a very long night, Sasha suspected.

































Каждому нужен хозяин



АИГЕЛ










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Tenzing Norgay​

"-Then hang a left once the Brazil Nut trees turn into Nutmegs and you should be back on track."

"Got it. My left, or your left?"

"Your lef-How it would be my left? I'm on the radio."

"Oh," Tenzing said between a yawn, barely listening anymore as he fought his body's basest desire to collapse from exhaustion. The company jeep jumped up and down as Tenzing steered it over rough dirt and small pot holes before the ground finally gave way to the pavement of the main park service roads.

"You should not be driving like this. Twenty-four hours awake is, like, zero-point-ten Blood Alcohol Level, man. That's enough to get you a DUI in the states."

"I know, Alex."

"I could've been cozying up some Wallstreet Brokers in there, downing Margaritas while Jeff Bezos' masseuse does their magic-"

"You're delusional."

"-But instead," he continued, unheeded, "you make me track halfway across the island just so I can read you a map. Why didn't you hitch a ride with the vets and help them out instead of making me skip the only good part of my job?"

"Because," Tenzing began, slowing the jeep to a halt near the rear entrance of the welcome center, "As of tonight, everything is officially out of my job description." He'd spent the past twenty or so hours loading a Triceratops into a truckbed to get it seen to by veterinarians after they had stopped eating for the past few days. Frankly, he'd been less worried about the Triceratops itself and much, much more worried about him and the other handlers. They'd been assured that the senior triceratops had been properly sedated, but after the Pachycephalosaurus incident, Tenzing was convinced they used the terms 'sedated' and 'highly drugged and incredibly pissed' interchangeably. Triceratops were highly territorial as they had learned after a former handler named Jack Townly-poor soul-had the misfortune of being caught in their enclosure. The Triceratops arrived to the feeding area faster than usual, and since the employees had never given the triceratops their food in person before, they'd jumped to the conclusion that Townly was an intruder threatening to steal their food supply.

Their resulting actions had been predictable. Frankly, it was amazing that Townly had even survived, less so that he never wanted anything to do with the company again. A week later, Tenzing was brought in as his replacement and the triceratops' food was dropped in by crane from then on.

Tenzing only knew this because his coworkers wouldn't shut up about him ending up like Townly, which was really not what he needed to hear on his first day of work. He'd just left the enclosure and called Alex, a park technician, just as they were heading for the party because Tenzing was too tired to properly read a map.

Alex had been silent after his last sentence. Tenzing had already killed the engine and stepped out of the jeep before Alex had spoken again.

"Well, if this is it, then I just want you to know, my name isn't Alex."

Tenzing stopped in his tracks. "...What?"

"It's Josh. My name is Josh."

Tenzing stared off into space, brow creasing in confusion as he lowered the radio, pondered for a moment, and put the device back to his mouth. "Where did I get Alex from?"

"I have...no idea. You just started calling me that one day and I thought it would be too awkward to correct you because you just seemed so sure about it. Oh, hey, by the way, if they've got any of those funny little Champagne glasses can you pile them in the storage closet for me later-"

"Goodbye, Joshua."

"Aw, man, c'mon-" Josh cut off as Tenzing killed the radio, tossed it into the jeep, and shut the door.

Tenzing slunk through the backdoor of the welcome center, passing stray guests as he methodically searched the halls and rooms for his boss. He'd stopped to ask a few guests if they'd seen a man in a red suit, but they weren't any help. Especially the richer guests. They'd taken one good look at his muddied park uniform and they're faces screamed 'Oh heavens, poor people'.

Eventually, he found his manager, comically overdressed for his middle management position, off to the far side and largely disconnected from the crowd of guests.

"Nately!" Tenzing called as he approached, watching as the man choked on his drink at the sight of Tenzing in his filthy uniform, "We need to talk."

"Yes, we do!" the man hissed, grabbing Tenzing by his arm and began pulling him out of the event area to a disused hallway, "What are you wearing!? You-give me that," Nately said, stopping a nearby caterer and practically tearing off their black suit jacket before shooing them away. "For god's sake, put this on" he grumbled, putting the jacket over his dirty uniform in a vain attempt to make him presentable, at a distance.

"We ordered you a suit, why aren't you wearing it?"

"I quit."

That shocked Nately into silence. Tenzing had been holding it in for weeks now, but he'd finally decided enough was enough.

"I quit, I resign, I'm foregoing my two weeks. When does the next ship leave for mainland?"

"You-" Nately choked on his words, clearly becoming more annoyed with Tenzing with each passing minute, "You can't. You signed a contract, three years minimum-"

"Sue me," Tenzing said immediately. He'd known that would happen, and for a while he'd been stuck between the options of 'get sued' or 'spend another minute on this island', but eventually 'fuck this island, I want off' won over. "I don't care. I can't in good conscience spend another second working for this park. What time does the ship leave?"

"Calm down and rethink this. You don't want to do this."

"I do!" Tenzing hissed, an almost desperate gleam in his eyes, "Now get me off this fucking island!"

"Fine!" Nately huffed, turning away and walking back to the main party, "Good luck with our legal team, then."

He still hadn't answered his question, but Tenzing at least knew he'd be stricken from the employee record come tomorrow. He didn't know if there'd be a ship leaving tonight, tomorrow, next month, or a year from now, but if there was one tonight Tenzing was too tired to even try catching it. He'd just grab a drink at the party, pass out somewhere inconspicuous, and pack his stuff in the morning. One more night wouldn't kill him, would it?

He at least had the common decency to button down the suit jacket, wipe his muddy boots on a rug-or a carpet, it didn't matter, it was the janitor's problem now-and rub off some of the flecks of dirt on his pants before reentering the party and making a beeline for a caterer with a tray of champagne. He reached for a glass before deciding it was a from-the-bottle kind of day and grabbed the opened bottle of champagne out of a caterer's hands when they tried to use it to fill some glasses.

Shuffling to the edge of the crowd, Tenzing took a seat across from a bespectacled man and sunk into his chair. Tenzing had only sat this far away because he wanted to drink himself into a stupor and forget he'd ever made the mistake of working on the island, not to make stilted conversation, but he gave it a try anyway.

"Not a fan of parties?" He asked, cringing as he set down his glass. That was an awkward conversation starter, he needed to change tactics. "I'm sorry, I think I recognize you from somewhere. You work in the labs, don't you? What is it you do there, anyway?"

Interactions: cadence cadence
 
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Kali Jones
The Microraptor Trainer
Museum Hall
Setting up for a demo -> Bothering Sasha
Nervous & buzzed
Yellow overalls, big boots, khaki park uniform jacket and polo
interactions

wickedlittlecritta wickedlittlecritta Bothering Sasha


The real challenge with Project Mickey was not teaching the microraptors tricks but acclimating them to nouns like people places and parties. Kali had spent most of the last four months hauling around a cat carrier of twelve pounds of paleochickens across the island, to the beach, to staff get togethers, to viewing decks of other enclosures, outside, inside, you name it she had probably been there on a Tuesday or Thursday between 2-4pm. Practicing recall in strange new places on lines. Practicing the same old tricks in new places. Just hanging out. Learning to wait. Learning about rain. Learning about car sounds. She had referred to it on her timeline as ‘Finishing School’ Her only fear was that the flock had not yet encountered real children as their was a distinct lack of them on staff.

Kali felt good about the flock’s ability to perform at the preshow party. They were about as socialized and acclimated to people places and things as any educational falcon she’d worked with in the past, and that was really all they needed to be. Sure Papaya, blue and shy, liked to get spooked by anything purple or eye shaped, And Yuzu, Red like a fast gundam, liked to bite, and Plum, so chicken like it hurt her heart, liked to think real real hard before she decided weather or not she’d do what she was asked. But this was all part of the routine- just like the other educational work she’d done at the wild center the emphasis was always on show casing natural behaviors, that they were not pets but wild creatures. If an animal did something silly she would simply explain it, tell the audience why they are doing what that behavior ect ect the show always had to go on.

Kali’s real problem was the number of people at the party. And the creature with the biggest behavioral problem to work around was going to be her. She was great in small groups, especially if she had a raptor on her fist that should could address instead of the people, but the museum hall was filled o the brim with fancy folk when she arrived. She remembered her professor, who had warned her that she’d never be able to get a phd if she insisted on addressing the ceiling projector during her dissertation. She had a plan though. And it was fool proof.

Kelly and Joe had kindly volunteered to help her bring over the three tall cat tree like perches for the micro raptors and the long rope that connected two of them. They had set it all up in the loading bay and thankfully it had wheels and they could bring it up by way of freight elevator when the time came. The microraptors, for legal reasons had to stay under her care at all times when outside of the pavilion so after Joe and Kelly had peaced out for the party or their bunks, she was hauling all twelve pounds through the less busy museum exhibits searching for Sasha.

She exited the exhibit on marine creatures, looking lost and frazzled. Where was he? she really didn’t want to get caught hauling Project Mickey around before their debut. She paused in front of the Hors d'oeuvre and Champagne pyramid near the base of the T-rex Skull and decided yes. She needed a bacon covered scallop. Maybe two. And best most important of all, yes, she deserved little a champagne as a treat to get through the night. And stood there a moment sipping, in her yellow overalls, tall boots and Dawson Creek Branded Khaki jacket. Most egregiously of all she was wearing her green leather raptor glove on the hand holding the carrier; it had a silhouette like a piece of armor from the middle ages and stood out like a sore thumb. She was not a fancy person. She really didn’t belong here. She glanced a the two other VIP looking folks were discussing stocks near her elbow, and a woman in a fantastically sparkly dress reaching around her for a glass as well.

"Time to go~" She told the cat carrier in soft sing son as she moved on quickly before she could be questioned or stopped and began checking the security posts in the main hall. She spotted Sasha easy. Because he was tall and because it was hard for anyone else to look that unhappy without emoting at all. She made her way to him at the edge of the hall, near where the entrance of the exhibits began. He must have been doing a loop, because this was wear she had come from.

“Sasha!” She said lighting up with a smile that could melt glaciers, “Look at you all fancy~” She didn’t mean to tease him, he just really was very fancy in that suit and gosh he was handsome. She took a sip out of her champagne glass and the carrier full of microraptors squawked as she hurried up to him and Baby let out a long worried chirp that went high low low high, that was her particular call for Sasha.

“Baby misses you. Hasn’t seen you in twelve whole hours, woe, poor thing.” She resisted the urge to stand up on tip toe and kiss him, because he was working and so was she. “I know you're working but I really really need a favor. When we go on stage can you stand in the back so I can stare at you instead of the investors? You’re all handsome and perfect for the job already. Can you do this for me, please, You can have my champagne as payment. And maybe a smooch later. Please?” As she said this she tried to pass him what was left of her champagne, because she could already feel the bubbly going straight to her head. She should have brought him an bacon wrapped scallop and she kicked herself for eating both, but she hadn't enough hands to pull it off so tried to forgive herself.

"God you're so handsome in a suit, Its weird but like, I could get used to it~" She said then hit him her absolute most intense puppy dog eyes, a tactic she usually reserved for important things like making him watch the extended four hour cut of Goncharov with her or letting her have the last slice of pizza. She had a hundred percent success rate so she knew she was cheating, but this was important.



coded by natasha.
 
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MIKE

Mike was aware of the celebratory event going on at the main park. He was also aware that he was not about to directly join them. None the less, he drove his 1965 Jeep Gladiator J200 with his tools down to an area just outside the gathering. He just hoped he wouldn't be casually approached.

Parking in a spot where he could watch and see if something went wrong, his only reason for showing up at all was that he was well aware someone would end up drunk. I just know someone is already plastered. He thought. He watched as the gathering started to separate into smaller groups. Mike immediately assumed that the varoius groups were a bit like cliques in a trashy highschool, a concept that he understood, but had no experience in, as he had not one friend the entire time he was in school.

Mike was not dreseed formal, as he would never pander to the bourgeoisie and their superficial pretenses. Instead, he was dresssed in his usual attire of a mechanic's jumpsuit. Though to be fair, this one is new.
 



sasha.





































  • mood



    (: kali (:
















Kali appeared in a flurry of irritated microraptor squawks and a smile so bright that Sasha had to smile back in response. Even when she called him fancy, and he felt himself flush.

"Hello, птичка,"
he said as she joined him, a cat carrier full of prehistoric birds in one hand and a half-full glass of champagne in the other. She was in her uniform shirt and her yellow overalls and her big green bird glove, and she was not fancy even a little, and he loved her so much. From inside, Baby chirped her special call for him, and so he added,
"Hello, девочка,"
to her as well.

He didn't have the chance to say anything more before Kali began to wheedle him for the favor of being looked at during her performance, while she also tried to pass her champagne to him. He took it automatically, even though he was working and definitely not going to drink it. Kali seemed to think she had to do grand schemes to get him to agree to things, which was extremely funny, and usually got him silly promises and big brown puppy eyes, and he was absolutely not going to tell her they were unnecessary.

And then she called him handsome again, he was very red, and it was very unprofessional.
"Well, for a smooch, I suppose I can do that,"
Sasha said.
"For two, I will even promise to not make faces at you."
He raised his eyebrows at her with a grin.

"The gentleman drives a hard bargain," Kali declared, grinning back at him.

"Kisses are valuable currency,"
Sasha told her solemnly, still holding the champagne glass.
"When do you go on?"


































Каждому нужен хозяин



АИГЕЛ










♡coded by uxie♡
 



j.r.
































The last person J.R. had spoken to prior to being locked out of any outside communication, trapped on an island full of deadly beasts resurrected by science, was his dad. Spencer Bernard was a kind man. His encouragement always felt genuine in a way that his mother's had not.

"... and that's why calling archaeoptreryx the first real bird is more of a misnomer perpetuated by-"

"Dad, woah, I-" He chuckled, zipping up his suitcase. He lifted his wrist where the tinny voice of the Bernard patriarch spouted from a smartwatch. "You know I didn't study this stuff. You're, like, speakin' Greek to me. You have to talk to me like I'm a baby who just learned how to pronounce 'dinosaur.'"

His father replied with a hearty laugh. From the sound of it, he was outside somewhere, probably grabbing a coffee before his morning class. J.R. could just imagine him in his stuffy little sweater vest and a beard his mom would later be chastising him for letting it be so unkempt.

"I get excited! You don't realize how cool your job is, bud." J.R. grimaced. Yeah, that's what one would think, wouldn't they. "Hey, remember, say hi to Ro for me! And-"

"Okay, Dad, I will! Say bye to mom for me, yeah? Love you, bye!" He hung up quick. He didn't need to hear his dad talk about how Ro and him should be best buddies, just because Ro and Spencer were. If anything, it was just agonizingly embarrassing to be working with someone who remembered you when you were an awkward little kid. Eugh. Good thing J.R. didn't have to spend too much time around him.

Besides, J.R. didn't need any friends. How was he even supposed to maintain any kind of relationship in his line of work? He was in a different part of the world every other week, and running around like a chicken with its head cut off for most of that time. Appeasing a billionaire CEO was just like that.

On the way out the door, J.R. paused to glance in the mirror of his hotel room. Hair perfectly slicked and tousled, skin glowing and clear, relaxed gaze; he looked exactly professional enough to spend the day behind a man many times more important than him, and just pretty enough to be at the beck and call of the wealthy and not receive snide comments about lipstick or mascara or smiling more. It was a balanced act he'd perfected over the past five years.

At least the dinosaurs couldn't file complaints.

▷▷▷▷

It's not like Mr. Girard had never had them performing tasks far outside their wheelhouse, but this time it felt... different. Like, way more responsibility than he thought he could handle. Ensure that the welcoming went well at the preview event? All by theirself?? J.R. was feeling rather out of his element. He was used to staying to the sidelines, scurrying around like a polite little roomba cleaning up the messes of unseemly guests. At most, maybe announcing the arrival of Mr. Girard to a shimmering crowd of socialites.

But now he was doing the whole speech, hosting the event, while Grayson was off doing unspecified important business elsewhere on the island. Honestly, J.R. wasn't used to feeling important, and it was quite nerve-wracking.

Not that you'd ever know it. He had his usual, calming charm about him, a coy smile twisting at his lips as he flitted about from person to person. A well-timed chuckle here, a gentle touch to the arm there, and the award-winning ability to spin anything into a positive light. Sure, J.R. may have been hired because of his family's connections, but he had kept the job by constantly succeeding and exceeding expectations. Cocky wasn't how J.R. would describe himself, but it was undeniable with the way he felt a familiar, blooming buzz of satisfaction every time he left a conversation completely assured that that individual was having a grand time, all worries assuaged. So long as he wasn't the sole focus of attention, on stage under a spotlight, J.R. excelled in these circumstances. Like a well trained dog, he knew his party tricks.

Of course, there were a few wrenches thrown into things. For one, spotted on the arm of their key shareholder, was what looked to be an old college friend. But, of course, that was impossible. Because if Bailey was going to end up here, it would definitely be as an employee. They had really tried hard not to stare, but in the midst of other conversations, his eyes kept dragging over to the man, a slightly pinched squint assessing. It just didn't make sense. Besides, they hadn't talked in years. It was about to be very awkward when they talked. It would be even worse if J.R. thought it was Doyle, and it wasn't. He'd just have to wait until his name came up naturally. Sure, he looked mostly the same- though decked out in decidedly nicer (expensive) clothing -but he wanted to be sure. And then maybe pull him aside later to ask some very pertinent questions. Which might be harder than he thought, considering Bailey had already fled the room. Ugh. It was not good if Mr. Svetozar's boy-toy was displeased, regardless if it was Bailey or not. They'd have to see about that in a moment.

And now who the hell was this, rocking around in a blazer over some dirty work clothes? He frantically thumbed through faces in his mind. J.R. had met, at least once, with every employee on the island. It was his job, more than Mr. Girard's, to be the amicable one, remembering names. Tenzing, that's it. What the fuck is he doing?? He smiled, passing the individual he had been chatting up off to network with some other equally wealthy individual.

He really wished he could go out and smoke right now. Alright, Jay. You got two problems to handle. Kali is about to distract everyone with the little bird dinos, and no one will even notice anything. He kept his cool, gait lackadaisical as he made his way towards the back of the gathering to keep a wider eye on things and plan his next steps.

































birds don't sing



TV Girl










♡coded by uxie♡
 

JOURNALISM IS ORGANIZED GOSSIP​


God, Rita loved a good party.

Not the people so much. She liked the ambience of a good party. The chatter and laughter that filled the air, distant music that was only slightly nicer than elevator music, the clinking of glasses, and plenty of quiet corners to slip into when she needed a moment to breathe or a quiet chat with someone special. She was hoping to be able to have more than a few chats, if she got lucky. Rita had already made a checklist of people to try to bump into while enjoying the festivities. There was nothing like a little champagne to loosen tongues and, while she'd only taken a few sips from her flute, she could see that a number of other party-goers weren't nearly as restrained.

Her long, careful circuit of the room was reconnaissance. She'd spent enough time doing this to learn how to identify the minds versus the money. This room was packed with money, which she found more than a little surprising. She'd done her homework and everything had told her that Dawson Creek was on the verge of collapse, with multiple parks having gone under. The fact that they were able to retain any investors was a minor miracle, much less attract any new ones.

More interesting to her, however, was the talent. A couple names that had popped up in her search were vaguely familiar, but one in particular stood out. Elliot Witten. She'd interviewed him in the past and had written about various accomplishments over the years, so to see his credentials attached to the park was more than a bit surprising. Especially considering that, so far, the park appeared to be on par with a slightly more showy museum. Hardly something to attract any truly interesting talent or the funds to keep it.

Despite that, funds didn't appear to be a problem, if the sheer amount of alcohol being provided was any indication. Not to mention the massive private island and the extremely well-maintained secrecy. No, it appeared Dawson Creek wanted make it appear as if this venture was a guaranteed success, so much so that they were willing to throw this lavish preview and foot the bill. She wasn't about to complain, not when people were already getting into their cups.

It just meant her whole job was going to be a bit easier tonight.

Now, if she could only bump into that damned CEO of theirs. He was at the top of her list to at least make pleasant introductions to. After all, she was hoping to get permission to view some proprietary technology of theirs and it would be far easier if she had the boss man's blessing. Failing that, she'd have to make do with middle management. At least she could probably intimidate middle management, if the look of the young assistant hosting the party was anything to go by.

Rita
code by birth of venus.
 
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The Party Begins...





"This is dialogue text"

A jeep pulled into the parking lot, allowing Malika to study what she was getting herself into this night. Ruby red silk flowed down her tanned legs as she exited the car, thinking how much she despised wearing dresses to such formal events. Hints why her backpack was in the car with her safari uniform from back home in it. The dress was made of silk and had bejeweled red floral vines and leaves decorating the top of her bodice. The skirt was long and flowing, with layers of silk on top of one another. The skirt was bejeweled with ruby stones studded onto it, and over her shoulders were chain link strands with ruby pear cut gemstones handing off every 3 inches down the chains and meeting in the center with a large ruby gemstone surrounded by metal in the shape of a lily. However, she had decided to wear her heeled boots instead of heels altogether and in her bag rested her hiking boots. She gently brushed her fingers along her car before entering the fray.

Ebony hair glinted with a blue inky sheen as it swished over a shoulder in soft curled waves. Piercing mercury-dipped silver blue orbs gazed out from under long eyelashes, which were accented by a slight hint of eyeliner and a brush of neutral eyeshadow shimmer. She made her way easily into the throng of people to snag a goblet of champagne, her heels clicking intimidatingly across the floor. Snagging a glass, the research behavioralist specialist went outside to take a breath. "Parties are the absolute worst!" She huffed delicately, her accented voice soft and annoyed. She despised parties, though she hadn't really been to many after the incident with her mom.

After her mom died, she simply grew so distant...not really having friends in the first place and being betrayed by the first ever friend she had gotten in college. It just made her so much more unsure about having friends. Her stunning orbs scanned the sky as she shifted her weight, feeling her heels begin to ache from her shoes. She might go grab her bag soon, this was humiliating to wear such a dress ugh.



























LOVE POWER












♡coded by uxie♡

[/border]
 
Last edited:













  • XI.
    Leslie Temps





    lotto winner.
    mood
    Excited!

    location
    DCPP Welcome Party- AKA around Very Rich People

    interactions
    None Yet!

    tags
    Nada!





designed by bad ending & coded by xayah.ღ
 
Last edited:
barbara halcomb
the invest. journalist
adjoining hall outside main room
elated, talkative
interactions

bailey elytra elytra
She could admire the outfit of her evening’s compatriot; recognizing and seeing a bold outfit choice when it came to it. Barb could deduct whatever possible from this, already settling in her mind that there was no way this was one of the scientists or employees here; and if they were, they were someone who abhorred a uniform. See-through enough that it reminded her of one of her paler blouses she owned, and brought, there was a startling absence of undershirt, as well. Bold. The dark colours were admirable-- someone who frequented parties enough to default to black, or someone who didn’t and defaulted to black when asked for ‘formal’.

Regardless, she could also admire the man’s tone in his voice. None of the words were bullshit science shit she’d not be able to comprehend-- though scientific concepts did tend to pass the Liberal Arts major on most days. She couldn’t remember a single science class that had been memorable; save for blowing up vinegar and baking soda volcanoes and calling it a science fair project. General things were gleaned from life and the news; how the weather operated, that the earth was round-- and certainly not flat-- and how bodies decomposed. It was a morbid consideration, but a fascinating one at that.

Barbara hummed in acknowledgement at what was being said. Crinoid. Probably some sort of animal, by land or by sea-- and when she really focused on it she could see the finer details; the trace lines of ‘a tail’ and ‘appendages’. If she were any less mature she’d warp the joke a bit more.

The man’s further words cemented to Barbara that they didn’t work here. Mutual scoffing of whatever the ‘fancy theme park’ was putting together. Weren’t there lottery winners tonight? She’d heard of the lottery among circles and the media, but it hadn’t occurred to her until now that they’d be here too. Lucky schmucks that weren’t on the job, that is.

At the offered hand Barbara smiled, exchanging her own with a cool smile. Her bracelet slid down her wrist and she gave a firm shake. All questions were answered, and Barbara pursed her lips into her smile.

“Barbara Halcomb. Investigative Reporter with BNN Bloomberg and The Globe and Mail. Toronto. I do a segment called “The Watch”, going after people like this,” she paused to gesture, throwing up a finger and spinning it around the room. “To make sure they’re not pulling the wool over anyone’s eyes. My invitation tonight was to be a hopefully positive writeup, and I’m… still gathering my own opinion. Fort Knox is fucking right.” She snorted at that, a light laugh following.

Barbara herself lacked the uptight manners required when conversing with anyone that wasn’t wearing a very shiny suit or very shiny shoes. Never one to be a real fakery, her level of masking was being able to blend in; not to deceive. It was a practised art of perception, and a whole lot of fucking luck.

Smoothing down her dress, and adjusting her grip on the small clutch she held, she sized up her conversational partner once more. “You know your stuff with these?” Her gaze slid to the fossil on the wall, a flickering of her eyes to the other exhibits on their displays. Showy, small things.

“Or is your plus-one where you picked that info up? Nothing against you-- I learn better by observing too. Sometimes the shit that people say ends up sticking, and that includes fossil identification, I guess. If my tongue didn't twist trying to pronounce half the names I'd have some idea, maybe.” Part of her wondered if Bailey was the plus one of the higher-ups involved; the CEO, for that matter. She’d seen or heard little of the man even in her brief time among the other mingling folks in the other room. Having done her research, and having had plenty of papers back in her office from the years of watching the little failed projects, she would have enjoyed having a ‘defences-down’ word with him.

She watched Bailey again, doing her best to appear as lax as she wanted to feel. Shoulders low and down, leg crossed as she stood. The movements weren’t calculated, but they were ingrained practice.

coded by natasha.
 



bailey doyle.





































  • mood



    pleasant conversation? in this economy? amazing
















Investigative reporter, huh? He was pretty sure he remembered the name, but couldn't place from where. Probably from watching her segment, but he didn't generally partake in watching news; mainly he kept up through online papers and the like. Watching the news was just depressing and not his speed. He'd keep mulling over what exactly he knew her from; still, even with the uncertainty, it was good knowing she wasn't some billionaire. He was trying to be on his best behavior when it came to people who Shura would be seeking out during the evening, considering he was sure the other was already pissed off by the lack of CEO in the building.

"That makes the two of us. I feel like I haven't seen shit the entire time I've been here other than the flaunting of cash. Trust me, I like wine, but I'd also like to see a prehistoric creature sometime tonight."
He took a sip of his drink once more, peeved just by thinking about the lack of evidence supporting the claims the company had been making.
"If they end up showing us a chicken with a plunger stuck on the end of it, I'll start breaking things. You can hold me to that."


At the mention of Shura being the one who knew about paleontology, he hid his amused smile behind his glass. Shura wasn't stupid, to be clear, it was more that they focused on other things. Sure, they probably knew some stuff, but definitely not their area of expertise.

"Oh, no. Paleontology is one of my degrees, thanks. It's why I got Shura to let me tag along."
He confirmed, feeling more comfortable than he would've saying such than in the main room. It wasn't exactly a dark secret, but he didn't want questions from the rich people currently enjoying the party.
"Just don't tell anyone, alright? I don't feel like getting asked why I'm not working here instead. I think I'll just jump into one of the enclosures if some freak investor uses it as an opener with me."
He put a finger to his lips in a shh motion, grinning but also being absolutely serious about it.
"And I'll probably pull them with me, too."


He dropped his hand, looking back to the exhibit.
"If it helps, barely anyone can pronounce the names. I had people in my major butcher them to hell and back. It's practice and luck."


































pacific



chase petra










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Ritz V. D. Englebrecht
security | big game hunter
welcome centre; hall outside main room
bastard, unconcerned
interactions

elytra elytra BELIAL. BELIAL.
Embers fizzled between Mauritz’s callused digits, navy-cut tobacco illuminating the guard’s face in soft orange with each drag of bitter smoke and swilled champagne aftertaste. He’d learned throughout a lifetime of service, that free booze tasted better than any fine vintage of whiskey or wine⁠—the kiss of something paid for by someone else was far sweeter. Security work had its cosy pay, plenty of funded toys to play with when Sasha nor Cinnéidigh wasn’t lurking about⁠—a few live rounds in the gullet of a tree and immodest cowboy pistol draws against seagulls erring too close.

There’d been briefs and preparations, stern slideshows with painfully staged stock images and rehashing company policies. Hell, Ritz wasn’t even aware of half the contract he’d signed. Legalities seemed like a fancy way to say if. If they caught you, if they managed to avert the shitstorm by bargaining with you, or perhaps a big if of finding you. A few years in the African bush they’d be no better for knowing. Whether or not a man was willing to throw his creature comforts out the window for selling company secrets, Ritz denied the choice of choosing his ties by omitting them.

The treachery of such thoughts were inescapable. He’d mulled it, passed it back and forth, tasted it until it felt like a cold marble on his tongue⁠—like a tooth not of his own, porcelain, spit and blood⁠—as comforting as it was alarming. Reality in a sense, of an immediate future he wanted a slice in. The rich liked blood sport, the taboo of taking down the beasts their forefathers so carelessly culled, an insight into that mediaeval grasp on power. Only answerable to God.

More drink, soft bubbles wetting his lips and the last few exhales on the perimeter of the Welcome Centre; knowing Sasha would pick up the slack. Straight-laced as they came, all full of sensibilities and duty, if there was one thing he admired of the stocky Russian⁠—it was the predictability of his values. The type with a pretty girl, nice job, head down and little to no reprimand.

Shame if he got caught in the middle of anything.

Mauritz stubbed out the remnants of his smoke on the Welcome Centre’s rail he’d leaned against, balancing the empty champagne glass to brush himself down, and reassume his place at the party⁠—lest he get his pay docked for another absentee presence that failed to flatter and babysit.

Dawson’s Creek employee dress code set a standard to impress; ironed out with cuffed sleeves and sharp tie, suits appeared the duller chameleons to that of dresses and flouncing hems; painted eyes and red smiles concealing bright teeth⁠—the air was thick with Chanel, rich perfumes and exotic bases, if you’d know what money looked like draped on a nice figure, it’d be the cutthroat etiquette which gave it away. Glimpsing into this world of unaccountable wealth became tediously familiar. Mauritz always liked selling the pitch of danger, once in a lifetime tours that’d change them intrinsically, show them the world and its unexplored delights.

They raved about it, Ritz was sure they’d liked teetering on the edge with a net beneath them⁠. Just like the Park. Dinosaurs behind glass and bars, ready for visitors to shell out thousands to see and interact with the prehistoric past. Acting as if they themselves revived those terrible lizards and now held complete dominion. No longer could conservation be as important as it once was, nor the mistakes made by forefathers, when these men of science proposed a technology that absolved all sin of the past.

Melding into the crowd, Ritz’s hands gripped at shoulders and firm handshakes, laughing brash with that shake and thunderous rumble, oozing a hosts worth of special attention⁠—afforded to anyone of importance that remarked how safe they’d be under his loyal watch.

If there was one thing Ritz couldn’t hide, it was his love of touch. A pat here, a palm on the forearm there, the insatiable straight-toothed smile exaggerated by a cattish twist. His currency of feigned intimacy that either endeared or irritated.

And of all the figures whose appearance was coveted to enjoy better publicity⁠—it was the press representatives. Halcomb, the blonde with a big mouth but a wide reach, standing by an investor’s plus-one near the main hall. Opinion had to be of the respected sort, and she had it.

Keep the fat cats happy, save the pennies, all that steaming horseshit which indicated to kiss ass and learn to like it. Deep in conversation, failed to deter the Boer as he rapidly descended with a sharp clap on Bailey’s back and a winsome grin, “Aweh, already reaching out to make connections? Didn’t interrupt did I? Just making the rounds, rules from on-high, Miss Halcomb over here got us hot and bothered with that little journo pen and paper, eh?” Mauritz tilted his head with a knowing gaze, one that gravitated to the pleasant symmetry of Halcomb’s face, the unclaimed hands bare of rings.

The guard pulled away, as quick as he appeared, “Best looking pair of skinners in the room, don’t gossip too much, eyes and ears from here to Timbuktu⁠—I’m Ritz, soon-to-be the favourite face of island security, you just come find me or one of my associates tonight if you’ve got a problem I can make go away.” His eyes lingered, unsettled yet intense, falling first to Bailey, “It’s on the house,” Then Barbara, “You seem the types to appreciate good service.”

“I’ll get out your hair, but remember⁠—Ritz," Englebrecht briefly gestured toward himself, then the occupied hall, "Enjoy the park."

coded by natasha.
 
barbara halcomb
the invest. journalist
adjoining hall outside main room
sly, evocative
interactions

bailey elytra elytra || ritzy idalie idalie
Bailey was an interesting sort of individual. Not a numbskull, though Barbara tended to sweep clear of those types anyway, and not someone so high up on their own horse that it was hard to see them through the glare of their almighty sun. She had a laugh herself at the imagery of a chicken with a plunger on its head, finding the thought to be quite amusing. She made a note to write it down when she could-- that’d be a good line to use in her initial thoughts on the park.

Adding onto the topic of interesting was that Bailey had a palaeontology degree, which made the whole coincidence of being someone’s arm candy and managing to secure an invite to a mysterious theme park venture that promised similar exploits just a little more captivating for Barbara. Her mind whirled attempting to connect the dots, solving the puzzle before it could be explained. The outfit, the attitude--

At the mention of someone named Shura, Barbara’s eyebrow did raise. A nickname, of course; but that fact was only known by Barbara due to her own research years ago. It was one of the least common names she’d heard between American and Canadian relations, and so happened to be one of someone she knew quite well, though the privilege was not extended as in-depth from the other side. She didn’t write it off completely as the same person, because it would make the night much more exciting, but a healthy dose of doubt was prudent.

She nodded along, grinning, her quirked eyebrow melting her expression into sly wit.

Practice and luck. Things she knew all too well. Oh, they’d get along fabulously-- and she suddenly very much held hope that Bailey Doyle was in fact the loose-shirted, snarky companion to one 'Shura' Svetozar.

Before she could reply, about to go off on her lack of science expertise and how she’d be shit out of luck if they were expecting any pop-quizzes here, a new presence made himself known. Tall, cut to figure in a neat little suit; she’d seen him in the other room briefly before he’d disappeared. Security detail. Brief images flashed of seeing him around earlier on the day, around the time the guests had arrived, and with it her grin sliding into a smirk.

There was one thing about eye-contact, and it was that Barbara enjoyed how much one could read about a person through it. A lifeline, in a way, directly plugged into the nervous system and midbrain. Human nature was far more anticipatory than many would believe; actions of others being able to be predicted from brief looks, hand gestures or smiles. Deeper than that, humans had that innate ability to really, when they honed in, lock in on that anticipation. Shared glances had the chance of being fleeting, autonomous movements, as much as they had the chance of being genuine shared moments. Feelings that bled, like spindly fingers, planting themselves straight into the amygdala.

That was the type of exchange she had with Ritz. That she was sure that Bailey picked up on himself. Those dwindling words, enough to make Barbara snort out a laugh-- though it was masked by a beaming smile.

It seemed almost the perfect moment, a divine comedy written in two acts: and Ritz appeared to be their shining carriage to, what could be, an even more exciting evening.

Sparing a glance at Bailey, raising her eyebrows and baring the same devilish grin, with a haughtier air to it. A knowing look. Stick around and watch what happens. All with a glimmer to her eyes, of course.

Clearing her throat with a gasp, Barbara turned to look back at Ritz. “Wait--,”

Placing a hand on her hip, Barbra sauntered slightly closer to the man, tapping a manicured finger on her lip. “Ritz. We DO have a problem, I think. There’s nothing here but four walls, and back there-- more walls.”

He smelled slightly of a fresh cigarette, making Barb itch for a smoke.

“My friend and I-- why, I just know that you have a favourite spot at the park. We’re just so pent up and excited, you know… ‘The favourite face of island security’ would be better displayed where I could get your own statement about the place, and working here… With a nice backdrop, y’know?”

She threw up a couple of hands for emphasis, posing them in a ninety degree parallel in front of their faces, arms stretched outward. Her shoulder brushed the security’s chest.

“I’d put you at the top of the article. You’re the first person who works here that I’ve talked to and not wanted to drill my eyes out. Or my ears. You seem the type who understands what a good story is, good press and all.”

A flutter of her lashes as she looked over her shoulder at him, noting their proximity. “Right?”

Her eyebrows raised in quick succession when she looked back at Bailey, sparing a moment of her ruse to stick her tongue out in jest. ‘Hopefully this guy's one of those vain types, or one of those do-anything suckers. What’s better than a rich investor with deep pockets? A fucking reporter,’ Barbara thought to herself.
coded by natasha.
 



edelweiss jin.





































  • mood



    rather protective with a dash of annoyance
















"this is a dialogue."
Edelweiss leaned back further into the cool leather of the limo she resided in, arms crossed and eyes locked in a deadly stare. The young woman was dressed to kill, and feeling much like she wanted to. Across from her sat her younger sister Viola, sheepishly looking away to avoid the heated glare she was receiving. The other girl was also quite dressed up, although in a much different style than Edel. "I hope you know Viola, I am deeply disappointed in you going behind my back like this." The young med student was referring to the two tickets clutched in her hands, tickets to a special event that featured a package few others could even think to get. Her sister who was obsessed with dinos, a love carried from their parents, had secretly applied to a lottery for a sleepover event at the very exclusive Dawson Prehistoric Park. Because yes, lets chuck the extremely ill young girl into not only an amusement parks, which were no no's on their own, but an amusement park with Dinosaurs. Of course Edel was very unhappy with that decision, and her displeasure only grew when Viola declared she'd be going one way or another. Of course Edel then had to call the company and demand an extra ticket. She knew her sister well enough that she was positive Viola would end up at the park with or without her, and she would much prefer being with. Edel's frown became more prominent, as the car rolled to a stop.

Long legs clad in thick combat boots poked out of the car as she swung her body out. She made sure to grab the leather backpack sitting on the seat next to her, the instructions had said that large bags would not be allowed through the doors but one quick phone call had made sure she would be the exception. The bag held extra medication for viola along with a fully stocked professional grade med kit that took up 90% of the bag. Her sister had sickle cell anemia which meant even a small cut or bleed could be fatal. Therefore she always came prepared. Viola had a smaller bag with similar items but on a less apocalyptic scale. The chains on her high waisted slacks clanked delicately as she strode forward, making sure her sister was close behind her. Before the pair were able to enter the welcome lobby, there was a line for security and bag checking. Without saying a word, Edel handed the bag to the man working and allowed a quick and professional pat search before taking a step back. The man took a glance at her large backpack and shook his head. "Sorry ma'am, large bags aren't allowed at the Welcome Party." Next to her Viola flinched, already knowing what would happen next. "Oh is that so? So you're saying you're okay with my sister dying?" The man look flustered and took as a step back as Edelweiss got into his personal space, glaring down at him. "I called the event five days ago and was given permission seeing as the bag is for medical purposes. Do I need to speak to your boss? Because that can be arranged." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder pulling him in close, "I doubt I'd be arrested for accidentally kicking you in the balls, my dear sister is rather skilled at fake crying. Oh, I should also mention these are steel toed." She pulled back and quirked an eyebrow up, "Are we done here." It sounded rather more like a statement than a question. The security officer flushed red and stepped back behind the table, waving the pair through. "Come along Viola, this is your event after all." The last part was said with an edge, although the soft look she cast her sister negated the blow.

The party was in full swing, individuals of all kinds littering the wide ballroom. Edelweiss spotted several security members as well as other employees stationed by the doors and tables, as well as very richly dressed men and women who she assumed were the investors detailed on the invitations. She recalled that journalists were invited as well but she didn't spot any obvious ones. The red haired woman locked eyes with a frantic looking employee who she recalled was the CEO's assistant, as listened on the website. That women was also the one Edel had spoken to twice before now. Very cold, very long conversations chock full of threats. She noticed the girl was currently being eyed by several individuals wanting access to them and decided to cut right through. "Grab a drink for me please. Nothing too strong though Viola, I need to be alert in case something happens." The implied, to you, lingered at the end. She then strode foward, forcefully shoving several individuals out of her way on her path to the assistant. "You. I need a moment of you time." With that opening she didn't waste a moment, getting up close and personal with the shorter woman, looking down on her coldly. "What are your medical accommodations? So far what I was assured for is lacking." She pointed to her bag and to her sister across the room, "I was promised I could bring in medical supplies and then was told at the gate it wasn't allowed, so already I am very not happy with how medical illnesses are being handled. My sister has sickle cell anemia and I want to know what accommodations you have set up for her. Where's the medical staff? Are they on standby? Is there a section of the dance floor set aside for maximum accessibility for if the crowds get too rough?" Edel fired off the questions like a barrage of bullets, barely breathing in-between. Between her steely glare and her looming height, she made for an intimidating picture. The redhead crossed her arms again, glaring around the room at the people lingering nearby, daring them to interrupt.

































die for you



grabbitz










♡coded by uxie♡
 



Malika
































"this is a dialogue."
Mal sipped her champagne quietly, listening to the absolute chaos that was occurring right inside at the heart of the party. The bubbly drink soothed her jangled nerves as the 23-year-old employee glanced up at the sky. She sighed quietly before closing her piercing orbs to just relax, leaning against the building wall to vanish into the darkness of shadows. Her fingers tapped elegantly on the glass as she huffed quietly. Her eyes opened as she gently shifted again. The boots made her feet ache on occasion, given the heeled aspect to them - but she would take her nice heeled boots over actual heels any old day. Her red skirts brushed her ankles and the ground as she shifted again, her ebony hair flashing slightly as the long waves gently brushed her lower back.

She gently took out a notebook, hidden in a small handbag she carried with her, which had all her notes on behaviors of carnivorous and predator animals from her home and work in Africa and other places. She gently drew the pencil she always had on hand and gently went back to organizing her observations. Her more OCD side came into play as she wanted to organize her field observations to help her relax more. After finishing the ethogram organizations, she then focused on her sketches. Malika had taken to drawing each individual leopard she knew in Amboseli, memorizing each pattern for each one to help with Identification purposes. These sketches were what she was touching up. She simply sat down and kept at her own work. One leopard had a triangle of smaller spots on the face above the left eye, with a set of rosette markings all clumped together on the chest. A triangle-shaped mark right next to the right eye. Malika kept one leg tucked under her, giving her the ability to swiftly jump up should she need to - years of working in the field amongst predators giving her instincts time to just always be aware of her surroundings.

































Love Power



Idina Menzel










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



bailey doyle.





































  • mood



    GIRL HELP STOP TOUCHING ME
















There was an itch to react when the security guard descended upon them like a vulture. A yes, you did interrupt, a precisely aimed knee to the crotch, things like that. A reaction he had to hold back often during these sorts of events behind the batting of eyelashes and greetings that oozed politeness. It was easier to be rude when he was glued to Shura's side, since the man served as a visual reminder that while Bailey wasn't the source of the money, he was still very closely tied to it, and thus it would do people well to act how he liked. That left the equation considerably as soon as Bailey struck out on his own. He knew that well enough to avoid verbally attacking an employee.

Which sounded bad, granted, as that shouldn't be something someone should do in the first place, but to be completely fair to himself he thought it was understandable. He was a touchy person himself, sure. That said? He had standards. The security guard- Ritz, like the cracker, apparently -wasn't bad looking, but he did seem to have a personality adjacent to a ball of slime. Thus, the hand on his back was unwelcome, even if he didn't bother to remove it. He just took a deep breath, smiled, and reminded himself that violence was only the answer when you could get away with it.

The exit of Ritz was welcome at first, but Barbara caught his eye and gave him a  look. One that suggested she was about to make the evening more interest than it was going to be before. And oh boy, did she. Bailey watched her work on buttering up the guy. He had to hold back laughter, taking a long sip of wine to hide his smile.

When Babs looked at him, he allowed his amusement to shine through a bit, the sweet smile he'd plastered on his face becoming the grin of someone who found this hysterical (and rightly so) for a moment. He kept his mouth shut, letting her do all the work. She didn't need his help here, and he wasn't about to ruin their chance at a behind the scenes tour.
































pacific



chase petra










♡coded by uxie♡
 



shura.
































Shura would think that after consistently pouring millions into an investment project, the CEO would be there to greet them. Except he wasn’t, and they felt their frustration rear its ugly head, encouraging less than polite responses to anyone who looked at them wrong. Their companion scampering off without telling them to go harass the other guests did little to improve their mood, considering Bailey was now out of their sight. Not the first time, and certainly not the last, but their fingers still itched to drag the man back to keep him close by. At least close enough that they could see the mayhem that he would cause. Now that was entertaining, but they were robbed of that experience that evening.

Instead, they plastered a thin smile on their face, a mask blank with politeness that would reveal nothing, falling into a familiar rhythm of greeting and interacting. There were very few in the crowd that didn’t know their name, and that realization was already a pleasant encouragement that their investment at least had not gone unnoticed. The fact that more than one compliment was directed towards their outfit too was enough to settle their hackles back down for the moment, and turn their blank smile into something a hint more genuine. Of course their outfit would attract attention, because why else would they dress up? The fur looped around their shoulders, and the jewelry lining their neck and hanging from their ears wasn’t there just for them and Bailey. It was there to inspire - to intimidate - and to ensure that the power that backed them was present not only in the way they held themselves, but also in every aspect of their appearance.

Not only that, it helped turn their charm into something more magnetic at that, attracting those who were greedy for opportunity and advice to them midst the conversation. A few familiar faces here and there in the other investors, but Shura paid no mind to them, escaping the grasps of one that once more tested their patience. Enjoying the spotlight had its perks, but business called, and their eyes searched the room for who they knew would be the current CEO’s assistant.

Shura prayed that for all their sakes that their patience would last to the end of the evening, but it didn’t seem like that would be happening, especially when they saw the assistant being berated by someone else at that moment.

Or maybe their patience would last longer. Depends on if the conversation had any worth in paying attention to.

Swirling their wine idly they moved across the room, settling uncomfortably close to the two of them to watch, with barely concealed amusement. Their own question on Mr. Girard’s present location hovering on the tip of their tongue, but they kept it back for the moment. The conversation soon lost its appeal, and in a lull of the barrage of questions, Shura stepped forward, leveling their gaze at both the assistant and the red-head, their question directed to the one who had been overwhelmed with questions.

"My apologies, I have to interrupt." They most certainty did not care about interrupting. "Are you the assistant of Mr. Girard? If so, can you please tell me where he is?"

































Megalomaniac



aeseaes










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Ritz V. D. Englebrecht
security | big game hunter
welcome centre; hall outside main room
bastard, interested
interactions

elytra elytra BELIAL. BELIAL.
Mauritz turned at the journalists' call, reclining back on his heels with a slow swivel⁠⁠—the measure of a man who saw the hook before he bit it.

Halcomb walked beneath the illusion of dappled sunlight, all blonde hair and electric flicker, changing shade and hue of her lengthy evening gown where her hip dropped and the other rose. Halting, the journalist weighed a single, manicured digit against her mouth, perhaps to keep the lies selective in their poorly-baited proposition, “Now, now Barbie, don’t like the doll house?” The Guard quirked his brow, leaning in to spy through her framed fingers.

“You know⁠ Halcomb, It’s been a dream of mine to headline a paper⁠—framing the cut-outs on my wall. Tell the grandkids,” Ritz rolled his gaze down, leaving Barbara’s face for that of her figure until he proffered an open hand, worth betrayed by palms rather than the tailored cinching of his suit, “Your bracelet,” Englebrecht motioned, “May I?” Where the metal had rolled up her forearm with a twist, the guard guided it back down; slipping his finger beneath the precious stones.

Closer, toe to toe, Mauritz failed to release her, “Now, I’m sure you were just misled by preying on a man’s better sensibilities, but I don’t appreciate front page news. Never been a citizen of the world.” His thumb clasped over her knuckles, tapping on the boney curves taut beneath skin, “Offer me something more tangible and walk through this spiel again before your friend smiles so wide he splits his mouth on a crystal tumbler.”

Ritz stared over her shoulder, seeking out Bailey’s grin with a low scowl, “So, you find me payment,” He uttered, skewed by a tilt of the head, “Or no private viewing. And it’ll be one you don’t want to miss, all the places as they are, without visitors—behind the scenes cross-country tours.” Englebrecht paused, “This favourite face of security, well, you won’t find another willing, or I suppose you’ll be drilling your eyes out. Hm? Little sacrifices.”
 



j.r.
































J.R. folded his hand behind his back, lightly nipping at the inside of his lip as he scanned the rest of the gathering. They briefly paused, brow twitching in confusion, as they watched a skinny woman- distinctly underdressed, probably one of the lottery winners -tuck a croissant away. Okay. Weird. But not a problem. Hell, I love croissants too; I get it. They mentally shrugged it off, green gaze continuing on. They flashed Rita a quick smile, as she seemed to be looking his way. Never a fan of a journalist, J.R. could only suspect what a dithering barrage of questions he'd be soon assaulted with. Probably all sorts of things he had no idea of how to answer, but he'd do so anyways, because journalists were never sated with a no. He was already steeling himself for the interaction when another individual looked to be headed their way.

No, making a concerted bee-line their way was more accurate. Like a steam train without brakes. Holy shit, really without brakes. Woah, hey, that was a joke-! J.R.'s normally relaxed, half-lidded gaze goes a little wide as Edel approaches (for multiple reasons). Firstly, she doesn't seem to get the concept of personal space. J.R. attempted to take a few steps back to keep a bussiness-like distance between the two, but Edel clearly didn't get that, leaving J.R. nearly stumbling back over a chair and craning his neck back to meet her eyes. Secondly, this woman was- well- uh- What I wouldn't give to just be a guest right now. Because J.R. was, at heart- free of corporate demands and lingering insecurities -a bit of a womanizer. One-night stands was about all that he could handle when travelling so much (usually followed up the following morning with a desperate plead for a coffee date and the chance for something more).

And finally, third; because as the woman began to rapid fire questions, J.R. recognized the voice. He had spent many a painful hours dealing with not only Edel herself, but the aftermath of her bulldozing through everyone underneath J.R. Somehow, she had barreled through manager after manager to end up on his contacts list. After the first call, to appease her, J.R. had simply handed off his personal number so that he wouldn't have to worry about any underlings saying the wrong things. He'd even briefly considered putting bitch as her contact name, but only because it had been a long and stressful day, and he'd been in a terrible mood. And if I'd known she could clearly beat my ass-

"It has been?" J.R. tilted his head, looking off to the bag, then the doorway. Yes, it made sense. That bag was, after all, pretty massive; definitely not the sort of thing that would have been allowed under normal circumstances. "Well, you have to understand, we must be stringent with our bag policy; all sorts of people here who are keen to take photos, or make calls, or otherwise steal the wonders we've created here. But I'm pretty certain you aren't smuggling any secret cameras in with your supplies, right?" He teased lightly, an easygoing, lopsided smile on their lips. "It's Edelweiss, isn't it?" The- unexpectadly hot -thorn in my side. "I can assure you, your sister will recieve the highest quality of care should anything happen. Medical caches can be found all over the island. In fact, just here, upstairs, in the offices, is a room set aside for just that. And we do have medical staff on-site, though of course you may not recognize them immediately, as they are attendees here at the party as well."

He reached forward, putting a hand on Edel's arm- and absolutely tried not to think about her biceps at all -and gently tried to steer her away. With a laugh, he explained, "Edelweiss, this is not that sort of party, believe me. These kinds of people do not-" They waved a hand, trying to think of a kind way to put it. "-have fun in that way. I'm sure you'll have no issues."

And they would have continued on, turning the charm up to max if Edel complained that this wasn't sufficient, were it not for an interruption. Turning to Shura, J.R. feigned surprise. "Oh, Mr. Svetozar!" Great. Of all the people he did not want to deal with. Alas, he couldn't just ignore the venture's largest shareholder.

J.R. gives Edel a quick pat on the arm. "You'll have to excuse me. But, please, if anyone else gives you issues, just tell them that you have full permission to take your bag with you and if they have a problem with that, they can take it up with J.R." Sure, he wasn't one to threaten people, but he wouldn't be the one doing the threatening, so it was fine.

Giving Shura his full attention now, J.R. put on his most award winning smile. "I know you must be eager to speak with him, but Mr. Girard is actually busy elsewhere on the island right now. He's hard at work preparing something special for everyone here at the preview event, and will unfortunately not be making an appearance at this party." This was the dreaded question, and J.R. already knew no answer would quite be satisfactory. "But, of course, he sends his regards for you!" Except he hadn't really, so J.R. had to think up something quick. "In fact, there may be a little something special in store for you than just this party. Perhaps a.... sneak peek at where your investments have been headed?"

































king of echo park



TV Girl










♡coded by uxie♡
 


HERE TO PARTY AND MAKE PROBLEMS



The sight of a tall young woman, with a shock of red hair and rather interestingly dressed, crossing the floor managed to catch Rita's eye. There was a moment of pause, where she couldn't stop herself from staring, as she struggled to pin the woman down into one box or another. She didn't dress like the throng of wealthy investors, but she couldn't imagine one of the employees barreling across the floor to accost the CEO's assistant in such a direct manner. There were supposedly lottery winners here as well, but she had imagined that someone on a free ride to an exclusive, extremely private event wouldn't have the guts to speak so boldly and be quite so demanding. While she couldn't make out the words, the tone carried and the display of confidence could have been visible from a mile away.


The fact that Rita couldn't easily place the woman was fun all on its own and, despite the fact that she doubted the stranger truly had anything interesting to say, anything that flustered and got JR off balance for just a moment was something to be curious about. Besides, any crack in that little shit's defenses would be something to use. Snapping around, Rita began to slowly make her way closer, continuing to listen and wait for a moment to intercede.


She nearly stepped in, but someone beat her to it, a tall man draped in fur that would be beautiful if it weren't draped someone so ostentatious. He glittered, adorned with more jewelry than Rita probably owned. She had a bad habit of losing her jewelry, but it appeared this man had been finding it all. She slowed, close enough now to overhear the name offered by JR. Svetosar...Svetosar... where have I heard that name...


It must have come up in her research, as it was vaguely familiar to her. She rolled the name over in her mind like a smooth stone, searching for any detail that would help her remember.


She continued forward, reaching the small group just as JR mentioned something special, a look at where the man's investments had gone, and suddenly the name found purchase in her mind. Aleksander Svetosar, a major investor and, judging by his impatience, perhaps not a particularly happy one. Perfect.


Rita carefully applied her smile, stepping up to join the small knot of people, "I thought I heard a name I recognized. It seems you and I both were hoping to have a word with Mr. Girard, Mr. Svetosar, and it seems we're both being made to wait." She turns her gaze towards JR, offering her hand to them to shake, "A pleasure as always, Ms. Rose."




Rita
code by birth of venus.
 



bailey doyle.





































  • mood



    oh my god stop talking
















Ah. So not only was he a slimeball, he was also a grade-a douchecanoe of epic proportions. Noted. Wasn't Barbara's fault that he looked sleezy enough to be seduced into showing a little tour of the place; Bailey had half a mind to do the age old trick of splashing wine on Ritz and then making a quick get-away to find Shura before he got his ass beat for it. A move that he was very confident would work, but less confident that there would be any chance of seeing something actually interesting for the rest of the night. There was one thing he was completely sure of, though.

This guy was absolutely a chump.

If there was one good thing about being in a place disconnected from the outside world, it was that there was little people could do about finding out if you were telling the truth about something. And if Bailey happened to write a check that would bounce...well, it wouldn't be found out until well after they were out of each others sights. There was no intent to pay the man any actual money, but if he could get him to think he had? No loss to him whatsoever. Besides, he was a little sour about the commentary being made.

He offered his glass to Babs without comment, silently asking her to hold his drink as he took the pocketbook hanging from his shoulder and began to search through it.
"You could've just asked for money without the theatrics."
He commented, taking out a cheque book and a pen. Carefully, he scrawled out a large, large number, then tore it out, holding it out for Ritz to take.
"Really. You're in a building full of filthy rich people. Money isn't exactly an object, and it isn't like we're getting anything interesting standing around here."


It would bounce, but he figured it was reasonable to assume something he was handing out wouldn't. The upside of his position was, in fact, having money to spend frivolously. Not that he often did with his allowance, preferring to stash it away in a savings account just in case, but no one knew that. Besides, Ritz seemed to have the mental forethought of spackling compound, so he wasn't too worried about his ruse being found out.

































pacific



chase petra










♡coded by uxie♡
 
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