low fidelity
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴
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the love club
welcome to a new year at montgomery !
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Realistic or Modern ♡ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑩
low fidelity
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴
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[div class=smalltextcontainer][div class=smalltext][div class=tag]mood[/div] ;; keeping it together, but like, what the hell.
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, && orey.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox] Cecilia could barely concentrate on her classes, or much of anything, throughout the day.
Her morning was quiet and uneventful. The girl woke up to her phone alarm beeping at her side, wallowed in bed for exactly a minute, and began her day without hesitation. Even after three years, she could appreciate the peace and quiet that came with her own dorm room. The extra space was glorious, and so instead of crowded up by two sets of furniture, her room was lovingly arranged with a plush grey circle rug in the center. Cecilia's room was her sanctuary. The school's communal bathrooms, however, made her skin crawl; if their dorm rooms could have their own personal bathroom, she would truly have no complaints. Nonetheless, after a quick shower and brush of her teeth, Cecilia returned to her room and found her phone lit up with a text from her mother.
'Buenos dias mijita. Por favor, ten un buen dia en tus clases. Se que las cosas ahoritas son dificiles, pero eres bien fuerte y vendran cosas buenas. Si necesitas hablar, aqui estoy para ti. Love you Cece. - Mom'
Cecilia curled her lip in slight bitter disgust. Her mother would say sweet, kind words, and never act on them. Even in moments like this, Vivetta had impossibly high standards for her daughter, always pushing her to be stronger, more resilient. She only responded back with a heart emoji and set her phone to vibrate. Any attempt to concentrate in her classes was lost, flashes of memories surfacing back up instead, even at the worst of times.
During summer break, investigators had talked to her and her mother numerous times. Vivetta cooperated, of course, but tried to keep Cecilia at a distance from the media frenzy and continued questions of the detectives. They seemed to think she was hiding something, and her mother did not want her to speak to them anymore under the excuse of [div class=dialogue]"My daughter is already traumatized enough as it is!"[/div] But, Cecilia was technically an adult. One of the more persistent detectives had shown up in her dancing studio a month after Jordi's death, patiently waiting at the sidelines as the girls stretched and practiced, strict as army training. He quietly approached by the time Cecilia sat down for a break, mottled feet dunked into a severe ice bath. She didn't give him much more than he already knew, except the fact that Jordi was much more closed off than most students knew about. And then he asked, [div class=dialogue]"Can you tell me what the Love Club actually is? It's just a popularity thing, right?"[/div]
At that, Cecilia sat up straight. [div class=dialogue]"It's not just a popularity thing. The Love Club is school royalty, status over everybody else, because you are the best of the best. Either in academics, or sports, or something of worth."
"And you're the Love Club president, if I'm not mistaken. Does that make you the best of the school?"
"Yes, it does."
"Better than Jordan, then?"
"...We're done here."[/div]
Cecilia said nothing else, and the detective was escorted from the building. It left a bad taste in her mouth, like bile, because she didn't know if he was right or not. Yes, perhaps Cecilia was the top of her class, but she considered Jordi to be a much better person than she could ever be. Even in death.
The girl blinked, and found herself in her homeroom class of the day, listening to her mother's voice over the intercom. Despite the many eyes that turned to watch her, Cecilia didn't flinch, or show much emotion beside a slight downturn of her lips. Soon, their class started, and she pulled out an organized binder. Her notes were meticulously organized from day one, handwriting a neat cursive, with plenty of highlighters and post-it notes. Even on the first day, she would already begin memorizing the class syllabus and figuring out her goals for the semester. And today, an attempt was made, but her mind was elsewhere. It felt like a ghost looming over her shoulder, only a couple of minutes walk away. In the paths of her memories, Cecilia could walk through the less-used halls of the academy, knowing each corner like the back of her hand. Soon, she would be outside, and approaching the swimming pool facility. The door opens by itself, and Jordi is still there, still floating—
Her homeroom teacher, a polished older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair, gave Cecilia a pitiful look when she didn't hear her name called the past three times. She answered his question without a pause, and she knew she needed a distraction.
Cecilia already had each other Love Club member's phone numbers saved, but getting the numbers of the new members wasn't much of a challenge. Not many people at school would tell her no. By the time lunch rolled around, she had successfully sent out the text to each club member, and she sat at her lunch table in the school's courtyard under the shade of a large old oak tree. On her lunch tray was a deliciously green chicken caesar salad, peeled mandarin orange slices, and a cup of iced sweet tea. In her neat cursive, she jotted down ideas onto small note paper, of what to discuss during their meeting. The girl paused, and shot two text messages out with a quick tap of her thumbs.
To: Hyacinth
I'm under the oak tree if you want to eat lunch together. x
To: Orey
I hope your day is going well. Are you eating lunch on campus?
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
low fidelity
[/div]
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, && orey.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox] Cecilia could barely concentrate on her classes, or much of anything, throughout the day.
Her morning was quiet and uneventful. The girl woke up to her phone alarm beeping at her side, wallowed in bed for exactly a minute, and began her day without hesitation. Even after three years, she could appreciate the peace and quiet that came with her own dorm room. The extra space was glorious, and so instead of crowded up by two sets of furniture, her room was lovingly arranged with a plush grey circle rug in the center. Cecilia's room was her sanctuary. The school's communal bathrooms, however, made her skin crawl; if their dorm rooms could have their own personal bathroom, she would truly have no complaints. Nonetheless, after a quick shower and brush of her teeth, Cecilia returned to her room and found her phone lit up with a text from her mother.
'Buenos dias mijita. Por favor, ten un buen dia en tus clases. Se que las cosas ahoritas son dificiles, pero eres bien fuerte y vendran cosas buenas. Si necesitas hablar, aqui estoy para ti. Love you Cece. - Mom'
Cecilia curled her lip in slight bitter disgust. Her mother would say sweet, kind words, and never act on them. Even in moments like this, Vivetta had impossibly high standards for her daughter, always pushing her to be stronger, more resilient. She only responded back with a heart emoji and set her phone to vibrate. Any attempt to concentrate in her classes was lost, flashes of memories surfacing back up instead, even at the worst of times.
During summer break, investigators had talked to her and her mother numerous times. Vivetta cooperated, of course, but tried to keep Cecilia at a distance from the media frenzy and continued questions of the detectives. They seemed to think she was hiding something, and her mother did not want her to speak to them anymore under the excuse of [div class=dialogue]"My daughter is already traumatized enough as it is!"[/div] But, Cecilia was technically an adult. One of the more persistent detectives had shown up in her dancing studio a month after Jordi's death, patiently waiting at the sidelines as the girls stretched and practiced, strict as army training. He quietly approached by the time Cecilia sat down for a break, mottled feet dunked into a severe ice bath. She didn't give him much more than he already knew, except the fact that Jordi was much more closed off than most students knew about. And then he asked, [div class=dialogue]"Can you tell me what the Love Club actually is? It's just a popularity thing, right?"[/div]
At that, Cecilia sat up straight. [div class=dialogue]"It's not just a popularity thing. The Love Club is school royalty, status over everybody else, because you are the best of the best. Either in academics, or sports, or something of worth."
"And you're the Love Club president, if I'm not mistaken. Does that make you the best of the school?"
"Yes, it does."
"Better than Jordan, then?"
"...We're done here."[/div]
Cecilia said nothing else, and the detective was escorted from the building. It left a bad taste in her mouth, like bile, because she didn't know if he was right or not. Yes, perhaps Cecilia was the top of her class, but she considered Jordi to be a much better person than she could ever be. Even in death.
The girl blinked, and found herself in her homeroom class of the day, listening to her mother's voice over the intercom. Despite the many eyes that turned to watch her, Cecilia didn't flinch, or show much emotion beside a slight downturn of her lips. Soon, their class started, and she pulled out an organized binder. Her notes were meticulously organized from day one, handwriting a neat cursive, with plenty of highlighters and post-it notes. Even on the first day, she would already begin memorizing the class syllabus and figuring out her goals for the semester. And today, an attempt was made, but her mind was elsewhere. It felt like a ghost looming over her shoulder, only a couple of minutes walk away. In the paths of her memories, Cecilia could walk through the less-used halls of the academy, knowing each corner like the back of her hand. Soon, she would be outside, and approaching the swimming pool facility. The door opens by itself, and Jordi is still there, still floating—
Her homeroom teacher, a polished older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair, gave Cecilia a pitiful look when she didn't hear her name called the past three times. She answered his question without a pause, and she knew she needed a distraction.
Cecilia already had each other Love Club member's phone numbers saved, but getting the numbers of the new members wasn't much of a challenge. Not many people at school would tell her no. By the time lunch rolled around, she had successfully sent out the text to each club member, and she sat at her lunch table in the school's courtyard under the shade of a large old oak tree. On her lunch tray was a deliciously green chicken caesar salad, peeled mandarin orange slices, and a cup of iced sweet tea. In her neat cursive, she jotted down ideas onto small note paper, of what to discuss during their meeting. The girl paused, and shot two text messages out with a quick tap of her thumbs.
To: Hyacinth
I'm under the oak tree if you want to eat lunch together. x
To: Orey
I hope your day is going well. Are you eating lunch on campus?
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
CECILIA
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=user]coded by
low fidelity
[/div]
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erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
The white, warm ray of light shone through her window and the curtains of her bed just the same, revealing the beauty of the early morning sun as it steadily rose over the horizon. Her eyelids twitched, slowly and reluctantly she uncovered her face. Hyacinth woke up to soft silk sheets and sunlight streaming through her blinds. She laid down for a few more minutes however, taking a few moments to shed the remaining sleep from her brain. Eventually she managed to drag herself from the comfort of her bed. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand beside her bed and unplugged it from her charger. While checking the time she took note of the messages displayed on her screen, good morning texts from her admirers flooded her inbox. The messages were in a variety of languages, from French to English, to Amharic and Italian.
Clicking her phone shut she threw it on her bed carelessly, answering none in favor of gathering all of her morning essentials. Hyacinth was an early riser for multiple reasons but one of the main reasons was because of her routine, which consisted of a lengthy number of steps. With her clothes and beauty products in hand the heiress made her way to the communal bathroom. Luckily for her there weren’t many people because of the time.
Hyacinth made it back to her room an hour later feeling refreshed, energized, and ready to start her day. She sat in front of her vanity, moving on to the next step in her routine, skincare. Surely if she had been given a roommate the other girl wouldn’t have been able to sleep with Hyacinth moving around. Thankfully she hadn’t been forced to share a room, one of the many perks of being best friends with the headmistress’ daughter.
As usual Hyacinth made it to class on time but instead of her usually lively disposition she seemed rather...subdued. She could hear the whispers of the other students, feel their stares as she walked the halls and to her seat. Rumors tore through the school like wildfire through dry grass. While Hyacinth received no looks of accusation, the ones of pity were far worse in her opinion. Poor girl, having lost the love of her life before either of theirs has truly began. It was akin to something out of a tragic tale of love and loss. Hyacinth refused to react. She was better than that, learned from a young age the art of masking one’s emotions.
She couldn’t help put become lost in her thoughts, or rather memories. She remembered the night clearly. The party had been in full swing, people dancing, mingling, and generally having a good time. She had been with Jordi, flirting with the young man as usual and charming him with her tales of her life in France and French culture. She had been so close to telling him about her feelings towards him when she had been called by her mother, thus causing her to walk away. The next thing she knew Jordi was face down in the pool, floating her unnaturally still. Hyacinth has never screamed so shrilly in her life.
When the authorities arrived she had been questioned and she had immediately complied despite how shaken she was. It wasn’t long before her parents found out. Her mother had been there to console her, while her father had called her into his office, only to tell her to comply with the police and that she was to remember how she should carry herself.
Hyacinth was suddenly pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the bell ringing. The young woman blinked, she hadn’t realized that she’d been out of it for that long. Swiftly she gathered her things and headed to her next class. Her day continued to go by in a blur and when it was finally time for lunch she was thankful for a small break. As Hyacinth began to choose what she wanted her phone rang. She pulled out the smartphone from her bag and opened it. A small smile made its way into her full lips as she saw her best friend’s name.
To: Cecilia❤
I’ll be there in a few.
Hyacinth finished filling her tray after a few minutes. She’d gone with something light and simple, as she didn’t have much of an appetite lately. A Italian pasta salad, paired with a grilled chicken, a fruit salad, and cucumber was more than enough for her at the moment. With her tray filled Hyacinth left the cafeteria to meet with her friend. Upon reaching her Hyacinth sat across from her, enjoying the shade of the large oak tree.
“Bonsoir Cecilia. How has your day been so far?” While Hyacinth was sure that she knew how Cecilia was feeling, all those lessons on etiquette instilled the need to ask anyway. She hadn’t seen Cecilia since the party and while she looked like as well put together as usual Hyacinth knew when something was wrong.
code by Ri.a
timshel
𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩
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[div class=name]OREY.[/div]
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[div class=scroll]
[div class=tag]location[/div] montgomery academy.
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] cecilia montgomery & hyacinth abdella.
[div class=tag]tags[/div]
low fidelity
&
erzulie
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] school uniform: cardigan, button-down shirt, slacks, leather loafers. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] The first thing he realized was that he was somewhere underwater.
He didn’t have his glasses on, but he could see completely clearly: even his hands, close to his face, which grazed the smooth concrete, appeared sharp. Is this a pool? The fact that he was fully clothed under all this water didn’t strike him as particularly odd. I think it is. I must be dreaming.
The second thing Orey became aware of was the dull pounding of music, muffled by the rushing water and bubbles in his ears. And then the lighting—it was nighttime. As he listened carefully, he realized the song sounded somewhat familiar. It wasn’t something he had in his music library, but it was definitely popular, on the radio, heard on the loudspeakers at parties. The bottom of the pool was dark, with only the odd ray of colored light breaking through the dark water.
I should go up for air. It was a passive need, not like he was holding his breath, but Orey figured he would, for habit’s sake. He slowly began to turn over in the water so he could face the surface, but a large shadow a few feet above him obscured the light around it. He squinted at it, trying to make out details in the relative darkness.
His eyes didn’t take long to adjust. It was undoubtedly Jordi, suspended on the surface of the pool, staring down at him with empty, lifeless eyes, his face puffy and bloated from floating there for God knows how long. Orey screamed, the sound of it dulled as water rushed into his mouth. And there he was, suddenly paralyzed and drowning, staring up at the very picture of death in a friend. It suddenly felt as if there was a strong force pinning him to the concrete and no matter how hard he thrashed against it, it remained unrelenting. And just as he felt as if he didn’t have any air left in his lungs—
Orey shot out of bed with a gasp, his morning alarm on his phone going off on the nightstand next to him. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, thudding dully in his ears as he caught his breath, not bothering to silence the alarm until he calmed down some time later. All of this had happened months ago, and yet his only nightmare about Jordi and his death happened on the first day of his senior year—his last first day. It seemed cruel to him that his subconscious waited too long to pull that card on him, but if there was anything he knew by this point, it was that his brain loved to torment him. He was reminded of it as he saw the blurry yellow outline of his prescription bottle on his nightstand.
I need to call the pharmacy. I think I've only got a few pills left.
Some unknowable time later, he finally put his glasses on and turned the alarm off. Waking up to that had already sapped a tremendous amount of energy out of him, and Orey knew he hadn’t slept well before the nightmare, anyway: the last time he checked the clock before finally drifting off, it was three o’clock in the morning. And with the usual set of stupid little icebreakers to start every class of new peers, today was going to be exhausting.
Might as well get it over with.
It took the young man an uncharacteristically long time to finish the New York Times’ Monday crossword puzzle. (The voice of his father echoed far away in his ears: “If you really want a perfect score on the SAT, you need to do every puzzle of the week.”) As he distractedly nibbled an apple—he didn’t have much of an appetite this morning—Orey cursed himself, since Mondays were always the easiest puzzles to finish. He scratched away at the blank spaces with his pen as students filled and then emptied out of the dining hall. Although he resolved to friends that he wouldn’t go to his first class until he finished each morning’s puzzle, he only meant that as a half-joke, and he began to worry as the morning announcements sounded out above him, echoing in the empty space.
“Forget it,” he muttered as he folded up the newspaper neatly and slipped it into his backpack. Guess I’ll finish it at lunch… He hustled down the hall a little bit quicker than he normally would have, but thankfully, being late for homeroom usually wasn’t the end of the world. Of course, Orey was the last person to enter the classroom, and all the heads in the classroom turned to face him. He swallowed. This wasn’t an excellent start.
“Late to homeroom, Mr. Reinhart?” The teacher—a math teacher Orey didn’t recognize—taunted. Shit. Maybe he wasn’t going to get off so easily after all. He dipped his head and murmured a small apology as he moved to his seat (the only empty one in the room). “You’re certainly off to some start, hm?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he answered from his desk. Usually tagging that last bit on the end was enough to charm the average teacher at this school out of a harsher set of words when he did push boundaries.
The teacher moved to the computer at his desk. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time,” he answered, feigning some kind of sympathy, “And the Love Club isn’t going to get you out of this tardy.” He paused as he no doubt added a tardy note in the digital attendance sheet, and Orey flushed deeper pink with each keystroke he made. The rest of the classroom was silent around him, the usual murmurings absent. “Let this be a reminder to all that three tardies will result in an after-school detention…”
Orey held his tongue, but clenched his fist lightly underneath his desk as the teacher droned on. He hoped this day wasn’t the beginning of some unfortunate trend, setting the precedent for a year defined by misfortune. But his mind wandered back to Ms. Montgomery's announcement this morning and wondered what was in store for them all.
The lunchtime break couldn’t roll around fast enough. Not only was his caffeine dependency headache just starting to set in, but he had been itching to finish that crossword puzzle during homeroom and AP English Literature, bored of the introductions of people he’d already been acquainted with over the years—why even bother with introductions? This school was small, and he was exhausted of repeating the same set of facts about himself.
My name is Orey. I worked in the MET archives this summer. I'm in the Love Club. My favorite ice cream flavor is Salted Chocolate Chip.
Just as he finished paying for a tall glass of iced coffee, a small tub of hummus, and a bag of pretzels, Orey’s phone vibrated in the pocket of his uniform slacks (they looked good on him only because he had gotten them tailored). He checked it inside the school building, casually ignoring the rule prohibiting phones inside during school hours, and saw a new message from Cecilia.
Cecil
: I hope your day is going well. Are you eating lunch on campus?
He started to type out a reply, then hesitated and decided to delete it. No doubt she was eating lunch in their usual spot in the courtyard, underneath that old oak tree. He would just join her. Perhaps seeing Cecilia would put a better spin on his day—it usually did when he had a rough night or hard class.
Thankfully the weather was pleasantly warm and sunny, lacking the usual humidity that New York had during the summertime. And sure enough, after a moment of searching through groups of chattering students strewn about, he found Cecilia, looking as morbid and dark as ever, at their table in the courtyard. Sitting across from her was Hyacinth, which was no surprise. He couldn’t hide the easy grin that spread on his lips, and he had a bounce in his step as he approached the two of them.
“Hello, lovelies.” He slipped comfortably into he empty space next to Cecilia. “How are you both?” [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] cecilia montgomery & hyacinth abdella.
[div class=tag]tags[/div]
low fidelity
&
erzulie
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] school uniform: cardigan, button-down shirt, slacks, leather loafers. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] The first thing he realized was that he was somewhere underwater.
He didn’t have his glasses on, but he could see completely clearly: even his hands, close to his face, which grazed the smooth concrete, appeared sharp. Is this a pool? The fact that he was fully clothed under all this water didn’t strike him as particularly odd. I think it is. I must be dreaming.
The second thing Orey became aware of was the dull pounding of music, muffled by the rushing water and bubbles in his ears. And then the lighting—it was nighttime. As he listened carefully, he realized the song sounded somewhat familiar. It wasn’t something he had in his music library, but it was definitely popular, on the radio, heard on the loudspeakers at parties. The bottom of the pool was dark, with only the odd ray of colored light breaking through the dark water.
I should go up for air. It was a passive need, not like he was holding his breath, but Orey figured he would, for habit’s sake. He slowly began to turn over in the water so he could face the surface, but a large shadow a few feet above him obscured the light around it. He squinted at it, trying to make out details in the relative darkness.
His eyes didn’t take long to adjust. It was undoubtedly Jordi, suspended on the surface of the pool, staring down at him with empty, lifeless eyes, his face puffy and bloated from floating there for God knows how long. Orey screamed, the sound of it dulled as water rushed into his mouth. And there he was, suddenly paralyzed and drowning, staring up at the very picture of death in a friend. It suddenly felt as if there was a strong force pinning him to the concrete and no matter how hard he thrashed against it, it remained unrelenting. And just as he felt as if he didn’t have any air left in his lungs—
Orey shot out of bed with a gasp, his morning alarm on his phone going off on the nightstand next to him. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, thudding dully in his ears as he caught his breath, not bothering to silence the alarm until he calmed down some time later. All of this had happened months ago, and yet his only nightmare about Jordi and his death happened on the first day of his senior year—his last first day. It seemed cruel to him that his subconscious waited too long to pull that card on him, but if there was anything he knew by this point, it was that his brain loved to torment him. He was reminded of it as he saw the blurry yellow outline of his prescription bottle on his nightstand.
I need to call the pharmacy. I think I've only got a few pills left.
Some unknowable time later, he finally put his glasses on and turned the alarm off. Waking up to that had already sapped a tremendous amount of energy out of him, and Orey knew he hadn’t slept well before the nightmare, anyway: the last time he checked the clock before finally drifting off, it was three o’clock in the morning. And with the usual set of stupid little icebreakers to start every class of new peers, today was going to be exhausting.
Might as well get it over with.
—
It took the young man an uncharacteristically long time to finish the New York Times’ Monday crossword puzzle. (The voice of his father echoed far away in his ears: “If you really want a perfect score on the SAT, you need to do every puzzle of the week.”) As he distractedly nibbled an apple—he didn’t have much of an appetite this morning—Orey cursed himself, since Mondays were always the easiest puzzles to finish. He scratched away at the blank spaces with his pen as students filled and then emptied out of the dining hall. Although he resolved to friends that he wouldn’t go to his first class until he finished each morning’s puzzle, he only meant that as a half-joke, and he began to worry as the morning announcements sounded out above him, echoing in the empty space.
“Forget it,” he muttered as he folded up the newspaper neatly and slipped it into his backpack. Guess I’ll finish it at lunch… He hustled down the hall a little bit quicker than he normally would have, but thankfully, being late for homeroom usually wasn’t the end of the world. Of course, Orey was the last person to enter the classroom, and all the heads in the classroom turned to face him. He swallowed. This wasn’t an excellent start.
“Late to homeroom, Mr. Reinhart?” The teacher—a math teacher Orey didn’t recognize—taunted. Shit. Maybe he wasn’t going to get off so easily after all. He dipped his head and murmured a small apology as he moved to his seat (the only empty one in the room). “You’re certainly off to some start, hm?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he answered from his desk. Usually tagging that last bit on the end was enough to charm the average teacher at this school out of a harsher set of words when he did push boundaries.
The teacher moved to the computer at his desk. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time,” he answered, feigning some kind of sympathy, “And the Love Club isn’t going to get you out of this tardy.” He paused as he no doubt added a tardy note in the digital attendance sheet, and Orey flushed deeper pink with each keystroke he made. The rest of the classroom was silent around him, the usual murmurings absent. “Let this be a reminder to all that three tardies will result in an after-school detention…”
Orey held his tongue, but clenched his fist lightly underneath his desk as the teacher droned on. He hoped this day wasn’t the beginning of some unfortunate trend, setting the precedent for a year defined by misfortune. But his mind wandered back to Ms. Montgomery's announcement this morning and wondered what was in store for them all.
—
The lunchtime break couldn’t roll around fast enough. Not only was his caffeine dependency headache just starting to set in, but he had been itching to finish that crossword puzzle during homeroom and AP English Literature, bored of the introductions of people he’d already been acquainted with over the years—why even bother with introductions? This school was small, and he was exhausted of repeating the same set of facts about himself.
My name is Orey. I worked in the MET archives this summer. I'm in the Love Club. My favorite ice cream flavor is Salted Chocolate Chip.
Just as he finished paying for a tall glass of iced coffee, a small tub of hummus, and a bag of pretzels, Orey’s phone vibrated in the pocket of his uniform slacks (they looked good on him only because he had gotten them tailored). He checked it inside the school building, casually ignoring the rule prohibiting phones inside during school hours, and saw a new message from Cecilia.
Cecil
: I hope your day is going well. Are you eating lunch on campus?
He started to type out a reply, then hesitated and decided to delete it. No doubt she was eating lunch in their usual spot in the courtyard, underneath that old oak tree. He would just join her. Perhaps seeing Cecilia would put a better spin on his day—it usually did when he had a rough night or hard class.
Thankfully the weather was pleasantly warm and sunny, lacking the usual humidity that New York had during the summertime. And sure enough, after a moment of searching through groups of chattering students strewn about, he found Cecilia, looking as morbid and dark as ever, at their table in the courtyard. Sitting across from her was Hyacinth, which was no surprise. He couldn’t hide the easy grin that spread on his lips, and he had a bounce in his step as he approached the two of them.
“Hello, lovelies.” He slipped comfortably into he empty space next to Cecilia. “How are you both?” [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
coded by shady.
Last edited:
Twin Fantasy
My Boy
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location: cafeteria
mood: stressed
interactions:
low fidelity
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=name]nobodys fool[/div]
[div class=textcontainer][div class=text]You are now a member of The Love Club.
These words were most likely intended to imbue Sinclaire with excitement and self-worth. Instead he was consumed by fear. Everyone thought he'd done it. Sinclaire White, in for a spot in the club. Sinclaire, a murderer. But he wasn't, he knew he wasn't, because the idea of being a member of the club made him ill. Who the fuck would even want him? Surely not his jock shitweed roommate Parker, who Sinclaire was dreading staying with. Not like he knew Parker well or anything, but they'd bumped into each other briefly at this year's orientation and he just seemed like the most obnoxious man on earth.
His father had him and his brothers line up like the kids from The Sound of Music every morning. Over the years, his father had shaved away his own thick Scottish accent, and it only really came out when he was angry. His brothers were following suit. Sinclaire felt like a bona fide Trainspotting heroin junkie in their presence. His father scrutinized the appearances of his brothers, Allister and Marius, who were both perfect and prim with their gingery combovers and white teeth. Sinclaire's genes were all sorts of wrong, it seemed.
"Have you put on weight again?" His father asked, bluntly. Sinclaire shrugged, face pale and throat tight. "Take up a sport while you're gone, son. You're not just anybody now."
"Unnerstood, sir." Sinclaire had called his dad 'sir' as long as he could remember.
--
He insisted on being dropped off in an inconspicuous car, which in fairness, was still a Mercedes, but preferable to the limousine his dad had wanted. The sun was blinding, and it prickled in Sinclaire's eyes. Him, in his baggy hoodie and sweatpants, hunched over like an armadillo.
The day went by somewhat normally, other than the looming, black cloud of Jordi's death hanging over everyone. It was everywhere he went. Strangers looked at him. There goes Sinclaire, that dirty, murdering coward. Because hey, he'd wanted a spot. He'd wanted it, right? To be like his big brothers? To follow in their footsteps? Surely, if anyone had a motive, it was him. And he's such a fatass. The stress, plus his father's dully unwarranted commentary, made the idea of eating his own lunch seem impossible. No doubt it wouldn't stay down for long, no matter how hard he'd try.
The cafeteria was so vast. He was taking an empty seat when he received a text from... The Love Club. He squinted angrily, texting back:
how the fuck do you ken my number??
Satisfied with that answer, he stared coldly at his food.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div]
location: cafeteria
mood: stressed
interactions:
low fidelity
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=name]nobodys fool[/div]
[div class=textcontainer][div class=text]You are now a member of The Love Club.These words were most likely intended to imbue Sinclaire with excitement and self-worth. Instead he was consumed by fear. Everyone thought he'd done it. Sinclaire White, in for a spot in the club. Sinclaire, a murderer. But he wasn't, he knew he wasn't, because the idea of being a member of the club made him ill. Who the fuck would even want him? Surely not his jock shitweed roommate Parker, who Sinclaire was dreading staying with. Not like he knew Parker well or anything, but they'd bumped into each other briefly at this year's orientation and he just seemed like the most obnoxious man on earth.
His father had him and his brothers line up like the kids from The Sound of Music every morning. Over the years, his father had shaved away his own thick Scottish accent, and it only really came out when he was angry. His brothers were following suit. Sinclaire felt like a bona fide Trainspotting heroin junkie in their presence. His father scrutinized the appearances of his brothers, Allister and Marius, who were both perfect and prim with their gingery combovers and white teeth. Sinclaire's genes were all sorts of wrong, it seemed.
"Have you put on weight again?" His father asked, bluntly. Sinclaire shrugged, face pale and throat tight. "Take up a sport while you're gone, son. You're not just anybody now."
"Unnerstood, sir." Sinclaire had called his dad 'sir' as long as he could remember.
--
He insisted on being dropped off in an inconspicuous car, which in fairness, was still a Mercedes, but preferable to the limousine his dad had wanted. The sun was blinding, and it prickled in Sinclaire's eyes. Him, in his baggy hoodie and sweatpants, hunched over like an armadillo.
The day went by somewhat normally, other than the looming, black cloud of Jordi's death hanging over everyone. It was everywhere he went. Strangers looked at him. There goes Sinclaire, that dirty, murdering coward. Because hey, he'd wanted a spot. He'd wanted it, right? To be like his big brothers? To follow in their footsteps? Surely, if anyone had a motive, it was him. And he's such a fatass. The stress, plus his father's dully unwarranted commentary, made the idea of eating his own lunch seem impossible. No doubt it wouldn't stay down for long, no matter how hard he'd try.
The cafeteria was so vast. He was taking an empty seat when he received a text from... The Love Club. He squinted angrily, texting back:
how the fuck do you ken my number??
Satisfied with that answer, he stared coldly at his food.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div]
vxnilla
skin of your teeth !
lucian alistair edevane.
location. wandering (or sauntering through) the school hallways & contemplating his options
mood. very ready to be back at school and away from home
outfit. school uniform, now with the blazer folded over one arm and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. cecilia, donovan
tags.
low fidelity
elysia
mood. very ready to be back at school and away from home
outfit. school uniform, now with the blazer folded over one arm and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. cecilia, donovan
tags.
low fidelity
elysia
It was a strange feeling for Lucian, to wake up in a bed not warmed by another body. Stranger still was waking up and having nothing to do—be it gently extricating himself from another's hold to gather his things and slip out the door (quietly enough that they'll, hopefully, sleep through it), or making his way into his own bathroom to shower.
But even he wasn't about to get up to his deviant ways so soon in the year. The night of the first school day was perhaps fair game, and the night of the second day definitely, but the night before the semester had even convened? That was getting a little too ahead of himself.
The clock on his bedside table (a ridiculously expensive and frankly impractical piece by Matthias Naeschke that he insisted on bringing over with him) told him that he had a little less than an hour before class began, once he blinked past the sleep still blurring his vision and interpreted the ornate hands. Were analog clocks more time-consuming? Oh, absolutely. But digital clocks were for delinquents and businessmen, and he had no interest in being either.
It was later than he normally woke up, but no doubt his circadian rhythms were still sorting themselves out after crossing the Atlantic. His morning routine was rusty from disuse, but he finished showering, brushing his teeth, dressing, and half-heartedly running a comb through his unruly locks with a handful of minutes to spare. Maybe later in the year, he’d push his luck with his teachers if he needed to, but first days were for first impressions, and Lucian didn’t get where he was by getting on adults’ bad sides. (Except for the fact that he, quite literally, ended up at Montgomery Academy because he got on his own father’s bad side. Semantics.)
Walking towards his first class, he was greeted by multiple people and gladly returned their cheery salutations. It was almost absurd, how utterly light-hearted he felt. It would be a lie for Lucian to say that he’d ever known the struggles of being unpopular, but the social scene in England, while majorly unaffected by what he dubbed his ‘hellion days,’ was undoubtedly soured by his father. Edevane Senior had seemed to be constantly hovering over his shoulder, and Lucian didn’t do well when he felt like he was being controlled. It was a fraught, tense balance—he wanted to act up out of principle, just to prove that he could, but there was still enough leftover respect to curb his impulses. (And, though he’d never admit it, that scene in his father’s office had made him afraid. He didn’t know what to do with it—he’d respected his father, and resented him, and almost everything in between, but he’d never before feared him.)
A blessing, then, that his father soon tired of monitoring him, as he’d tired of anything and everything to do with Lucian since the day he was born.
Now, he was back in Montgomery, an ocean and a continent away from whatever Manchester now meant to him, and he could leave all those tangled feelings behind where they belonged. He was utterly unequipped to deal with anything more complicated than needing to go to the bathroom while also wanting to stay in bed and sleep.
Homeroom passed without event, as did the following class. There was a shroud of disquiet and sadness that was hard to ignore. It was hard to forget about Jordi’s untimely passing. Lucian had considered him a friend, but he’d always thrown around that term loosely. It was clear that neither of them had ever been exceptionally close, but Lucian enjoyed his company, could speak easily to him, and thought that he was the kind of person who would grow up to make headlines.
How cruelly right he proved to be. He never thought that this would be the kind of headline that Jordi would feature.
It wasn’t until the period right before lunch that something happened. Nothing big, but he felt his phone vibrate. Upon slipping it out of his pocket to check the notification as subtly as he could, he read the text message. From Cecilia (who was a treasure; he absolutely looked forward to trying to charm her, while she regarded him coolly but not—he was convinced—without some degree of fondness or nameless, vaguely positive emotion), it read:
Efficient, straightforward, to the point. Lucian could respect that. And it was another thing to look forward to: there were some faces that he’d been missing over the summer.
Before he knew it, the bell rang to signal lunch. He fit himself smoothly into the tide of students flowing out the door, and as he did so deliberated who to bother. (The thought of eating lunch alone didn’t even occur to him. Really, the thought of doing anything alone never really occurs to him. He gave a whole new meaning to the term people person.)
Finally making a choice, he pulled his phone out to send off a quick text.
But even he wasn't about to get up to his deviant ways so soon in the year. The night of the first school day was perhaps fair game, and the night of the second day definitely, but the night before the semester had even convened? That was getting a little too ahead of himself.
The clock on his bedside table (a ridiculously expensive and frankly impractical piece by Matthias Naeschke that he insisted on bringing over with him) told him that he had a little less than an hour before class began, once he blinked past the sleep still blurring his vision and interpreted the ornate hands. Were analog clocks more time-consuming? Oh, absolutely. But digital clocks were for delinquents and businessmen, and he had no interest in being either.
It was later than he normally woke up, but no doubt his circadian rhythms were still sorting themselves out after crossing the Atlantic. His morning routine was rusty from disuse, but he finished showering, brushing his teeth, dressing, and half-heartedly running a comb through his unruly locks with a handful of minutes to spare. Maybe later in the year, he’d push his luck with his teachers if he needed to, but first days were for first impressions, and Lucian didn’t get where he was by getting on adults’ bad sides. (Except for the fact that he, quite literally, ended up at Montgomery Academy because he got on his own father’s bad side. Semantics.)
Walking towards his first class, he was greeted by multiple people and gladly returned their cheery salutations. It was almost absurd, how utterly light-hearted he felt. It would be a lie for Lucian to say that he’d ever known the struggles of being unpopular, but the social scene in England, while majorly unaffected by what he dubbed his ‘hellion days,’ was undoubtedly soured by his father. Edevane Senior had seemed to be constantly hovering over his shoulder, and Lucian didn’t do well when he felt like he was being controlled. It was a fraught, tense balance—he wanted to act up out of principle, just to prove that he could, but there was still enough leftover respect to curb his impulses. (And, though he’d never admit it, that scene in his father’s office had made him afraid. He didn’t know what to do with it—he’d respected his father, and resented him, and almost everything in between, but he’d never before feared him.)
A blessing, then, that his father soon tired of monitoring him, as he’d tired of anything and everything to do with Lucian since the day he was born.
Now, he was back in Montgomery, an ocean and a continent away from whatever Manchester now meant to him, and he could leave all those tangled feelings behind where they belonged. He was utterly unequipped to deal with anything more complicated than needing to go to the bathroom while also wanting to stay in bed and sleep.
Homeroom passed without event, as did the following class. There was a shroud of disquiet and sadness that was hard to ignore. It was hard to forget about Jordi’s untimely passing. Lucian had considered him a friend, but he’d always thrown around that term loosely. It was clear that neither of them had ever been exceptionally close, but Lucian enjoyed his company, could speak easily to him, and thought that he was the kind of person who would grow up to make headlines.
How cruelly right he proved to be. He never thought that this would be the kind of headline that Jordi would feature.
It wasn’t until the period right before lunch that something happened. Nothing big, but he felt his phone vibrate. Upon slipping it out of his pocket to check the notification as subtly as he could, he read the text message. From Cecilia (who was a treasure; he absolutely looked forward to trying to charm her, while she regarded him coolly but not—he was convinced—without some degree of fondness or nameless, vaguely positive emotion), it read:
The Love Club is meeting today, immediately after class.
South Wing, classroom #77. Be there.
- Cecilia.
South Wing, classroom #77. Be there.
- Cecilia.
Efficient, straightforward, to the point. Lucian could respect that. And it was another thing to look forward to: there were some faces that he’d been missing over the summer.
Before he knew it, the bell rang to signal lunch. He fit himself smoothly into the tide of students flowing out the door, and as he did so deliberated who to bother. (The thought of eating lunch alone didn’t even occur to him. Really, the thought of doing anything alone never really occurs to him. He gave a whole new meaning to the term people person.)
Finally making a choice, he pulled his phone out to send off a quick text.
To: Breaking Don
Fancy grabbing a quick bite to eat with me?
I'll make it worth your while, hot stuff
Fancy grabbing a quick bite to eat with me?
I'll make it worth your while, hot stuff
Last edited:
low fidelity
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴
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[/div]
[div class=smalltextcontainer][div class=smalltext][div class=tag]mood[/div] ;; exhausted but trying.
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, orey, && mention of sinclaire.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
&&
Twin Fantasy
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox]Reading Hyacinth's reply with a small sigh, Cecilia continued her small list before tapping the pen against her bottom lip, deep in thought. She already knew the memorial was going to be brutal, and as much as she wanted to, the girl could not skip it. Of course the academy would hold one for him, they'd be honoring Jordi for years to come. A student dying wasn't exactly unheard of, but the circumstances weighed heavily on Montgomery's reputation. Her mother was ensuring it was handled with the utmost respect.
There was already a picture and plaque in the football team's trophy case. Cecilia had seen it while walking through the halls between classes, startled by his face staring out at her. Always loved, and never forgotten. Rest in peace, Jordan Ezekiel Young read the shiny silver plaque, directly below a framed photo of him, smiling for the yearbook photograph. Seeing him being referred to as Jordan left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was too formal, obviously showing that whoever used it truly did not know him. Jordan was the boy smiling for his yearbook photo, or posing with the rest of his football team, too stiff and nervous in front of cameras. Jordi, however, was a friend. Cool and calm, always able to make somebody smile, and so genuine that her chest would ache.
Cecilia rubbed at the furrow of her brow where a headache began to bloom. The noise of student's chattering, screechy announcements made over the intercom, music playing from far off, the crunch of her salad as she stabbed it with a fork, it was all too much. She hadn't slept well, and that lack of sleep was creeping up on her, leaving her head with a dull thrumming ache at every sharp noise around her. The girl chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. She was seriously craving a cigarette or two.
Her phone vibrated, and Cecilia peeked at the screen to see a text message pop up.
Sinclaire: how the fuck you ken my number??
Cecilia shot back a response without a second thought, and left it at that. I knew your brother back in freshman year, asked him for your number.
Hyacinth's face, at that moment, was a much nicer relief than nicotine. They hadn't seen each other since the funeral, and video calls couldn't compare to the calming nature that the girl's grace brought with her presence. Cecilia wasn't proud to say it, but her mourning over the summer had mainly been done locked in her room, in her mother's mansion, barely getting up at times to eat a decent meal. Hyacinth's frequent calls helped get her out of that rut, and Orey would drag her out of bed. She truly had no clue how she'd survive without them both.
[div class=dialogue]"It's been alright, you know how everything is right now."[/div] Cecilia managed a small smile, poking around her salad with a fork. She didn't have much of an appetite. [div class=dialogue]"I'm just glad classes started again, routine always helps for me."[/div]
Orey's arrival was no surprise, but her heart still did a small flip-flop in her chest, and Cecilia took a sip of her drink as an excuse to look away and get herself together. Now was most certainly not the time to indulge in stupid feelings. It was a frustrating habit of hers, just tamping down her feelings and letting it all bottle up. It made her feel stupid and frivolous, when there were more important things to focus on. But, the thought of hugging him, laying her head on his shoulder and not worrying about things for a good while, was quite tempting indeed.
[div class=dialogue]"I see you still don't answer my texts,"[/div] Cecilia teased, knocking shoulders with him. [div class=dialogue]"I'm alright. First days are still the absolute worse, in my opinion. I honestly just want the day to be over with already. How's it been for you?"[/div]
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
low fidelity
[/div]
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, orey, && mention of sinclaire.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
&&
Twin Fantasy
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox]Reading Hyacinth's reply with a small sigh, Cecilia continued her small list before tapping the pen against her bottom lip, deep in thought. She already knew the memorial was going to be brutal, and as much as she wanted to, the girl could not skip it. Of course the academy would hold one for him, they'd be honoring Jordi for years to come. A student dying wasn't exactly unheard of, but the circumstances weighed heavily on Montgomery's reputation. Her mother was ensuring it was handled with the utmost respect.
There was already a picture and plaque in the football team's trophy case. Cecilia had seen it while walking through the halls between classes, startled by his face staring out at her. Always loved, and never forgotten. Rest in peace, Jordan Ezekiel Young read the shiny silver plaque, directly below a framed photo of him, smiling for the yearbook photograph. Seeing him being referred to as Jordan left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was too formal, obviously showing that whoever used it truly did not know him. Jordan was the boy smiling for his yearbook photo, or posing with the rest of his football team, too stiff and nervous in front of cameras. Jordi, however, was a friend. Cool and calm, always able to make somebody smile, and so genuine that her chest would ache.
Cecilia rubbed at the furrow of her brow where a headache began to bloom. The noise of student's chattering, screechy announcements made over the intercom, music playing from far off, the crunch of her salad as she stabbed it with a fork, it was all too much. She hadn't slept well, and that lack of sleep was creeping up on her, leaving her head with a dull thrumming ache at every sharp noise around her. The girl chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. She was seriously craving a cigarette or two.
Her phone vibrated, and Cecilia peeked at the screen to see a text message pop up.
Sinclaire: how the fuck you ken my number??
Cecilia shot back a response without a second thought, and left it at that. I knew your brother back in freshman year, asked him for your number.
Hyacinth's face, at that moment, was a much nicer relief than nicotine. They hadn't seen each other since the funeral, and video calls couldn't compare to the calming nature that the girl's grace brought with her presence. Cecilia wasn't proud to say it, but her mourning over the summer had mainly been done locked in her room, in her mother's mansion, barely getting up at times to eat a decent meal. Hyacinth's frequent calls helped get her out of that rut, and Orey would drag her out of bed. She truly had no clue how she'd survive without them both.
[div class=dialogue]"It's been alright, you know how everything is right now."[/div] Cecilia managed a small smile, poking around her salad with a fork. She didn't have much of an appetite. [div class=dialogue]"I'm just glad classes started again, routine always helps for me."[/div]
Orey's arrival was no surprise, but her heart still did a small flip-flop in her chest, and Cecilia took a sip of her drink as an excuse to look away and get herself together. Now was most certainly not the time to indulge in stupid feelings. It was a frustrating habit of hers, just tamping down her feelings and letting it all bottle up. It made her feel stupid and frivolous, when there were more important things to focus on. But, the thought of hugging him, laying her head on his shoulder and not worrying about things for a good while, was quite tempting indeed.
[div class=dialogue]"I see you still don't answer my texts,"[/div] Cecilia teased, knocking shoulders with him. [div class=dialogue]"I'm alright. First days are still the absolute worse, in my opinion. I honestly just want the day to be over with already. How's it been for you?"[/div]
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
CECILIA
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=user]coded by
low fidelity
[/div]
Last edited:
elysia
New Member
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https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]
Donovan Reece
❛
Donovan inched the temperature of his showerhead up, and up, and up, but even the scalding water couldn’t distract him from the vague feeling of unsettlement that wrung his stomach like a wet dishrag. What was it, exactly, that made him feel this way? Even he couldn’t pinpoint it, and instead summed it up to being back at Montgomery Academy—which confused Donovan, because he wanted to be there.
Of course, the accident that happened at the end of last year did complicate things. If you could even call it an accident in the first place, as drowning had quickly been ruled out as the cause of death. Everyone suspected foul play. Hell, Donovan himself had even been interviewed casually by the police (multiple times!)...everyone in the Love Club had been, and, though he (and the rest of the club members, no doubt) was used to people gazing at him with an admirable sort of fear, the fear that the rest of the student body now regarded the Love Club with was of a different, more sinister breed.
Ever since the End of the World party, Donovan had found himself sinking into a disturbing train of thought as he wracked his brain for clues, memories, anything that could help him make sense of that night. He fancied himself an analytical young man, a good judge of character and a people watcher even, but trying to decipher who and, most confoundingly, why anyone would hurt Jordi left him feeling confused and frustrated. Donovan wasn’t necessarily close to Jordi, but he enjoyed his company and actively trusts Cecilia’s opinion—she had always been a good judge of character and seemed to absolutely adored Jordi.
So, needless to say, the school (not the mention the Love Club) was severely shaken up—and everyone could feel it.
___
First period went by smoothly enough. It was Donovan’s advanced coding class, which only contained five other people. Still, as he stared steadily at his computer screen, he could feel their eyes on him, even the teacher’s. The girl sitting next to him, in particular, couldn’t resist turning her head in his direction every fifteen second or so. And, to be honest, if she was discreet about it, Donovan could live with it—again, he was used to the stares, being in The Love Club and all—but this girl wasn’t even trying to hide it. So, eventually, Donovan got a bit fed up, jerked his head her way, hissing, “goddamn, didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”
She got the message.
The rest of Donovan’s classes went roughly the same way, and the only solace he experienced was when he spotted a fellow Love Club member like Orey, Kosu, or Cecelia walking down the halls and gave a dignified nod of solidarity to them. He bet spectators got a kick out of that too, that it would send them spiraling into a train of thought about what exactly that sinister nod between Love Club members was meant to represent. It’s just a fucking nod people, stop reading into everything.
The class period before lunch was AP Literature, and Donovan almost groaned to himself when the teacher started talking about Lord of the Flies. I mean, he thought he was going to a top notch educational institution—hadn’t they read this freshmen year? That wasn’t even the worst part about it though, because the teacher wasn’t even trying to hide the connections he was making between the contents of the book and the current state of the academy.
”—and that’s the danger that exclusive groups and group mindsets can have upon people. It creates a certain hive mentality that can drive even the cream of the crop to horrendence acts of vi-”
That was when Donovan’s hand shot in the air, which startled not only the class—who all collectively turned to look at him—but also the teacher, who gave a little jump of surprise. Donovan sighed, “sorry, sir, I feel a little sick. May I go to the nurse?”
He was already halfway out the door as the teacher stammered a clumsy yes and something about some homework that would likely take Donovan no time at all.
Donovan slumped against one of the ancient stone walls that made up the outside of the academy, having found a bench to collapse upon (okay, Donovan never really slumped, years of etiquette class had all but wiped that ability out of him). He leaned his head against the rough material, closing his eyes with a sigh, but as he did so, a buzz shot up his leg. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Donovan noted a text from Cecilia that gave him some relief.
From: Queen Cecilia:
The Love Club is meeting today, immediately after class.
South Wing, classroom #77. Be there.
- Cecilia.
Immediately after though, came another text that was a bit more compromising.
From: Luce(ifer)
Fancy grabbing a quick bite to eat with me?
I'll make it worth your while, hot stuff
Donovan could hear Lucian's voice through the text, and be barely refrained from chuckling to himself bitterly. In fact, he looked around quickly to make sure nobody saw him acting like such a food about Lucian Edevan of all people. Still, he missed the other boy's company, though he would never admit it. A slight twinge of worry wound in his stomach though, as he thought about what happened between them in England over the summer. Donovan shook his head. We agreed everything would go back to normal, he said to himself with resolve, breathing in as he typed out his response.
To: Luce(ifer)
just outside the library, on a bench facing the fountain.
what's wrong, nobody else would accept your invite?
Let the games begin.
Of course, the accident that happened at the end of last year did complicate things. If you could even call it an accident in the first place, as drowning had quickly been ruled out as the cause of death. Everyone suspected foul play. Hell, Donovan himself had even been interviewed casually by the police (multiple times!)...everyone in the Love Club had been, and, though he (and the rest of the club members, no doubt) was used to people gazing at him with an admirable sort of fear, the fear that the rest of the student body now regarded the Love Club with was of a different, more sinister breed.
Ever since the End of the World party, Donovan had found himself sinking into a disturbing train of thought as he wracked his brain for clues, memories, anything that could help him make sense of that night. He fancied himself an analytical young man, a good judge of character and a people watcher even, but trying to decipher who and, most confoundingly, why anyone would hurt Jordi left him feeling confused and frustrated. Donovan wasn’t necessarily close to Jordi, but he enjoyed his company and actively trusts Cecilia’s opinion—she had always been a good judge of character and seemed to absolutely adored Jordi.
So, needless to say, the school (not the mention the Love Club) was severely shaken up—and everyone could feel it.
___
First period went by smoothly enough. It was Donovan’s advanced coding class, which only contained five other people. Still, as he stared steadily at his computer screen, he could feel their eyes on him, even the teacher’s. The girl sitting next to him, in particular, couldn’t resist turning her head in his direction every fifteen second or so. And, to be honest, if she was discreet about it, Donovan could live with it—again, he was used to the stares, being in The Love Club and all—but this girl wasn’t even trying to hide it. So, eventually, Donovan got a bit fed up, jerked his head her way, hissing, “goddamn, didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”
She got the message.
The rest of Donovan’s classes went roughly the same way, and the only solace he experienced was when he spotted a fellow Love Club member like Orey, Kosu, or Cecelia walking down the halls and gave a dignified nod of solidarity to them. He bet spectators got a kick out of that too, that it would send them spiraling into a train of thought about what exactly that sinister nod between Love Club members was meant to represent. It’s just a fucking nod people, stop reading into everything.
The class period before lunch was AP Literature, and Donovan almost groaned to himself when the teacher started talking about Lord of the Flies. I mean, he thought he was going to a top notch educational institution—hadn’t they read this freshmen year? That wasn’t even the worst part about it though, because the teacher wasn’t even trying to hide the connections he was making between the contents of the book and the current state of the academy.
”—and that’s the danger that exclusive groups and group mindsets can have upon people. It creates a certain hive mentality that can drive even the cream of the crop to horrendence acts of vi-”
That was when Donovan’s hand shot in the air, which startled not only the class—who all collectively turned to look at him—but also the teacher, who gave a little jump of surprise. Donovan sighed, “sorry, sir, I feel a little sick. May I go to the nurse?”
He was already halfway out the door as the teacher stammered a clumsy yes and something about some homework that would likely take Donovan no time at all.
Donovan slumped against one of the ancient stone walls that made up the outside of the academy, having found a bench to collapse upon (okay, Donovan never really slumped, years of etiquette class had all but wiped that ability out of him). He leaned his head against the rough material, closing his eyes with a sigh, but as he did so, a buzz shot up his leg. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Donovan noted a text from Cecilia that gave him some relief.
From: Queen Cecilia:
The Love Club is meeting today, immediately after class.
South Wing, classroom #77. Be there.
- Cecilia.
Immediately after though, came another text that was a bit more compromising.
From: Luce(ifer)
Fancy grabbing a quick bite to eat with me?
I'll make it worth your while, hot stuff
Donovan could hear Lucian's voice through the text, and be barely refrained from chuckling to himself bitterly. In fact, he looked around quickly to make sure nobody saw him acting like such a food about Lucian Edevan of all people. Still, he missed the other boy's company, though he would never admit it. A slight twinge of worry wound in his stomach though, as he thought about what happened between them in England over the summer. Donovan shook his head. We agreed everything would go back to normal, he said to himself with resolve, breathing in as he typed out his response.
To: Luce(ifer)
just outside the library, on a bench facing the fountain.
what's wrong, nobody else would accept your invite?
Let the games begin.
❜
Last edited:
timshel
𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙨𝙩
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[div class=name]OREY.[/div]
[div class=leftTagContainer]
[div class=scroll]
[div class=tag]location[/div] montgomery academy.
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] cecilia & hyacinth.
[div class=tag]tags[/div]
low fidelity
&
erzulie
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] school uniform. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] If one knew the young man well enough, they would have seen a dramatic shift in the way he carried himself. Orey always walked with his head high as he patrolled around the hallways of Montgomery Academy, posture rigidly straight, eyes sharp, always scanning for a student or teacher waving him down. But even though he tried his best to make his demeanor approachable and friendly enough to strike up conversation with, something about his look during school hours made him almost untouchable—a student he tutored in European history even told him such. He hadn’t quite decided yet whether or not that bothered him.
When he sat down next to Cecilia, he did so with a sigh of relief, sinking down into his seat. That perfect posture of his slumped to a much more comfortable position as he put his elbows on the table and took in his friends. Orey was relaxed, and it was a rare sight to see for many on campus. But the two young women at that table had a certain way about them that took away all the weight of expectation and legacy and perfection, and it was something he was always privately grateful they could provide for him. At times, he wondered if he provided the same sort of emotional refuge for them.
Looking at Cecilia reminded him of what he could have done more for her. Even though she looked as flawless as ever—her hair cascaded down her shoulders in freshly cut layers and she boasted a perfect, subtle wing with her eyeliner—something about her seemed tired. Orey noticed the same sort of dullness in Hyacinth, too. The two had been much closer to Jordi than he had ever been, since his relationship with him was primarily due to his closeness to the other two, and they were no doubt reminded of his unusual absence much more on this first day of school. He had to admit it was odd not to see Jordi’s bright smile gracing the hallways.
If we weren’t even that close, why did I see him in my..?
Some things will just never, ever make sense, a therapist had told him once, some long time ago. Orey had since stopped going: he had tried a few and found that they had more or less said the same things to him, just in different words or tones, and it was frustrating. You’re a smart kid that wants to understand everything, but, when it comes to matters like this, you have to accept that you’re never going to really know what’s going on up there.
How reassuring.
Orey smirked as he listened to Cecilia’s complaints, thinking back to his own disaster of a morning. Surely, it would have brought some drama and life to the lunch table, but he thought it was the wrong kind. It wouldn’t solve any of his problems if he complained back, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to put more emotional weight on his friend’s shoulders, no matter how trivial his were—it was just how he was raised.
“My day hasn’t been too remarkable, good or bad, so far,” he answered coolly, “And that’s quite alright with me. I’ll be relieved when that last bell rings.”
Why did you say that—is that really true? The Love Club is going to get back together, and then Jordi’s memorial is going to happen soon after that. Doesn’t sound like anything to look forward to. Suddenly the unopened hummus and pretzels on the table in front of him looked unappetizing.
The young man smiled tightly, then shifted his gaze to Hyacinth. “Anything interesting happen on your end? And, erm.” He hesitated a moment. “I hope you’re doing alright.” [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
[div class=tag]interacts[/div] cecilia & hyacinth.
[div class=tag]tags[/div]
low fidelity
&
erzulie
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] school uniform. [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class=right] [div class=scroll] If one knew the young man well enough, they would have seen a dramatic shift in the way he carried himself. Orey always walked with his head high as he patrolled around the hallways of Montgomery Academy, posture rigidly straight, eyes sharp, always scanning for a student or teacher waving him down. But even though he tried his best to make his demeanor approachable and friendly enough to strike up conversation with, something about his look during school hours made him almost untouchable—a student he tutored in European history even told him such. He hadn’t quite decided yet whether or not that bothered him.
When he sat down next to Cecilia, he did so with a sigh of relief, sinking down into his seat. That perfect posture of his slumped to a much more comfortable position as he put his elbows on the table and took in his friends. Orey was relaxed, and it was a rare sight to see for many on campus. But the two young women at that table had a certain way about them that took away all the weight of expectation and legacy and perfection, and it was something he was always privately grateful they could provide for him. At times, he wondered if he provided the same sort of emotional refuge for them.
Looking at Cecilia reminded him of what he could have done more for her. Even though she looked as flawless as ever—her hair cascaded down her shoulders in freshly cut layers and she boasted a perfect, subtle wing with her eyeliner—something about her seemed tired. Orey noticed the same sort of dullness in Hyacinth, too. The two had been much closer to Jordi than he had ever been, since his relationship with him was primarily due to his closeness to the other two, and they were no doubt reminded of his unusual absence much more on this first day of school. He had to admit it was odd not to see Jordi’s bright smile gracing the hallways.
If we weren’t even that close, why did I see him in my..?
Some things will just never, ever make sense, a therapist had told him once, some long time ago. Orey had since stopped going: he had tried a few and found that they had more or less said the same things to him, just in different words or tones, and it was frustrating. You’re a smart kid that wants to understand everything, but, when it comes to matters like this, you have to accept that you’re never going to really know what’s going on up there.
How reassuring.
Orey smirked as he listened to Cecilia’s complaints, thinking back to his own disaster of a morning. Surely, it would have brought some drama and life to the lunch table, but he thought it was the wrong kind. It wouldn’t solve any of his problems if he complained back, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to put more emotional weight on his friend’s shoulders, no matter how trivial his were—it was just how he was raised.
“My day hasn’t been too remarkable, good or bad, so far,” he answered coolly, “And that’s quite alright with me. I’ll be relieved when that last bell rings.”
Why did you say that—is that really true? The Love Club is going to get back together, and then Jordi’s memorial is going to happen soon after that. Doesn’t sound like anything to look forward to. Suddenly the unopened hummus and pretzels on the table in front of him looked unappetizing.
The young man smiled tightly, then shifted his gaze to Hyacinth. “Anything interesting happen on your end? And, erm.” He hesitated a moment. “I hope you’re doing alright.” [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]
coded by shady.
Last edited:
invariance
私を見て !
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[div class=hold][div class=img][/div] [div class=name]joshhuwa
[div class=smaller][div class=overflow style="padding-right: 20px"]location: school | outfit: link | interacting: n/a[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=follow]follow[/div][/div]
[div class=center][div class=moodboard]
[div class=aesthe style="background-size: cover"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/16/31/a5/1631a502631274f2a9b96c39a967e908.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/00/ee/ad/00eead841e4c0a555bdae1464cab6de1.jpg)"][/div]
[div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bc/e7/e6/bce7e6eda7ea53e90ecbbba3df25b1bb.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/49/c7/17/49c7172ee4e60924ee0ff220e9246c9e.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5d/fd/0c/5dfd0c1a049b7c6127c00151d1881b6e.jpg)"][/div] [/div] [div class=text][div class=overflow] joshua didn't sleep. he hadn't slept hardly at all since the end of the world party and his friend jordi's death. he hadn't seen one of his closest friends floating there in the pool, facedown in the pristine water, but he knew friends who had. he knew cecil was taking his death particularly poorly considering how close joshua had known them to be before he died. his chest tightens just thinking of walking into the indoor pool area to see jordi's bloated body suspended in darkness, the shadows of the night cloaking his figure in horrid mystery that nobody wanted to uncover.
tipping back his head, joshua dry-swallows another dosage of adderall. he grimaces against the pull of exhaustion, eagerly awaiting the effects of the drug to kick in. he's standing in the communal bathroom, the quiet emptiness filling joshua's ears to the point that it feels deafening. he twists one of the sink's knobs and the room suddenly fills with the rush of water and its echo. he takes his time freshening up for the day, as a glance at his apple watch confirms that it's only five thirty in the morning. he leaves the bathroom feeling more awake and energized as the drugs begin to kick in.
the first day of school since... that night, feels awkward and tense. joshua isn't deaf to the hushed words spoken as he trudges down the hallway, heading for his homeroom class. with jordi having been an involved member of the love club, there were many conspiracies about each member in the club. as the vice president, joshua was one of the more prominent representatives of the club and he felt the weight of the club's reputation spanned across his broad shoulders.
his classes pass with unbearable sluggishness, leaving joshua fidgety and hyper-aware in his seat. he can't focus on what is being spoken, his thoughts trapped in the past whilst simultaneously trying to launch themselves into the future. his literature professor snaps at him, disappointment clear in his tone and joshua feels his face flush with embarrassment. god, he hates being reprimanded. his professors should have more faith in him, anyway. they know how well he usually does in class.
as soon as joshua heard the lunch bell begin to ring, he's excusing himself from his seat and shoving his tools into his backpack, messily zipping up the bag before slinging it across his shoulders. he musters some pleasant smiles at passing students, but he receives none back. instead, he is met with speculative stares and whispers as students turn to their friends to conspire. joshua briefly catches sight of walker as they pass in the hallway and the brief eye contact leaves him feeling rattled.
puffing out a breath, joshua pushes out the heavy double doors into one of the academy's courtyards. pulling out his lunch, joshua fishes his phone out of his pocket in order to see he had received a text from cecil. joshua's phone is always on "do not disturb" during class, as he actually focuses on his studies. apparently he had switched it onto "do not disturb" whilst his brain was on autopilot since he had no memory of tapping the half-moon icon.
from: cecil montgomery
the love club is meeting today, immediately after class.
south wing, classroom #77. be there.
- cecilia.
joshua locks his phone and tosses it back into his backpack in favor of his packed lunch. he had decided to put together a bento box, the neatly-organized meal resembling a cat. as he picks at the box, joshua tries to get himself to eat but the jittery energy coming from his adderall is making it difficult to have an appetite. scrunching his nose, joshua takes a bite of his bento and looks up as more students filter into the courtyard, their eyes seeming to sear into joshua's frame. [/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class=c]code by: @undine[/div] [class=container]height: 400px; max-width: 350px; padding: 15px; background: #e1e1e1; margin: auto; --button: #6677aa; --active: #303030 [/class] [class=hold]height: 23%; width: 91%; padding: 5%; top: 0%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; filter: grayscale(20%); [/class] [class=name]display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; position: relative; top: -4vw; left: 5%; transition: 0.8s [/class] [class=smaller]font-size: 8px; color: #909090; font-weight: 600; font-smoothing: antialiased; height: 27px; width: 120px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=img]height: 99%; width: 28%; display: inline-block; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/2a19039cb2e3b3e41bccc4ada8df5829/tumblr_pw3isy2cy81v352o0o4_250.png); background-size: cover; background-position: center; filter: grayscale(5%) saturate(90%); border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid var(--button); cursor: pointer [/class] [class=follow]height: 2; width: 50px; padding: 2px; font-size: 10px; background: var(--button); border-radius: 3px; color: white; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; position: relative; top: 40%; float: right; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class name=follow state=hover]background: var(--active); cursor: pointer [/class] [class name=black]background: var(--active) [/class] [class name=blackt]color: var(--active) [/class] [class name=pink]color: var(--button) [/class] [class=center]height: 57%; width: 89%; padding: 3%; top: 5%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: center [/class] [class=moodboard]height: 100%; width: 100%; color: transparent; font-size: 19px; z-index: 5; overflow: hidden; line-height: 85px; position: relative; top: 4%; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class=high]top: -7% [/class] [class=low]top: 4% [/class] [class=overflow]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: auto; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=aesthe]display: inline-block; border-radius: 4px; height: 36%; width: 25%; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/24/8b/97/248b97fb80fb13369d059750e6f5fb64.jpg); background-size: cover; [/class] [class=text]height: 65%; width: 100%; font-size: 0.7em; text-align: justify; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.4s [/class] [class=vis]opacity: 1 [/class] [class=c]width: 100%; font-size: 10px; opacity: 0; text-align: center [/class] [script class=follow on=click] addClass black follow addClass up moodboard removeClass down moodboard addClass high moodboard removeClass low moodboard addClass pink name removeClass blackt name addClass vis text [/script] [script class=img on=click] removeClass black follow removeClass up moodboard addClass down moodboard removeClass high moodboard addClass low moodboard addClass blackt name removeClass pink name removeClass vis text [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]height: 100%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 30%;[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]height: 30%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 100%[/keyframe] [/animation]
[div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bc/e7/e6/bce7e6eda7ea53e90ecbbba3df25b1bb.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/49/c7/17/49c7172ee4e60924ee0ff220e9246c9e.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5d/fd/0c/5dfd0c1a049b7c6127c00151d1881b6e.jpg)"][/div] [/div] [div class=text][div class=overflow] joshua didn't sleep. he hadn't slept hardly at all since the end of the world party and his friend jordi's death. he hadn't seen one of his closest friends floating there in the pool, facedown in the pristine water, but he knew friends who had. he knew cecil was taking his death particularly poorly considering how close joshua had known them to be before he died. his chest tightens just thinking of walking into the indoor pool area to see jordi's bloated body suspended in darkness, the shadows of the night cloaking his figure in horrid mystery that nobody wanted to uncover.
tipping back his head, joshua dry-swallows another dosage of adderall. he grimaces against the pull of exhaustion, eagerly awaiting the effects of the drug to kick in. he's standing in the communal bathroom, the quiet emptiness filling joshua's ears to the point that it feels deafening. he twists one of the sink's knobs and the room suddenly fills with the rush of water and its echo. he takes his time freshening up for the day, as a glance at his apple watch confirms that it's only five thirty in the morning. he leaves the bathroom feeling more awake and energized as the drugs begin to kick in.
the first day of school since... that night, feels awkward and tense. joshua isn't deaf to the hushed words spoken as he trudges down the hallway, heading for his homeroom class. with jordi having been an involved member of the love club, there were many conspiracies about each member in the club. as the vice president, joshua was one of the more prominent representatives of the club and he felt the weight of the club's reputation spanned across his broad shoulders.
his classes pass with unbearable sluggishness, leaving joshua fidgety and hyper-aware in his seat. he can't focus on what is being spoken, his thoughts trapped in the past whilst simultaneously trying to launch themselves into the future. his literature professor snaps at him, disappointment clear in his tone and joshua feels his face flush with embarrassment. god, he hates being reprimanded. his professors should have more faith in him, anyway. they know how well he usually does in class.
as soon as joshua heard the lunch bell begin to ring, he's excusing himself from his seat and shoving his tools into his backpack, messily zipping up the bag before slinging it across his shoulders. he musters some pleasant smiles at passing students, but he receives none back. instead, he is met with speculative stares and whispers as students turn to their friends to conspire. joshua briefly catches sight of walker as they pass in the hallway and the brief eye contact leaves him feeling rattled.
puffing out a breath, joshua pushes out the heavy double doors into one of the academy's courtyards. pulling out his lunch, joshua fishes his phone out of his pocket in order to see he had received a text from cecil. joshua's phone is always on "do not disturb" during class, as he actually focuses on his studies. apparently he had switched it onto "do not disturb" whilst his brain was on autopilot since he had no memory of tapping the half-moon icon.
from: cecil montgomery
the love club is meeting today, immediately after class.
south wing, classroom #77. be there.
- cecilia.
joshua locks his phone and tosses it back into his backpack in favor of his packed lunch. he had decided to put together a bento box, the neatly-organized meal resembling a cat. as he picks at the box, joshua tries to get himself to eat but the jittery energy coming from his adderall is making it difficult to have an appetite. scrunching his nose, joshua takes a bite of his bento and looks up as more students filter into the courtyard, their eyes seeming to sear into joshua's frame. [/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class=c]code by: @undine[/div] [class=container]height: 400px; max-width: 350px; padding: 15px; background: #e1e1e1; margin: auto; --button: #6677aa; --active: #303030 [/class] [class=hold]height: 23%; width: 91%; padding: 5%; top: 0%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; filter: grayscale(20%); [/class] [class=name]display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; position: relative; top: -4vw; left: 5%; transition: 0.8s [/class] [class=smaller]font-size: 8px; color: #909090; font-weight: 600; font-smoothing: antialiased; height: 27px; width: 120px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=img]height: 99%; width: 28%; display: inline-block; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/2a19039cb2e3b3e41bccc4ada8df5829/tumblr_pw3isy2cy81v352o0o4_250.png); background-size: cover; background-position: center; filter: grayscale(5%) saturate(90%); border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid var(--button); cursor: pointer [/class] [class=follow]height: 2; width: 50px; padding: 2px; font-size: 10px; background: var(--button); border-radius: 3px; color: white; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; position: relative; top: 40%; float: right; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class name=follow state=hover]background: var(--active); cursor: pointer [/class] [class name=black]background: var(--active) [/class] [class name=blackt]color: var(--active) [/class] [class name=pink]color: var(--button) [/class] [class=center]height: 57%; width: 89%; padding: 3%; top: 5%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: center [/class] [class=moodboard]height: 100%; width: 100%; color: transparent; font-size: 19px; z-index: 5; overflow: hidden; line-height: 85px; position: relative; top: 4%; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class=high]top: -7% [/class] [class=low]top: 4% [/class] [class=overflow]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: auto; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=aesthe]display: inline-block; border-radius: 4px; height: 36%; width: 25%; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/24/8b/97/248b97fb80fb13369d059750e6f5fb64.jpg); background-size: cover; [/class] [class=text]height: 65%; width: 100%; font-size: 0.7em; text-align: justify; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.4s [/class] [class=vis]opacity: 1 [/class] [class=c]width: 100%; font-size: 10px; opacity: 0; text-align: center [/class] [script class=follow on=click] addClass black follow addClass up moodboard removeClass down moodboard addClass high moodboard removeClass low moodboard addClass pink name removeClass blackt name addClass vis text [/script] [script class=img on=click] removeClass black follow removeClass up moodboard addClass down moodboard removeClass high moodboard addClass low moodboard addClass blackt name removeClass pink name removeClass vis text [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]height: 100%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 30%;[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]height: 30%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 100%[/keyframe] [/animation]
Last edited:
TheWaffleLord
OC-Loving Trash
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[div class=tag3]location cafeteria
[div class=tag3]outfit xxx
[div class=tag3]with francis
[div class=tag3]tags[/div]
Makomin
low fidelity
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glum
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[div class="tabContents tabContents01"]
elijah
kinsley
[div class="tab tab1"]read more
Elijah barely opened his eyes. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, brows furrowed as he blindly grabbed for his phone to dismiss the alarm. Grumbling noises trickled past his lips and seeped into his pillow. He didn't want to get up. It was hard enough being back after what happened, and staying in bed was such a tempting idea. He spotted the shape of his roommate, Francis, already up and about. He said something or other, a greeting most likely, but the words seemed to meld together into a sentence Elijah almost didn't understand. He waved halfheartedly at Francis while trying to clear the fog from his mind. Somehow, he managed to push himself out of bed and onto his feet. He knew today was going to be especially difficult with Jordi's death hanging over the school.
The night when it happened was hard to forget. It was an End of the World party hosted by none other than the Love Club, of which Elijah was a member. Teens were rosy-cheeked, eager to dance and laugh their cares away. Everything had been normal—a blast, even. Then there was a bloodcurdling scream. He caught a glimpse of Jordi's body floating facedown in the pool. He retched into the nearest trash can, but the image was going to stay with him forever. Jordi was one of his friends. Elijah didn't know a whole lot about him, but he knew he was a good guy who didn't deserve to die so young. No one did.
Like many others, Elijah was in shock. Nothing about the circumstance felt real until the funeral took place a week later. As soon as he saw Jordi in a casket, he burst into tears. It was a hard blow to the gut no one could have prepared for. After being questioned by police, he had gone back home for the remainder of the summer—which was winter in Australia—but he lacked the shine in his eyes and the enthusiasm that normally adorned his face. Apart from friends and family, expressing his grief through art was the only thing preventing Elijah from spiraling down a deep hole. He had to keep moving forward.
The morning was hazy and Elijah spent most of it staring off into space or doodling in his journal. Most teachers took pity on the students, but they also weren't exempt from the somber atmosphere. When art class rolled in, he was almost relieved. They were tasked to draw anything they wanted, and such freedom was particularly rare from a teacher who liked to give prompts. Elijah didn't even realize he was drawing a portrait of Jordi until the sketch was finished. He held his pencil tightly as tears welled up in his eyes. He looked toward the ceiling and breathed slowly. Was it normal to feel this upset? He couldn't even look at a simple illustration of him and stay composed.
The bell rang. He closed his sketchbook. The teacher said something to the class as they filed out the door, but he wasn't paying attention. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he stopped to lean against a wall and checked the notification. It was a text message sent from Cecilia to all the members of the Love Club, detailing a meeting that would take place after classes. He sighed and looked up. Among the students walking in front of him, he spotted a familiar head of black hair from a distance. His heart somersaulted.
"Oh! Kosu!" He jogged to his friend's side with a relieved glint in his eyes. He briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey...! It's good to see you. Have you been alright?"
"I'm annoyed at these assholes."
Elijah would be lying if he said he didn't understand what he was talking about. He overheard a couple of students murmuring about Kosu, speculating his "involvement" with Jordi's death. When Elijah approached and boldly asked if they truly believed that, the two students spouted whatever broken excuse they had on their tongues to walk away. It was very difficult to raise even the smallest degree of bitterness in Elijah, but that encounter made his skin prickle and left a bad taste in his mouth.
He answered with slight chagrin, "Yeah, I know what you mean. But don't pay any mind to them." He paused, then said with a despondent tone in his voice, "It's tough for everyone, bein' back here. I kinda wish we didn't have to be, but...that's how it goes."
Kosu nodded before looking back ahead as they began to walk together. Elijah was no stranger to his friend's laconic words—or a general lack thereof. By now, he was accustomed to initiating conversation, but at least silence with him was comfortable. He stole a glance. Kosu looked the same as he always did; his tousled hair fell over his brow and framed his angular face the same way he remembered. He still wore that singular piercing in his ear. And still, those same dark brown eyes that were so cold to most were honest and resolute to Elijah. It really was good to see him again.
"Thanks. For callin' me over the summer, I mean. You really helped me."
"And I appreciate you keeping in contact with me."
A small grin tugged at the corners of Elijah's lips. He knew he meant it. "Ah, no wukkas, mate. It's always nice talkin' to you."
Kosu gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm the worst person to talk to."
He chuckled, perhaps out of nervous habit, and for a short moment was at a loss for words from being caught in his gaze. "You say that, but you're still my friend either way. I like your company." It was the truth. Elijah cocked his head to the side, gesturing to a different direction he needed to follow. "Looks like we got different classes... Well, I'll see ya later." He patted him on the back as he left, ensuring that he'd talk to him before the end of the day.
Lunch period came quickly. He picked away at the pan-seared salmon and rice pilaf on his tray, but didn't feel that hungry. Francis was seated next to him.
"Y'know," he began quietly, "Usually I look forward to my art class. But today...I didn't even notice I was drawing Jordi's face until I was starin' right at him in my sketchbook. I'm tryin' to keep it together, but the fact that he didn't drown is...scary. I don't wanna believe someone actually—" His throat tightened. "took part in it."
Elijah scanned the cafeteria with a faraway look on his face, unconsciously searching for Ryan and her bouncy curls. He hoped she was doing okay. It would break his heart to see her, a ray of sunshine, with a raincloud over her head. He wouldn't blame her if that were the case.
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https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]
The night when it happened was hard to forget. It was an End of the World party hosted by none other than the Love Club, of which Elijah was a member. Teens were rosy-cheeked, eager to dance and laugh their cares away. Everything had been normal—a blast, even. Then there was a bloodcurdling scream. He caught a glimpse of Jordi's body floating facedown in the pool. He retched into the nearest trash can, but the image was going to stay with him forever. Jordi was one of his friends. Elijah didn't know a whole lot about him, but he knew he was a good guy who didn't deserve to die so young. No one did.
Like many others, Elijah was in shock. Nothing about the circumstance felt real until the funeral took place a week later. As soon as he saw Jordi in a casket, he burst into tears. It was a hard blow to the gut no one could have prepared for. After being questioned by police, he had gone back home for the remainder of the summer—which was winter in Australia—but he lacked the shine in his eyes and the enthusiasm that normally adorned his face. Apart from friends and family, expressing his grief through art was the only thing preventing Elijah from spiraling down a deep hole. He had to keep moving forward.
The morning was hazy and Elijah spent most of it staring off into space or doodling in his journal. Most teachers took pity on the students, but they also weren't exempt from the somber atmosphere. When art class rolled in, he was almost relieved. They were tasked to draw anything they wanted, and such freedom was particularly rare from a teacher who liked to give prompts. Elijah didn't even realize he was drawing a portrait of Jordi until the sketch was finished. He held his pencil tightly as tears welled up in his eyes. He looked toward the ceiling and breathed slowly. Was it normal to feel this upset? He couldn't even look at a simple illustration of him and stay composed.
The bell rang. He closed his sketchbook. The teacher said something to the class as they filed out the door, but he wasn't paying attention. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he stopped to lean against a wall and checked the notification. It was a text message sent from Cecilia to all the members of the Love Club, detailing a meeting that would take place after classes. He sighed and looked up. Among the students walking in front of him, he spotted a familiar head of black hair from a distance. His heart somersaulted.
"Oh! Kosu!" He jogged to his friend's side with a relieved glint in his eyes. He briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey...! It's good to see you. Have you been alright?"
"I'm annoyed at these assholes."
Elijah would be lying if he said he didn't understand what he was talking about. He overheard a couple of students murmuring about Kosu, speculating his "involvement" with Jordi's death. When Elijah approached and boldly asked if they truly believed that, the two students spouted whatever broken excuse they had on their tongues to walk away. It was very difficult to raise even the smallest degree of bitterness in Elijah, but that encounter made his skin prickle and left a bad taste in his mouth.
He answered with slight chagrin, "Yeah, I know what you mean. But don't pay any mind to them." He paused, then said with a despondent tone in his voice, "It's tough for everyone, bein' back here. I kinda wish we didn't have to be, but...that's how it goes."
Kosu nodded before looking back ahead as they began to walk together. Elijah was no stranger to his friend's laconic words—or a general lack thereof. By now, he was accustomed to initiating conversation, but at least silence with him was comfortable. He stole a glance. Kosu looked the same as he always did; his tousled hair fell over his brow and framed his angular face the same way he remembered. He still wore that singular piercing in his ear. And still, those same dark brown eyes that were so cold to most were honest and resolute to Elijah. It really was good to see him again.
"Thanks. For callin' me over the summer, I mean. You really helped me."
"And I appreciate you keeping in contact with me."
A small grin tugged at the corners of Elijah's lips. He knew he meant it. "Ah, no wukkas, mate. It's always nice talkin' to you."
Kosu gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm the worst person to talk to."
He chuckled, perhaps out of nervous habit, and for a short moment was at a loss for words from being caught in his gaze. "You say that, but you're still my friend either way. I like your company." It was the truth. Elijah cocked his head to the side, gesturing to a different direction he needed to follow. "Looks like we got different classes... Well, I'll see ya later." He patted him on the back as he left, ensuring that he'd talk to him before the end of the day.
Lunch period came quickly. He picked away at the pan-seared salmon and rice pilaf on his tray, but didn't feel that hungry. Francis was seated next to him.
"Y'know," he began quietly, "Usually I look forward to my art class. But today...I didn't even notice I was drawing Jordi's face until I was starin' right at him in my sketchbook. I'm tryin' to keep it together, but the fact that he didn't drown is...scary. I don't wanna believe someone actually—" His throat tightened. "took part in it."
Elijah scanned the cafeteria with a faraway look on his face, unconsciously searching for Ryan and her bouncy curls. He hoped she was doing okay. It would break his heart to see her, a ray of sunshine, with a raincloud over her head. He wouldn't blame her if that were the case.
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Makomin
Sleeping
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[div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]IGARASHI KOSUKE[/div][div class="text"]The first emotion Kosuke felt when he stepped foot into the academy during the new term was definitely a mix of annoyance and unrest.
He didn't expect to be this affected.
The Japanese-Taiwanese started his day off as usual- freehand exercises, a run, prepping for the day ahead, showering and eating. Everything fell back into place just as the previous term and those before that mandated. After all, he didn't want to think about the end of the previous term.
Whispers echoing from groups of students down the hallway begin to ring louder in his ears. Stares from both returning and new students felt like it pierced his back. The sound of shoes scraping against the obviously newly-polished floor drummed increasingly even though he knew it was just the background noise.
Kosu, looking into his almost empty locker couldn't help but feel his blood boil. An irony really, because most in his shoes would probably only recognise fear.
After all, it wasn't every day people assumed you played a part in someone's death.
The male slammed the door of his metal locker roughly, not caring it dented slightly at the opening of it.
Momentary silence engulfed the hallway just before the sound of Kosu's own shoes moving was heard.
His term break was supposed to be a form of escape for his mind. He wasn't close to Jordan Young in any sense but having been acquainted with him and seeing his lifeless body floating right in front of him during the party was a sight he was never going to forget.
He was lucky enough, however, to have a small but pleasant exchange with someone he had recently gotten close to. It wasn't often he met someone like Elijah who actually enjoyed his company.
Why, he couldn't understand. But despite the rough start of the day, the other male seemed to have lightened his mood before Kosu entered class.
---
The day after the incident, Kosu remember receiving a call from his father for the first time in roughly four months. The last time they talked, Kosu was forced into some elite socialising event for the current running politicians.
"You better pull your act together. That kid who died, someone's going to see you tomorrow for extra statements and your whereabouts."
"Aren't you the chief? Do something about it then since you're upset." Kosu remembers replying, an obvious hit to his father's ability to make things disappear when he wanted to.
"There's only so much I can do having a son like you. You can't weasel your way out of this so just do as you're told."
--
Shifting his gaze back to his homeroom teacher, he could almost feel the older male's gaze on him too. Kosu could tell it wasn't a pleasant one especially after the announcement.
He could also tell word spread he wasn't questioned as hard as other students were, even those who've not interacted with Jordan. Kosu paid them no mind because at the rate he was going at, he would have to fight the whole school. Though, he did glare at a few students who continued giving him glances from time to time.
At least a few others like Donovan didn't treat him like a criminal.
--
Lunch soon came after and it was evident some students were avoiding him more than they have.
"Fucking go." He said in response when said students made a way for him to go first. They returned back to their original line and Kosu merely took his food before deciding a change of scene would be nice. His usual seat in the middle of the cafeteria was suffocating today.
He wondered whether this would be the starter topic for the Love Club members later on during their meeting.
He found his legs taking him into the courtyard. There were a fair share of other students present, chatting, some laughing while others complained about the first day of the new term alongside the shitty teacher they got.
One thing that stayed consistent was the lowering volume of their chatter or stares that would follow. Kosu guessed some felt bad for him because he could tell a few tried not to look.
He didn't really care but he would be lying if he'd say he felt completely normal.
Spotting a familiar figure, he decided the other love club member would probably be in the same mindset as he was, more or less. Setting his lunch done in front of Joshua, Kosu took a bite out of his apple before greeting him with his usual, "Hey."
It seemed like Kosu wasn't the only person treated like a mutated zoo monkey.
tags:
invariance
[/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div]
[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
He didn't expect to be this affected.
The Japanese-Taiwanese started his day off as usual- freehand exercises, a run, prepping for the day ahead, showering and eating. Everything fell back into place just as the previous term and those before that mandated. After all, he didn't want to think about the end of the previous term.
Whispers echoing from groups of students down the hallway begin to ring louder in his ears. Stares from both returning and new students felt like it pierced his back. The sound of shoes scraping against the obviously newly-polished floor drummed increasingly even though he knew it was just the background noise.
Kosu, looking into his almost empty locker couldn't help but feel his blood boil. An irony really, because most in his shoes would probably only recognise fear.
After all, it wasn't every day people assumed you played a part in someone's death.
The male slammed the door of his metal locker roughly, not caring it dented slightly at the opening of it.
Momentary silence engulfed the hallway just before the sound of Kosu's own shoes moving was heard.
His term break was supposed to be a form of escape for his mind. He wasn't close to Jordan Young in any sense but having been acquainted with him and seeing his lifeless body floating right in front of him during the party was a sight he was never going to forget.
He was lucky enough, however, to have a small but pleasant exchange with someone he had recently gotten close to. It wasn't often he met someone like Elijah who actually enjoyed his company.
Why, he couldn't understand. But despite the rough start of the day, the other male seemed to have lightened his mood before Kosu entered class.
---
The day after the incident, Kosu remember receiving a call from his father for the first time in roughly four months. The last time they talked, Kosu was forced into some elite socialising event for the current running politicians.
"You better pull your act together. That kid who died, someone's going to see you tomorrow for extra statements and your whereabouts."
"Aren't you the chief? Do something about it then since you're upset." Kosu remembers replying, an obvious hit to his father's ability to make things disappear when he wanted to.
"There's only so much I can do having a son like you. You can't weasel your way out of this so just do as you're told."
--
Shifting his gaze back to his homeroom teacher, he could almost feel the older male's gaze on him too. Kosu could tell it wasn't a pleasant one especially after the announcement.
He could also tell word spread he wasn't questioned as hard as other students were, even those who've not interacted with Jordan. Kosu paid them no mind because at the rate he was going at, he would have to fight the whole school. Though, he did glare at a few students who continued giving him glances from time to time.
At least a few others like Donovan didn't treat him like a criminal.
--
Lunch soon came after and it was evident some students were avoiding him more than they have.
"Fucking go." He said in response when said students made a way for him to go first. They returned back to their original line and Kosu merely took his food before deciding a change of scene would be nice. His usual seat in the middle of the cafeteria was suffocating today.
He wondered whether this would be the starter topic for the Love Club members later on during their meeting.
He found his legs taking him into the courtyard. There were a fair share of other students present, chatting, some laughing while others complained about the first day of the new term alongside the shitty teacher they got.
One thing that stayed consistent was the lowering volume of their chatter or stares that would follow. Kosu guessed some felt bad for him because he could tell a few tried not to look.
He didn't really care but he would be lying if he'd say he felt completely normal.
Spotting a familiar figure, he decided the other love club member would probably be in the same mindset as he was, more or less. Setting his lunch done in front of Joshua, Kosu took a bite out of his apple before greeting him with his usual, "Hey."
It seemed like Kosu wasn't the only person treated like a mutated zoo monkey.
tags:
invariance
[/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div]
[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
vxnilla
skin of your teeth !
lucian alistair edevane.
location. wandering (or sauntering through) the school hallways & contemplating his options
mood. happy bc he gets to be a general nuisance, as is his life's purpose
outfit. school uniform, with the blazer off and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. donovan
tags.
elysia
mood. happy bc he gets to be a general nuisance, as is his life's purpose
outfit. school uniform, with the blazer off and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. donovan
tags.
elysia
Donovan's reply was prompt. Scarcely had Lucian even begun to pocket his phone when it buzzed in his hand again, screen lighting up to announce the arrival of a new message.
Evidently, that wasn't the case, and Lucian was glad of it.
He paused to tap out a reply.
It wasn't a lie. Whenever Lucian ever thought of finding someone, or wanting to talk to them, Donovan popped to the forefront of his thoughts without him meaning to conjure him up. Honestly, it was a little worrying, how in detail Lucian's mind could render the shape of Donovan's face or the length of his curls at a moment's notice—but it was just a byproduct of his good memory, surely. If he bothered anyone to the extent that he bothered Donovan, no doubt he'd think of them equally as often.
With that settled, Lucian slid his phone into his pocket and set out to find his chosen (and, apparently, perfectly willing) target. The library wasn't terribly far from where he was, so he walked at a fairly leisurely pace. It wouldn't do to look like he were trying too hard; imagine what Donovan would think, seeing Lucian huffing and puffing up to him within thirty seconds of reading his reply. He shuddered to think of it.
There weren't too many people milling around during his journey, which was just fine. It meant that he'd get less distracted, engaging them in small talk. Before long, the bench—and pleasantly familiar figure on top of it—came into view. The direction Lucian came from meant he approached Donovan from behind, which worked just fine for him.
In lieu of putting it down or wearing it as it was meant to be worn, he slung the blazer over his shoulder, leaving his hands free to lean over and cover Donovan's eyes with the kind of easy familiarity that usually only belonged to the best of friends—or dreadfully presumptuous flirts. He rested his chin atop the bed of messy curls and ordered cheerfully, "Guess who?"
From: Breaking Don
just outside the library, on a bench facing the fountain.
what's wrong, nobody else would accept your invite?
Oh, so they were playing it that way, it seemed. Lucian had neither the will nor the intention to hide the smile that spread across his face. There was a tinge of relief in there, too—though he'd never admit it, in the moments immediately after his text was delivered, he'd worried that Donovan had tired of him. Especially after their summer together, and what had transpired.just outside the library, on a bench facing the fountain.
what's wrong, nobody else would accept your invite?
Evidently, that wasn't the case, and Lucian was glad of it.
He paused to tap out a reply.
From: Breaking Don
Nonsense, of course you're my first choice
I've left my many other suitors neglected in favor of your delightful company
You're welcome to check my phone if you doubt me
Nonsense, of course you're my first choice
I've left my many other suitors neglected in favor of your delightful company
You're welcome to check my phone if you doubt me
It wasn't a lie. Whenever Lucian ever thought of finding someone, or wanting to talk to them, Donovan popped to the forefront of his thoughts without him meaning to conjure him up. Honestly, it was a little worrying, how in detail Lucian's mind could render the shape of Donovan's face or the length of his curls at a moment's notice—but it was just a byproduct of his good memory, surely. If he bothered anyone to the extent that he bothered Donovan, no doubt he'd think of them equally as often.
With that settled, Lucian slid his phone into his pocket and set out to find his chosen (and, apparently, perfectly willing) target. The library wasn't terribly far from where he was, so he walked at a fairly leisurely pace. It wouldn't do to look like he were trying too hard; imagine what Donovan would think, seeing Lucian huffing and puffing up to him within thirty seconds of reading his reply. He shuddered to think of it.
There weren't too many people milling around during his journey, which was just fine. It meant that he'd get less distracted, engaging them in small talk. Before long, the bench—and pleasantly familiar figure on top of it—came into view. The direction Lucian came from meant he approached Donovan from behind, which worked just fine for him.
In lieu of putting it down or wearing it as it was meant to be worn, he slung the blazer over his shoulder, leaving his hands free to lean over and cover Donovan's eyes with the kind of easy familiarity that usually only belonged to the best of friends—or dreadfully presumptuous flirts. He rested his chin atop the bed of messy curls and ordered cheerfully, "Guess who?"
jakthemenace
just a gremlin, don't mind me.
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White eyelashes flickered open in the direction of a small, leather-enclosed journal that laid beside her head. Although the book had seen better days as a hand-me-down from her father, it still remained intact with all pages in place. Half of them were scribbled all over in indecipherable handwriting that his daughter could never read (even though she was growing curious about its true meanings), but no worries. What pages had been left alone was re-purposed into a morning routine dream diary. Elisabet stared at the hard cover with strain, yet nothing came to mind. Forgetting one’s visions was an ambiguous sign. It could be a nudge to start focusing on the now and not on predictions, or it could mean something grimmer.
One thing was for certain: whatever this blunder signified would only show itself as the day went on, though she worried internally if she could end up with an unwelcome surprise. Well, as long as she tried to keep on the positive side of possibilities. But alas, that was hard to accomplish with that flower-filled memorial of a late student beside the academy’s entrance. Might that be the grim sign a part of her mind was expecting? Elisabet would ponder that later as she solemnly got ready for homeroom first thing in the morning. The dark school uniform she donned on starkly contrasted the color of her whole appearance, referring to her albinism. Many others would notice that too, and not in a pleasant way.
Walking to Room #75 through a crowded area of the hallway was sure to garner lots of mixed attention from students in every direction. To and from classes, up and down the long stretch of floor, anyone couldn’t help but notice her completely pale hair standing out among blondes and brunettes. Her delicate yet eerie face from the front gave off a chilling aura, even though that was her normal expression. At least her path usually cleared for her, since they tended to shuffle to the other side of traffic to avoid getting close to the rumored "ghost girl". Hadn’t that shtick died over the summer? She hoped it would, but it resurfaced among this year’s freshmen. The class in homeroom would understand her plight, right? Not exactly. A few seconds of solid eye contact immediately got nosy peers to turn around from gawking at her.
Bearing all that weight of new, inquisitive gazes started to get to her as soon as the bell rang for lunch. Quite uncharacteristically, she speed-walked towards the cafeteria in a quick pace. These lanky legs weren’t very built for athletics, but they could weave through long distances in a shorter time. Same reactions, same shuffling to the side- but this time, Elisabet didn’t bother reciprocating those stares. All she wanted was a brief period of peace inside a quiet, empty area with a book in one hand and a light sandwich in the other. With a jump in line, she picked out her lunch for the day and hastily, nimbly left the cafeteria once obtained.
To the past classroom she went, taking a comfortable seat at a desk near one of the windows. Nobody would peep inside at this time, but occasionally, she would glance down into the courtyard to observe the activity below. How interesting, as they carried on without her presence.[/div][/div]
[div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div][/div]
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[div class=name]e l i s a b e t j.[div class="name2 hidden"]interactions/mentions: N/A
mood: in peace and relief
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[div class=container][div class=textbox]A dream can be considered many things: a foreshadowing of an untimely fate, a hint towards success, a reflection of one’s self, or even a guarantee for good luck in the near future. However, how could anybody interpret a dream if they didn’t seem to have any? All they would face is reality when they rise from sleep, no sort of escape or drift into one’s own imagination. It was as if they were launched into the next day without any sign of warning. Considering that unfortunate circumstance, what a disappointing awakening it was for one solitary girl in her own little world.mood: in peace and relief
location: an empty classroom[/div][/div]
White eyelashes flickered open in the direction of a small, leather-enclosed journal that laid beside her head. Although the book had seen better days as a hand-me-down from her father, it still remained intact with all pages in place. Half of them were scribbled all over in indecipherable handwriting that his daughter could never read (even though she was growing curious about its true meanings), but no worries. What pages had been left alone was re-purposed into a morning routine dream diary. Elisabet stared at the hard cover with strain, yet nothing came to mind. Forgetting one’s visions was an ambiguous sign. It could be a nudge to start focusing on the now and not on predictions, or it could mean something grimmer.
One thing was for certain: whatever this blunder signified would only show itself as the day went on, though she worried internally if she could end up with an unwelcome surprise. Well, as long as she tried to keep on the positive side of possibilities. But alas, that was hard to accomplish with that flower-filled memorial of a late student beside the academy’s entrance. Might that be the grim sign a part of her mind was expecting? Elisabet would ponder that later as she solemnly got ready for homeroom first thing in the morning. The dark school uniform she donned on starkly contrasted the color of her whole appearance, referring to her albinism. Many others would notice that too, and not in a pleasant way.
Walking to Room #75 through a crowded area of the hallway was sure to garner lots of mixed attention from students in every direction. To and from classes, up and down the long stretch of floor, anyone couldn’t help but notice her completely pale hair standing out among blondes and brunettes. Her delicate yet eerie face from the front gave off a chilling aura, even though that was her normal expression. At least her path usually cleared for her, since they tended to shuffle to the other side of traffic to avoid getting close to the rumored "ghost girl". Hadn’t that shtick died over the summer? She hoped it would, but it resurfaced among this year’s freshmen. The class in homeroom would understand her plight, right? Not exactly. A few seconds of solid eye contact immediately got nosy peers to turn around from gawking at her.
Bearing all that weight of new, inquisitive gazes started to get to her as soon as the bell rang for lunch. Quite uncharacteristically, she speed-walked towards the cafeteria in a quick pace. These lanky legs weren’t very built for athletics, but they could weave through long distances in a shorter time. Same reactions, same shuffling to the side- but this time, Elisabet didn’t bother reciprocating those stares. All she wanted was a brief period of peace inside a quiet, empty area with a book in one hand and a light sandwich in the other. With a jump in line, she picked out her lunch for the day and hastily, nimbly left the cafeteria once obtained.
To the past classroom she went, taking a comfortable seat at a desk near one of the windows. Nobody would peep inside at this time, but occasionally, she would glance down into the courtyard to observe the activity below. How interesting, as they carried on without her presence.[/div][/div]
[div class=credit]code by sox[/div][/div][/div]
Last edited:
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Hyacinth merely nodded her head at Cecilia reply. She knew exactly how things were right now and how’d they’d probably be for the foreseeable future. While Cecilia was more at ease with a solid schedule in place Hyacinth didn’t think that she agreed with her. The situation only made it harder to focus, which made following a schedule all the more difficult. “Pity, I wish I could say the same for myself.” Of course she would do her very best to continue on. Her parents would expect nothing less. Hyacinth knew about important the way she carried herself was. Her image was not only a reflection of herself but of her family as well. And as an Abdella she was supposed to be nothing short of perfect, it had been engraved into her mind since she was only a toddler.
Hyacinth stopped speaking in favor of eating some of her salad. As always she was not disappointed by the taste, Montgomery’s cook were amongst the best after all. She looked up from her salad when she noticed someone seating themselves next to Cecilia. When her warm brown eyes settled on her other best friend she could help but smile at him. He, along with Cecilia, was always a welcome sight. “Hello love. Honestly I feel much better now that you’re here with us.” The flirtation in her tone was subtle and her smile slightly teasing. While she viewed Orey as nothing more than a friend that didn’t mean that he was safe from her flirty ways. “It’s been far too long since the three of us have been together.” Hyacinth full lips were only slightly pouty.
Hyacinth stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork as she sighed. Her break at been amazing in the beginning, before everything had taken a turn for the worst. “Non, nothing too interesting I’m afraid. I spent some time with my mother in Italy before….” Hyacinth trailed off. Instead of finishing her sentence she merely focused on Orey’s attempt at being comforting. “Yes, of course I am. Though I could definitely do without the work that we’ve been given already.” She joked lightly as she forced a tiny smile.
code by Ri.a
elysia
New Member
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[/class]
Donovan Reece
❛
The eagerness with which Donovan jumped to read Lucian’s text startled him a bit, but again he couldn’t help but smile at the response (a smile that he quickly wiped off with his thumb and a cough). Though he knew Lucian was a massive flirt when it came to literally anything that had a pulse, the boy never failed to have some sort of effect on Donovan—usually an odd mixture of both delightful and foreboding sensations that left him feeling dizzy in the head. Boy did Lucian make it hard for him to maintain his signature apathetic demeanor. He had an image to uphold, for God’s sake! Still, Donovan had enough will not to respond to the texts. Besides, he’ll be here any second, he thought to himself.
Donovan crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Lucian to arrive, his dark eyes jumping from person to person as classes started to end and the campus got busier. Some of them glanced his way—as usual—and whereas Donovan would usually ignore it, this time he met each onlooker with a hard stare until they turned away. The amount of whispers and rumors that were being spread about the Love Club were getting out of hand, in his opinion, and he worried that unsavory consequences would eventually follow.
Though Donovan didn’t mind being alone, he hoped to see a familiar face somewhere in the passing students. His stomach seemed to be tightening, which he supposed was the sensation people felt when they talked about having “butterflies,” and it unsettled him very much. Donovan had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the charming Manchester boy he was about to see, and would have been grateful if he could snag a Love Club member to distract him from that sensation. He had half a mind to text Kosu, having not seen the bastard yet since being back, but what would he say to his friend? Help—I’ve fallen for a dangerously handsome flirt and I can’t get up? How humiliating.
And then everything went dark in the best of ways as Donovan felt a pair of familiar hands cover his eyes. He allowed a small, peeved smile to cross his lips; “hmmmmm, I have no earthly idea who this horrendously aggravating voice belongs to.” He was careful to keep his voice at its characteristic bored, sarcasm-edged tone.
Donovan reached to grab Lucian’s hands to take them off of his eyes, and felt a jolt as skin touched skin. He was able to hide it easily enough, but memories of intimate summer nights flashed through his brain like a class PowerPoint entitled: “How to Completely Disrupt Your Perfectly Uncomplicated Social Life in One Night”.
He turned his head to look at Lucian, standing up—but not fast enough to hurt the chin that Lucian was resting on his head—and raising his eyebrows at the other boy. Lucian’s uniform was disheveled in that purposeful way that he regularly sported and that drove Donovan crazy; partly because Donovan himself usually wore his uniform the correct way, and partly because it was wildly attractive. He cleared his throat, brining his attention back to the moment at hand and cocking his head slightly to the side in question, “so, where should we eat?”
Donovan crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Lucian to arrive, his dark eyes jumping from person to person as classes started to end and the campus got busier. Some of them glanced his way—as usual—and whereas Donovan would usually ignore it, this time he met each onlooker with a hard stare until they turned away. The amount of whispers and rumors that were being spread about the Love Club were getting out of hand, in his opinion, and he worried that unsavory consequences would eventually follow.
Though Donovan didn’t mind being alone, he hoped to see a familiar face somewhere in the passing students. His stomach seemed to be tightening, which he supposed was the sensation people felt when they talked about having “butterflies,” and it unsettled him very much. Donovan had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the charming Manchester boy he was about to see, and would have been grateful if he could snag a Love Club member to distract him from that sensation. He had half a mind to text Kosu, having not seen the bastard yet since being back, but what would he say to his friend? Help—I’ve fallen for a dangerously handsome flirt and I can’t get up? How humiliating.
And then everything went dark in the best of ways as Donovan felt a pair of familiar hands cover his eyes. He allowed a small, peeved smile to cross his lips; “hmmmmm, I have no earthly idea who this horrendously aggravating voice belongs to.” He was careful to keep his voice at its characteristic bored, sarcasm-edged tone.
Donovan reached to grab Lucian’s hands to take them off of his eyes, and felt a jolt as skin touched skin. He was able to hide it easily enough, but memories of intimate summer nights flashed through his brain like a class PowerPoint entitled: “How to Completely Disrupt Your Perfectly Uncomplicated Social Life in One Night”.
He turned his head to look at Lucian, standing up—but not fast enough to hurt the chin that Lucian was resting on his head—and raising his eyebrows at the other boy. Lucian’s uniform was disheveled in that purposeful way that he regularly sported and that drove Donovan crazy; partly because Donovan himself usually wore his uniform the correct way, and partly because it was wildly attractive. He cleared his throat, brining his attention back to the moment at hand and cocking his head slightly to the side in question, “so, where should we eat?”
❜
[div class=link]coded by christy.
[/div]
oxytocin
love drug
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[/div]
[/div]
low fidelity
TheWaffleLord
[div class=container][div class=textbox]
Ryan was not a morning person. It did not matter that she had the delightfully rhythmic Chop Suey! as an alarm, or that her grandmother always made sure to call her and make sure she got herself out of her sheets. Prior to roughly 10:32am, Ryan was prone to flitting through life with a gentle, warm dopey smile and soft coos and giggles.
But for roughly three months now, this almost indisputable truth has come to a pause.
Sleeping is scary, so she tries to avoid it. When she closes her eyes, she sees it. He's pretty, so pretty, but he's not moving. His infectious smile is wiped. It's so loud, and she can't breathe. She turns, but everyone has devolved to corpses, and they're rotting, and when she looks into that damned pool water, her reflection is unrecognizable. She screams.
And then she returns to reality, still screaming, sweating, crying, and refusing to sleep again. Her face is puffy and her breathing is labored. She's downed so many cans of Starbucks Doubleshot Espresso that the caffeine has entered her bloodstream. Some days, she's not entirely sure that she's truly herself anymore. It's scary.
"I'm okay, Momma, really!" Ryan chirps for the four hundred and twenty-seventh time. She almost fools herself this time. Her voice doesn't waver, and she can even manage a smile. She hates lying, but she hates worrying her loved ones even more.
"Are you sure, baby? Have you been getting sleep? Are you remembering to take your medication?" Her grandmother’s response is the same as it always is. In it is held the same unbridled, steady concern that had become her summer soundtrack. She could have cried, but she was so very tired, and admittedly, she wasn’t quite sure how many tears she had left to spare.
“Yup, yup, yup!” She proclaims cheerfully. Her head echoes, Liar!, and she tastes iron in the back of her throat. She swallows. “I’m not, um, back to normal?” She says carefully, “But I’m doing a lot better, I think.”
The voice on the other end releases a breath. “I’m glad. You call me if anything is wrong, okay baby? I’ll be there before you can count to ten. I love you so much; have a good day.”
Ryan tried her best, but it was hard. Everywhere she went, there were eyes, and whispers, and this horrid four-letter word. Her head was pounding. She floated from class to class, conscious but not an active participant. Her only hope was that wherever he was, Jordi couldn’t hear the horrid rumors that were circulating. She also hoped he didn’t see her have to disappear to the restroom every time his name was followed by his current state of being.
Lunch simply couldn’t come soon enough. She gently pushed her tiny frame through crowds in search of a familiar face. She bounced gently on her toes, scanning for someone or something that felt safe. When her eyes fell on Elijah and Francis, she almost sobbed. She puffed up her cheeks, gave them a hearty smack, and painted on her best Academy Award-accepting smile. She skipped over to them, swinging her arms, channeling all her love into an aura. “Gooooood afternoon, beautiful people!” She sang, gently wrapping her arms around Elijah in a gigantic bear hug. She squeezed as though he were the only thing tethering her to earth. “Could I join you?” She asks, gesturing to the table.
[div class=border][div class=charname]ryan lewis ( ◞･౪･)[/div]
[div class=charinfo]sunshine girl![/div][/div]
low fidelity
TheWaffleLord
invariance
私を見て !
[div class=container]
[div class=hold][div class=img][/div] [div class=name]joshhuwa
[div class=smaller][div class=overflow style="padding-right: 20px"]location: school | outfit: link | interacting: kosu[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=follow]follow[/div][/div]
[div class=center][div class=moodboard]
[div class=aesthe style="background-size: cover"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/16/31/a5/1631a502631274f2a9b96c39a967e908.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/00/ee/ad/00eead841e4c0a555bdae1464cab6de1.jpg)"][/div]
[div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bc/e7/e6/bce7e6eda7ea53e90ecbbba3df25b1bb.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/49/c7/17/49c7172ee4e60924ee0ff220e9246c9e.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5d/fd/0c/5dfd0c1a049b7c6127c00151d1881b6e.jpg)"][/div] [/div] [div class=text][div class=overflow] finally, finally a familiar figure walks through the heavy, ornate doors into the courtyard. the hostile stares don't seem so burdensome anymore at the sight of kosu stalking through the doors, unreadable as ever. joshua's nerves settle enough for him to take several bites from the cutesy bento box, but it might be guilt at the idea of wasting food that forces him to take a bit as well.
with the other boy seated near him, joshua glances at him to try to judge his mood. it seems like they had both been barraged with stares and whispers from fellow classmates thanks to the love club's reputation, but simply having an inkling of who kosu comes off as makes joshua imagine its ten times worse for him. a ball of pity intertwines itself with the muddled, sensitive nerves already coiled in his stomach, though joshua tries not to feel such a way with kosu. he's well aware that the other boy can care for himself.
"how are you holding up?" joshua forgoes returning kosu's short and sweet greeting in favor of getting straight to the point. there's no way that none of the club members could be just fine after what had transpired before summer. three months was not enough time to recover from a friend's death, especially when it wasn't an accident. just thinking about it was turning joshua's stomach. he closes the bento box and sighs, leaning his head back to stare into the sky, counting the clouds as they floated into view from the courtyard's walls. [/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class=c]code by: @undine[/div] [class=container]height: 400px; max-width: 350px; padding: 15px; background: #e1e1e1; margin: auto; --button: #6677aa; --active: #303030 [/class] [class=hold]height: 23%; width: 91%; padding: 5%; top: 0%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; filter: grayscale(20%); [/class] [class=name]display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; position: relative; top: -4vw; left: 5%; transition: 0.8s [/class] [class=smaller]font-size: 8px; color: #909090; font-weight: 600; font-smoothing: antialiased; height: 27px; width: 120px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=img]height: 99%; width: 28%; display: inline-block; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/2a19039cb2e3b3e41bccc4ada8df5829/tumblr_pw3isy2cy81v352o0o4_250.png); background-size: cover; background-position: center; filter: grayscale(5%) saturate(90%); border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid var(--button); cursor: pointer [/class] [class=follow]height: 2; width: 50px; padding: 2px; font-size: 10px; background: var(--button); border-radius: 3px; color: white; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; position: relative; top: 40%; float: right; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class name=follow state=hover]background: var(--active); cursor: pointer [/class] [class name=black]background: var(--active) [/class] [class name=blackt]color: var(--active) [/class] [class name=pink]color: var(--button) [/class] [class=center]height: 57%; width: 89%; padding: 3%; top: 5%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: center [/class] [class=moodboard]height: 100%; width: 100%; color: transparent; font-size: 19px; z-index: 5; overflow: hidden; line-height: 85px; position: relative; top: 4%; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class=high]top: -7% [/class] [class=low]top: 4% [/class] [class=overflow]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: auto; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=aesthe]display: inline-block; border-radius: 4px; height: 36%; width: 25%; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/24/8b/97/248b97fb80fb13369d059750e6f5fb64.jpg); background-size: cover; [/class] [class=text]height: 65%; width: 100%; font-size: 0.7em; text-align: justify; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.4s [/class] [class=vis]opacity: 1 [/class] [class=c]width: 100%; font-size: 10px; opacity: 0; text-align: center [/class] [script class=follow on=click] addClass black follow addClass up moodboard removeClass down moodboard addClass high moodboard removeClass low moodboard addClass pink name removeClass blackt name addClass vis text [/script] [script class=img on=click] removeClass black follow removeClass up moodboard addClass down moodboard removeClass high moodboard addClass low moodboard addClass blackt name removeClass pink name removeClass vis text [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]height: 100%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 30%;[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]height: 30%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 100%[/keyframe] [/animation]
[div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bc/e7/e6/bce7e6eda7ea53e90ecbbba3df25b1bb.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/49/c7/17/49c7172ee4e60924ee0ff220e9246c9e.jpg)"][/div] / / [div class=aesthe style="background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5d/fd/0c/5dfd0c1a049b7c6127c00151d1881b6e.jpg)"][/div] [/div] [div class=text][div class=overflow] finally, finally a familiar figure walks through the heavy, ornate doors into the courtyard. the hostile stares don't seem so burdensome anymore at the sight of kosu stalking through the doors, unreadable as ever. joshua's nerves settle enough for him to take several bites from the cutesy bento box, but it might be guilt at the idea of wasting food that forces him to take a bit as well.
with the other boy seated near him, joshua glances at him to try to judge his mood. it seems like they had both been barraged with stares and whispers from fellow classmates thanks to the love club's reputation, but simply having an inkling of who kosu comes off as makes joshua imagine its ten times worse for him. a ball of pity intertwines itself with the muddled, sensitive nerves already coiled in his stomach, though joshua tries not to feel such a way with kosu. he's well aware that the other boy can care for himself.
"how are you holding up?" joshua forgoes returning kosu's short and sweet greeting in favor of getting straight to the point. there's no way that none of the club members could be just fine after what had transpired before summer. three months was not enough time to recover from a friend's death, especially when it wasn't an accident. just thinking about it was turning joshua's stomach. he closes the bento box and sighs, leaning his head back to stare into the sky, counting the clouds as they floated into view from the courtyard's walls. [/div][/div] [/div][/div] [div class=c]code by: @undine[/div] [class=container]height: 400px; max-width: 350px; padding: 15px; background: #e1e1e1; margin: auto; --button: #6677aa; --active: #303030 [/class] [class=hold]height: 23%; width: 91%; padding: 5%; top: 0%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; filter: grayscale(20%); [/class] [class=name]display: inline-block; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; position: relative; top: -4vw; left: 5%; transition: 0.8s [/class] [class=smaller]font-size: 8px; color: #909090; font-weight: 600; font-smoothing: antialiased; height: 27px; width: 120px; overflow: hidden [/class] [class=img]height: 99%; width: 28%; display: inline-block; background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/2a19039cb2e3b3e41bccc4ada8df5829/tumblr_pw3isy2cy81v352o0o4_250.png); background-size: cover; background-position: center; filter: grayscale(5%) saturate(90%); border-radius: 50%; border: 2px solid var(--button); cursor: pointer [/class] [class=follow]height: 2; width: 50px; padding: 2px; font-size: 10px; background: var(--button); border-radius: 3px; color: white; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; position: relative; top: 40%; float: right; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class name=follow state=hover]background: var(--active); cursor: pointer [/class] [class name=black]background: var(--active) [/class] [class name=blackt]color: var(--active) [/class] [class name=pink]color: var(--button) [/class] [class=center]height: 57%; width: 89%; padding: 3%; top: 5%; position: relative; background: white; border-radius: 7px; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; text-align: center [/class] [class=moodboard]height: 100%; width: 100%; color: transparent; font-size: 19px; z-index: 5; overflow: hidden; line-height: 85px; position: relative; top: 4%; transition: 0.5s [/class] [class=high]top: -7% [/class] [class=low]top: 4% [/class] [class=overflow]height: 100%; width: 100%; overflow: auto; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 30px [/class] [class=aesthe]display: inline-block; border-radius: 4px; height: 36%; width: 25%; background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/24/8b/97/248b97fb80fb13369d059750e6f5fb64.jpg); background-size: cover; [/class] [class=text]height: 65%; width: 100%; font-size: 0.7em; text-align: justify; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.4s [/class] [class=vis]opacity: 1 [/class] [class=c]width: 100%; font-size: 10px; opacity: 0; text-align: center [/class] [script class=follow on=click] addClass black follow addClass up moodboard removeClass down moodboard addClass high moodboard removeClass low moodboard addClass pink name removeClass blackt name addClass vis text [/script] [script class=img on=click] removeClass black follow removeClass up moodboard addClass down moodboard removeClass high moodboard addClass low moodboard addClass blackt name removeClass pink name removeClass vis text [/script] [class name=up] animation-name: {post_id}up; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=up] [keyframe=0]height: 100%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 30%;[/keyframe] [/animation] [class name=down] animation-name: {post_id}down; animation-direction: normal; animation-duration: 1.5s; animation-delay: 0s; animation-timing-function: ease-out; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-fill-mode: both; [/class] [animation=down] [keyframe=0]height: 30%[/keyframe] [keyframe=100]height: 100%[/keyframe] [/animation]
vxnilla
skin of your teeth !
lucian alistair edevane.
location. at the fountain
mood. happy bc he gets to be a general nuisance, as is his life's purpose
outfit. school uniform, with the blazer off and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. donovan
tags.
elysia
mood. happy bc he gets to be a general nuisance, as is his life's purpose
outfit. school uniform, with the blazer off and the tie loosened
interactions/mentions. donovan
tags.
elysia
"Hmmmmm, I have no earthly idea who this horrendously aggravating voice belongs to."
Lucian chuckled, far too used to Donovan's particular brand of prickliness to take any of it to heart, but he put up a token protest with a light "You misspoke, love. I think you meant 'pleasantly dulcet' voice." He acquiesced easily when Donovan reached up to pull his hands away, although he cheekily entwined the fingers of their right hands together in the split second before Donovan pulled away.
Regretfully, he disentangled their hands after a couple of moments. It was far too short a time, but it couldn't have been the most comfortable of positions for Donovan, who surely wanted to do more than sit there and have Lucian hold his hand. It was a short-lived misery. When Donovan stood up and turned around, Lucian wasted no time in shooting him the most overdramatic and lascivious wink in his repertoire.
Donovan alone got maybe 80% of his winks. The perks of being in a position of privilege, he supposed.
“So, where should we eat?”
"Depends," Lucian mused. "Are you on the menu?" Lazily and absent-mindedly, he hooked a finger in his tie to pull it looser. He made some kind of effort to adhere to the dress code (not strictly, not by any means), but on his own time? Hell, the last thing he wanted was something constricting his neck—unless it was a pair of hands, and he explicitly asked for it. "I jest. But I'm thinking somewhere outside; you look breathtaking in the sun."
Lucian chuckled, far too used to Donovan's particular brand of prickliness to take any of it to heart, but he put up a token protest with a light "You misspoke, love. I think you meant 'pleasantly dulcet' voice." He acquiesced easily when Donovan reached up to pull his hands away, although he cheekily entwined the fingers of their right hands together in the split second before Donovan pulled away.
Regretfully, he disentangled their hands after a couple of moments. It was far too short a time, but it couldn't have been the most comfortable of positions for Donovan, who surely wanted to do more than sit there and have Lucian hold his hand. It was a short-lived misery. When Donovan stood up and turned around, Lucian wasted no time in shooting him the most overdramatic and lascivious wink in his repertoire.
Donovan alone got maybe 80% of his winks. The perks of being in a position of privilege, he supposed.
“So, where should we eat?”
"Depends," Lucian mused. "Are you on the menu?" Lazily and absent-mindedly, he hooked a finger in his tie to pull it looser. He made some kind of effort to adhere to the dress code (not strictly, not by any means), but on his own time? Hell, the last thing he wanted was something constricting his neck—unless it was a pair of hands, and he explicitly asked for it. "I jest. But I'm thinking somewhere outside; you look breathtaking in the sun."
Makomin
Sleeping
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[div class="container"][div class="containercont"][div class="chapterpic"][/div] [div class="scroll"][div class="scrollbox"][div class="title"]IGARASHI KOSUKE[/div][div class="text"]On a different occasion, the Taiwanese-Japanese would definitely say that silence in conversation were usually a solace for him. Unlike most normal people, Kosu couldn't understand the need to constantly fill the void with noise.
However, the silence between Joshua and Kosu that was usually comforting to Kosu was now getting uncomfortable.
Their usual premise remained the same from their previous interactions. It's just that a forced clause was added- whispers and silent stares alongside observations from the other students in the courtyard.
Kosu wouldn't say he was used to this much attention.
It was more like he was used to being viewed as intimidating enough that whispers would fade after a few seconds of his glare. This time, however, he was seen more like a monster than an intimidating figure.
"I'm good." He replied with his usual stoic face. But him not meeting Joshua's eyes or looking his way as he said that spoke otherwise.
Taking another big bite out of his apple, he followed up with the same question, "You? I take it this shitfest isn't the warmest 'welcome back' you've had."
In his mind, Kosuke was going to act like he usually was. He would say it was to not give others the satisfaction of seeing him in another light but in truth, it was more of a default coping mechanism.
There was nothing else he could do other than go about with his day.
He was pretty sure it was the same for the other club members too, in some way or another.
Placing his half-eaten apple back on the tray, he took a forkful of noodles, almost examining it before blatantly asking, "Do you think it was one of the members?"
The question itself didn't need explanation. After all, that question itself was probably the only question in not just the other club member's minds but in the minds of everyone looking in from outside.
He then ate his forkful of noodles before looking at Joshua, curious as to what he thought.
tags:
invariance
[/div][/div][/div] [/div][/div]
[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
However, the silence between Joshua and Kosu that was usually comforting to Kosu was now getting uncomfortable.
Their usual premise remained the same from their previous interactions. It's just that a forced clause was added- whispers and silent stares alongside observations from the other students in the courtyard.
Kosu wouldn't say he was used to this much attention.
It was more like he was used to being viewed as intimidating enough that whispers would fade after a few seconds of his glare. This time, however, he was seen more like a monster than an intimidating figure.
"I'm good." He replied with his usual stoic face. But him not meeting Joshua's eyes or looking his way as he said that spoke otherwise.
Taking another big bite out of his apple, he followed up with the same question, "You? I take it this shitfest isn't the warmest 'welcome back' you've had."
In his mind, Kosuke was going to act like he usually was. He would say it was to not give others the satisfaction of seeing him in another light but in truth, it was more of a default coping mechanism.
There was nothing else he could do other than go about with his day.
He was pretty sure it was the same for the other club members too, in some way or another.
Placing his half-eaten apple back on the tray, he took a forkful of noodles, almost examining it before blatantly asking, "Do you think it was one of the members?"
The question itself didn't need explanation. After all, that question itself was probably the only question in not just the other club member's minds but in the minds of everyone looking in from outside.
He then ate his forkful of noodles before looking at Joshua, curious as to what he thought.
tags:
invariance
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[div class="codetag"]coded by ukiiyo[/div]
calypso
fairest
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[div class=topinfo][div class=scroll]// mood
[div class=toptag]grouchy.[/div]
// outfit
[div class=toptag]uniform.[/div]
// location
[div class=toptag]walking around campus.[/div]
// interactions
[div class=toptag]n/a.[/div]
// tags
[div class=toptag]tags here.[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=post]Nothing was wrong in the world of Sawyer Kitovits.
At least, that was what he was pretending. When his sister Rosemary pounded on his door early in the morning for him to wake up, he yelled at her to screw off like normal. She told him to fuck off and get his ass to class, and he threw the nearest water bottle into the door-frame to get the message across. It was the first day of the year, which means he wasn't coming in till lunch. That was the normal, and since nothing was wrong...
Rolling over in his bed, a groan sounded from the blonde boy. His hand moved across his large bed to grab his phone, giving it a tug to dislodge it from the nearly shredded charger. No matter how much money he had, Sawyer was far too lazy to replace the fraying wire. His finger slid across the screen to lower the brightness, before he squinted and turned it back up again. His free hand then reached down to scratch himself, while his other hand flipped through his morning social media. Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter...
A frown formed over his face, before he tossed his phone aside and groaned. Nothing was wrong, and everything was fine. The news is always annoying, right? One kid dies and...
His train of thought paused as his phone dinged with a text message, and he grunted. He reached across the mattress with an annoyed look, before he raised his screen up to his face. Cecilia was already having a meeting? His eyes flicked up the clock on his phone, and he once again made a grunting noise as he swung himself out of bed. Of course, Sawyer slept naked. Every night, no matter the season. He was a man, after all. Once his feet brushed against the plush carpet next to his bed, he stood up and fully (and unknowingly) mooned the entire street behind him. A brilliant idea to push his bed right next to the window, and leave the curtain open all the time.
At least he was on the third floor.
After fully exposing his ass to the passerby's for a minute, he ruffled his own hair and walked over towards his closet. Rosemary had already left at the actual appropriate time, which was the smartest thing for her to do. It's not like he'd walk into school with her, anyway. People would start asking questions, and then he'd have to answer. As he wiggled his briefs on and looked around his own room, his mind continued to wander. Wandering was dangerous, he knew that much. Since nothing was wrong in his life, it would be stupid to let some random thought ruin his day. Even if he really, really wanted to think about it...
Shaking his hair out, Sawyer hadn't even realized he was done getting dressed. Though his mind was threatening to wander off, his hands knew what to do. It was easy, considering he wore the uniform daily. Little aspects of it had changed over the years, but the core idea remained the same. His eyes turned towards his mirror, and he nearly winced. There were bags under his eyes, for reasons he rather not think about. Reasons that shouldn't be bothering him so much.
One hand ran through his hair, before he flipped it to the side. A flawless natural look, and it worked like a charm. He flashed himself a smile in the mirror, before snagging his phone off the bed and leaving his dorm without his backpack. Not like he was going to be using it, anyway.
At this point in the day, he had missed majority of the classes, and he didn't plan to attend any of the other ones now. No, he only came onto campus for the meeting Cecilia had sprung up. Till then, he'd just wander around and kick rocks.[/div][/div][/div]
[div class=sideholder][div class=name]sawyer.[/div][/div][/div][/div]
[/div]
TheWaffleLord
OC-Loving Trash
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[div class=tag3]location cafeteria
[div class=tag3]outfit xxx
[div class=tag3]with lotte
[div class=tag3]tags[/div]
Twin Fantasy
invariance
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=home]
[div class=tag3]mood
tired
[div class=tag3]location
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[div class=tag3]tags[/div]
Twin Fantasy
invariance
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[div class="tabContents tabContents01"]
cameron
dupré
[div class="tab tab1"]read more
Cameron was awake before his alarm sounded. Seated in his chair, he sipped from his coffee mug but wasn't quite listening to the morning playlist that flowed from his bluetooth speaker. The New Orleanian had tossed and turned in his bed all night, and by six o'clock, he accepted he wasn't going to get any more than three hours of sleep. He ate a light breakfast, showered, and was already dressed in his uniform; necktie loose and slacks pressed. Not even the encouraging text from his older sister could improve his mood. For the first time in a long time, Cameron didn't like being alone with his thoughts. The End of the World party replayed in his mind like a broken record, but without the turntable's needle, he couldn't make it stop.
As secretary of the Love Club, he helped decorate and coordinate the whole shindig with the rest of the executive board. It was a huge turnout—which was expected. The food was great, the drinks were bottomless, and everyone had fun welcoming the new members. A little after midnight, Cameron left the party to go back to his dorm with a pretty girl wrapped around his arm. He remembered Jordi saying, "Take it easy, man" with a smile on his face. The next morning, Joshua knocked on his door and told him the news. Cameron didn't believe it at first. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. But his expression said otherwise and he was not one for twisted antics. Jordi was dead. Police officers had swarmed the campus and the swimming pool facility was lined with yellow caution tape. Amidst the chaos and barrage of questions, the first person Cameron called was his mother.
"I don't know what to do, Ma. He's gone. The last time I saw him he was smiling and—"
"Just breathe, my little star. I've been exactly where you are right now. I know how it feels to lose someone so suddenly."
Cameron knew that. Her brother was shot to death in a home invasion, her father had a stroke, and her mother got killed in a car accident. That happened long before he was born. She must've had solid advice.
"So how did you deal with grief? How did you stop hurting, Ma?"
She gave a weak, tired chuckle then said, "I didn't." His jaw clenched. "The most you can do is allow yourself to be vulnerable with your loss. Talk about it. Write a song, if you need to, but don't bottle it up. Just know that Violetta and I will be here for you."
Cameron thought he would find solace in his mother's words, but all he wanted to do was tear the room apart and scream in a fit of rage. Drowning was ruled out as a cause of death; someone murdered Jordi but nobody knew for certain who the perpetrator was. Tears fell from Cameron's eyes and his nails dug deep into his palms during the funeral. He was never going to be ready to say goodbye to Jordi. Not in a week and not in two months. They had been such close friends that Cameron considered him a brother. Losing him felt like losing a piece of himself.
As he walked to homeroom alone, he could feel the shift in atmosphere. The New Orleanian was accustomed to people talking about him. In adoration and envy mostly, but never pity or suspicion. He discerned pointed whispers accusing the Love Club for conspiring in a plot that ended Jordi's life. It made his blood boil. In reality, he was just as lost and confused as everyone else. He stepped through the doorway and scanned the room. His eyes landed on a petite blonde with a discernible birthmark on her cheek and a pink bow over her hair. Cameron felt his shoulders relax.
Thank God.
It was Karlotte Mintz, one of his best friends. It wasn't too long ago when he last saw her in person; she visited him over the summer. Much of his pent-up aggression diminished because of her presence, and he was forever grateful, but a part of him was merely brought down to a simmer. At least for a little bit, he could pretend to forget his troubles while Lotte was around. He approached her side and tapped her shoulder. She looked up and smiled.
"Lotte," he said as they hugged, "you're a sight for sore eyes."
"I know I am," she responded coolly.
This inspired a grin on Cameron's face. "You right, you right." He sat down behind the empty desk next to her and draped one arm over the chair. He felt heavier than he rightly ought to, as if there were iron weights strapped to his arms and legs. "I can't stand today and it's barely even started."
She nodded in agreement. "I just wanna go back to bed though, damn."
"I couldn't get enough sleep if I tried," he replied with a sigh. He paused, chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then asked, "D'you hear what people are sayin' already?" That seemed to pique her interest, but probably for the reasons he didn't intend to suggest.
"I've heard a little. Why, what've you heard? Anything good?"
Cameron shook his head. "Nothin' good. People are accusing the Love Club for being responsible. But we're grieving like everyone else."
She made a disgusted face and said, "Ugh, what a bunch of jealous shits. As if it didn't affect us the most."
"I know! And it's just...!" Cameron wildly gestured, but as he failed to express his words any further, he balled his hands into fists and set them on the desk. "I want answers, too. Someone must've been involved." His knuckles turned pale.
Lotte noticed this immediately because she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, calm down. It's gotta get worked out at some point."
He looked at her. The severity of Cameron's quiet anger faltered and revealed pain in his eyes. Lotte was telling the truth, but how long was it going to take for this whole incident to be resolved? The perpetrator was walking amongst the student body, in this very moment, with blood on their hands. They were living a normal life while Jordi was robbed of his. It wasn't fair.
He finally said, "Yeah... Let's hope so."
The morning classes were unbearably slow and Cameron was restless in every seat. He tapped his foot, drummed his fingers against his desk—anything to distract himself. Some teachers were apathetic, or pretended to be, and lectured as if nothing was wrong at all. Cameron knew he needed to get his act together. It was harder to stay levelheaded since he was back in Montgomery Academy again. The damned halls and whispers were enough to set his nerves on edge and amplify flashing memories of the party.
By lunchtime, Cameron's appetite was meager and fatigue was settling in. Lotte joined him at a table and recounted an anecdote of her summer. He listened and swapped a few stories of his own, but it was devoid of the vitalized nature he often gave in reiterations. He thought about the Love Club meeting that was established for the end of the school day. He could guess the topic of discussion—it was obvious.
"I dunno how anyone could seem fine after something like this," he told her. "I'm losin' my mind and my beauty sleep over here."
[/div]
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https://www.rpnation.com/threads/𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘆-⧾-𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻′𝘀-𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘆-𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀.454487/post-9951524[/div]
As secretary of the Love Club, he helped decorate and coordinate the whole shindig with the rest of the executive board. It was a huge turnout—which was expected. The food was great, the drinks were bottomless, and everyone had fun welcoming the new members. A little after midnight, Cameron left the party to go back to his dorm with a pretty girl wrapped around his arm. He remembered Jordi saying, "Take it easy, man" with a smile on his face. The next morning, Joshua knocked on his door and told him the news. Cameron didn't believe it at first. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. But his expression said otherwise and he was not one for twisted antics. Jordi was dead. Police officers had swarmed the campus and the swimming pool facility was lined with yellow caution tape. Amidst the chaos and barrage of questions, the first person Cameron called was his mother.
"I don't know what to do, Ma. He's gone. The last time I saw him he was smiling and—"
"Just breathe, my little star. I've been exactly where you are right now. I know how it feels to lose someone so suddenly."
Cameron knew that. Her brother was shot to death in a home invasion, her father had a stroke, and her mother got killed in a car accident. That happened long before he was born. She must've had solid advice.
"So how did you deal with grief? How did you stop hurting, Ma?"
She gave a weak, tired chuckle then said, "I didn't." His jaw clenched. "The most you can do is allow yourself to be vulnerable with your loss. Talk about it. Write a song, if you need to, but don't bottle it up. Just know that Violetta and I will be here for you."
Cameron thought he would find solace in his mother's words, but all he wanted to do was tear the room apart and scream in a fit of rage. Drowning was ruled out as a cause of death; someone murdered Jordi but nobody knew for certain who the perpetrator was. Tears fell from Cameron's eyes and his nails dug deep into his palms during the funeral. He was never going to be ready to say goodbye to Jordi. Not in a week and not in two months. They had been such close friends that Cameron considered him a brother. Losing him felt like losing a piece of himself.
As he walked to homeroom alone, he could feel the shift in atmosphere. The New Orleanian was accustomed to people talking about him. In adoration and envy mostly, but never pity or suspicion. He discerned pointed whispers accusing the Love Club for conspiring in a plot that ended Jordi's life. It made his blood boil. In reality, he was just as lost and confused as everyone else. He stepped through the doorway and scanned the room. His eyes landed on a petite blonde with a discernible birthmark on her cheek and a pink bow over her hair. Cameron felt his shoulders relax.
Thank God.
It was Karlotte Mintz, one of his best friends. It wasn't too long ago when he last saw her in person; she visited him over the summer. Much of his pent-up aggression diminished because of her presence, and he was forever grateful, but a part of him was merely brought down to a simmer. At least for a little bit, he could pretend to forget his troubles while Lotte was around. He approached her side and tapped her shoulder. She looked up and smiled.
"Lotte," he said as they hugged, "you're a sight for sore eyes."
"I know I am," she responded coolly.
This inspired a grin on Cameron's face. "You right, you right." He sat down behind the empty desk next to her and draped one arm over the chair. He felt heavier than he rightly ought to, as if there were iron weights strapped to his arms and legs. "I can't stand today and it's barely even started."
She nodded in agreement. "I just wanna go back to bed though, damn."
"I couldn't get enough sleep if I tried," he replied with a sigh. He paused, chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then asked, "D'you hear what people are sayin' already?" That seemed to pique her interest, but probably for the reasons he didn't intend to suggest.
"I've heard a little. Why, what've you heard? Anything good?"
Cameron shook his head. "Nothin' good. People are accusing the Love Club for being responsible. But we're grieving like everyone else."
She made a disgusted face and said, "Ugh, what a bunch of jealous shits. As if it didn't affect us the most."
"I know! And it's just...!" Cameron wildly gestured, but as he failed to express his words any further, he balled his hands into fists and set them on the desk. "I want answers, too. Someone must've been involved." His knuckles turned pale.
Lotte noticed this immediately because she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, calm down. It's gotta get worked out at some point."
He looked at her. The severity of Cameron's quiet anger faltered and revealed pain in his eyes. Lotte was telling the truth, but how long was it going to take for this whole incident to be resolved? The perpetrator was walking amongst the student body, in this very moment, with blood on their hands. They were living a normal life while Jordi was robbed of his. It wasn't fair.
He finally said, "Yeah... Let's hope so."
The morning classes were unbearably slow and Cameron was restless in every seat. He tapped his foot, drummed his fingers against his desk—anything to distract himself. Some teachers were apathetic, or pretended to be, and lectured as if nothing was wrong at all. Cameron knew he needed to get his act together. It was harder to stay levelheaded since he was back in Montgomery Academy again. The damned halls and whispers were enough to set his nerves on edge and amplify flashing memories of the party.
By lunchtime, Cameron's appetite was meager and fatigue was settling in. Lotte joined him at a table and recounted an anecdote of her summer. He listened and swapped a few stories of his own, but it was devoid of the vitalized nature he often gave in reiterations. He thought about the Love Club meeting that was established for the end of the school day. He could guess the topic of discussion—it was obvious.
"I dunno how anyone could seem fine after something like this," he told her. "I'm losin' my mind and my beauty sleep over here."
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Despite how elegant and poised she was Hyacinth was only human. The feeling of soft lips brushing against her ear caused her to gasp lightly, clearly catching her off guard. For a split second she thought of all the ways she could verbally tear into this person, but then he spoke. Hyacinth sighed as she turned to look at him. Her gaze was appreciative as she looked him over, taking him in from bottom to top before settling on pretty hazel eyes. Hyacinth arched a perfectly arched brow as he spoke. For whatever reason she decided to humor him, even if it were only a way to forget about her sadness for a moment. “You’ve been working on your French, mon ange. Though typically bon après-midi, is used as a farewell rather than a greeting.” She clicked her tongue as if disappointed. “You should work harder.”
Hyacinth turned her attention to his “gifts”. While she adored receiving them she knew that she couldn’t trust Angel. His love of pulling pranks made her cautious and for a good reason. He didn’t exclude the Love Club from his pranks despite their status. She couldn’t help but stare at the chocolates with a little longing in her eyes however. She loved sweets so, especially the expensive kind. Hyacinth focused her gaze back on the jock standing beside her. “Oh Angel, this is so sweet of you…” She grabbed a chocolate before gracefully turning around, revealing long, smooth brown legs adorned in a pencil skirt. “How thoughtful.” She crosses one leg over the other.
The young heiress unwrapped the expensive chocolate slowly. “Why don’t you take a seat mon ange? And share these with us.” Hyacinth gazed at him from under thick lashes, eyes hooded and voice nothing short of a purr. She held the unwrapped chocolate up like an offering. Her gaze was challenging.
code by Ri.a
low fidelity
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴
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[/div]
[div class=smalltextcontainer][div class=smalltext][div class=tag]mood[/div] ;; content, to mildly disgusted.
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, orey, && angel.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
oxytocin
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox][div class=dialogue]"Unfortunately, time stops for no one,"[/div] Cecilia said with a pang of sympathy for her friends, [div class=dialogue]"We'll get past this, better things are coming soon nonetheless. Homecoming and whatnot.[/div]
While she was perhaps a bit uncharacteristically positive in that moment, her voice fell flat at the very end. Cecilia couldn't bear the idea of celebrations just yet; the idea of parties weren't really ruined for her, if she waited a bit and gave it time. For now, even thinking about it felt too early. Too soon. But, already written in her cutely decorated agenda were deadlines for essays and projects of the first semester. Despite everything, Cecilia was still an ambitious student, and there was lots of school work to occupy her time with. She was aiming for valedictorian, after all.
The girl finally took a couple bites of her salad. While her appetite was near nonexistent, the day would go even worse on an empty stomach. Too many questions buzzed around in her head, too many doubts, too many regrets. Sure, for now, Cecilia kept up the heavy defense that was her aloof demeanor. Nobody aside from Orey or Hyacinth had to know that she was very much not okay. As much as she wanted to be unfazed, to mourn her friend easily and honor his memory and move on in life, frankly, the whole situation was terrifying. Even the thought of the word murder made her flinch.
They said he didn't drown. But still. It could've been a freak accident. I shouldn't entertain such stupid thoughts, Cecilia thought to herself, Unlike the rest of the fucking school, acting like its some murder-mystery novela.
Cecilia looked up from her food, and at the first glance at Angel, could not help but heavily roll her eyes. Maybe she was a bit too mean sometimes, but she really did not want to deal with him, not today.
[div class=dialogue]"Pero dios mio, porque no sabes cuando dejar a alguien en paz?"[/div] She snapped, visibly annoyed at his very presence.
Even after taking a look at the bounty inside his backpack, and her temptation for the packs of cigarettes and hard liquor, Cecilia still seemed hesitant. Anything involving Angel so far had been either wildly irritating or wildly disastrous. Him being around meant something was bound to happen, and while sure, he had some good looks, Cecilia couldn't stand the prankster's tricks for even a minute.
Cecilia bristled like a black cat at the sight of Hyacinth offering Angel a chocolate. Eating lunch was a lost cause now. Turning to Orey, she gave him that raised eyebrow look of disbelief, a look that said You're seeing this shit too, right?
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
low fidelity
[/div]
[div class=tag]location[/div] ;; courtyard during lunch.
[div class=tag]outfit[/div] ;; her school uniform.
[div class=tag]interactions[/div] ;; hyacinth, orey, && angel.
[div class=tag]tags[/div] ;;
erzulie
timshel
oxytocin
[/div][/div] [div class=textboxcontainer][div class=textbox][div class=dialogue]"Unfortunately, time stops for no one,"[/div] Cecilia said with a pang of sympathy for her friends, [div class=dialogue]"We'll get past this, better things are coming soon nonetheless. Homecoming and whatnot.[/div]
While she was perhaps a bit uncharacteristically positive in that moment, her voice fell flat at the very end. Cecilia couldn't bear the idea of celebrations just yet; the idea of parties weren't really ruined for her, if she waited a bit and gave it time. For now, even thinking about it felt too early. Too soon. But, already written in her cutely decorated agenda were deadlines for essays and projects of the first semester. Despite everything, Cecilia was still an ambitious student, and there was lots of school work to occupy her time with. She was aiming for valedictorian, after all.
The girl finally took a couple bites of her salad. While her appetite was near nonexistent, the day would go even worse on an empty stomach. Too many questions buzzed around in her head, too many doubts, too many regrets. Sure, for now, Cecilia kept up the heavy defense that was her aloof demeanor. Nobody aside from Orey or Hyacinth had to know that she was very much not okay. As much as she wanted to be unfazed, to mourn her friend easily and honor his memory and move on in life, frankly, the whole situation was terrifying. Even the thought of the word murder made her flinch.
They said he didn't drown. But still. It could've been a freak accident. I shouldn't entertain such stupid thoughts, Cecilia thought to herself, Unlike the rest of the fucking school, acting like its some murder-mystery novela.
Cecilia looked up from her food, and at the first glance at Angel, could not help but heavily roll her eyes. Maybe she was a bit too mean sometimes, but she really did not want to deal with him, not today.
[div class=dialogue]"Pero dios mio, porque no sabes cuando dejar a alguien en paz?"[/div] She snapped, visibly annoyed at his very presence.
Even after taking a look at the bounty inside his backpack, and her temptation for the packs of cigarettes and hard liquor, Cecilia still seemed hesitant. Anything involving Angel so far had been either wildly irritating or wildly disastrous. Him being around meant something was bound to happen, and while sure, he had some good looks, Cecilia couldn't stand the prankster's tricks for even a minute.
Cecilia bristled like a black cat at the sight of Hyacinth offering Angel a chocolate. Eating lunch was a lost cause now. Turning to Orey, she gave him that raised eyebrow look of disbelief, a look that said You're seeing this shit too, right?
[/div][/div] [div class=title]
CECILIA
[/div]
[/div]
[div class=user]coded by
low fidelity
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