Realistic or Modern Running Triangles (Closed)

[Life.]

Brinlee Stryker
Thirty seconds, three minutes, or it could have even been sixty minutes but Brinlee could not tell how long the three had been walking down the streets to reach some destination. She tried remembering what one of them said. Hatie's place? No, that didn't sound right. Maybe Sadie's place? Well, whatever the name was, she did not care at this point. Her body felt warm, there was a certain numbness blanketing her mind and heart at the moment, and her senses were all working its best to try and retain what is happening. All Brinlee tried focusing on was staying balanced and in control. She had already thrown up once right as they left the club and that left a disgusting feeling inside of her. There was a reason that Brinlee did not drink a lot, and that was because she hated to vomit. The night for the woman had been miserable but strolling down one of the streets of Omen soothed her. Daisy, the tallest of trio, had been hanging around Brinlee's neck as they had stumbled closer to what looked like a small convenience store. The night was dark and the air felt somewhat cool, but with the bright lighting of the store, the scene before her appeared like a set of a drama film.

At some point, Daisy somehow slipped from Brinlee's attention as she continued to walk alongside De'jah. But before she could take another step behind De'jah, she felt the other woman's arm around her. Her perception of time must have been slightly off as she heard De'jah exclaim something and then glanced back to see Daisy throwing up. But somehow a man had magically appeared next to her. "Whaa-?" Brinlee softly whispered. Her eyes squinted and she lazily lifted a finger to point at the tall man standing next to Daisy, "When did he get there?" Then she felt the air around her become lighter as De'jah had left her side to join another man nearby. "Another man?"

But she realized that he must be the resident of the place they were heading to from the way De'jah was interacting with him. "They're really familiar with each other, huh?" With alcohol and a little bit of loneliness flowing through her system, it was not unusual to see Brinlee mumbling questions to herself as she stood there, not quite sure what to do. Then she felt some buzzing from the backside of her pants. It stopped abruptly before she could investigate the sensation. Still curious as to what it was, Brinlee reached to one of the rear pockets of her pants and felt her phone. "Oh I must've missed a call..." but once she pulled it out and tried clicking it on, she realized it was dead. "Damn...I need to charge it." Since she couldn't do anything else with it, she returned it to the pocket and simply followed after De'jah once her and the other man had made their way up on a set of stairs nearby.

From that moment on, only faint memories of her entering a new abode and simply collapsing onto a nearby couch would be what Brinlee could remember the next morning.

Danoram
NothingFancy

 

[Danoram]

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦​

OUTFIT: This shit | LOCATION: His house | FEELING: Annoyed | Extra: With Liam (wearing matching onesie)​

Tatie circles a stainless steel pan around the glowing-red eye of his kitchen stove, wafting the delightful scent of buttered, buttermilk eggs around the room while occasionally stealing glances at the sleeping beauty on his couch.

I mean, he's not in-love or anything but a pretty face is a pretty face.

Bacon sizzles on the skillet, nine slices--three for each of them--then ten minutes later the table is set; though, there are only two chairs to occupy, one of which Liam takes. "Time to eeeeat!" he calls out, poking the fluffy eggs with his mini, yellow-colored spork.

The third plate, Tatie places on the coffee table by Brinlee before flicking her in the forehead and mumbling, "...You alive? Do you eat? Do you speak English? Wake. Thefuckup." Then he turns his head toward his sleep-space and yells, "De'jah, get up and eat, woman! Before it gets cold, come on!" She'd slept in his bed last night, yes, but they are literally incapable of feeling romantically toward one another, so there's no problem--other than for Tatie because 'get out of my bed'.

De'jah waddles out and sits at the table, staring blankly at Liam as he makes a mess of the floor around him. "Boy, ya makin' a mess," she tells him casually, tearing her bacon up and sprinkling it over her eggs before looking to Tatie and beckoning him, "Babe, get me a paper towel or some shiiiiiyaaatatataa~ Taaaatie~"

Liam laughs at her silly antics, pointing his spork at her, "Tatata-Taaaatie! Haha, tha's funny. De'jah, did daddy tell you 'bout the 'pooky ghosts?"

Tatie fetches De'jah a roll of paper towels, standing beside the table with his hands on his hips, showing his son a grin to hear him talk. "I didn't tell her, so why don't you?"

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Life. (Brinlee) Danoram (De'jah) (Liam)

 

[callisto]

GWENDOLEN LUKAS​

FEELING // Hungover
LOCATION // Home
WITH // Tyler
MENTION // Valori, Brinlee
TAG // Danoram

Gwen watched the man above her, trying to keep her eyes focused on his face. Her hand rested on his; watching as he mentally stumbled through a million days in a second, expression flitting from frustration to pain to exhaustion to disgust.

She could tell that her question had hit a nerve – that much was to be expected; if you fell off a bridge, you’d probably feel a little uncomfortable telling that story again and again and again. But, as far as Gwen knew, he hadn’t told the story. Rumors were all that existed, slithering through conversations with venomous intent. Gwen didn’t care for rumors, but something told her that she might not want to know the truth.

Watching the snow fall. Ah, yes. She scrunches her nose in focus as she attempts to remember that winter… the blizzard had gotten so bad that the bridge had been closed off completely. She’d forgotten. But why would he go somewhere so unsafe? Just to watch the snow fall?

Tyler’s words, fuzzy and rounded as they slipped through her liquor-coated eardrums, hid a double meaning that she wasn’t sure how to decode. What did he see, down there in that blackened water? A sober, desperate piece of her mind clung to stay awake. Part of her seemed to realize that what Tyler saw was nothing. What he wanted to be was nothing. Part of her didn’t understand his words at all.

All she understood was the pain that stalked behind his half-lidded eyes.

Tyler finished his story, silence filling the compartment. She felt the comfort of his hand running through her hair, but the warmth of the gesture did little to cure her sad, confused expression. With a wobble, Gwen moved to sit herself up, returning to her seat beside Tyler and facing him.

She wasn’t sure she should do what came next, but something about his expression made her so desperate to change it.

Gwen cupped his face with her hands, cool skin meeting his clean-shaven cheeks.

She leaned in. A futile attempt to cure a boy she didn’t quite understand.



And she woke up.

Gwen’s eyes groggily opened to the brightness of the morning sun. As she sat up to gather her surroundings, pain shot through her skull. Relinquishing her body to the hangover, she flopped back onto her pillows, attempting to suppress a wave of nausea.

It took a minute before she could reopen her eyes. Thankfully, she was in her own bed, though she glanced anxiously at the side of her bed to make sure she was alone. Long, dark strands of her hair stuck vengefully to the sides of her mouth, tangled in dried saliva. Certainly not her cutest look, though Gwen was too focused on her aching head to care. She was still dressed in the sweater she had worn the night prior, her jeans having disappeared completely.

But how had she gotten home?

Most of the night was a blur, with a few moments of interest popping out to her attention. She went with Tyler, said hi to Brinlee, hung out with Val (a scene she’d come to learn more about shortly), and…. Drank a shit-ton of alcohol.

That’s all Gwen could remember. Oh, and the mental image of Tyler looking upset. Disappointed? Exasperated? Nothing good, that’s for sure.

Well, she remembered Tyler. So obviously he hadn’t completely abandoned her for that girl who cozied up to him. Though Gwen loathed to find out what she did to upset him.

Her eyes traveled across the disheveled room, before landing on a glass of water upon her bed stand. That wasn’t there yesterday.

The disheveled girl couldn’t help but smile. I guess I know who brought me home.

​

 

[Danoram]

__________Tyler Abernathy__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: X | LOCATION: Omen's Park, sitting on a bench | FEELING: What? | Extra: Hearing aids (34%)​

A miserable sigh is swept with the wind--a cold air that cools his body from the sun beating down on it. Occupying a wooden bench that faces a wide, grassy range and a glistening lake in the distance, he stares with his head in the clouds, careless of the serene setting before him.

When, last night, Gwendolen Lukas took him by the face and leaned in to kiss him, his heart skipped a beat too many. Two options crossed his mind then: accept it or don't, and within the span of a millisecond, he chose the latter. Cupping his hands over her own, he placed them together between their faces and, as politely as he could, he told her, "That's a one-way ticket, love. Wait 'til you're sober."

Sitting here, now, he ponders his next steps.

His father, Abe Abernathy--one of Omen's trusted chiropractors--has been bothering him to get a job for a few months now, but Tyler fears his disability will get in the way, so he's been avoiding it. Brave in the clutches of death yet a coward in life.

On top of that, it'd interfere with his college schedule since he's a full-timer. I could work part-time.

He opens his phone just in time to feel an incoming text message at his fingertips in the form of rhythmic vibrations, about to open his email for Indeed offers. He sees that it's from his father, reflecting into his honey eyes lidded with apathy, and he scoffs to read it. What's he? Telepathic?

The two type back and forth until, finally, Tyler shuts him up with nothing but a flat-out lie, after which he exhales a frustrated sigh and slumps into the hardback of the bench. He hopes to talk with Gwendolen soon... Though, a part of him is afraid.

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[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Alec Clemson[/div]

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It's the smell of burning waffles that rouses Alec Clemson from his dreamless sleep. A tangy aroma that at first has him rubbing at his nose, that is, until the smoke alarm graces his ears. There's a grimace and then he's moving to roll off the bed. Leave it to Ashley, his twelve-year-old, to have the knack for burning anything and everything. At least it makes for an interesting alarm, he supposes as he rushes down the stairs two at a time. Because there's a possibility it's not the toaster burning the frozen breakfast this time. It wouldn't be the first time.

He slips into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Eyes rake over the small kitchen just in time to catch Ashley, wearing her cat-themed pajamas, waving the broom vehemently at the smoke alarm. She glances behind her, blond strands done up in curls, and lets loose a wry smile. "Mornin' dad." There's a sheepish cheeriness to her voice, and the present smile seems to falter as he steps forward to once again yank the smoke alarm off the wall. It only takes a twist and a pop for the blaring trill to die into an anxious silence. One that his daughter rocks to, gradually settling down the broom as if it's easily breakable. Alec only turns, the kitchen small enough to where the table is just at his back, and sets the alarm down before shuffling to the still smoking toaster. He presses the button, ejecting to blackened waffles, and checks the timer before taking a moment to observe the time.

07:45AM

"Ash," he begins with a sigh.

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" Her hands are clasped before her, eyes as large as a deer's staring into headlights. To anyone else, they would have believed her, but he knew her better.

"This is the twentieth time. Nineteen apologies was fine, but twenty? I told you before to not put the dial all the way up to 8! The numbers on the dial mean minutes, Ashley, minutes, not the level of crispiness. Besides, didn't I ban you from making food on your own without me?"

"But Tyler-" there's a twitch of an eye, and Ashley quickly falls into silence.

"I don't care what Abernathy has to say. Is he your dad? Does he buy you waffles? Does he have to make sure we have some type of insurance on fires started by a toaster? No."

"I forgot. Honest. I'm sorry, can we-I'll add a post-it note!"

Alec folds his arms against his chest, containing any lingering frustrations he'd been holding in for this redundant incident. Not that it was her fault. Even for a twelve-year-old, her memory was shoddy to the point where there house was decorated in an assortment of multi-colored post-it notes. The post-it notes were all for her, small reminders written in monochromatic ink. Most of them had been added by her without his prompting so he couldn't help but wonder why on earth she hadn't added a post-it to the toaster. "I thought you added one last month." The silence that answered him told him she likely didn't remember.

He turns back around, reaching into one of the counters beneath the still smoking toaster, and pulls out a well-used pad of yellow sticky notes with a pen stuck to the bottom. Dial is for minutes, not for level of crispiness. He writes quickly, scrawling the letters out in blue ink, before he rips the sticky note off and slaps it on the wall beside the toaster. "There. Look, just don't let this happen again." If you can remember that is... "now, get your street clothes on and I'll remake the waffles. You'll be going to the daycare today because I'll be at the office for a bit." The relief earns him a genuine smile before she dashes off to the stairs.

When the waffles are said and done, Ashley fed and given her blue lunch bag, Ashley's boots on both feet, he leads them out and to the car. The drive to Omen's Day Care is a breeze, and after paying his monthly fee, he turns to Ashley and kisses the top of her head before she bounds through the Day Care doors. It's only when he's alone, standing in-between the Daycare Center and Fitness Center that he fishes out his cellphone.

09:00AM

There's time before he needs to swing by his office, and since Ashley had so kindly supplied him with an alarm to start the day off, he decides it should continue with coffee and maybe even stocks. Especially since Bitcoin's stocks got a negative hit in the game. He hadn't invested in that, the Bitcoin monstrosity, but he always kept an eye on the trending stock topics. Alec swipes at the screen, greeted by the beaming face of his daughter, and searches for Warren's contact.

"You see the stocks today?" He sent the text right before he slipped back into his truck and set forth for Omen's coffee shop.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: 7a| Location: Clemson House| Feeling: Groggy| Mentions: Warren Fox ( Life. ) Tyler Abernathy ( Danoram )[/div] [/div]
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[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Sara Thompson[/div]

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It's a blessing that Sundays are Sara's days off, but it doesn't change the fact that she's up and about in the wee hours of the morning. She blames it on Loaf, the feline having yowled for her undivided attention at seven in the morning. Especially when that meant she'd only had three or so hours of sleep, if that. Still, she's up and Loaf instantly attaches to her leg. His dainty frame is light, and the brush of warm fur instantly calms any annoyances she might've had to have been woken up so early. "You're a lucky bastard, aren't'cha, you're so darn cute." She murmurs before she scoops up the fluffy cat into her arms. Sara snuggles him for a moment, burying her face into his neck before he grumbles his irritation. "All right, All right, guess you woke me up for food, huh? Jeez, you act like I never feed you! Y'know, one of these days you're going to be fatter than the doorway." She giggled, and she padded across the slip of wooden floors to the hallway, swinging a left into the simplistic kitchen

Setting the cat down on the floor, she reached for the large cat food back propped up beside the fridge, and poured a considerate portion into the metal bowl at her feet. "I guess fat cats are cute, yeah?" Sara smirks, watching as Loaf dives for the bowl as if his life depended on it. She leaves him there, shaking her head, and heads back into her room. It's still much too early to be up and about, in her opinion, but she supposes it's fine. After all, for once it meant she wasn't sleeping the day away as she often did.

That and then there's the events from yesterday. She grimaces at the memory of the hour long lecture she'd received about being late for work, a lecture of which she definitely agreed she'd deserved, but a painful lecture nonetheless. The reminder of it just presses instant stress against her shoulders and she whips to the side just in time to wander into her bathroom. "First, get rid of the bad vibes from work yesterday with a shower." Sara mutters as she reaches for the cracked, chrome faucet. The hot water will take a few minutes to come through, but she's got time, for once.

When the shower head is turned on, she moves the flower-themed curtains over to obscure the spray of water, and starts to chuck off her sweatpants and tank top one at a time. It's when she's pulling the top over her head that she remembers the sudden and sporadic encounters and decision she'd made yesterday, before that godawful lecture. Encountering Sven wasn't entirely unpredictable, but his schedule was all over the place so it was nice to see him out of the blue, sort of. His antics were way more unpredictable than his availability. Then there was Audence. Whether it was the awkwardness from meeting him like they had in the coffee shop, or because she really did want to get a jump on last New Year's goal, she didn't quite remember. However, she easily recalled her drive to join the Fitness Center.

"I'll definitely regret it. It's going to be great." The backward optimism was backed up with a snicker as she moved to place her phone on the bathroom sink counter. She'd likely swing by the gym later in the morning and take a gander or two at what the gym had to offer because honestly, even if she worked close to it, she hadn't ever stepped foot in the place.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: 7-9A | Location: Thompson House | Feeling: Neutral| Mentions: Danoram (Audence) Kloudy (Sven) [/div] [/div]
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[Life.]

Benton Stryker​

Soft rays of the morning sun bathed the living and dining rooms with a calm, warming atmosphere. The muted buzz of a fridge. The repetitive ticking of a clock. The loud snoring of a dog. These were sounds that rolled against Benton's eardrums as he felt his senses slowly awakening. Last night had turned into a long night once Brinlee left him in charge. One, because it was karaoke night so it was hard to try and get patrons to leave quickly as soon as the closing hour came. Two, Benton had to work through all the earnings of the night. And three, he had to care for Camaree. Although the last task was hardly taxing. So a certain pull of drowsiness was keeping the wavy-haired man down.

It might have taken Benton longer to get up, had a certain feline not placed their whole body on his face. Raksha had been quick to jump onto her owner and flop her whole body onto his face once a certain time of the morning came. A muffled grunt came from underneath the cat as Benton lifted himself up from the bed. As he did this, the feline tried her best to stay onto his face which forced her to slowly slide down his torso like a kid going down the playground slide. "Raksha..." As soon as he spoke, a whimper sounded from behind him. "Morning to you too, Juju." The spaniel mix whined to return his greeting. Benton then glanced up to the clock on the wall, "7:30. I guess it's time for breakfast." As much as he would have rather wanted to gain more sleep, he knew that certain responsibilities were needing to be met. Plus he wanted to be sure to have something ready for Camaree before she woke up. With how much she had to drink last night, Benton was guessing that she would appreciate a warm breakfast ready for her.

First, the pets received their food so they didn't become a hazard to Benton as he walked around the kitchen. Once they were satisfied with food in their bowls, Benton shifted to preparing food for himself and Camaree. As someone who always had a busy schedule for most of his life, he never had much time to learn to cook, plus it was always Brinlee who had food ready for him. So this morning was proving to be quite the challenge for the man. Eggshells were falling all over the counter and into the bowl, curse words were being thrown into the air, and smoke was becoming the main aroma of the room.

Thirty minutes passed and all that sat in front of Benton was a pile of burnt toast and a dark-looking blob. "Crap. Where's Brinlee when you need her?" His eyes glanced over to the screen of his phone as he thought about his sister, curious to not hear a call from her yet. But then his attention was drawn to the joint door of the duplex building. He straightened himself up as he saw Camaree all dressed up in the clothes he had set for her. "Camaree, hi-uhm good morning! I uh..." he glanced over to the atrocity that sat on the kitchen island, "How are you feeling? Here, let me get you a glass of water." As quickly as he could, Benton scooped up the plate with the burnt food and threw it all away. Then he went to grab two glasses and filled them up with water. "What did you want for breakfast? We have um...cereal...oatmeal...and toaster stroodles..." The man was clearly listing foods that didn't require cooking, clearly embarrassed by the mess she walked into. "We could also go somewhere if you'd to..." at this point he was avoiding eye contact with her.

Danoram

 

[Danoram]

__________Camaree Martin__________
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OUTFIT: Brinlee's clothes | LOCATION: Strykers' Duplex, Brinlee's then Benton's | FEELING: Humiliated​

Camaree's expression sours at the blackened, smoky disaster on the island counter--what she assumes is supposed to be breakfast but what she hopes is just the aftermath of Benton having cleaned out his oven. He greets her and she smiles warmly, overlooking the mess as she steps near to him, taking her glass of water as offered.

"Thank you," she turns the drink up with a sip. Then, to feel such refreshingly coolness drip down her esophagus, she cannot help but chug the rest in relentless desperation for hydration until there is nothing left but the ice.

It settles in her stomach, however, unpleasantly so--bubbling and mixing with the remainder of margarita in her stomach.

Camaree hangs out her tongue, "Bleh-" shivering as the other mentions different breakfast options.

Cereal? Oatmeal?... She shakes her head and begins ushering the man out of his own kitchen, "No, no, no. We're going to eat real food, Benton." She tells him, "Watch me," flipping her hair, "Work magic."

"It's like grandpa always tells me: If you can't finish something, don't start it."

Twenty minutes later, her self-esteem rests in her hands in the form of burnt crisps as if to identically replicate the earlier failure, which she tosses regretfully into the trash with closed eyes and a puckered bottom lip in defeat. "...I guess practice makes perfect... Stupid cooking shows," she mutters, looking to Benton pleadingly and speaking louder this time, "Hey, let's just go somewhere. What do you say? We'll take Juju, too, because I also need to stop by my apartment to feed Bullet and walk him. Poor boy."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Life.

 

[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Lucas Kemp[/div]

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It's always a blessing and a curse to own a dog, let alone a veterinarian clinic. Especially on Sundays, days of which Lucas chalks up to rest days. A day to sort of recharge, especially after last night. The anxiety had definitely been a mood killer, even with Sam's prompting and encouragement over karaoke. Dumb move on my part, I suppose. He'd chosen a song, one which he couldn't remember now thanks to the hangover, and vividly remembered how he sounded like a train wreck while Sam sounded like a goddess. A discovery that didn't surprise him in the slightest. The rest of the night had been a blur, and he likely would have slept the Sunday away as he often did if it hadn't been for that irritating ringtone. Lucas groggily reached for it, picking up the phone blindly and putting it to his ear for a beat before realizing he hadn't quite accepted or declined the call.

"Hello, you've reached Lucas Kemp, vet extraordinaire of Omen's Paws and--uh--yes? Yes, I can open. It's-sorry, can you not... a cat? Were the run-no? Bitten by a dog. All right, just come as soon as you can." He sat up then, rousing the large dog pile that had curled up against his side, and ended the call with a resounding sigh. Well, recharging from his nightly activities would definitely have to wait.

"Looks like I won't be taking you out on a walk for a bit, Bear." Lucas muttered as he reached for the large dog's head, scratching in-between the ears. After a few head pats, he slides off the bed then, and leaves Bear to stare after him as he heads to the small bathroom across the small studio.

Lucas barely has time to put on one of his large sweaters, already pulling on a pair of jeans when he hears the buzz of the doorbell throughout the clinic. It riles up his anxiety for the fraction of a second as he stumbles over to his closet, grabbing the closest pair of boots he can find, before barreling down the stairs. A rather silly move on his part, and one he instantly regrets as he nearly barrels into the wall on the last step.

Definitely need to either get a better tolerance on alcohol or just stop it all together.

He's at the door just as the patron buzzes the doorbell for the fifteenth time. Just in time to see a disheveled Teresa Woods with a small carrier in tow. She's not a repeat customer, but he's seen her cat, Rusty, once or twice in the past. The carrier is thrust forward, Teresa's eyes teary as she frantically tries to explain the events that led up to her injured pet.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: Wee hours of the morning | Location: Paws and Claws Clinic| Feeling: Hungover/Groggy| Mentions: dazzling (Sam)[/div] [/div]
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[deianeira]

Tallulah Grymes​

Perhaps mornings aren't so bad… Tallulah mused to herself, gingerly cupping the steaming mug in the palms of her hands. It warmed them quite nicely, she had discovered; although it wasn't quite sweater weather, she had wished she had worn a thicker shirt. Regardless, Omen's Coffee House was a warm reprieve from the windy, but short trek from her home. She brought the mug up to her lips, taking a long sip of her caramel americano. Of course, the good coffee didn't hurt, either.

She smiled to herself, and gazed out of the window adjacent to her corner booth. Soon, she would have to head on to work, at least if she wanted to have any kind of consistent working hours for her customers. There were sparse trees lining the walkways of Omen's sidewalks and, while most people wouldn't have given them a second thought, Tallulah was a firm believer that inspiration can be found anywhere, if you’re looking for it.

Still, the thought of her shop brought a considerate frown onto her lips. She was behind schedule on commissions this month, and it was only the second Sunday. She would have to put in some extra hours, she figured. It's not like Tallulah minded much, though; her commissioned pieces were always the most fun, so staying behind to work overtime was less like a burden and more like an interesting project.

Tallulah took one last sip of her coffee, before she rose to her feet and stretched her arms back, yawning slightly. Like clockwork, she placed her cup on the counter, gave a smile to the baristas, and went to take her leave. The entry back outside was just a bit jarring, but now that she was warm from the effects of her drink, she found that she didn't mind it as much. It was still windy, sure, but it wasn't as chilling as it had been right after she had woken up.

The walk to Tally's Threads wasn't very long, due to Omen being quite the small town. On the way, she passed a few other of the local shops, and managed to wave at a few of the other regulars that she recognized. People seemed to be out today, which was always nice to see. Say what you will about Fall, but it was the people that made the season so enjoyable to people like Tallulah.

Grabbing her lanyard from its place on one of her jean loops, she pulled off the store key, unlocking the shop door in one swift, practiced motion. Inside, the customer bell greeted her kindly, and it made Tallulah smile, if only a little bit.

The next few minutes passed quite quickly as she continued her morning routine. Lights on? Check. Stereo playing? Check. Register stocked with the appropriate bills? Check. Finally, Tallulah sat down in her seat behind the main counter. She would start on her pieces in just a bit, but for now she was content with just doing some of her regular paperwork while she waited for the first customer of the day.

Tags: none, character open!​

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[NothingFancy]

LOCATION || Home … TIME || 08:03am ... FEELING || Confused, embarrassed, tense


Where was she?

It was dark wherever she was, and yet she felt like she was being hugged by a soft cloud. That felt nice… it was warm. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling permeate throughout her body. She could get used to this… But as soon as she had that thought, the embrace got tighter, and the warmth began to blaze. She thrashed about, trying to free herself from the invisible prison.

NO!

She started to pant, panic replacing the safety net of happiness. Then she was choking, her hands coming to her neck, clawing at the skin, digging into the flesh. She could actually feel the air around her, it was mocking her. It was there but she could not taste it’s sweet, fresh, life-giving molecules. She was denied this simple pleasure which she had taken for granted all her life. How did she not realize how precious air was until now?

She struggled more, and yet the more she struggled the more she felt the invisible noose tighten around her neck, her lungs were burning and then her back arched in pain and --

Daisy’s eyes snapped open, she burst upwards from a mountain of blankets that was tangled all around her limbs, a silent scream bubbling up in her throat. She couldn’t breathe for a second and then as though it had never been an issue, blessed oxygen flooded her lungs. It was just a dream.

She felt a flood of relief wash over her, but it was short lived as sharp pain spiked through her brain like a bullet. Fuuuuuck… what the hell did I do last nig… her hand pauses in her attempt to rub the headache away. Images of her and two other woman tearing up a bar with tequila shots quickly passed through her inner eye. She felt her face light up as she saw herself making eyes at an attractive man at the bar. Vaguely she remembered his name as Alec, the doctor that De’Jah had talked up on more than one occasion. De’jah… that’s right, she'd gone out with that lovable ball of cray-cray and… who was the other woman?

“Ugh…” She moaned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her feet flinching as they touched cold hard wood. She shivered, realizing that when she’d stumbled home last night she must’ve forgotten to turn on the heating.

Daisy smashed her hand into her face and pulled it down with a moan. Her eyelids and cheeks were pulled down as she sighed. She looked down at her hand to see smudges of black and red from her make-up transferred to her palms and fingers. Irritation at her own irresponsibility made her growl, but she dropped her feet to the floor, steadying herself on the nightstand next to the bed.

The ground was a see-saw and gravity was like a semi-truck pushing down on her shoulders. Everything around her was trying to prevent her from getting to the cool, white, ceramic bowl that was calling to her like a siren. She made it to the bathroom, thanking the good lord that the master bedroom had one just a few steps away.

Her arms swiped all her toiletries on her sink to the floor as they snapped out for balance as her head took the graceful fall to the ceramic throne. After a few minutes of emptying her gut, Daisy was left panting with her face in the bowl, her left arm gripping onto the shower curtain, and her right clawed at the rim of the sink counter. With a cough she leaned back, her head bumping against the wall. A crooked smile curled on her lips, and her eyes closed as she let the heat leave her body to the cool tiled flooring.

She was 27 now and she realized her liver wasn’t going to put up with the same shit that it did when she was 22. It was hilarious to her that she had reached the wall that he parents used to warn her was there. If they could see her now…

Clang! Slam!

The sounds jolted her up and he eyes darted back and forth throughout the small room. She heard more shuffling coming from the living room or kitchen… she wasn’t sure.

De’Jah… that other chick…? No… she had a distinct memory of leaving them at Tatie’s. Then panic set in. She had a bad habit of leaving her door unlocked when getting home drunk, and she’d usually laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. But then a news report flashed in her mind about the recent muggings in the area and that they seemed to target women. Women who were alone.

“Oh fuck no.” No one robbed Daisy Hendrick’s house. This little thief had another thing coming. She bolted up, a quick flash of herself in the mirror as she passed -- black tank tops and white panties… she must’ve stripped the rest of her clothes last night -- and she dove to under her bed, her hand whipping around looking for her Glock 19. It’d been a while since she felt that the heaviness of it’s handle in her hand, and she felt a little buzz at the idea of holding it once more.

However her fingers curled around her metal bat instead. Daisy rolled her eyes and was about to toss it aside to search again, but another clanking noise sounded, and she hopped up with the bat in hand. She exited her room, the small 1970s house was creaky and if you stepped wrong would groan like an old woman, but she knew it inside and out after about a year of living in it, and she slinked through the hall like a snake. She’d learned how to walk on the outside of her feet when she’d been the one on the other side of the bat many years ago. Ironic that her past would help her in such a way…

Daisy rounded the corner into the living room, she could now hear the sounds coming from the kitchen, and she could see the back of a man bent down through the window in the wall that should the kitchen. She adjusted her grip on the bat, crouching low to avoid being seen and quickly stepped around the corner of the kitchen. She took a large breath, and swung the bat. It connected with solid flesh and bone. The vibrations of the hit rippled up her arms, there was a loud grunt from the man that she’d hit. She pulled back her weapon and got ready to whack the asshole over the head, but then a large arm swung back, and a palm the size of a baseball mitt stopped the bat in its path.

Daisy growled, and let go of the bat, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to pull it out of his hand, instead her knee snapped up and connected with the soft package of family jewels. This time the sound that escaped her intruder was close to the mewling of a kitten then the groan of a bear. She felt a rush of power enter her, Yes! I still got it! He was crumpled on the floor now in pain so she turned to run to her landline, but before she could make it, she felt a large hand grip her thin ankle.

She fell hard, with barely enough time for her arms to break her fall. Then she was sliding on the floor, until she was pinned beneath the larger man.

“Let me go, you pervert!” She screamed as she thrashed about her eyes shut in defense. Both her wrists were pinned now so she started kicking with her legs. They were pounding against his ass -- a very toned and nice ass -- not that she was thinking about that.

She felt his knee smash onto the top of her thighs, and now she was pinned down completely. Shit… shoulda spent the time to find my gun… if this guy dares touch me I’m gonna --

“Calm DOWN woman!”

The voice which thundered from above her was loud but had a gentle tone to it. Her eyes were still closed, but now more out of embarrassed realization then fear, for now a very fuzzy and very real memory had made its way to the surface of her conscience… Audence.

Audence rubbing her back the night before when she’d been puking her guts out at Tatie’s. Audence apologizing to the shorty while she cracked jokes about the clerks height loudly to the two other girls, creating a peanut gallery of laughter. Audence pushing Tatie along with her friends into the store, all the while apologizing and promising to help Tatie with something. And then his arms as he helped her onto his bike. He’d placed her in front of him to keep her from falling, his large body encasing hers like a protective suit of armor.

Audence taking her home. Audence carrying her to bed, taking off her shoes, and then running from the room when she’d begun to strip... her teasing cat calls about him already seeing it all before, chasing after him. And then a memory from earlier that night when she’d sent him that fake nude which she was referencing to… Oh... S H I I I I T.

She heard him clear his throat above her, and knew he was waiting for a response, so she opened her eyes and smiled as largely as she could, her voice coming forth in honeyed tones.

“Aww! Hey Audy! Good morning! You really shouldn’t scare a girl like that.”

Danoram Mentions: Life. and WolfSol

 

[Danoram]

__________Audence Vālor__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: Black shirt, grey sweats | LOCATION: Daisy's house | FEELING: In pain | EXTRA: (His bike) X​

Well, that happened.

And yet somehow, despite the pain between his legs causing him to sweat and the swelling welt at his back, he's still captivated by her beauty, looking past the smeared make-up and messy hair.

Her wide grin, like an iron tether binding his attention, from which he cannot look away. Or perhaps he just doesn't want to.

"You really shouldn’t scare a girl like that," Daisy tells him, bathing his face with warm, stale breath that doesn't quite smell of vomit but rather pure alcohol.

His jaw drops into a scoff, one corner of his mouth upturned as he's half-amused but still hurting, and he throws rhetoric, "I scared you?!" with red scratches marking his face and his neck from her previous thrashing before she recognized who it was. Though calm, in the back of his mind, he knows his frantic adrenaline is the only thing numbing what pain he should be feeling in addition to what's already made itself known.

"First you send misleading pictures, drag me from home in the black of night, sexually provoke me in your bedroom, then assault me in your kitchen?" Audence manages a snicker, albeit a strained one. "Is that how you usually thank someone?"

He slowly removes himself from the floor, staggering slightly but moving to help the other up, too, while never minding her partial nudity. His delicates urge him to take a wide stance--and if not for Daisy being here, he'd curl up into a ball with an ice pack.

Cringing, wincing, and inwardly sobbing, he weakly hobbles over to the dining table to take a seat. "I guess this is where I tell you you're lucky I like you--but really, you should-" his voice hitches as his back meets the chair, "be more careful." The image of her beckoning him to lay beside her last night was, of course, arousing, but he can't help being bothered that it could have been anyone to take her home. In that case, would they have overlooked her drunk behavior as he was able to?

"Fffff-uckin damn- How does it look?" he then asks, distracted from his thoughts by the throbbing affliction. Standing up again, he turns away from Daisy and reaches over his shoulders to lift his shirt, revealing the spot she'd hit with her baseball bat. Already bruising--speckled with purple, blue, and red--but just barely. He holds his shirt up with one hand then wraps his other around his abdomen to feel the tender skin, at which he growls to refrain from yelling. "Ooooh, you owe me, Daisy." Though he says this, he's quick to shake his head and correct himself, "Nope, no you don't. You're fine- It's fine. No big deal."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

NothingFancy (Daisy)

 

[Danoram]

__________Ryland Gunner__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: X | LOCATION: Tally's Threads | FEELING: Jittery | EXTRA: Glasses - on​

"Hel-Hello-" He clicks his tongue--shakes his head. No... Don't stutter. More confidence.

He smiles, holding out a hand to no one, "Hel-Hello-" Suddenly, a vein bulges from the side of his neck as he silently writhes, pulling at his hair with both hands and curling forward for a minute before eventually he calms and straightens up to try again.

"Hello, my name is Gryland and I'm..."

And so he writhes again. Fucking dammit to hell! Why!?

"What is that man doing?"----Oh yeah, he's in public. In fact, he's standing right outside of Omen's favored boutique: Tally's Threads. "Don't stare at people, come on."

Oh my God, how embarassing.

Ryland clears his throat. He runs his hands down his coat, feeling its firm texture at his fingertips and appreciating it for a moment, then he enters the boutique. It has just opened, so it's mostly empty--but that's for the better as he has business to attend with the owner; though, she's not expecting him.

Straight for the main counter, he fishes out his business card. There sits a dark-skinned, long-haired brunette, whom he offers a nod, handing her the said card, and afterward taking a deep breath to calm himself. Finally, he opens his mouth and says, "Hi-m Gryland Gunner, could you- you- could you please be the owner?"

Silence.

Lips pinched together in sheepish distaste. Heart pounding. Pits sweating. He appears as if he might cry, weakly managing to tell her, "That's, tha-tha-that-that's not wh-what I meant to- what I meant to say." His voice cracks and he clears his throat, pointing a shaky finger at the card he'd given her before, "I apolo-uh- I'm- Excuse me."

Ryland faces away from the woman. Burying his face into the crease of his arm, he expels a loud hacking cough. Get it together, man. This is business. And then he turns to face her again, "My name is Ryland Gunner. I'm- I am with the- the... Omen's Entertainment Bureau. I am one of- one of our- uh, I'm a modeling manager. Are you familiar with- with Sven Hawthorne? Oh- Actually, can I speak to the- the- the owner?"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

deianeira (Tallulah) Kloudy (Sven, mentioned)

 

[deianeira]

Tallulah Grymes​

The jingle of the door's bell startles Tallulah only slightly. She was rushing to finish her paperwork; not because it was due anytime soon, but because there was just that thrill of finally getting something done and being able to put it out of the way. Still, it would have to wait. She dropped her pen onto the counter and glanced up towards the front of the store.

Making his way towards her is a lanky, nervous-looking man. Not my typical customer she muses to herself, cracking a small smile. He's dressed in a long gray coat, seemingly of good quality, which makes her nod in approval. In her head, of course. Good tailoring would always be appreciated in her boutique.

He approaches the counter and holds out a business card. Gingerly, Tallulah takes it from him, glancing down at the writing there. It's simple, or rather… minimalistic. Apparently, his name is Ryland and he works for the Entertainment Bureau. Her eyes widen slightly, and she looks up to stare at her visitor with an inquisitive look. Now, why would they have a representative here, Tallulah thought to herself, especially one so...fidgety.

Her thoughts were only magnified when Ryland opened his mouth to speak, introducing himself as Gryland. For a second, she took a glance at him, then down at the card, before back at him. What? She thought, as he began to apologize and cough into his arm.

After a long pause, he turns to face her again, finally nailing his introduction. In response, Tallulah snorts, smiling at his antics. "I am the owner, actually." She pulls her fingers to her temple, giving him a little two-fingered salute. "Tallulah Grymes, pleased to meet you, and be of service."

She gets up from her seat, and moves down the counter, gently straightening things as she goes and picking up stray materials. Threads, sequins, and more seem to litter her workspace. It's surely no place for her to work, and she gingerly sorts the materials, placing them back into their correct containers. "And yes, I know of him. He's come in here a few times. Polite guy, if a bit quiet." She pauses from her work, turning to look him in the eye. "Why?"

Tags: Ryland ( Danoram ), Sven (mentioned, Kloudy )​

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[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Aiden & Dee Dee Morris[/div]

[div class=container][div class=scrollbar]
Maybe I shouldn't have come back so soon.

There was a bitterness to Mommy Dearest's tone, an active reminder of just how stunted their mother-and-son relationship was. It made her lecture all the more irrelevant as Aiden picked at the partially warmed bagel on his makeshift plate of paper towels. "You're out of avocado spread." He interjected. The comment successfully earned him a genuine glare. A reward that he took with the smallest of smiles as he gradually pulled the halves of the bagel apart and shoved them into the toaster oven for the second time.

His mother, Deacon, was seated at the table with a mug clutched in both hands and an assortment of papers sprawled out before her. She'd been up most of the night after Omen PD had notified her of the murder and a second bridge incident. So she'd definitely been blessed in witnessing her useless son waltz in at four in the morning, reeking of weed and alcohol. A son of which she hadn't had the displeasure of seeing since two weeks ago.

For once she'd gotten the urge to try and talk some sense into him. Of course, that had been futile and a waste of time, but the lack of sleep was making her just a tad more caring. That or she had liked the idea of having their large house to herself. "You're a man now, Aiden. Don't you think it's time to get a proper job, get your own place?" She'd missed the bodily flinch her change of tone had caused as she once again buried her gaze into the report of the bridge incident. Valori Roma, the poor girl, she'd definitely have to plan a visit. It would most definitely place a good light on her, the mayor, if she went to check up on Omen's newest bridge victim. It would give her an even better reputation if she were to close that wretched bridge off and have it rebuilt, prevent any other people from jumping off it. Then there was the murder, of which she'd have to help in setting up a press release for, and the muggings.

As usual, his mother fell back into her work and the house resettled behind the usual curtain of silence. It offered Aiden a good out, and with a warm, naked bagel in hand, he slipped out of the kitchen and for the door.

The morning air did little to clear Aiden's head as he took the front steps two at a time. Even the bagel did little to nothing in helping ease the tension, the ache of intoxication and the drawbacks of "motherly" attention. Granted, maybe he shouldn't have mixed Fireball with weed last night. That and he definitely shouldn't have come home, at least not today. Then again, he no longer had a good level of understanding on his mother's schedule. On any normal morning, she would have been asleep or stuck in the office, not at home in the kitchen with a stack of papers that would have a CVS receipt look like a yard stick.

She didn't share why she had been up since he'd decided to grace the house with his presence. Not that he cared. Yet whatever it was, it clearly had her out of sorts because since when did she care about his safety? Probably panicking about "image" again. Deacon had probably expressed the reason for her concern, but he'd tuned her out as he often did.

Aiden scarfed down the remainder of the bagel, and with the accompaniment of dead leaves crunching underneath his sneakers, he headed in the direction of Omen's coffeehouse. Coffee likely wouldn't mix well with what he'd consumed hours prior, but he'd hate himself for it later. But then after that he'd have to go back to work. "Drugs don't push themselves." He mused.

The mayor's house was smack dab in the middle of Omen so the walk to the coffeehouse would've theoretically been a hop and skip, but Aiden's stride was that of a shuffle. Besides, each leaf across the sidewalk needed to be crushed under his shoe, and he also needed to take the long way, soak up more of the cool, morning air. That and he'd pulled out his phone midway there, searching through his messages for any potential buyers. It's when he stopped to answer an incoming text, someone asking for a point, that he encountered an interesting sight.

Omen didn't have many bums, most of its denizens making just above the poverty line, so when he saw a lump lounging on the bench across the street, he did a double-take. The bum looked familiar, at least from a distance, and when he crossed the street, drew closer, he realized just who the bum was.

He rarely spoke to Abernathy's kin, even Tyler, but the glimpse of hearing aids was a familiar sight and not many in Omen wore hearing aids. Boss's nephew. Aiden raised a brow as he stopped in front of the bench. Didn't the guy have a... house? "Hey," what do I even say to him, if I make a good impression, would the boss drop his higher than shit dues on the dope, "you good, man?"
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: Wee hours of the morning | Location: Morris House; Omen's Streets | Feeling: Irritated; Hungover| Mentions: Deacon-> Valori ( TerrorKitty ) Aiden-> Tyler ( Danoram )[/div] [/div]
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[Danoram]

__________Ryland Gunner__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: X | LOCATION: Tally's Threads | FEELING: Jittery | EXTRA: Glasses - on​

Ryland nods his head in attention at Tallulah as she speaks of Sven. He asked, sure, but he'd have actually been surprised if she didn't know of him--California's top model and America's fourth, working almost effortlessly for number one.

"Why?" she wonders, and Ryland flinches. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a magazine that'd been tucked away in one of the inner pouches. It reads across the front, "Sven Hawthorne, Omen's Most Eligible Bachelor?"

"It is my job to make- make this boy, uh, Amer-America's top male mo-model." Ryland hands Tallulah the magazine, continuing, "Ahem- I am looking to-to... to spread his face a-around the town even more than it al-al-already is. He is a brilliant focal point in the industry and uhm... I proposed the idea of- of getting more invol-involved with the community. See, should you be willing, we're requesting that you present us with some designs of your own- your own that- that Mr. Hawthorne could advertise."

"Of course, you won't have to- have to pay us and we will supply you with- with any necessities; however, the deal is-is-is strictly promotional, uh, you- you won't be getting paid either. But your business will earn a grea-greater reputation and possibly increase in profits."

Pressing the ten of his fingers together, he humbly scans the store at its commodious interior structure, then turns back to Tallulah and clears his throat. "Perhaps," he gestures at the surrounding area, "you could even avail yourself of this oppor-opportunity and let us hold shoot- the shooting here."

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deianeira (Tallulah) Kloudy (Sven, mentioned)

 

[Danoram]

__________Tyler Abernathy__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: X | LOCATION: Omen's Park, sitting on a bench | FEELING: What? | Extra: Hearing aids (34%)​

He'd fallen asleep shortly after dismissing his father's overbearing dominance over his life--constantly telling him what's right and what's wrong, how it's done and why when most of it is strictly subjective anyway.

If Tyler goes up, his father demands that he go down. If he'd have chosen to go down in the first place, it would have just been the same thing.

His career path was wrong, too. He should have chosen something within the medical field.

In fact, the only reason his father allowed him to settle on mechanical engineering was because they'd fought. Choked to the point he'd almost lost consciousness, for several days Tyler refused to return home--and Camaree, at this time, was his precious oasis.

Does he love his dad? Of course. Do they get along? Sometimes.

"-ey. Y'gooman?" Tyler's peaceful, sleeping expression is disturbed by one more faintly quizzical at the fuzzy, disembodied voice from above. It isn't one he recognizes, so he doesn't register that it's directed at him, but he awakens regardless upon remembering where he is.

His legs had been spread wide and stretched out with the heels of his vibrant, red shoes digging into the soft ground. Fingers intertwined, his hands rested over his stomach. Having said that, when he comes to, he draws his legs in and sits up straight. Honey eyes meet momentarily with crystal blues but Tyler overlooks them in his daze and stares off elsewhere.

It's when the guy doesn't leave that Tyler glances beside him as if expecting someone else to be sitting there, then he realizes----"Ah... Shit, did you say somethin' t' me? Or ya just watchin' me sleep?" There's a short pause before he swats a hand and smiles, "I kid- No, you's a friend o' my uncle, ain'tcha?"

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WolfSol (Aiden)

 

[callisto]

Julia Eriksson
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
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LOCATION: tatie's apartment | FEELING: pissed​

Julia Eriksson was by no means the world's best mom. Juggling both a career and a child (two, if you consider ex-boyfriends to be children), she occasionally slipped up. Yes, sometimes she forgot to brush Liam's hair. Yes, she sometimes let him have a sip of coffee just to make him stop asking for it. Yes, sometimes she let him go out in his pajamas, because who the fuck cares they're children they don't need to be wearing miniature converse and chinos.

Sometimes, it's hard to not slip up. Julia gets that. But when you have a baby daddy who slipped up for years before getting his act together, it can be difficult to not feel a little better about yourself as a parent.

Yet, despite all the critiques and slip-ups and frustrations, Jules, standing at the entrance to Tatie's apartment, felt herself feeling a bit pathetic for the things she'd assumed about her once-partner, now co-parent. Though the wooden stairs up to the apartment were a bit rickety, and despite the fact that he still lived over a food market - Jules had no complaints. The landing was free of garbage and clutter, the door had multiple locks... Tatie seemed to have even taken her seriously and hammered down the nails that protruded dangerously from his wooden banister.

Frankly, the usually-confident Julia felt a bit anxious, standing there by herself. She played with the hem of her sweater, staring at the door pensively. God knows why she was nervous. She was only meeting up with Tatie for Christ's sake. Tatie, the same guy who enjoys the same shows as Liam. Tatie, the one who she should have wanted nothing to do with, but couldn't help but feel apologetic towards. Is it possible that she misjudged him? That he had once and for all proven his dedicated to Liam, and she was the one treating him unfairly this whole time?

Though Tatie had no reason to expect her - they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks due to her moving schedule, and she had finished the process early - Jules had sent him a brief text message of her arrival. No response. But really, what could he be doing on a Sunday morning besides watching Liam?

Which is what she would've thought if she hadn't opened the door to discover Liam, Tatie, and two women eating breakfast. One of which was wearing the t-shirt that Jules had given Tatie back in high school. And the other was obviously just waking up from a deep, drunken sleep. Two women that Jules knew nothing about. A grave problem indeed when they had mutually decided to let the other parent know when guests were staying over. Y'know, for the safety of the fucking 2-year-old.

Instantly, fire started burning behind Jules' hazel eyes, the venom of motherly concern dripping from her words.

"Good morning, Tatie. When were you planning on introducing me to your guests?"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Danoram (Tatie & De'jah) / Life. (Brinlee)

 

[dazzling]

sloane parsons.
Sloane gazed down at the cup of pale brown coffee in her hand, watching the ice swim in it as she briskly walked down the empty street. The farthest thing from her mind was the fact that the chai mocha latte she had been sipping for the past 17 minutes cost $6 with the four syrups she ordered — plus another 34 cents tax. Numbers didn’t matter to Sloane. What mattered was getting to her precious sweetie Lily and making sure she was happy. Well, that, and meeting with the weird guy that her parents sent over to her house every once in a while. That’s all he seemed to talk about, numbers and numbers and numbers. Sloane didn’t care.

Her chai mocha latte was too sweet not to focus on. Air chilled with the first notes of fall swished around her boots and spilled over her bare legs, raising goosebumps as she clasped her tweed jacket tighter over her flowy blouse. Ducking to avoid the low-hanging branches of a maple tree tinged with orange, Sloane cut into Omen’s park.

The tantalizingly crisp air filled her nose, and she paused to take a breath. The air was almost as sweet as her coffee, but nature couldn’t beat 4 and a half packets of Splenda. Sloane continued her stroll through the park, boots clicking rhythmically against the cobbled path. This was one of her favorite things about forcing herself to get out of the house in the morning rather than just making someone get a coffee for her; Omen really was a sleepy town, and nobody was ever out this time of day. It was just her, autumn, and whatever concoction of syrups, flavorings, and inevitably sugar she decided to get.

Sloane’s pleasant illusion of her being completely alone with the park was broken when she heard two quiet voices coming from around the corner, muffled by bushes and trees standing in between Sloane and whoever was making the noise. She almost felt violated, having her bubble popped in such a way. But it wasn’t their fault! They just wanted to enjoy the park like her, and wasn’t that lovely? Maybe they could be friends, since the people might like the park too. Peeking out from around a tree branch, eyes wide with curiosity, Sloane spotted two male figures sitting by a bench.

Wait — Not sitting. Was one... sleeping there? No, no, that wasn’t ok! Of course everyone should have somewhere to stay. It was only fair that these poor men had somebody show them some kindness...

Rushing out from her vantage point, Sloane slid in between them regardless of whatever interaction they were having with a concerned smile. ”Ah my! What are you pair’s names? Follow me, follow me, I can help!” Her voice, high and sympathetic, sounded like she was addressing some small, distressed child rather than two grown men. “I’m Sloane,” She etched out, each syllable dripping in sugar and painfully long. ”I don’t mean to hurt you. I can get you a coffee, if you would like... and some clothes too!”

Sloane shook her own, half-empty coffee as if to emphasize her point. She didn’t care about the silver-haired one. He seemed fine. But that poor, poor other guy... He must be so cold, laying out on the bench like that! It was only right for her to help.

WolfSol Danoram

 

[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Aiden Morris[/div]

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Aiden tilted his head, awaiting any sort of response, as Tyler's gaze met his. He'd heard through the grapevine of Tyler's near death experience, but he wasn't one hundred percent knowledgeable on how bad the guy's hearing was or if the aids were just for show. Granted, from how the man acted--which he didn't--Aiden supposed that the aids were indeed a necessity. Should I just... repeat myself? He frowned, agitation prevalent as he folded his arms. "You-" but then Tyler graced him with a string of words. Words in a dialect that had him raising a brow. Yep, definitely related to his boss. A shame too because if it had been anyone else he would've had an itch to sock them one for wasting his time only to drop a teasing remark like that.

Keep your cool, man. You can't risk the boss's anger or penalty fees if you piss off his own flesh and blood like that.

"Nah, just wonderin' why you're acting like a hobo." He replied, his words had reached a higher octave. There was barely a beat in-between Tyler's question, a brief moment of recognition, before some random ass woman popped out of nowhere. What the hell?

"Ah my!" She spoke much louder than he had, and the volume of her voice had him wincing. She spoke quickly too despite the elongation of each syllable, either on purpose or from habitual speech. The woman prattled on, seemingly gushing over Tyler's apparent lack of clothing. Clothing of which looked completely fine to Aiden, then again he'd caught sight of Abernathy's nephew a time or two. The attire Tyler wore even now was normal. But the more she spoke, the more Aiden wondered if she was just a complete, oblivious nut or if she was high. Especially when she felt the off-the-wall desire to insinuate that she wasn't there to hurt them, well mostly Tyler based on how she kept getting up close to him.

"You on something, woman?" Aiden started.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: Wee hours of the morning | Location: Omen's Streets | Feeling: Irritated | Mentions: Tyler ( Danoram ) Sloane ( dazzling ) [/div] [/div]
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[Danoram]

__________Tyler Abernathy__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: X | LOCATION: Omen's Park, sitting on a bench | FEELING: Amused | Extra: Hearing aids (33%)​

An eyebrow twitches at Aiden's remark and Tyler looks down at himself, "Wassat?"

Do people not usually nap at the park? He wonders this, still, as a woman rushes out from afar to place herself between the two, obstructing Tyler's view of Aiden at which he flinches his head back.

She's nicely dressed and of pleasant features, but her words are distorted due to the pitch of her voice.

She's slow?... I don't need to burn you? He unknowingly moves his lips while trying to make sense of her, now focusing on her mouth, and he gathers--"I can get you a coffee, if you would like... and some clothes too!"

"Some clothes?" he repeats, followed by Aiden pretty much asking if she's on drugs. This causes him to laugh but at the same time he's confused. Forward on his knees, he leans and mutters, "I 'on't get it. I'm not a bum. Look at'chu, you're the one drinkin' ice coffee, talkin' like I'm cold wearin' fucking two shirts 'n a jacket, love."

"Don't gemme wrong, though, I appreciate th' thought," he adds, grinning. "So, how's 'bout we take ya up on 'at offer? I'm thinkin' maybe a hot cappucino, yeah?"

Then he fakes a shiver--one that's painfully obvious and intentionally so--rubbing at his leather sleeves and tucking his head into his shoulders as he stands with a question for Aiden, "Fuckin' frigid, right?" Turning to the woman again, he introduces himself, "I'm Tyler, by the way. What can I call ya?"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

dazzling (Sloane) WolfSol (Aiden)

 

[Life.]

Sherri Robbins​

Apparently, the name Brinlee Stryker struck a nerve for the girl as she shot up from her half-dead drowsiness. "Woah, woah. Ms. Stryker is fine, while you are not. So I need you to sit that ass back down and calm the fuck down." Fortunately, the nurse in the room had the same idea as she moved to Valori's side and then took her leave. But not without murmuring something about checking up on them again later. Sherri lightly snorted not really believing the nurse's word, then turned back to the injured girl before her.

She chose a poor moment though as she gazed over to Valori and was exposed to the bandaging underneath the girl's gown for a bit. Bruises and lots of wraps. It was clear she was embarrassed, and that left Sherri to feel pity. But not for long as the girl started panicking. Now that was something she was not wanting to deal with early in the morning. "Miss Roma. If you will, please lie down and calm yourself. We found you at the river underneath the bridge over in the woods. Do you not remember anything about the river? Maybe something before falling over the edge?" Many wondered how with Sherri's temperament that she became a detective, but stressful individuals was simply a part of life that she had to deal with a lot as a child so it worked for her in the future. But she was still human, so having only four or five hours of sleep in her system that was hanging on by a cup of coffee was pushing to show more of her impatient side.

From the girl's answers, that sounded more like questions, it was clear that she probably did not hear most--or more than likely none--of what Sherri said. But before the detective could spit out a remark, she held her tongue as Valori continued rambling on. Not wanting to interrupt the girl's flowing thoughts, Sherri simply nodded to show that she was listening, if Valori cared that is. The detective at this point had reached for a nearby chair, turned its back to face the bed, and then sat on the seat with her arms leaning on the backrest. The words leaving the girl's mouth made some sense until towards the end. That's when Sherri knew this wasn't going to be an easy case, "Shit." She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her phone. There she saw an email with a subject line reading IMMEDIATE ATTENTION FOR SHERRI ROBBINS. "Shit," those words never meant good news for the detective, but she was already on another case at the moment.

It was then she felt the unexpected whisper of someone close by. Sherri nearly slapped the nurse that had approached her, and she could tell from the way she jumped back slightly until she saw that the detective was calm. "Sorry, habit," the woman gave kudos to the nurse. The hard-working individual probably had to gain those quick reflexes over the years, and here Sherri was just about to help her test her skills. The nurse from earlier had returned, and she came to report to Valori about her condition. Which was rather severe, but Sherri waited quietly as she explained it all.

"Um...thanks," Detective Robbins managed to say before the nurse took her leave once again. The injuries the nurse had described to Valori seemed unfathomable that she was this healthy from her appearance, "Well, Miss Roma, I'm sorry about your injuries. But aside from that, you said that you heard voices screaming at you? Could you perhaps tell me how many? Were there perhaps others close by? I know this must be a lot for you at the moment. If you perhaps want to continue this conversation at a later time, then please let me know. I will have to be going soon though since I have another matter to attend to."

TerrorKitty

 

[Life.]

Warren Fox​

Mornings, Warren's favorite time of the day. There were fewer people, a calmer atmosphere, and cooler temperatures. And this morning was no exception to the rule, especially since he was riding his 1959 BMW Roadster with its top off down the winding, dirt road driveway of his grandparent's residence. Every Sunday morning, he made it a habit to visit some people he treasured dearly, his grandparents. They were long-time residents of Omen and his greatest supporters when he enrolled in the army, served his term, was discharged from the organization, and then decided to pursue law school. The years were gradually encroaching on their bodies as they became more incapable of laborous tasks. So Warren took it upon himself to maintain the cleanliness of their home, land, and even check up on their livestock.

This routine starts early in the morning at 5 in the morning as it took several hours to complete everything. But he did it without complaint as he was always rewarded with warm smiles and splendid tea. As much as he would have liked to spend more time with them, he had a meeting to attend to. Stock talk with Alec Clemson. He was a fellow that Warren had met a few times before for business when it came to some of his clients, as he was a doctor and he was a lawyer that would need some information, but over time he learned that they shared a common--and what many consider boring--interest in stocks. Due to its unpopularity with the "current generations" it was difficult to find others with the same passion. So when he found out that Alec Clemson knew a lot about stocks, Warren took a great liking to the man.

Which as he thought about his fellow stock buddy, he noticed a message had come through his phone from the very man. From the tone of his message, it appeared as though some things were not fairing well. "No, not yet. We can discuss more at the coffee shop. I hope Ford has been doing well." Warren's car enthusiasm even permeated into his interest of stocks. Ford being one of the many companies the lawyer had invested in.

His timing must have been early as Warren pulled into the shop, not spotting the familiar truck that Alec drove. He looked down at the time on his phone and saw it was 9:05. There was a fair amount of people, but not enough to make Warren worry about full occupancy on seating. Despite the small amount, Warren decided to enter the shop and take a seat at a table that faced the parking lot of the coffee shop to keep an eye out on his car and Alec's appearance.

WolfSol

 

[Life.]

Brinlee Stryker​

There was a single girl standing in the center of an empty room. A single spotlight shining down on her. The beginnings of a storm to come, which it did in the form of a flock of birds. Like a tornado, the dark birds flew around the scared and confused girl. They repeatedly pecked at her head. It was clear that she was under great stress as she collapsed onto the ground, crouching down into the smallest position she could take.

Brinlee simply watched this occur from a distance, but not without her pounding at some invisible glass to try and reach the little girl. But her screams and slamming of her fists against the invisible force were silent. Everything was silent in the space, even the sound of the birds and the girl's cries. Anger and desperation clawed at Brinlee's conscious as she yearned to help the girl. But then blinked and felt a sudden surge of pain down her back, across her arms, and all around her head. She was crouched on the ground and felt the flurry of feathers, strikes of beaks, and stings of talons. It hurt. There was so much physical pain, yet internally there was nothing but numbness. Why? Brinlee felt herself opening up her mouth to try and force a scream, perhaps as a way to feel something inside. But no sound came out.

Nothing made sense. Why does it hurt everywhere but inside? Once again she opened her mouth, ready for another scream-

Then suddenly it felt as though one of the bird's beaks had managed to strike the center of her forehead, waking her up. Brinlee's eyes widened as she searched around for birds, but all she saw was the back of an unfamiliar pink figure walking away. Her heartbeat was beating like crazy and there was a slight sheen of sweat apparent on her neck. She couldn't find herself calming down though due to the new setting she was in. But her pounding headache managed to distract her from panicking much more. That and her eyes had glanced over and saw a comforting sight of eggs and bacon nearby.

Many questions were swimming around her mind, but her hunger silenced them all. Brinlee looked over to the kitchen area then and noticed what the pink figure was. It was a man dressed in a onesie, which Brinlee concluded was to match that of a toddler nearby with the same onesie, that had a smaller version. Certainly, a man in a onesie serving breakfast was safe? She noticed then that De'jah was also at the kitchen table. From how comfortable De'jah appeared, Brinlee decided to calm down as well. She reached over, grabbed the breakfast that had been placed close by, and hoovered the food down.

With some sustenance in her system, Brinlee's head continued to ache but she was finally thinking straight. She pulled out her phone to check the time, but after pressing down the power button three times with the screen never coming on, Brinlee accepted that it was dead. While she was her own independent individual, she couldn't help but worry about Benton. Especially after she remembered leaving the club to his care. She wondered if he was irritated that she did that, after all, he already worked a lot at the bank and at the club working its finances. Just as she was about to stand up from the couch and ask to borrow a charger, a new face walked into the apartment. But this face was not happy, more evident from the tone the woman hissed with her words. Well, this was awkward. Brinlee didn't even remember the name of the owner of the place she was currently in.

Danoram
callisto

 

[Life.]

Benton Stryker​

There were many times that Camaree had left Benton speechless, but this morning topped it off, like a cherry on a sundae. With the confidence she managed to muster from her hungover state, it seemed that Camaree knew what she was doing. But a pattern similar to Benton's was executed by the young woman. Gradually, as he realized that she was stuck on the same boat as him, he chuckled softly with a teasing, loving light shining in his brown eyes. But he was aware that she may not notice it, this didn't bother him. Moments like this were precious to him.

His short daze was disrupted when Camaree directed a question his way. "Sure, we can do that. Did you have a place in mind? We can maybe grab something to go and take it to the park so the dogs can roam around. And who knows we may even run into Brinlee?" Benton grew somewhat disappointed at himself when he inserted Brinlee into the conversation. He didn't know why, but some irrational thought was running in his mind that he didn't want the plans to sound like a date. As if Camaree would ever think of it that way.

He gave a single cough and reached for the car keys, "Juju, car ride." The moment the keys jingled in his hands, a large bullet of black and white ran around the kitchen island. So much excitement was coursing through the canine's body that she couldn't stop shaking. "Did you need anything else before we take off?" Benton asked. He wasn't sure if perhaps she wanted to drink some more water or if she needed to use the restroom since she must've woke up not even an hour ago.

Danoram