Realistic or Modern Running Triangles (Closed)

[WolfSol]

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

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It's at the second godforsaken stop light when Alec's cellphone chimes, overlapping the subtle sound of a podcast episode from a crime documentary he'd heard one too many times. He'd only offered his phone a glance just as the light turned green. If it was from the office, they knew that it was best to call him, and from the tone, it was a text. It was likely either Tyler asking to escalate an appointment date or Warren. Regardless, he didn't move to pick it up until he'd turned onto the coffeehouse's street. When he did reach for it, he didn't bother looking at it until he'd pulled into the narrow parking lot.

The lot was already on the verge of being full, even at nine in the morning, but he found a spot big enough for the Titan if only just enough room to squeeze out of it on the driver's side. Alec checked the clock on the radio, 09:10, before finally attending to his phone. It was from Warren, as he had originally suspected. At the mention of Ford's stocks, he pulled up NYE's graphs and scrolled through the assortment of numbers and reported fluctuations until he found Ford. Since yesterday, Ford had only gone down by nearly a quarter. It was small, insignificant when compared to the other automotive companies, but it would definitely put a damper on Warren's mood. Especially since the Ford industry had peaked at 10$ in the past summer only to fluctuate sporadically between 8-9.25. Of course, that's what made stocks so interesting. You never knew where your investments would go. A concept that was surely not ideal, but he found it to offer more entertainment and profit than mindless gambling at a casino.

Alec pocketed the cellphone and managed out of the small parking space for the coffee shop. He'd barely registered Warren's Roadster as he pulled out his phone again to check on one of his own stocks. Lattice Semicond's numbers stared up at him. Three percent down, well that was a bummer, but at least it was still way above where it had been in July. Especially when compared to where it had been a year ago.

The coffee shop wasn't bustling with as much activity as Alec had expected, a pleasant surprise. It made spotting Warren in the small shop easy, not that the man was hard to miss. Especially since he'd chosen their usual spot. "Morning," he offered with a nod to the lawyer. Alec sat across from him, glancing over at the man before hitting him where it would hurt, stock-wise. Even after a number of meetings at the coffee shop, it was still a tad baffling that he'd finally found someone with a similar interest in what many would consider a boring topic. Then again Alec supposed it wasn't that surprising. Ever since the move to Omen, he'd had a few good run-ins with some sue-happy customers over the craziest of things. Teresa Woods was definitely not an exception when it came to that. "Your text... Ford isn't doing so hot, but I saw Roku went up three percent... again." If he'd remembered correctly, Roku had been one of Warren's recent investments. A surprise to Alec, but once he'd looked into its yearly numbers, he understood why. He'd have to hop on that train eventually, but first he needed to drop his medical investments that had hit the negatives.

"But before that, you visit with your grandparents today?" Alec asked. He tilted his head, giving Warren's attire a once over. The lawyer had told him once before how he went out to visit his grandparents and help around the house and farm, but whether the man did that in a different set of clothes or not was beyond him. Regardless, the chores that he did to help them out were always a topic when both of his grandparents scheduled an appointment at Omen's Hospital. Often requesting for Alec's time, and always lecturing him on not letting "Warry" be a bad influence on him when it came to stock investment.

He watched the line to the register out of the corner of his eye. It was gradually shortening, minute by minute, but Alec wouldn't bother to get up until the line was on the verge on nonexistence. However, when he saw the last person pay for their coffee, leaving the register, and he'd considered going up with or without Warren's prompting, he paused. "Got to be kidding me." Alec muttered as he saw a familiar face that would surely haunt his dreams soon. Teresa Woods stumbled into the coffee house, her hair and makeup a wild mess. Her very presence urged Alec to lean forward and try to nonchalantly prop his head up with a hand, obscuring one side of his face while he directed his full attention to the window. "I swear, she's the devil in disguise."
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: 09:10 | Location: Omen's Coffeehouse| Feeling: Neutral| Mentions: Warren ( Life. ) [/div] [/div]
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[dazzling]

sloane parsons.
Sloane was still fretting over Tyler when the irrelevant silver-haired one spoke up. It was odd, and a bit off putting, that she couldn’t remember having seen him before. Definitely something she should change! Or maybe not, considering how absolutely rude he was. Sloane flipped around to look at him, a confused pout on her face. What did he mean, high? She’d heard Kelly talk about that before — a lot, actually. But he didn’t know Kelly, did he?

Her attention was again grabbed away by the man she had actually meant to talk to replying. His words were tentative, a bit confused, but she was getting the point across. This was good, a step in the right direction. Sloane wasn’t sure why he was laughing though. Was it whatever the other guy had said? It didn’t matter.

“Oh? No, no, of course you’re not a bum, love! Let me just help ya out a bit, yeah?” She smiled brightly, looking him in the eye, and calmed her tone a bit. Such an annoying habit, getting like that... Her face dropped when he started shivering violently. She had to think quick; What if he had hypothermia?

Placing her coffee down on the ground next to her, she slid off her long jacket and placed it around Tyler’s shoulders. Immediately her own, now bare shoulders started prickling with the chill of the morning air. But he deserved it. Sloane, rubbing her arms, smiled at the two and held out a hand to Tyler.

“I’m Sloane! Nice to meet you, Tyler. Why don’t we head over to the coffeehouse? This wasn’t my favorite anyway,” She said, leaning down to pick her coffee up. Sloane strode over to a nearby trashcan and popped it in with a sorry smile. “Oh, and your friend can come too!”

WolfSol Danoram

 

[Danoram]

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

De'jah shows a rather haunted expression as Liam tells her about the spooky ghosts lurking around his home, pointing in random directions and jolting about while saying, "An' right dere's a 'pooky ghost! Gasp! And over dere! And dere!"

She's quiet for a second, but then her voice cracks. "See, this is why I ain't have kids, maaaaan." Standing up from the dining table to toss her plate in the sink, and slapping her hands together--and, of course, wiping bacon grease onto the shirt of Tatie's that she donned without permission--she shakes her head, "They always doin' some exorcism shit! Tater, your son's posseeeeeessed!"

At this, a well deserved, genuine laugh, "No, he's not. Shut up," It's a rare sight that leaves De'jah's jaw agape to see his squinted eyes and glowing features. Normally, she'd make a big deal out of it, but based on experience she knows it'll only piss him off, and on a hangover like this one she'd rather relish the moment of his gracious smile.

"We watched Casper before bed the other night and I guess he formed some bizarre construct in his dreams. I don't know, but he's been on about them since. I think it's cute, personally. You know, I was actually reading an article on the neuroscientific theory of dreams and, out of all the others, I think it's the most plausible-"

"Oh, good looord, don't start this early in the morn'. You're sexy and I love you butcha fixin' to waste your breath 'cause I'm not listenin'."

"Watch your mouf," Liam mumbles behind a jutting finger at De'jah, glaring up at her from where he sits with his other hand casually resting atop his plate of eggs. His pink sleeve soaks up their juices but he's careless of it, "Don' say dat."

"You know, for a two-year-old, you're a smart son of a bit-"

"Aht!" Tatie throws a finger of his own at De'jah, glaring just the same as Liam. Glancing between them, her nostrils flare. She takes a wide stance and feigns bewilderment as if she doesn't know who is who. Just then, the door to the apartment whines open and in one motion Tatie turns around, sees that Brinlee is up, then meets the cold eyes of an unexpected guest.

It's Julia--the ex. "Good morning, Tatie. When were you planning on introducing me to your guests?"

Standing there in all his pink glory, he's lost for words. Her tone of voice, strong and callous, manages to make him feel like he's done something wrong when really he's done nothing at all. Meanwhile he frowns while sorting his thoughts, Liam pokes his head into view of his mother and practically phases through both time and space to appear at her feet, "Mommyyyyy! Oh, mommy! I love you without my heart!" an adorable blunder but one that doesn't need correction within the current state of affairs.

"Uh... Well, I mean..." Tatie looks side-to-side with his eyes, "...Good morning, Julia. Oh, of course, it's pleasant to see you too on this ffffine Sunday. Thanks for showing up unannounced and greeting me in that accusative manner as if to suggest I'm doing something unseemly. I might as well introduce them, now, since you're here. Brinlee Stryker--first time talking to you; sorry De'jah dragged you into this--meet my ex-fiance, Julia Eriksson." Tatie points between the women. "De'jah, same to you. Meet Julia, I've told you a bit about her. She is Liam's very rational and understanding mother."

"...Dayum. Should- like... Should we leave?" De'jah wonders, holding a fluff of egg to her bottom lip that she'd taken from Liam's plate after he vanished.

Tatie sighs, "I don't care what you do."

At that, De'jah looks to Brinlee for her opinion.

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Life. (Brinlee) callisto (Julia)

 

[Danoram]

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

Camaree purses her lips, weighing their breakfast options with an attractive hum, "I think the Pancake Palace sounds nice..."

Though she says this, her inner desire to maintain the perfect body-image reminds her of the margarita bloating her stomach.

"Then again, I probably don't need all of the carbs. If we're getting something to go, we could make a quick-stop by the market and grab some breakfast bars."

The jingle of keys and Juju's trembling excitment--Camaree steps for the door with a smile--following Benton's lead. She sees her boots and concludes that he is the one who brought her in, having thought that maybe it was Brinlee and that she just had to leave early. Only now does she realize how silly that is given the time. Dare she be disappointed?

Meeting Benton's eyes, like mirrors of his tender kindness, she pauses.

How could she be?

Ignoring his question, Camaree beams a grin and tucks her hands into the pockets of Brinlee's pants. She leans forward with her torso but back on the heels of her feet, giggling playfully before telling him, "You're such a blessing, Benton. Thank you for caring for me last night--although I don't remember much--but I do recall you cheering me up. You always see my nasty side... which I'm dearly sorry for."

She then brushes past him on the tips of her toes, giving him a pat to the tuft of his hair, and begins slipping her feet into her boots. I'll grab another pair at home.

"I'd like to brush my teeth at my place, so we'll stop there first before the market. Maybe a shower, too... I won't wet my hair so it shouldn't be long. Is that okay?"

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Life. (Benton)

 

[TerrorKitty]

Emma Styles
Interacted: Detective Sherri, Valori Roma Life. | Mentioned: Camaree Danoram , Brinlee Life. | Location: Omens Hospital
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Emma sat in the hospital parking lot. She had been called in by a friend who worked as a nurse there. Appearently a patient had a possible tramatic experience and needed a psyche evaluation. Omens was small and Emma was one of the few people who qualified for psychatiric work so being called in like this wasn't too out of the blue. Though the event that had happened to the woman she was going to evaluate seemed servere. Quickly taking out her phone Emma her usual sleepy smile and texted one of her friends.

"Hey, Camaree bby, are you going to be free later? It's been a spell, coffee?" She typed quickly with her small fingers before putting her phone away and stepping out into the autumn air, still warm, and walked into the building, immediately heading for the front desk to get the details from the receptionist, a friend of her mothers, it was nice to see her again. After getting the room number and details she made her over to meet the woman in question, Valori Roma.

Stepping in she saw there was another woman there. She was tall, beautiful, but she looked like she had been up late and hadn't slept a full night's rest but gave off an air of intensity, the woman was on a job that she would see through, no matter how grueling. "You must be Detective Robbins, I'm Emma Styles, here to give miss Roma a quick psychiatric evaluation." She nodded at Valori who nodded back still lost in all the information in her head. "If you'd excuse me and wait outside for a moment? If anything pertains to your investigation I will be sure to tell if, that is, if Miss Roma allows me to share." Emma added giving another nod to Valori who just silently looked at her. The woman was clearly shaken, probably from what had happened to her and especially seeing her fresh injuries for the first time. "It won't take long," Emma said as she politely escorted Sherri out of the room and got to work.

Sometime later, Emma came of the room to the waiting Detective who certainly seemed like she was ready to leave for more business. "Well, Miss Roma seems like she may have some PTSD but not from last night, quite a lot has happened to her in recent but I highly suggest you look into the whereabouts of her Father, Edward Roma." Emma paused. "He left town seven years ago, but I believe, according to what Miss Roma has allowed me to share, he was involved in the murder of Miss Roma's mother..." She continued, her small hands were clenched tightly. The poor woman had gone through so much without ever reaching out, no wonder she's in her current state. "That's all I'm allowed to say, Detective, anyway, I'll have some business to do before I go, I wish you well on your current and future investigations." Emma smiled as best she could with everything on her mind before handing Sherri a business card, no doubt she would be getting a call later, and walking away to see about getting Valori some Xanax.

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Valori was still shaking, she had spilled everything to Emma. She felt relieved and terrified. The first time she had told anyone about what had happened, memories she had tried to rid of through alcohol and other escapes. Valori had a lot to process and a lot to do with her conditions. First, she called the Coffee Shop to notify her boss about her absence today and for the next few days as she recovers. Then, well there was no one else to call. No one she really knew, except....

"Brin did you get home ok?...I'm um, at the hospital... I don't think I'll be dancing at the club any time soon..." She said into the texted to her best, only friend.

 

[deianeira]

Tallulah Grymes​

Tallulah takes a single step forward to grasp the magazine held out on Ryland's hand. With a cautious mind, she scans the from page. It reads, in rather large, obnoxious font, "Sven Hawthorne, Omen's Most Eligible Bachelor?" In her head, she scoffs a bit, although she bites her tongue to keep from offending this agent. Not that she would think he'd be able to do much, at least physically.

In reality, it wasn't like she didn't like models, or the modeling industry. It wasn't that at all; her ads would be empty without people to show off the outfits she had composed. But the drama? The…. gaudiness of the industry? Tallulah had never really been a fan, especially after all of those times when she was younger.

Distantly, she recognized that the man in front of her was speaking, and she tuned back into his elevator pitch. "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."

Almost immediately, Tallulah's brain had left whatever he was talking about. Such a big name could certainly draw attention to her store, even if she wasn't quite on board with how it would play out. She would just have to try her best to keep any 'most eligible bachelor,' or 'America's newest top model,' -type slogans in the ad. This was just one of those times that the payoff could be potentially greater than whatever personal ideals she had to go against.

Ryland didn't have to say much else, but he still continued on, his words becoming less and less clear the longer he talked. Must be some killer nerves, she thought, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hand around her finger, wonder how that works when he deals with models all the time.;

As he seemed to survey her spot, Tallulah's grin spread just a bit more, and she leaned over the counter, resting her weight and propping herself up on her elbows. "Well, well, well, that certainly seems like a good idea to me!" She paused, simply taking another glance at Ryland, "...but I do have some questions, first."

Continuing, she popped off the worktop, strolling out to the other side of the counter, "For example, when will we start? Or are there not specific dates? If there isn't, I feel like we need to figure that out is soon as possible." She tilted her head, "So I can get working, of course."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, visibly tensing a tiny bit, "and what about the hours? Will these shoots be full-day, or only a few hours of work?"

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

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[Danoram]

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

Believe it or not, Ryland Gunner exists more comfortably in the company of his models since, most of them, he's worked with for long periods of time and since he also holds a certain level of authority over them. When faced by his own bosses, however, he is an utter disaster of clumsiness. The epitome and soul embodiment of uncoordination.

It isn't like he's ill or requires medication--rather, he simply aims for perfection while focusing on worst-case scenarios and actively expresses it; his tense passion for success and hysterical fear of failure. In the end, he is good at what he does, and he gets the job done--whatever it may be--in a timely manner.

"Well, well, well, that certainly seems like a good idea to me!" Tallulah smiles, a brief instant of relief for the modeling manager during which he noticeably relaxes and shows a tight simper of his own.

"...but I do have some questions, first."

Ryland flinches but quickly nods, "Yes, of course."

She's promt with her words and to the point--met with several acknowledging indications from Ryland to show that he's listening. As expected, they're all questions he's heard already and put his mind to before even deciding to show up today, so he tells her right off, "The shoot, approximately, would- would be three hours. You won't be restricted of business, so- so no need to worry. Uhm..." he clears his throat then continues, "We would really love to- love- uh... We want to follow the weekly magazine, Om-Omen's that is, so given that release days are- are on Mondays, we're looking to have him- his name on the sixteenth's release. He's al-already... uhm... His spot for the front cover has-has- it's already been established so your- Tally's Bou-Boutique will be preeminently advertised throughout the entire town as well as throughout most of Southcreek and in many parts of California."

"It's truly a great opportunity for you, Miss Grymes."

Reaching into the front, left pocket of his dark jeans, he pulls out his phone and clicks it on--seeking out his contacts consisting of three-hundred and some odd entries--then he hands the device to Tallulah with a shaky hand. It reads for her to type in her information; her personal number and or work number, but in addition to that he tells her, "If you could also allow your- me your- a personal email, I would appreciate it." Then he says, "As for your design drafts, would it... be possible to have to- to have something finished by Wednesday?" With his voice dropping to a light whisper, he manages a soft, "Please," before speaking up again, "Following that, we-we- we can provide you with- with materials to start the physical construct."

There's a moment of thought--a curiosity that brings Ryland's eyebrows to a pinch--afterwhich he asks the woman, "You do make your own wears, correct? If that- if that isn't- Should you need, we have our- our own manufacturing assets."

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deianeira (Tallulah) Kloudy (Sven, mentioned)

 

[WolfSol]

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

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This woman... what the hell.

Aiden took a breath and shook his head. There was clearly something wrong with her, but he didn't press the idea of her being on anything any further. Especially when Tyler took her up on the offer, going to great lengths as to shiver when it wasn't even that cold. Regardless, the woman fell for his act and relented her jacket. Was she really being so goody-two-shoes nice because he looked like a bum or was it because she had noticed his hearing aids? Baggy clothes didn't really speak "homeless" to him, but maybe she'd come from a place where that was the normal attire.

The woman--Sloane--offered the idea of free coffee once again. The idea was appealing, without a doubt, but seriously... "Do you just go up to random ass people on the street and offer free shit?" He asked as he gestured between Tyler and him. "Not that I'm knocking what you're offering," a halfhearted shrug. "The name's Aiden." He looks her up and down once again before turning away toward the direction of the coffeehouse. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. You new or somethin'?"

If she was new, it'd definitely explain a lot. Aiden doesn't exactly stand and wait for an answer though. No, he's moving as soon as he's asked. It's a slow pace, but a pace nonetheless in hopes to get moving because free coffee? No way would he ever slam down anything free, especially coffee. That and if this woman had an ulterior motive--he was beginning to think she was unable for such a thing--and was trying to make a move on Abernathy's nephew, he'd hear about it later from the old man about how he didn't watch out for the deaf guy. Ulterior motive or not though, Tyler seemed like he could take care of himself based on how smoothly he took advantage of the situation.

Speaking of, he turned and faced him. "Why you sleepin' on a bench anyways? Shit's dangerous."
[/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__________
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OUTFIT: Without the jacket - Sloane's Coat | LOCATION: Omen's Park, heading for Coffee House | FEELING: Amused | Extra: Hearing aids (32%)​

The older woman, Sloane--as she moves to pick up her coffee while introducing herself, cuts off Tyler's view of her lips, so he catches yet another fuzzy array of words but concludes anyway that her name is Snow.

Standing there with her coat around his shoulders, his jaw hangs open, expression slick with amusement as he questions her mentality.

She can't be serious...?

Her arms are riddled with chill-bumps, clothes barely suited to the cold morning air; though, it's possible it'll warm up later in the day. Anyhow, after she offers for Aiden to tag along, Tyler swaps his own jacket with hers and hands it to her, donning the tan long-coat with pride that tighter fits his wide shoulders and long arms compared to her more petite figure.

He tells her, "If ya gonna go aroun' handin' out ya clothes, wear extra 'fore you leave ya house."

Following this, Aiden introduces himself then takes the lead for the Coffee House, asking something of Sloane that Tyler cannot discern as he follows him, keeping at the woman's side with his hands in the pockets of her coat. He fiddles absently with some loose fibers but refrains from pulling on them lest he want the thing to fall apart.

They reach the sidewalk, continuing on their way. For an instant, Aiden turns to look at Tyler----"Why you sleepin' on a bench anyways? Shit's dangerous," he asks, and Tyler shrugs, "M' dad makes me leave when he does for work. Thinks it'll motivate me t' get a job. I'm workin' on 'at my own, though, without the incessant bickerin'."

"Whattabout you? What's your relationship with m' uncle?" he asks in return, only half expecting an answer--if even an honest one--since he's mostly aware of his uncle's illegal advocations. Or at least he thinks he is. In truth and to Tyler's innocence, his Uncle Ieliss is much more involved in organized crime than he would like to imagine. Their relationship and his favoritism toward the man prevents him from assuming the worst. He'd never have thought himself to be the off-brand Miles of DCU's Spiderverse.

Eyes locked down at his phone now, flickering up when the others speak, he types a text or two to Gwendolen in regards to last night. She's probably grown used to it with time, his lack of grammatical concern and poor use of punctuation, as he prioritized mostly the study of mathematics and sciences in school.

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dazzling (Sloane) WolfSol (Aiden) callisto (Gwendolen, texted)

 

[WolfSol]

[div class=wrapper] [div class=header]Stephanie "Steph" Harrison[/div]

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It's routine. To be tucked away in the corner, right beside one of the coffeehouse's street-facing windows, with a cheese danish, a tall glass of Thai iced tea, and her trusty Sony laptop before her. The laptop's whirring was subtle, each keystroke aggravated the fan as the old processor struggled to keep up. Dainty fingers flew over the keys, only pausing once to turn to the next page of the textbook nestled in her lap. On weekends, her restaurant business was closed, and so it was only right to dedicate such vast amounts of free time to studying.

Do something that makes you happy or relaxed. It had been a suggestion from her therapist, Emma, many sessions ago. Pick something, even if it's cleaning, and go with it. There had been more, but Steph had tried her best to sleep since then, a promise she'd been arm-wrestled into making by the very same therapist. It probably wasn't common for adults, but Steph loved studying. It's one reason why she'd applied to an online college, dipping into one of their many courses for business management. It was an accelerated course which had often proved challenging, and it had done just the job in calming her. It also, frequently, tired her out which meant a reduction in the unexplained and unpredictable night terrors since her thoughts were mostly focused on terminology, deadlines, and legalities.

Another page flip and she'd reached the end of the chapter. With a sigh, more from satisfaction than from fatigue, she drew back into her chair and stretched her arms way above her head. "Well, that's done." She muttered softly, grinning as she gradually moved her stretched limbs to save the document once, twice to be sure, and then moved to submit it. The dropbox was set up to close at a deadline, some time next week, but Steph took the assignment's window as a challenge to finish early. It would definitely give her more time to study and less to feel frantic over. That and chapter summaries, especially with the class's requirements for a summary, had proved very early into her semester to be both a bore and a hassle.

Document Submitted.

Another grin graced her pale features as she closed the laptop gently. The lid gave a creak, a fair warning that one of these days the hinges would snap, and it reminded her that she desperately needed to find another one before then or look into getting it fixed. A new one would be preferred, but would it be financially worth it? Steph tilted her head at that, smile withering. Probably not, new laptops could screw up just as much as old ones and the Sony had gone through so much with her. Replacing it would definitely feel sinful.

"Now that that's out of the way..." she shifted on her seat, pulled out her cellphone with its cracked face, and finally registered the time. Well, she'd finished that summary faster than she'd originally thought. Then again, "BSing" had become her specialty since the first online class she'd taken.

Steph stared at the time for a long moment until the screen dimmed, the phone having fallen asleep. That assignment had been her last one for the week, no other deadlines would pop up until the end of the month so that would mean a heck of a lot of free time in-between her self-made hours. "Perfect time to try and be sociable then, I guess." The decision was backed up by another one of her sessions with her therapist, socializing and focusing on others could help her situation. It was a hit or miss, more so than dedicating her blood, sweat, and tears to both her restaurant and schooling because people were so... irrelevant. No, that didn't quite describe it, but Emma had understood her the first time she'd tried to explain it. Possibly just signs of being an introvert, but Steph didn't quite agree. After all, did introverts venture out to a coffeehouse for tea, during one of the busiest times of the day?

"Hey, you good for coffee?" Steph texted out the words quickly, sent the message straight to Emma. A therapist with a fancy for exhaustion was most definitely up by now, no matter how early in the day.
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: Wee hours of the morning | Location: Omen's Coffeehouse| Feeling: Neutral | Mentions: Emma( TerrorKitty ) [/div] [/div]
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[TerrorKitty]

Emma Styles
Interacted: Stephanie Harrison WolfSol Mentioned: Valori Roma| Location: Omens Coffee
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Emma walked out of Valori's room, having given her the Xanax she most certainly needed and dates for an appointment. For Emma, helping others was a blessing and a curse. For one it was good to help, to make people's lives better, but it also meant there was something wrong in the first place. Valori Roma was a different case entirely, and her coping methods were something to be weary of, they could be her ruin if not corrected.

Emma stepped out of the hospital just as her phone buzzed. It was Stephanie, a patient who had a lot of trouble but was quite receptive to Emma's advice which was a huge step as most people only take her suggestions as just that. Which makes things a lot slower. Quickly to texted back at her patient and friend. Although personal relationships with patients would be considered unprofessional some of them Emma had a certain soft spot for. Stephanie was no exception, rather she was the one she liked the most, if not...Those feelings deep inside that had always been so hard to express. A deep heat in her stomach, a pink blush on her pale cheeks.

Now pulling up to the the coffee shop, Emma took a moment to breathe and calm her mind before stepping out into the cool autumn air and walking inside. The heat came back the moment she spotted Stephanie, was it the temperature of the coffee boiling in the back or the temperature of her emotions boiling in her heart.


Waving and walking over the small girl looked a lot more alert than she normally would but when she spoke it was still just as soft and sleepy. "Good morning Stephanie, I hope you've been doing well since last we've talked. " Her words pouring out like fog as she say down.

 

[deianeira]

Tallulah Grymes​

Tallulah leaned against the laminate countertops as he spoke, leniently 'hmmming' every so often when Ryland brought up much of what interested her. She focused straight on him, although he seemed quite adamant at avoiding her gaze. Not that she minded much, though; she'd prefer that people think she was intense than to have them think that she was disinterested. She just hoped it didn't freak Ryland out; he seemed like the type.

Regardless, Tallulah found herself unconsciously nodding her head to his information. And she certainly didn't disagree that this would be a good experience for herself and a great opportunity for her business. Hopefully it could bring in some extra cash, or, if things went well, she could begin searching for an employee or two.

It had always been Tallulah's idea to expand Tally's Threads, she hadn't just gotten around to it. A boost of new customers could be enough for her to need another coworker. Graciously, she smiled, nodding reassuringly at Ryland. "That all sounds great, yes. I'm sure it will be."

As he hands his phone to her, she curiously peers at the device, reading over the message there. Bouncing back to behind her counter---perhaps in excitement, perhaps in urgency---Tallulah typed her work number into the phone, as well as her personal number on a separate line. In addition, she grabs a business card from a drawer three slots down. Listed is her full name, as well as the business, and her email. With a flair pen that she grabbed from the scattered worktop, she scribbled her personal email on the back.

Tallulah hands the phone over to Ryland, letting the counter dig into her stomach as she hastily leans over the counter to point at her additions. "This is my business card," she chimed, pointing at the contacts printed on it. She flipped it over with a small flourish, "and here's my personal email!" She smiled, only a few inches away from his face before she leaped back, darting back into her store room. She didn't want to seem too excited, but it was hard to control.

"I make my own things, for the most part," she called over her shoulder, giddily grabbing some of her finished pieces off of the racks. With only her eyes visible over the bundles of cloth in her arms, she reentered the main part of the boutique, and dumped her wares on the countertop. Tallulah smiled widely; it wasn't often that she got to show her creations off. Sure, people came in to buy them, but, unless she directly mentioned it, they often didn't realize that she has designed and sewn the clothing they were taking home.

"There are a few things, like jewelry and shoes, that I buy to sell to my customers, but everything else is created by myself. Would you like to see some of my work?"

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

​

​

 

[Danoram]

__________Ryland Gunner__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

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

Her business card.

A thin ticket of paper, three inches long and two inches wide, pinched carefully between unsteady fingers. So small yet regarded in most fields as an admirable representation of one's preparedness and a key component to a good first impression.

Ryland inspects it diligently, tucking the embarrassment of their closeness to a corner of his mind where it'll sit until his work here is done.

Compared to his own--a matte black piece of metal, words of white engraving, and a border of like-sized holes along the edges--hers is more colorful and fun to look at, an attractive color-scheme that resembles her store. Tallulah Grymes... an interesting enough name now that he sees it.

"Hmph," Ryland snickers softly.

Then, looking up, the woman is gone but she calls from another room before he has a chance to think she'd run away, "I make my own things, for the most part," returning with her arms full of finished products that she unhands onto the counter. Already, Ryland can see she has a good eye for materials and designs.

He nods to her question, stepping closer to the counter. "And these are fi- all finished?"

"They're very nicely... nicely done. The materials, too; you- you- you make good choices. Uhm..." he browses the clothes. Tucked beneath a woman's blouse, there's a tightly woven, dark grey, cashmere turtleneck that catches his eye and he tenderly pulls it out for a better look. The wrists, like the bottom waistline and the neck, are made with a different pattern than the body. It's a simple design but suited to his tastes.

"This- This one, particularly, grabs my- my interest." He looks it over then says, "You- You really made this?"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

deianeira

 

[Life.]

Warren Fox​

It was only five minutes, but in that time Warren had progressed from calm to irritated as his attention had stay focused on the smartphone device in his hand. While waiting he decided to check up on the status of the stocks. Ford had lowered. Not exactly the movement he was wanting. But in some way, this was entertaining for Warren. Gambling was a pastime he enjoyed and investing in stocks was in some way a legal form of gambling. It didn't offer the same thrill as dice or chips, but for everyday living, stocks was a passive way to become engaged in the act. His concentration was pulled away from the small handheld device when Alec greeted Warren, "Morning."

He straightened his posture in his seat as Alec occupied the seat in front of him, "Roku? Oh, that's right. I forgot I had invested in them. That was rather recent and somewhat an impulsive decision, but I guess I should be glad for that." While he didn't believe his friend's words, Warren wanted to see the numbers for himself and evaluate the pattern the company's numbers were moving in. Once he had confirmed the numbers, Warren had returned his focus back onto Alec who was checking on his grandparent's well-being. "Ah, Mimi and Pops? They are managing. Seems like they hired some weekly help while I'm not there. Pops is still complaining about his back, while Mimi simply endures his rambling. He actually wanted me to ask you if you could up his prescription. I told him that you will say no. But he spat back that I wasn't a doctor and still wanted your word," he shrugged as he thought back to the conversation he had with his grandfather this morning. "But aside from my grandparents, no Ashley this morning? I was hoping I could see her. I wanted to see if she wanted to take a ride on the horses one of these mornings? Or maybe even see the sheep?"

Warren wasn't too fond of the idea of children in general, but after meeting Ashley, his heart had somewhat turned. There was something about a younger, smaller version of a human with a different thought process that amused Warren. He would ask about her from time to time since he knew how much Alec cared for her. His love reflected that of how Warren was with his grandparents. So it was nice to hear when Alec asked about his grandparents, and he was almost sure that Alec reciprocated the same feeling when Warren asks about his daughter.

But whether Alec heard his part of the conversation or not, the man's attention had swerved from sweeping the area of the coffee shop to the window next to them. Warren lifted an eyebrow as he glanced around and noticed a woman who had stumbled in, quite dishevelled and seeming a little erratic. "An ex?" Warren asked with a smirk, the teasing man was aware that it was probably a client and no one more, but from the way Alec had turned away like she had the plague or something, was rather amusing. "Shall I say hi to her?"

WolfSol

 

[Life.]

Sherri Robbins​

A call to the local therapist must've been made during the time the nurse had left Valori and Sherri alone since a shorter, younger-appearing woman entered the woman. She had introduced herself as Emma Styles and was in the room to give a psychiatric evaluation to Valori Roma. While Sherri had heard every word that left the woman's lips, she couldn't help but stare a little too wide-eyed at the shorter person. A child wearing the hat of an adult. That was the one thought that was floating across Sherri's mind as she stood up from her chair. Emma appeared quite young for someone to have gone through the years of schooling required of therapists, but then again the detective has seen many weird things in her past so she simply nodded and walked out of the room when Miss Styles asked her to.

While she waited outside, Sherri took advantage of the small break and read through the email sent to her. The only details they had provided her was that it was a suspected murder of a currently unidentifiable man. His body was found outside of Stryker's Club around 5 in the morning when one of the employees was returning to the building to retrieve a forgotten item. "That poor soul," she could sympathize with the employee at the moment since a dead body is the one thing you do not want to be greeted with on any time of the day. Suddenly, the chi-small therapist had popped out of Miss Roma's room.

"Edward Roma," Sherri wrote down the name onto the small notepad she pulled out from her pocket, "Thank you Miss Styles. I will be sure to look into the details of Edward Roma." She gave a small smile to the therapist as she departed, but not before Emma had slipped her a business card. Sherri looked down at the small 3.5 x 2 inches card, "I guess she is the real deal?" The small card seemed authentic and even had a fancy signature printed onto it and everything.

Since Emma had given her some important details pertaining to Valori Roma's case, Sherri felt that the timing was right for her to move onto the next, more urgent case. She had re-entered the room to announce her leave, "Miss Roma, I want to thank you for your time. I will be reaching out to you again sometime later today or tomorrow. Take it easy, I don't want to hear that you've fallen off from another bridge or rooftop now." Some may call her words too harsh, or a little too cruel on the humor but the detective did not care. Life was too short to be cautious, so Sherri will almost always say what is on her mind. Before exiting, Sherri handed Valori a business card, "If you remember anything, or need anything, let me know. I will do my best to see that you are taken care of. Have a good day, Miss Roma." But if there is one thing that Sherri learned on her own was to be polite, a quality her parents had lacked.

The morning felt a lot longer the more Sherri stayed awake. She had managed to haul her drowsy ass to the crime scene. The cup of coffee she had earlier reached its end as soon as she stepped through the yellow tape. "Detective Robbins."
"Officer Wren, we meet again. I was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face again for another day or so."
While most might have been offended, this particular man seemed unaffected by the woman's sharp tongue, "Hahaha! Well, Detective Robbins, I guess I could say the same to you. But all pleasantries aside, let me debrief you on the details of the case so far. A man estimated to be in his late 20s-early 30s, with an expired license under the name Tommy Tutone. He appeared to have passed from internal bleeding as blood was found coming out of his mouth and nose. No physical evidence of licensed weapons was found near the site. Nor any other objects tied to the cause of death. Due to this Ms. Calla Herzl was called onto the site."
"Wait did you say Calla Herzl?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Ugh," the headache that should've been pounding on Sherri's head a long time ago finally awoke by the mention of her name.
"Is something the matter, Detective Robbins?"
"No it's just I-uh I'm just tired. Let's get onto the site then. The quicker we can look into the details, the sooner I can go home and sleep."

TerrorKitty
dazzling

 

[dazzling]

Calla Herzl
Sherri Life. | Stryker's crime scene | Brinlee Life.

Calla had just waltzed up to Stryker's with a coffee in her hand and a briefcase in the other when one of the policemen patrolling the border of yellow tape held out a hand and stared her down. The realization hit her naturally, with a practiced quietness. Her annoyance was toned, her glare ready for the policeman's words."ID?" These damn useless policemen could never get her right. She flashed him a sad, closed-lip smile before digging her hand into her pocket and drawing out her badge. His eyebrows raised, but he nodded and stepped aside for her to duck under the tape.

Taking a last sip of the coffee, she pivoted back towards the tape and haphazardly threw it, watching the empty cup ping over the rim of the trashcan right outside the tape before falling in. "Woooohoo!" Calla cheered, raising a hand to her mouth like she was cheering for the next winner of the Voice. Flipping her hair buoyantly over her shoulder, she mustered her best attempt at a dazzling smile to the countless detectives milling around that were now staring at her. Through the seas of unfamiliar and critical faces, she saw the afternoon sun glint off glossy black hair. Familiar glossy black hair. Dampening her smile, Calla slid her hands into the pockets of her immaculate white coat and treaded carefully over the heaps of marked evidence, and of course, the man oh-so-gracefully sprawled out on the pavement.

She couldn't help but feel a shiver of remorse for Brinlee; She was really a lovely woman, and Calla had more drinks than she could remember with her. It wasn't fair that she would be the one to get a corpse slapped on her pavement. And out of all the methods for poisoning the uncreative bastards in Omen would pick, Calla's money was on through a drink. Poor Brinlee might have had her last few weeks with the club already. But in the end curiosity overtook her as she made her way to Sherri. A homicide? In Omen? Yeah, and next thing they knew the coffeehouse would be sacked for money laundering.

Dodging around one last nameless face, Calla slapped a hand on Sherri's shoulder. Even if she wasn't paying attention to her before, she would be impossible to ignore now. "Hey there little miss Sherri! I know you, do I not?" She chuckled. Placing her head lightly on the older woman's shoulder, she turned her attention to the other man in front of her. "Oh, I don't know you!" Calla's smile, bright and charming, glinted in the light as she reached to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. Calla Herzl," Her tone, sweet and high with Sherri, had lowered into a more even, formal version for the new detective she was meeting. It was time to hunker down and do the work -- Greeting Sherri was her little fun, and she would have to wait until 6:30 to have any more.

God knows she needed this job.

Shooting the detective a last smile, she waived for Sherri to follow her as she made her way over to the body. A few policemen were clustered around it but they dispersed as she leaned down over him. Now that she was inside the crime scene, it was clear who she was. Her lab coat was only half ironic. Setting her briefcase down, she flicked it open, and selected a syringe and shrugged gloves on before calmly sticking it into the crook of his elbow. She was still looking intently at the syringe and the deep red blood that was slowly filtering into it when she spoke next. "So, I'll be doing a sweat test too since you all are so stumped. If I don't get anything, we'll move to stomach contents, but I can't sample that here." Retracting the syringe and emptying the blood into one of a row of tall glass vials embedded into the lining of her briefcase, she paused before grabbing what looked like a q-tip and wiping under his arms and once more in the crook of his elbows.

"Do we think there was any paralytic used? If there were any puncture holes I might be able to pull off a test for succinylcholine, but that'll be hard. And everything else, of course, but succinylcholine would be plausible for this if it was administered intravenously. If not, maybe potassium chloride? The murderer could've put it on the rim of the glass if his drink had salt," She theorized. "I mean, that is if we think it was given orally. I'm not in a big spot to be making predictions right now." ​

​

 

[dazzling]

sloane parsons.
Park -> Coffeehouse door | Tyler Danoram , Aiden WolfSol ​

Sloane's lips slid into a small frown at Tyler's suggestion. He should be thanking her, especially since he was so uppity over her being cold. She was nice, not stupid. She could tell when she wasn't wanted. "Well, I'm sorry. Maybe don't sleep on a bench so I don't have to give you clothes in the first place," She bit back. In truth, he didn't really look like he needed clothes. But she was just trying to be nice. To make a difference in his life. Right now all it seemed like she was doing was getting laughed at. Either way, it didn’t matter, because he slipped the jacket back on. She tucked it under her armpit despite the cold lingering on her arms.

The other one spoke up soon. Why were they ganging up on her? Sloane's patience was running thin. She had loads and loads of love, and time and help that she could spare, but learning when to back down was a hard lesson and it wasn't one she was about to forget. As much as she wanted to just back out and leave, she couldn't this far in. After all, she had promised them. And a coffee, or maybe even two, was nothing to her. She walked on for a bit, turning over Aiden's question silently, before finally responding. "Well, yeah? I mean, no, I don't. I don't. The only reason I offered was because your friend looked miserable," Sloane spat the last few words, trying not to rub her arms again as goosebumps tickled her shoulders. "Sorry." She whispered a moment later, pulling her phone out of her pocket and resigning herself to it.

Even if her eyes were locked onto her phone, her ears couldn't help but perk up at Aiden's question. It was one she had too, even if she wasn't about to ask after how they'd acted, and more importantly, how she'd reacted. Sloane listened silently along as Tyler answered, trying not to look up at either of them and reveal her interest. Exhaling a quiet puff of air, she clicked her phone off and placed it back in her pocket. The coffeehouse was in sight now, a beacon of warmth on the horizon of the chilly morning. Quickening her pace, Sloane soon reached to door and slid her hand around the handle, standing there as she waited for Tyler and Aiden.

 

[Life.]

Benton Stryker​

One of Benton's eyebrows lifted with curiosity when he heard Camaree's quick change of direction in her decision for breakfast. He wondered why she was worrying about carbohydrates, did she think she was fat? It was something that Brinlee would say from time to time too, worrying about certain nutrients in food. "Sure we could do breakfast bars. But are you sure there's not anything else you'd want? I'll be paying." That's what good friends do right?

Benton had retrieved Juju's leash and latched it onto his collar before approaching the front door to his side of the duplex. Widening the door open so that Camaree can walk out first without being tripped over by an excited canine, he couldn't help but watch the young woman as she moved from a closed, dusty place to the open, bright world. Perhaps it was due to his love sickness, or just that the sun was beautiful this morning, but a small halo radiated around Camaree. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change of brightness. Juju tugged the leash to hurry up Benton with locking up, which he did right as he heard Camaree's words.

"You're welcome. I would do anything for y-" he had caught it in time, disguising the end of the sentence with a cough, "I mean anything for a friend." While the words kept him safe of his secret, Benton couldn't help but feel a great wave of disappointment in himself. The word, wimp, continuously running across his mind. If Camaree had not been standing right there, being all cute and whatnot, Benton would've loved to smash his head against the wall. "And don't worry about it. I know you never mean it," at this point, he kept his gaze away from her eyes as he walked over to his grey 2018 Honda Civic with Juju in tow.

"That should be fine. I can take care of Bullet's breakfast for you while you get ready. I know him and Juju will want to play right away, so I can keep them busy while waiting." Perhaps Benton was further lowering his chances of escaping the friend-zone, but he was panicking at the moment. The underlying thoughts of trying to ask Camaree to the Fall Festival fueling his anxiety. Normally he was at like a manageable level of panic, but after the events of last night and the upcoming Fall Festival, Benton was close to overload. He needed more sleep, he just knew it. But morning has come and he knew while the sun is up he will be up.

Danoram

 

[Danoram]

__________Camaree Martin__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

OUTFIT: Brinlee's clothes | LOCATION: Omen Apartments, her apartment | FEELING: Curious | EXTRA: Smells of lavender​

She stands in a cloud of steam with her toes pointed inward, chin up, and with her hands cupped together to catch the lukewarm water pouring gently over her.

It reaches the point of overflowing--a sound like rapid applause--then she brings her hands up to her chest and releases it, letting it fray the ends of her wet hair that are draped over her freckled shoulders, after which they're drawn together again in thick, pointed sections.

An absent look in her coffee-brown eyes.

Lavender-scented bodywash.

Suds escaping through a metal drain at her feet into a seemingly endless nothingness.

The water cuts off and she reaches out for her towel on the wall. Wrapped tightly, she faces the mirror but there's hardly a reflection.

"You're welcome. I would do anything for y-"

Camaree furrows her eyebrows, leaning forward on the sink with both hands gripping its slippery sides.

You, right? He was going to say you? As in me? Right?

Jutting her jaw, she frowns, turning and crossing through the door on her left into her closet to get dressed. She already decided back at Benton's that she's going to wear Brinlee's things for the day, for they're most definitely comfortable and a hangover doesn't exactly call for a cinched skirt and tight blouse, not with her stomach bloated as it is.

Back into the bathroom, she finds her hairbrush under the sink then steps into the closet again, then out into her living space--a larger room set with a queen-sized bed to the right, a black chifforobe decorated in floral stickers and speckled with fingernail polish--legs of which are worn, chewed and in need of repair. To the left, a television tuned to Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and Benton sitting on the couch with Bullet and Juju playing in the floor at his feet.

Around the corner--her kitchen--and a mess at that from failed followings of cook-book instructions.

Inwardly she shrugs. It's just Benton...

"I know I said I wouldn't wet my hair, but I forgot while I was getting undressed." Saying this--also realizing he hadn't noticed her come out--she's specifically testing for a reaction of sorts, not that she expects one but it's worth a shot to satisfy this newfound curiosity.

"...Anyway," she starts, stepping around the couch to sit beside him, "will you brush my hair?... You used to all the time when Brinlee couldn't." Forgetting her motives for just a second, she smiles nostalgically before speaking softly, "We're getting old... Or, at least, you are," she cracks after, spitting a laugh with it and nudging a fist into Benton's shoulder. Compared to their childhood, he's much taller and wider--and somehow she's just now noticing this.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Life. (Benton)

Writer's note: Anything wooden (coffee table, bedboard, tv stand, etc.) is black in the image, and anything colored that mustard yellow (throw pillows and rug) is pink.

 

[deianeira]

Tallulah Grymes​

"Yes!" She chirps, the excitement obvious on her face, as she rifles through the stack. A few shirts, a blouse here or there, a patterned pair of dress pants, a pleated skirt, and---her favorite---a gray, impossibly-soft cashmere sweater. It had taken her a few attempts to finally nail the pattern, but the finished product had turned out so well that she had decided to splurge on the materials.

Tally's Threads, unlike most boutiques, was a comfortable mix of handmade and carefully curated small-batch products. On the floor, Tallulah created her displays with precision, often spending days or even weeks obsessing over the layout of her store. Aesthetic is everything, after all. However, the back room and the work counter in the back of her store were where the real work came in.

Tallulah had learned to sew from her mother, when she was only seven years old. Hand-stitching was time-consuming, and often not practical for elaborate pieces, but it had sparked her love for designing from a young age. And, when she had gotten an amateur sewing machine for her birthday one year, she had known right then and there what she planned to do with her life. A mix of both types of pieces was what was recommended, and thus, that was what she did.

Her backroom was full of her finished pieces, her (much too expensive) sewing machine, her fabric cabinet, and more. Tallulah's favorite part of the job was always the commissions she got to do: from David's jacket patches, to Daisy's retro wear, the variety kept her motivated, and she just loved it.

Although it wasn't like compliments were completely out of her bubble, Ryland's praise hit differently for her. Maybe it was the promise of a modeling offer hinging on her success, or just the appreciation of someone she didn't know, Tallulah wasn't sure. "Thank you," she smiled radiantly, kneading the soft and pliant fabric between her fingers. "And yes, I made it myself. I got this amazing deal on hacci sweater knit fabric. The pattern was finicky at first, but I'm really happy with how it turned out!"

Suddenly, a question popped into her head. "So, you want an outfit finished by Wednesday?"

Tags: Ryland ( Danoram )​

​

​

 

[TerrorKitty]

Ethster Lilith Kroski

Interacted: Detective Sherri Life. , Calla Herzi dazzling | Mentioned: N/A | Location: Outside Club Strykers
_______________________________________________________________________________________________ ​

Ethster clicked a button on a small box and spoke into it " Ten-Twelve AM, Small syringe puncture into the Ulnar Collateral for blood extraction just under the elbow." She then pressed the button again and shook her head before sighing. "Calli, you need to wait for me before you start poking holes in bodies. You do realize I have to document absolutely everything." She sighed again "As I take it you're not writing down your own report for me for cross-reference. Again." She paused. "It's fine just, wait for me next time? Ok?" She said sure as hell there would be another body in due time. "Ethster Kroski, former FBI and Mortician for the town and the force, but you know that, we've met before Detective. Glad to have you here, especially considering we've been low on officers. As soon as we get the body back to my lab I'll make sure you're the first to get the full report and background check." Ethster finished as she continued to examen the body. "They died between three and twelve hours ago, the muscles are still stiff, but they're still warm. I'd say." She paused and clicked her recorder again "Death had possibly occurred between 1 AM and 5 AM when it was discovered" Clicking the recorder off she took her eyes off the corpse for a moment to look at Calla, she was so cute and lively. "Detective, I assume you'll be checking the rest of the scene? And Calla, would you like a ride back to the lab when we move the body?" She asked more hopeful to spend time with the living girl than the corpse, which was not a usual feeling for Ethster.

 

[Danoram]

__________Ryland Gunner__________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

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

Her sudden flattered excitement causes Ryland to flinch. He reflexively steps back from the counter, laughing nervously, withdrawing his hands behind him with a straight spine, but he still listens as she voices her radiant enthusiasm and half hopes she didn't notice the spooked reaction.

"So, you want an outfit finished by Wednesday?" she then asks.

He's quiet a moment, remembering their earlier discussion. "Oh, ye-yes! Yes, of course. Uhm, just- just a design sketch or- uh- or- or model. A vi-visual. And, if possible, something that- that- that's matching to the weather. The- Fall. Preferably three designs, actually."

Ryland clears his throat.

Continuing, he says, "As I stated, Sven- Sven is our face for Omen's Weekly Mag-Magazine, for- for the twenty-third's release. If you can get three designs us-" he shakes his head, squinted eyes, "I mean to us by the- by the eleventh then that giv-gives you- you time to create the wares. At the latest, pardon my schedule, we need to have- we need to have the photo-shoot done by noon on the twentieth to get printing and distributing done."

"Once you've presented me with your designs, I'll- I'll- I'll run them by the offices and have you a check written for materials but I need the specific name- the establishment's name. Where do you normally purchase your- your fabrics? I can offer you a- a min- a minimum of five-hundred dollars without approval but it's likely I can have it allowed up to twenty-five-hundred if you file a multi-consumer contract."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

deianeira (Tallulah)

 

[NothingFancy]

LOCATION|| Home ... TIME || 08:28am ... FEELING || Confused, embarrassed, tense


Daisy couldn’t help but feel her heart rate rising as Audence lectured her while pinning her to the floor. His rough facial features were stiff with irritation, yet his grip had loosened considerably once she’d recognized him and stopped flailing. It was the perfect combo of rough yet gentle play that absolutely made her knees go weak. His short blond hair was a bit ruffled from their scuffle, and after a moment his ruby eyes softened with slight humor as he said,

"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?" This was followed by a snicker that made Daisy blush from embarrassment. Again the images of last night’s poor choices paraded in her mind.

"Is that how you usually thank someone?"

“The picture was fake…” She mumbled, unsure if he caught her poor rebuttal as he pushed off the ground. She felt cool air replace the warmth that’d been radiating from his body. She shivered, now fully aware of her state of clothing. Tank top and no pants. Yet another thing to be embarrassed about… she had just been throttled by her male friend while half naked. Nice going Daisy… this is surely gonna haunt me in the wee hours of the night while I try to fall asleep.

She watched as Audence staggered away from her, a hand on his back where she’d hit him. As he fell into a chair at her dining table, she felt the burning of guilt replace her earlier warmth of confused feelings.

"I guess this is where I tell you you're lucky I like you--but really, you should-"

Like me…? Daisy blinked a few times, her mind going blank. Did he just… no. There was no way right? But thinking about it, it sort of made sense… Just look at what he’d done her for her the night before. No one would do that if they didn’t feel anything. Daisy sighed, now she felt even worse… because if she was being honest, she'd guessed the body builder’s feelings for her a while ago. Why else would her drunken self send him a teasing text and then tempt him further when arriving at home? Her past, fucked up relationships made her 'test' any male she got close to... and Audence was not exempt. I really should stop fucking around. That’s not fair to him… he’s a good guy and I don’t want to ruin our friendship because of some dumbass truama.

Audence was the first friend that she'd made when coming to this town. She’d bought the rinky dinky mechanic garage from Old Man Bill, and she’d spent a month renovating it and updating the interior. However she’d had little to no customers until he’d shown up. Audence had gotten into a minor accident, but it had been enough to bend his handlebars to the right.

To this day she didn’t know what had caused the accident, but she was grateful it had happened. Ironic.

"...How’s it look?”

Daisy’s head shook to rid herself of her wandering thoughts, but almost immediately she wished she hadn’t come back to reality. Audence was bent over, his bare back exposed, and although there was a large red welt the shape of a bat forming on pale skin, it didn’t deter from the otherwise greek-god like body. He had rippling muscles beneath tight skin, and his shoulder bones softly moved as his hand tentatively reached towards the welt. The bones pressing up beneath skin… the muscles…

“...No big deal."

Damn it. She’d again gotten distracted. She could barely decipher in her muddled memory him saying how she owed him now, and but that actually she didn’t. She sighed, bringing her hand to her face,

“Audy stop it… you’re too nice to me. You keep being nice to me like this, I'll start taking advantage.”

Daisy kept her voice light as she made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of frozen peas. She got closer to him, her leg hair rising from the cold plastic near her thigh, and she softly brought her other hand up to gently remove his from her way. Up close the wound was even worse then she’d first thought, and she was 100 percent sure that if he didn’t have all that thick, wonderful muscle between his flesh and ribcage, that he’d be sporting a few cracked bones.

She pressed the bag firmly to his back, cringing when she heard a grunt of pain and his body flinched at the chill.

“I do owe you… you fool,” Daisy murmured, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said that and for a moment she stood as frozen as the peas in her hand. Fuck… did he hear that?

Danoram

 

[callisto]

GWENDOLEN LUKAS
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
​

FEELING: hungover || LOCATION: apartment -> coffee house

Gwen, still wrapped in layers of cardigans and blankets, was sipping tea on her couch when she received a series of texts from Tyler. Since waking, the young woman had roamed her apartment in a haze, running on autopilot as she showered off the previous night and prepared a breakfast of tea and bread... the only foods she could think to stomach.

She laughed, amused at the messages he had sent. According to his texts: after tucking her into bed he had locked the door before leaving, and inconveniently left his bag in her foyer. "You've got to be kidding me..." Gwen stood from her couch, blankets falling from her shoulders.

Surprise, surprise - the bag was there, waiting for the master who had forgotten it. Oh Tyler... what would we do without eachother?

She shot a series of texts in response to her companion, looking for the familiar "sent" notification before going to get ready. Despite her usual affinity for academic wear, the thought of slipping into dress pants and putting makeup on made Gwen gag.

No, today was a joggers and sweaters kind of day...

Bespeckled and with her hair in a high ponytail, Gwen slipped into some flats before exiting the apartment. Instead of sending her the address, Tyler insisted on making his way over... but Gwen refused. Without his wallet, what was he going to do? Walk?

Gwen snorted to herself, sending a quick text back. Tyler, just tell me where you are omg!

Without any other defiance, Tyler shared a google maps address with his location.

----

Gwen arrived at the coffee house shortly, having hitched a taxi there. Despite her earlier nausea, the crisp morning air was refreshing, and she sighed with pleasure, breathing deeply. The shock of the temperature difference between the cafe and the outside spawned goosebumps across her arms.

She looked across the cafe softly, fixing the tortoiseshell glasses that rested on her pert nose. It wasn't difficult to spot her shaggy-haired friend, though her lips pursed unintentionally when she noticed his two companions.

It didn't bother her, really; Gwen knew Tyler had friends, but she couldn't help but fiddle with the lint in her cardigan's pockets as she inspected the mysterious man and posh woman that sat beside him. She shifted the backpack she carried, feeling it the same way that Tyler might, and she approached.

Maybe she should've dressed up a little bit more.

"Hey, Tyler." She shifted the backpack onto one shoulder, preparing to trade it off. Words escaped her, a young woman who felt like a foreign body amongst people she didn't know. She offered a small, timid smile to the other members of his party, before turning back to her saving grace.

"Thanks. For last night."​

____________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Danoram (Tyler) // Life. (Aiden) // dazzling (Sloane)

​

 

[WolfSol]

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

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Sloane is as expressive as a child in Aiden's opinion. Her bubbly personality depleted, having taken a toll from his and Tyler's confusion no doubt. It didn't make him feel any concern though and he made no move to try at rectifying the situation. Instead he trudged on as he listened to Tyler's excuse. Well, it could be complete fact, but Aiden didn't quite care enough to pry into it. That and the only danger Tyler would likely face, in all actuality, would just be Sloane's bubbliness. The real danger wouldn't want to touch him with a ten foot pole, unless they wanted to face the guy's uncle.

The trio had made it to the coffeehouse just as Tyler had landed Aiden with the question on just how he knew Abernathy. It urged him to a stop just a few feet from the coffeehouse's front door. It was a mystery to him, how much Tyler knew, but the question seemed innocent enough. Still, he didn't make a move to reveal the cards in his deck, especially since he wasn't quite sure of their bubbly companion. For all he knew, Sloane was a damned cop, consultant, whatever the fuck else that would get him stuck up shit's creek. And with his latest lecture from mother dearest, that was the last thing he needed. Sure, it was known by many that he was one of Omen's drug dealers, but it didn't mean he flaunted that fact. The less some people knew, the better.

So with a smile, he glanced over to Tyler and said, "Ah, y'know, house chores and shit. Gotta make a living somehow, yeah?"

They made their way into the cafe, assaulted with a wave of bittersweet aromas, and took the thinning register line where he'd ordered a simple black coffee, with "nothin' special." The wait for the drinks dragged on though, even for his order of simplicity, so they took to an unmanned table. It was then that Aiden placed both elbows on the table and jabbed a finger in Sloane's direction. "When'd you move here? I haven't seen you before, and trust me... I've seen a shit ton of faces in Omen. You a tourist or somethin'?" He tilted his head, brow raised in question, but if Sloane had readied an answer or not, it was interrupted by a melodic "Hey Tyler."

Aiden glanced up then, catching sight of a girl clad in jogs and a sweater. Unlike Sloane, she was somewhat familiar, but her name never came to him.

"Thanks. For last night."

That earned her a reply, but not from Tyler. Maybe it was the wordage, her clear unease, or the fact that he was simply just a child trapped in a man's body, but Aiden snickered. He did try to be somewhat polite, placing a hand over his mouth as his gaze lingered on the black-haired girl for a moment longer before looking to Tyler. "Damn, look at you," he said, moving his hand a fraction away from his mouth, "getting all the ladies today."
[/div][/div] [div class=credit] WolfSol Time: Wee hours of the morning | Location: Omen's Coffeehouse| Feeling: Humored| Mentions: Tyler ( Danoram ) Sloane ( dazzling ) Gwen ( callisto ) [/div] [/div]
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