lillymity
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Realistic or Modern Thank you places! (a 1x1 rp)
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EclecticSpica
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
“Oh? So you just let anyone play dress-up with you?” Iris snorted, tossing the jacket toward him with an easy flick of her wrist before ducking back into the racks. This time, she disappeared even further, vanishing into the jungle of costumes with renewed determination. “Since you’re offering,” she called out, her voice muffled by layers of fabric, “I think I shall—if only because you’ve managed to distract me long enough from what I should be doing. And, truthfully? I could use the stress relief.” Her rummaging became louder, more chaotic, until suddenly, from a completely different section of racks, a pair of loafers came flying out into the open. A moment later, her head followed, peeking out with a wide, almost manic grin stretched across her face.
“You’re going to regret giving me this freedom, Theo,” she warned, mischief dancing in her eyes as she winked at him before vanishing again. “I am going to prove that you are, in fact, very attractive—so long as you’re wearing the right colors and fabric.” More rustling. More shifting. The sound of hangers clattering against one another as she dove deeper.
“I have been dying to convince you to stop wearing those awful tan slacks for weeks now.” Then, as if on cue, her head popped back out in front of him, her expression suddenly softer, almost sympathetic. “Not that they aren’t stylish,” she conceded, her lips twitching in amusement, “but, seriously—what are you? An old man performing vaudeville?” Another snort of laughter, another disappearance into the racks.
“If you think that jacket is rough, you should see some of the larger costume pieces in here.” Her voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the storage unit, followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting and something heavy being dragged across the floor. “I’m pretty sure I just ran across an old plant puppet from that musical—you know, the one where the plant eats everyone? Apparently, the actor threw up inside it because you had to control it while doing crunches.”
A dramatic gag echoed from the depths of the costume jungle, followed by flashes of her blonde curls weaving between hangers like some kind of mischievous gremlin. Every so often, a garment would come flying out—without her even looking at Theo’s size, yet somehow still fitting him almost perfectly.
The pile grew at an alarming rate. A crown. A cat tail. A pair of pants. A tunic. A fake sword. And—perhaps the most chaotic addition of all—a plush set of paws. Just when it seemed like she had exhausted her collection of surprises, there was a beat of silence. Then, from the farthest corner of the storage unit, a quiet gasp echoed, followed by a delighted hum. “Oh, now this… this is something special.” her head popped out once more, from another area as she grinned towards him. "You said you enjoy feathers yes?" she asked before tossing out a feather head dress and snorted sneaking back inside, apparently still not satisfied with her finds just yet.
“You’re going to regret giving me this freedom, Theo,” she warned, mischief dancing in her eyes as she winked at him before vanishing again. “I am going to prove that you are, in fact, very attractive—so long as you’re wearing the right colors and fabric.” More rustling. More shifting. The sound of hangers clattering against one another as she dove deeper.
“I have been dying to convince you to stop wearing those awful tan slacks for weeks now.” Then, as if on cue, her head popped back out in front of him, her expression suddenly softer, almost sympathetic. “Not that they aren’t stylish,” she conceded, her lips twitching in amusement, “but, seriously—what are you? An old man performing vaudeville?” Another snort of laughter, another disappearance into the racks.
“If you think that jacket is rough, you should see some of the larger costume pieces in here.” Her voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the storage unit, followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting and something heavy being dragged across the floor. “I’m pretty sure I just ran across an old plant puppet from that musical—you know, the one where the plant eats everyone? Apparently, the actor threw up inside it because you had to control it while doing crunches.”
A dramatic gag echoed from the depths of the costume jungle, followed by flashes of her blonde curls weaving between hangers like some kind of mischievous gremlin. Every so often, a garment would come flying out—without her even looking at Theo’s size, yet somehow still fitting him almost perfectly.
The pile grew at an alarming rate. A crown. A cat tail. A pair of pants. A tunic. A fake sword. And—perhaps the most chaotic addition of all—a plush set of paws. Just when it seemed like she had exhausted her collection of surprises, there was a beat of silence. Then, from the farthest corner of the storage unit, a quiet gasp echoed, followed by a delighted hum. “Oh, now this… this is something special.” her head popped out once more, from another area as she grinned towards him. "You said you enjoy feathers yes?" she asked before tossing out a feather head dress and snorted sneaking back inside, apparently still not satisfied with her finds just yet.
lillymity
Junior Member
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EclecticSpica
sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
”Relax Theo, I’m not that cruel of a person” Iris emerged from the racks, brushing dust off her hands as if she had just unearthed something legendary. The feathered headdress sat among the growing pile, extravagant and waiting for its grand reveal. But first— “Alright, up.” She snapped her fingers, motioning for Theo to stand. “Can’t appreciate my brilliance if you’re just lounging there.” Without waiting for permission, she reached for the velvet jacket, tugging it into place with critical precision. Fingers fussed over the fabric, smoothing out the shoulders, adjusting the fit. She barely noticed how close she was.
Her focus was absolute. The usual teasing edge in her voice softened as she tilted her head, stepping back just enough to survey her work. “Much better,” she murmured, almost to herself. Then the loafers. “Foot,” she ordered, tapping her own as if that explained everything. When there was even a second of hesitation, she huffed dramatically, crouching to grab one of the shoes. Removing his own and sliding the new pair on with surprising care, she patted his ankle lightly before straightening. “See? I would never lead you astray.” Her smirk was quick, playful. “Now, the pièce de résistance.”
With a dramatic flourish, she grabbed the absurdly fluffy cat paws and all but shoved them into his hands. “You have to put these on,” she said, dead serious. “It’s non-negotiable.” And before he could even think about protesting, she grabbed his wrist and helped slide one on herself. The soft fur brushed against her skin as she adjusted the fit, fingers grazing his briefly in the process—not that she noticed. Or maybe she did, but she didn’t think about it. Not until her heart did something stupid. For a brief second, she hesitated, her grip on the oversized paw loosening. When her gaze flickered up, something almost thoughtful lingered there. But instead of whatever had almost slipped out, she let out a small huff of amusement.
“Hah! See? God-like I told you so—good accessories really do change everything.” She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as if locking the image in her mind. But then, something in her expression shifted. A pause, a small exhale. “…Thanks, by the way.” Her fingers reached up and idly toyed with the sleeve of his jacket, her voice a little quieter. “For letting me do this. For—” she huffed a small laugh, glancing away for just a second. “I needed something to laugh about today. You’re a good sport.” The moment was fleeting, there and gone before it could settle. And then, just like that— She clapped her hands together, grinning like she hadn’t just said something sincere. “Alright, now put on the headdress. I need to see this masterpiece in full.”
Her focus was absolute. The usual teasing edge in her voice softened as she tilted her head, stepping back just enough to survey her work. “Much better,” she murmured, almost to herself. Then the loafers. “Foot,” she ordered, tapping her own as if that explained everything. When there was even a second of hesitation, she huffed dramatically, crouching to grab one of the shoes. Removing his own and sliding the new pair on with surprising care, she patted his ankle lightly before straightening. “See? I would never lead you astray.” Her smirk was quick, playful. “Now, the pièce de résistance.”
With a dramatic flourish, she grabbed the absurdly fluffy cat paws and all but shoved them into his hands. “You have to put these on,” she said, dead serious. “It’s non-negotiable.” And before he could even think about protesting, she grabbed his wrist and helped slide one on herself. The soft fur brushed against her skin as she adjusted the fit, fingers grazing his briefly in the process—not that she noticed. Or maybe she did, but she didn’t think about it. Not until her heart did something stupid. For a brief second, she hesitated, her grip on the oversized paw loosening. When her gaze flickered up, something almost thoughtful lingered there. But instead of whatever had almost slipped out, she let out a small huff of amusement.
“Hah! See? God-like I told you so—good accessories really do change everything.” She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as if locking the image in her mind. But then, something in her expression shifted. A pause, a small exhale. “…Thanks, by the way.” Her fingers reached up and idly toyed with the sleeve of his jacket, her voice a little quieter. “For letting me do this. For—” she huffed a small laugh, glancing away for just a second. “I needed something to laugh about today. You’re a good sport.” The moment was fleeting, there and gone before it could settle. And then, just like that— She clapped her hands together, grinning like she hadn’t just said something sincere. “Alright, now put on the headdress. I need to see this masterpiece in full.”
lillymity
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sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
As soon as Theo turned to face her, the sharp shutter of a camera cut through the air. Iris blinked, her eyebrows shooting up in feigned alarm. In a flash, she fumbled to turn off her phone, tucking it swiftly behind her back. Then, as if nothing had happened, she plastered on a wide grin, feigning complete innocence. No way was she about to explain why she’d just snapped a picture of the so-called dreamboat of the cast and audience—especially while he looked like a drunken attempt at a bird. A puff of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. The headdress was an absolute mess—feathers flopped over his face, some teetering on the edge of falling off entirely.
“Hell, that thing is overtaking you,” she wheezed between laughs, shaking her head. “Alright, alright, hold on.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket and scooted closer. Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she tilted her head, giving him a once-over.
“Luckily, I don’t have to reach too high to fix this disaster.” Iris got to work, straightening the gaudy monstrosity. It looked like something rejected from a Las Vegas musical—dripping in glitter, sequins, and an unnecessary amount of feathers. She grunted softly as she worked, pushing a few stubborn plumes upright.
“Just—hold still,” she muttered, stepping in closer. The space between them vanished. Her chest pressed lightly against his as she leaned up, wiggling the last feather into place with a determined frown. The feathers finally tamed, Iris then with a final flick of her hand, she reached for that one rebellious strand of hair, curling it around her finger before letting it rest neatly against his forehead.
Iris nodded in approval. “A total hottie,” she snorted, giving his chest a firm pat to confirm her work was done. Then, stepping back, she lifted a hand to her lips, struggling to contain her laughter. With a dramatic wave, she gestured for him to admire her handiwork. “Obviously, all gods look like this.” The words barely made it past her wheezing laughter. Iris was now reaching back for her phone, ready to claim another picture, to add to the one taken prior.
“Hell, that thing is overtaking you,” she wheezed between laughs, shaking her head. “Alright, alright, hold on.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket and scooted closer. Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she tilted her head, giving him a once-over.
“Luckily, I don’t have to reach too high to fix this disaster.” Iris got to work, straightening the gaudy monstrosity. It looked like something rejected from a Las Vegas musical—dripping in glitter, sequins, and an unnecessary amount of feathers. She grunted softly as she worked, pushing a few stubborn plumes upright.
“Just—hold still,” she muttered, stepping in closer. The space between them vanished. Her chest pressed lightly against his as she leaned up, wiggling the last feather into place with a determined frown. The feathers finally tamed, Iris then with a final flick of her hand, she reached for that one rebellious strand of hair, curling it around her finger before letting it rest neatly against his forehead.
Iris nodded in approval. “A total hottie,” she snorted, giving his chest a firm pat to confirm her work was done. Then, stepping back, she lifted a hand to her lips, struggling to contain her laughter. With a dramatic wave, she gestured for him to admire her handiwork. “Obviously, all gods look like this.” The words barely made it past her wheezing laughter. Iris was now reaching back for her phone, ready to claim another picture, to add to the one taken prior.
lillymity
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sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
"Mhmm?" Iris responded with a distracted nod, flicking open her phone once more to snap a few extra pictures. Her grin was wide—mischievous—and it was clear she had plans for those photos. “Oh!” She blinked up, caught off guard by the way Theo’s gaze had locked onto her phone. Heat bloomed across her face, spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears as she hurriedly snapped her phone shut, tucking it away with a nonchalant shrug.
“I don’t know,” she mused, tilting her head. “I think I’ve got the perfect blackmail material on you now, so…” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Who knows what I might do with these photos, Mister Skordilis?” With a teasing wink, she dropped her voice into something low and sultry, attempting to appear mysterious—though the effect was somewhat ruined by the lingering blush on her cheeks.
Then, just as quickly, she turned away, redirecting her attention to the scattered pile of costumes. One by one, she began sorting through them, returning pieces to their rightful place.
“But,” she sighed, forcing herself back into focus, “we should probably stop playing around. There’s still a light out, and I’d like for you all to get at least one hour of rehearsal before running off to enjoy life outside of this theater.” The reminder wasn’t just for Theo—it was for herself, too. There would be time to joke around again later. Maybe once the show had wrapped. The thought made her pause. Her fingers lingered on the rack of clothing, her grip tightening as an unsettling weight settled in her chest. After this show wraps up… then what?
She knew the routine by now. A brief week to breathe, then it would be back to the same hellish cycle. Back to waiting for her father’s judgment, hoping—again—that this show might somehow be enough to change his mind. But deep down, she knew better. Every performance was just another tally mark against her, another reminder that she still hadn’t earned her way back into her family’s good graces. And with this disaster? Iris swallowed hard, unable to shake the feeling that this might be an omen—one that would only worsen her exile.
“…After this show is over,” she asked suddenly, still not looking at Theo, her hands busied with separating the heavy layers of costumes, “do you think you’ll come back for the next one?”
Her voice was steady, but there was something tentative about it, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. “Or will you go off to another city? Another town?” She continued, her fingers tightening around a sleeve before letting go. Most of the cast would stay. They had roots here—families, homes, lives that kept them anchored. But some were already whispering about new opportunities in other states, bigger theaters, better roles. It was just part of this life. Always getting used to saying goodbye. No matter how much she hated it.
“I don’t know,” she mused, tilting her head. “I think I’ve got the perfect blackmail material on you now, so…” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Who knows what I might do with these photos, Mister Skordilis?” With a teasing wink, she dropped her voice into something low and sultry, attempting to appear mysterious—though the effect was somewhat ruined by the lingering blush on her cheeks.
Then, just as quickly, she turned away, redirecting her attention to the scattered pile of costumes. One by one, she began sorting through them, returning pieces to their rightful place.
“But,” she sighed, forcing herself back into focus, “we should probably stop playing around. There’s still a light out, and I’d like for you all to get at least one hour of rehearsal before running off to enjoy life outside of this theater.” The reminder wasn’t just for Theo—it was for herself, too. There would be time to joke around again later. Maybe once the show had wrapped. The thought made her pause. Her fingers lingered on the rack of clothing, her grip tightening as an unsettling weight settled in her chest. After this show wraps up… then what?
She knew the routine by now. A brief week to breathe, then it would be back to the same hellish cycle. Back to waiting for her father’s judgment, hoping—again—that this show might somehow be enough to change his mind. But deep down, she knew better. Every performance was just another tally mark against her, another reminder that she still hadn’t earned her way back into her family’s good graces. And with this disaster? Iris swallowed hard, unable to shake the feeling that this might be an omen—one that would only worsen her exile.
“…After this show is over,” she asked suddenly, still not looking at Theo, her hands busied with separating the heavy layers of costumes, “do you think you’ll come back for the next one?”
Her voice was steady, but there was something tentative about it, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. “Or will you go off to another city? Another town?” She continued, her fingers tightening around a sleeve before letting go. Most of the cast would stay. They had roots here—families, homes, lives that kept them anchored. But some were already whispering about new opportunities in other states, bigger theaters, better roles. It was just part of this life. Always getting used to saying goodbye. No matter how much she hated it.
lillymity
Junior Member
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lead actor
EclecticSpica
sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris was still mulling over the nickname "Blondie" when she almost missed his response to her question. When the words finally registered, the nickname brought a faint smile to her lips, but she quickly pursed them, forcing the grin to disappear. She cleared her throat, nervously fluffing her hair to hide the blush that lingered on her cheeks.
“It would be improper to show favoritism, and I don’t control the cast list, Mister Skordilis,” she quipped with a roll of her eyes, though the corners of her lips betrayed her growing amusement. She kept pace with him as they walked, making her way toward the light. The rest of the task was straightforward enough. Iris had taken the opportunity to tease Theo as he struggled to lift the light, purposely showing off how effortlessly she managed it. Once she found the right light, she assigned Theo the simpler task of holding the doors open and locking up while she handled the heavy lifting.
After returning to the main stage, she reclaimed her keys and shooed Theo off to gather the crew for the next round of rehearsals, all while she barked orders from the catwalk above. She had the show’s lines memorized by heart after months of practice, so even as she worked with the equipment re-installing a light with expert ease, she could easily jump in to help a cast member if needed.
The day before opening night arrived faster than Iris could prepare for it. Tech rehearsal had left her more drained than usual, her clothes now consisting of a simple black t-shirt and leggings, her hair pulled into a messy braid or ponytail. Her arms were draped with last-minute props and items, always on hand for whatever might be needed.
As she finished the final adjustments to the stage, she heard the cast trickling in. Dark circles under her eyes hinted at her exhaustion, and she wondered how long today’s rehearsal would run. Yesterday’s run-through had stretched longer than expected, and the thought of the quick costume change that had turned into a chaotic scramble made her wince. Shit, the costume adjustments, Iris swore under her breath as she quickly exited the stage and barged into the dressing rooms, uncaring if anyone squeaked in surprise at her sudden entrance.
With a fierce determination in her step and safety pins in hand, it was clear she was focused on one thing: fixing the pants that refused to stay up on several of the actors.
“It would be improper to show favoritism, and I don’t control the cast list, Mister Skordilis,” she quipped with a roll of her eyes, though the corners of her lips betrayed her growing amusement. She kept pace with him as they walked, making her way toward the light. The rest of the task was straightforward enough. Iris had taken the opportunity to tease Theo as he struggled to lift the light, purposely showing off how effortlessly she managed it. Once she found the right light, she assigned Theo the simpler task of holding the doors open and locking up while she handled the heavy lifting.
After returning to the main stage, she reclaimed her keys and shooed Theo off to gather the crew for the next round of rehearsals, all while she barked orders from the catwalk above. She had the show’s lines memorized by heart after months of practice, so even as she worked with the equipment re-installing a light with expert ease, she could easily jump in to help a cast member if needed.
------ Time Skip ------
The day before opening night arrived faster than Iris could prepare for it. Tech rehearsal had left her more drained than usual, her clothes now consisting of a simple black t-shirt and leggings, her hair pulled into a messy braid or ponytail. Her arms were draped with last-minute props and items, always on hand for whatever might be needed.
As she finished the final adjustments to the stage, she heard the cast trickling in. Dark circles under her eyes hinted at her exhaustion, and she wondered how long today’s rehearsal would run. Yesterday’s run-through had stretched longer than expected, and the thought of the quick costume change that had turned into a chaotic scramble made her wince. Shit, the costume adjustments, Iris swore under her breath as she quickly exited the stage and barged into the dressing rooms, uncaring if anyone squeaked in surprise at her sudden entrance.
With a fierce determination in her step and safety pins in hand, it was clear she was focused on one thing: fixing the pants that refused to stay up on several of the actors.
lillymity
Junior Member
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EclecticSpica
sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
By the time Iris left the dressing room, she had just wrapped up a lengthy—and rather spirited—conversation with the lead actress about why thongs were not appropriate for quick changes. The discussion had included more than a few exasperated sighs, dramatic gestures, and an attempt at compromise that ultimately led to a begrudging agreement. With that battle settled, she made her way toward Theo’s dressing room, her mind shifting gears to the next item on her mental checklist.
As she reached the door, she hesitated, tapping her fingers against the clipboard in her hand. Was there anything else that needed checking? She ran through the list again but kept circling back to one thing—his hat. That was the priority.
With a decisive nod, she lifted her hand and knocked a few times. After a moment, she heard Theo’s voice call out, granting permission to enter.
Iris peeked her head in, her sharp gaze immediately scanning upward. “Hair behaving today?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she searched for the telltale rogue curl that always managed to defy styling efforts.
When she saw nothing out of place, her expression shifted into a wide grin. “Well, look at you, brown eyes—a perfect hair day?” she teased, her tone carrying that distinct, playful lilt that only Theo seemed to bring out of her. She stepped inside fully now, leaning against the doorframe as she took in the sight of him, her grin softening into something more genuine.
She let out a small, satisfied sigh before sweeping her gaze across the dressing room, mentally cataloging every prop, costume piece, and personal item, ensuring everything was exactly where it should be.
“I’ll be back after checking on the choir’s costumes to prep your hat before places, alright?” she informed him, already half-turned to leave. But then she froze, blinking as her eyes narrowed. Something was missing.
Squinting, she took a step closer, tilting her head as realization dawned. “Theo. Makeup,” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “We’re doing full everything tonight. Make sure you put it on.” Her tone left no room for argument, though there was still a hint of amusement in her eyes. She waited, expectant, arms still crossed until he confirmed.
As she reached the door, she hesitated, tapping her fingers against the clipboard in her hand. Was there anything else that needed checking? She ran through the list again but kept circling back to one thing—his hat. That was the priority.
With a decisive nod, she lifted her hand and knocked a few times. After a moment, she heard Theo’s voice call out, granting permission to enter.
Iris peeked her head in, her sharp gaze immediately scanning upward. “Hair behaving today?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she searched for the telltale rogue curl that always managed to defy styling efforts.
When she saw nothing out of place, her expression shifted into a wide grin. “Well, look at you, brown eyes—a perfect hair day?” she teased, her tone carrying that distinct, playful lilt that only Theo seemed to bring out of her. She stepped inside fully now, leaning against the doorframe as she took in the sight of him, her grin softening into something more genuine.
She let out a small, satisfied sigh before sweeping her gaze across the dressing room, mentally cataloging every prop, costume piece, and personal item, ensuring everything was exactly where it should be.
“I’ll be back after checking on the choir’s costumes to prep your hat before places, alright?” she informed him, already half-turned to leave. But then she froze, blinking as her eyes narrowed. Something was missing.
Squinting, she took a step closer, tilting her head as realization dawned. “Theo. Makeup,” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “We’re doing full everything tonight. Make sure you put it on.” Her tone left no room for argument, though there was still a hint of amusement in her eyes. She waited, expectant, arms still crossed until he confirmed.
lillymity
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sleepy
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris nodded in approval, her smile warm and genuine before she slipped out the door she had entered through. Her footsteps echoed softly as she left, already gearing up for yet another argument—this time with an actor over the finer points of proper attire and the endless debates about food habits.
She was gone for a while, much longer than she had originally planned. When she returned, her arms were laden with rolls of tape, a messy bun perched high on her head, and an assortment of items precariously tucked into it: pens, makeup brushes, and somehow—though Iris couldn’t remember how—a ruler. The chaotic bundle looked like a small disaster, yet somehow it all made perfect sense for her.
This time, she didn’t bother to knock before re-entering Theo’s dressing room. Her focus was entirely on her hands, where she was already methodically prepping safety pins and tape, lost in her task.
When she looked up at Theo, her gaze was sharp, but she gave a quick, gruff nod in acknowledgment. Without a word, she moved toward the dressing room’s table, her eyes scanning for the hat she needed to adjust. Her fingers brushed over a few scattered items before she found the one in question. As she worked, a stray safety pin pricked her finger. The small, insignificant wound should’ve been nothing, but to Iris, it felt like the final straw. Without thinking, she clamped her mouth shut, her lips pressing together tightly as she muffled a scream. Her eyes squeezed shut as the tension built up inside her, and for a moment, she was still—trying to hold it all in.
Finally, with a sharp gasp of air, she exhaled, releasing the tension. Her eyes flickered toward the mirror, catching her reflection before darting back to Theo. “Sorry, bad day,” she muttered softly, brushing it off and diving back into her work, adjusting the hat with meticulous care.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her voice low and serious as she focused on her task. “Theo, if I asked you so sweetly and perfectly... would you get me drunk and hide me away for a week?” She fixed him with a steady gaze, her eyes intent and unyielding, her voice carrying the weight of a question that was anything but light.
She was gone for a while, much longer than she had originally planned. When she returned, her arms were laden with rolls of tape, a messy bun perched high on her head, and an assortment of items precariously tucked into it: pens, makeup brushes, and somehow—though Iris couldn’t remember how—a ruler. The chaotic bundle looked like a small disaster, yet somehow it all made perfect sense for her.
This time, she didn’t bother to knock before re-entering Theo’s dressing room. Her focus was entirely on her hands, where she was already methodically prepping safety pins and tape, lost in her task.
When she looked up at Theo, her gaze was sharp, but she gave a quick, gruff nod in acknowledgment. Without a word, she moved toward the dressing room’s table, her eyes scanning for the hat she needed to adjust. Her fingers brushed over a few scattered items before she found the one in question. As she worked, a stray safety pin pricked her finger. The small, insignificant wound should’ve been nothing, but to Iris, it felt like the final straw. Without thinking, she clamped her mouth shut, her lips pressing together tightly as she muffled a scream. Her eyes squeezed shut as the tension built up inside her, and for a moment, she was still—trying to hold it all in.
Finally, with a sharp gasp of air, she exhaled, releasing the tension. Her eyes flickered toward the mirror, catching her reflection before darting back to Theo. “Sorry, bad day,” she muttered softly, brushing it off and diving back into her work, adjusting the hat with meticulous care.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing, her voice low and serious as she focused on her task. “Theo, if I asked you so sweetly and perfectly... would you get me drunk and hide me away for a week?” She fixed him with a steady gaze, her eyes intent and unyielding, her voice carrying the weight of a question that was anything but light.
lillymity
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Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris pursed her lips into a pout, groaning dramatically at Theo’s dismissal of her request to get drunk. As if physically weighed down by her stress, she sank to the ground in slow motion, her body melting into the floor while her hands remained sprawled across the cluttered dressing table.
"Fine. Just drop me off at a bar, find me a guy to pound the stress out of me, and pick me back up in a week—same bar, same time," she grumbled into the ground, her voice muffled. A grunt followed as she flexed her fingers upward in Theo’s general direction, using them as a lazy substitute for her head. “Getting laid actually seems like a solid idea. Maybe I should consider that.”
Her fingers wiggled absentmindedly, and she exhaled heavily. "No strings attached. No thongs attached. No food attached. No makeup stains. No weird bumps or pricks of pain—" She paused mid-ramble, snorting sleepily. The sheer exhaustion of the day was making her more incoherent by the second. “Or... well, maybe there would be stings of pain. Only if I find someone willing to be a little extra rough.” Her fingers curled playfully before she let her hand flop back onto the floor. “But then I'd have to deal with a sore body, and honestly? I don’t even want to think about the side-eyes I’d get from everyone when I show up covered in hickeys—again—after having to cover up someone else’s earlier." She whined, her voice muffled as she pressed her forehead against the cool floor.
As her stress-induced meltdown continued, she inched further under Theo’s dressing room table, limbs folding up as if she could physically disappear from the weight of her responsibilities. A dull thunk echoed through the room as she bumped her head against the wall, followed by a surprised squeak when something jabbed at her neck. Her fingers instinctively reached up, grasping at the unexpected object—her missing ruler. She blinked at it in confusion before slowly pointing it up at Theo like an accusatory sword.
"Please tell me you’re fine,” she said, squinting at him from her spot on the floor. “No weird moments? No disasters I have to fix?" Her gaze finally settled on him properly, her tired mind clicking into gear as she caught sight of something... off. Her head tilted, her brows furrowing.
“Your buttons are wrong.”
With a newfound determination, she pushed herself up, gracefully maneuvering to her feet with more ease than someone that sleep-deprived had any right to. Without hesitation, she reached for his shirt, her fingers working deftly to undo and redo the buttons properly, smoothing the fabric as she went.
"And the blush—too much," she added, her tone shifting to one of quiet focus. She reached up, fingers gently smudging the makeup on his cheek, blending it out with practiced ease. Her touch lingered briefly before her eyes flicked to his chin, her lips pressing into a thoughtful pout. "You need to apply more lotion after taking the makeup off tonight," she murmured, rubbing lightly at his skin. “You’re starting to dry out here.”
Her earlier dramatics were momentarily forgotten as she fussed over the small details, lost in the familiar rhythm of making sure everything was just right.
"Fine. Just drop me off at a bar, find me a guy to pound the stress out of me, and pick me back up in a week—same bar, same time," she grumbled into the ground, her voice muffled. A grunt followed as she flexed her fingers upward in Theo’s general direction, using them as a lazy substitute for her head. “Getting laid actually seems like a solid idea. Maybe I should consider that.”
Her fingers wiggled absentmindedly, and she exhaled heavily. "No strings attached. No thongs attached. No food attached. No makeup stains. No weird bumps or pricks of pain—" She paused mid-ramble, snorting sleepily. The sheer exhaustion of the day was making her more incoherent by the second. “Or... well, maybe there would be stings of pain. Only if I find someone willing to be a little extra rough.” Her fingers curled playfully before she let her hand flop back onto the floor. “But then I'd have to deal with a sore body, and honestly? I don’t even want to think about the side-eyes I’d get from everyone when I show up covered in hickeys—again—after having to cover up someone else’s earlier." She whined, her voice muffled as she pressed her forehead against the cool floor.
As her stress-induced meltdown continued, she inched further under Theo’s dressing room table, limbs folding up as if she could physically disappear from the weight of her responsibilities. A dull thunk echoed through the room as she bumped her head against the wall, followed by a surprised squeak when something jabbed at her neck. Her fingers instinctively reached up, grasping at the unexpected object—her missing ruler. She blinked at it in confusion before slowly pointing it up at Theo like an accusatory sword.
"Please tell me you’re fine,” she said, squinting at him from her spot on the floor. “No weird moments? No disasters I have to fix?" Her gaze finally settled on him properly, her tired mind clicking into gear as she caught sight of something... off. Her head tilted, her brows furrowing.
“Your buttons are wrong.”
With a newfound determination, she pushed herself up, gracefully maneuvering to her feet with more ease than someone that sleep-deprived had any right to. Without hesitation, she reached for his shirt, her fingers working deftly to undo and redo the buttons properly, smoothing the fabric as she went.
"And the blush—too much," she added, her tone shifting to one of quiet focus. She reached up, fingers gently smudging the makeup on his cheek, blending it out with practiced ease. Her touch lingered briefly before her eyes flicked to his chin, her lips pressing into a thoughtful pout. "You need to apply more lotion after taking the makeup off tonight," she murmured, rubbing lightly at his skin. “You’re starting to dry out here.”
Her earlier dramatics were momentarily forgotten as she fussed over the small details, lost in the familiar rhythm of making sure everything was just right.
lillymity
Junior Member
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- Off-site
lead actor
EclecticSpica
sleepy
- One on One
- Group
- Quests
- Off-site
Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris gave a small shake of her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she caught the flicker of concern on Theo’s face. “You’re fine,” she assured him, tilting her head as she examined his skin. “But I’d switch your lotion soon. And maybe your shaving cream, too. Whatever you’re using now isn’t doing you any favors—it’s either not working or drying you out.” She gave a satisfied nod, pleased with how the blush was now evenly blended and the foundation on his jaw smoothed to her liking.
Her expression briefly shifted to confusion at his mention of a plaster, her brows knitting together before realization dawned. “Oh! A band-aid,” she murmured, glancing down at her finger. The small pinprick of blood had already begun to dry, but rather than making a fuss, she simply licked the wound clean with a nonchalant shrug.
Before she could dismiss it entirely, Theo’s fingers wrapped around hers, halting her movement. Iris blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she tested the hold by wiggling her fingers in his grasp. He wasn’t stopping her—just... holding. It was strange, feeling someone worry over her like this, but she found herself not minding it. In fact, she was enjoying the tiny moment of attention.
“I think I’ll survive,” she teased, a slow smirk curling at the edges of her mouth. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added, “But hey, maybe if you kiss it better, I’ll be good as new.” Her tone was light, clearly not expecting him to take her seriously, but the amusement was evident in the way she squeezed his fingers before slipping her hand back.
Her gaze shifted at the mention of resting, flickering toward the nearby stool and chair. The idea of stretching out, even just for a moment, was so tempting. Her lips pursed as she tried to fight the urge, but her body was already betraying her, drawn to the promise of comfort. “I can’t just take over your space,” she mumbled, but her eyes remained locked on the inviting setup—the sturdy stool, the plush chair... it was practically calling to her.
She nibbled her bottom lip, hesitating before letting out a grumble. “I mean... it’d be rude to refuse kindness, wouldn’t it?” she mused, as if trying to convince herself that she had no choice in the matter. With a thoughtful hum, she finally relented. “Alright. I’ll just rest my eyes for a little bit—only if you think you can get through a quick warm-up without me.” Her gaze flicked back to him, sharp with warning despite her exhaustion. “Just be careful. No unnecessary dramatics. And come wake me the second it’s over.”
Her expression briefly shifted to confusion at his mention of a plaster, her brows knitting together before realization dawned. “Oh! A band-aid,” she murmured, glancing down at her finger. The small pinprick of blood had already begun to dry, but rather than making a fuss, she simply licked the wound clean with a nonchalant shrug.
Before she could dismiss it entirely, Theo’s fingers wrapped around hers, halting her movement. Iris blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she tested the hold by wiggling her fingers in his grasp. He wasn’t stopping her—just... holding. It was strange, feeling someone worry over her like this, but she found herself not minding it. In fact, she was enjoying the tiny moment of attention.
“I think I’ll survive,” she teased, a slow smirk curling at the edges of her mouth. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added, “But hey, maybe if you kiss it better, I’ll be good as new.” Her tone was light, clearly not expecting him to take her seriously, but the amusement was evident in the way she squeezed his fingers before slipping her hand back.
Her gaze shifted at the mention of resting, flickering toward the nearby stool and chair. The idea of stretching out, even just for a moment, was so tempting. Her lips pursed as she tried to fight the urge, but her body was already betraying her, drawn to the promise of comfort. “I can’t just take over your space,” she mumbled, but her eyes remained locked on the inviting setup—the sturdy stool, the plush chair... it was practically calling to her.
She nibbled her bottom lip, hesitating before letting out a grumble. “I mean... it’d be rude to refuse kindness, wouldn’t it?” she mused, as if trying to convince herself that she had no choice in the matter. With a thoughtful hum, she finally relented. “Alright. I’ll just rest my eyes for a little bit—only if you think you can get through a quick warm-up without me.” Her gaze flicked back to him, sharp with warning despite her exhaustion. “Just be careful. No unnecessary dramatics. And come wake me the second it’s over.”
lillymity
Junior Member
- One on One
- Off-site
lead actor
EclecticSpica
sleepy
- One on One
- Group
- Quests
- Off-site
Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris barely waved a hand in acknowledgment, already unraveling her bun and letting hairpins clatter into a small pile beside her. With practiced ease, she burrowed into her hoodie, pulling the fabric tight around her like a cocoon. Within seconds, she was out—completely surrendered to sleep.
Her dream should have been peaceful. And at first, it was. But then, Theo showed up. His presence wasn’t the problem—it was the way his hair kept shifting, changing with every blink of her mind’s eye. One moment, perfectly styled; the next, a chaotic mess. He stumbled, then laughed, his voice echoing in the strange, dreamlike haze. Irritated, Iris let out a soft groan, curling herself deeper into the seat, folding her legs into her chest as if making herself smaller would stabilize the surreal absurdity of it all.
Eventually, though, the dream shifted. Warmth. Comfort. The scent of fresh rice and seared fish. The gentle clink of expensive glassware. Finally—a dream worth savoring. She was at a high-end sushi bar, the kind where nothing was sticky or itchy, where indulgence was the only priority. Her body relaxed completely, a serene, bliss-filled smile settling onto her face as she could swear she could taste the delicate, buttery richness of toro nigiri melting on her tongue.
“More toro nigiri, please,” she murmured sleepily, barely stirring as the sound of the door creaked open.
She tucked herself deeper into her hoodie, her lips parting slightly as if savoring another bite. Her fingers twitched, and for once, her expression was unguarded—pure, genuine delight shaping her dimples as she enjoyed this fleeting moment of happiness.
And then—a voice.
Iris’s eyes flew open, her head snapping up as she gasped back to life, disoriented by the sudden shift from dream to reality. Her gaze darted around before settling on Theo, still hazy with sleep. The smile remained, soft and dreamlike, as she lifted a lazy hand to wave at him.
“Oh… no, thanks,” she mumbled absently, her voice still thick with drowsiness. A yawn broke through her words as she sluggishly rubbed at her eyes, groaning as she teetered on that fragile edge between wakefulness and the delicious comfort of sleep.
Her dream should have been peaceful. And at first, it was. But then, Theo showed up. His presence wasn’t the problem—it was the way his hair kept shifting, changing with every blink of her mind’s eye. One moment, perfectly styled; the next, a chaotic mess. He stumbled, then laughed, his voice echoing in the strange, dreamlike haze. Irritated, Iris let out a soft groan, curling herself deeper into the seat, folding her legs into her chest as if making herself smaller would stabilize the surreal absurdity of it all.
Eventually, though, the dream shifted. Warmth. Comfort. The scent of fresh rice and seared fish. The gentle clink of expensive glassware. Finally—a dream worth savoring. She was at a high-end sushi bar, the kind where nothing was sticky or itchy, where indulgence was the only priority. Her body relaxed completely, a serene, bliss-filled smile settling onto her face as she could swear she could taste the delicate, buttery richness of toro nigiri melting on her tongue.
“More toro nigiri, please,” she murmured sleepily, barely stirring as the sound of the door creaked open.
She tucked herself deeper into her hoodie, her lips parting slightly as if savoring another bite. Her fingers twitched, and for once, her expression was unguarded—pure, genuine delight shaping her dimples as she enjoyed this fleeting moment of happiness.
And then—a voice.
Iris’s eyes flew open, her head snapping up as she gasped back to life, disoriented by the sudden shift from dream to reality. Her gaze darted around before settling on Theo, still hazy with sleep. The smile remained, soft and dreamlike, as she lifted a lazy hand to wave at him.
“Oh… no, thanks,” she mumbled absently, her voice still thick with drowsiness. A yawn broke through her words as she sluggishly rubbed at her eyes, groaning as she teetered on that fragile edge between wakefulness and the delicious comfort of sleep.
lillymity
Junior Member
- One on One
- Off-site
lead actor
EclecticSpica
sleepy
- One on One
- Group
- Quests
- Off-site
Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
“No more?” Iris groaned, still trapped in the lingering haze of her dream. Her brow furrowed, lips pouting in soft, defenseless protest. “I can eat edamame then… or maybe a cucumber salad?” Another yawn crept up, and she barely made an effort to cover it, her fingers getting lost somewhere in the tangled mess of her curls.
She blinked slowly, the world coming into sharper focus as Theo’s hand brushed a stray curl from her face. Her blue eyes locked onto his, the fog of sleep lifting just enough for her mind to catch up.
“Theo?” she rasped, voice cracking with recognition. Finally, she managed to rub at her eyes properly, a groggy curse slipping from her lips. “Oh, shit.” Another stretch, arms reaching high above her head, shaking off the weight of sleep. “Right… rehearsal. Yay.” The lack of enthusiasm was almost comical, punctuated by another exhausted groan.
A pat to his hand, a slow blink toward the door—and then she flinched. The sight of the understudy standing there, watching them, was enough to drag her fully into the present. Her head tilted, sharp eyes scanning the poor guy as if dissecting his very presence. “Right, yeah. I’ll be there in a second. You guys go ahead.” She finally tore her gaze away, offering Theo a small smile.
With a lazy dip of her head, she turned back to her scattered pile of belongings, methodically beginning to put them back in place. “I just need to check in with the assistant stage manager,” she added, voice breezy, casual. “Go ahead. You guys don’t need me nagging at the start of the show anyway.” A playful shrug. Then, a wink.
As she reached for another pen, sticking it back into its rightful spot, her smirk widened. “Oh, and Theo? We are going to have a discussion about your smoothie habits in your dressing room. That can wait till after everything today.” The teasing glint in her eyes was unmistakable.
She watched him start to leave, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. And then, unable to resist, she let her gaze flick toward the painfully obvious hiding spot she had pretended not to notice earlier.
She could let it go. Just as a silent thank-you for letting her borrow his space.
…But where was the fun in that?
She blinked slowly, the world coming into sharper focus as Theo’s hand brushed a stray curl from her face. Her blue eyes locked onto his, the fog of sleep lifting just enough for her mind to catch up.
“Theo?” she rasped, voice cracking with recognition. Finally, she managed to rub at her eyes properly, a groggy curse slipping from her lips. “Oh, shit.” Another stretch, arms reaching high above her head, shaking off the weight of sleep. “Right… rehearsal. Yay.” The lack of enthusiasm was almost comical, punctuated by another exhausted groan.
A pat to his hand, a slow blink toward the door—and then she flinched. The sight of the understudy standing there, watching them, was enough to drag her fully into the present. Her head tilted, sharp eyes scanning the poor guy as if dissecting his very presence. “Right, yeah. I’ll be there in a second. You guys go ahead.” She finally tore her gaze away, offering Theo a small smile.
With a lazy dip of her head, she turned back to her scattered pile of belongings, methodically beginning to put them back in place. “I just need to check in with the assistant stage manager,” she added, voice breezy, casual. “Go ahead. You guys don’t need me nagging at the start of the show anyway.” A playful shrug. Then, a wink.
As she reached for another pen, sticking it back into its rightful spot, her smirk widened. “Oh, and Theo? We are going to have a discussion about your smoothie habits in your dressing room. That can wait till after everything today.” The teasing glint in her eyes was unmistakable.
She watched him start to leave, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. And then, unable to resist, she let her gaze flick toward the painfully obvious hiding spot she had pretended not to notice earlier.
She could let it go. Just as a silent thank-you for letting her borrow his space.
…But where was the fun in that?
lillymity
Junior Member
- One on One
- Off-site
lead actor
EclecticSpica
sleepy
- One on One
- Group
- Quests
- Off-site
Iris Starling
“We promised to never let go.”
“We promised to never let go.”
Iris was still laughing to herself as she finally stepped out of Theo’s dressing room, the echo of amusement lingering on her lips. A soft smile curled at the corners of her mouth as she made her final rounds backstage, weaving through the controlled chaos. She checked the hallways, straightened up props, ensured the crew was still functioning—somehow. The exhaustion was written in every slumped shoulder and heavy step, a testament to the brutal tech rehearsal period. Yet, against all odds, things were running smoothly.
It’s like he’s a lucky charm, she mused, a warmth settling in her chest.
And then, as if startled by her own thoughts, she snapped herself out of it. Iris shook her head, fingers pressing against her sternum in a fleeting attempt to quiet the feeling. Right, focus. Backstage mode, she reminded herself, exhaling as she moved on.
She caught the distant sounds of rehearsal—a fight scene. The clashing of prop weapons, the rise and fall of voices. Good. It would be sharper the second time around. And for now, it gave her a chance to finalize a few adjustments with the assistant stage manager tucked behind the wings.
Then came the scream. A sharp cry of pain, the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the stage. Iris’s head snapped toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. She saw the movement first—people rushing to the edge of the stage, voices rising in alarm. Not where Theo was supposed to be. His marks were nowhere near that spot. Then the fear-stricken faces turned to her.
“Theo?” she whispered to a cast member. A frantic nod confirmed her worst fear, and the next few moments blurred into instinct. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for the first aid kit beneath the assistant stage manager’s desk before sprinting toward the scene. The moment her gaze landed on Theo, her stomach twisted. “Give us some space,” she ordered, her voice firm despite the way her heart pounded. She dropped to her knees beside him, forcing herself to push past the panic and assess.
His hand was first—blood smeared against his skin, pooling from a deep cut. “Shit, Theo,” she breathed, grabbing gauze and pressing it firmly against the wound, wrapping his hand with gentle precision. “You need stitches. That’s for certain.” Then her eyes drifted lower. Her breath hitched. Feet… don’t bend that way. She swallowed hard, pushing down the dread clawing up her spine.
“We need to get to the hospital,” she declared, snapping into action. Her gaze flicked toward the strongest cast member she could find. “Help me lift him.” Without hesitation, she placed Theo’s hand on his chest, patting it briefly before looking back at the others.
“Angie,” she called to the assistant stage manager, voice clipped and authoritative. “Work through the rest of the scene. Check the set markers—something had to have been off. Call me if you need anything.” A pause. “If someone isn’t doing well, use the understudies.”
With one last nod, she turned, following Theo and the cast members as they carefully maneuvered him out of the theater and into her car. A small, beat-up thing—worn down by years of use, its windows still operated by hand cranks. A cassette player sat where a CD player should have been, a relic of an era long past. But it would do.
Theo was in, as comfortable as she could manage, and before she could second-guess herself, she was peeling out toward the hospital. The panic clawed at her throat, but she forced it down, her voice steady even as her hands tightened on the wheel. “Keep your hand up. Squeeze. Breathe through it,” she instructed, casting him brief glances between turns. “You're going to be okay.” She just had to believe it, too.
It’s like he’s a lucky charm, she mused, a warmth settling in her chest.
And then, as if startled by her own thoughts, she snapped herself out of it. Iris shook her head, fingers pressing against her sternum in a fleeting attempt to quiet the feeling. Right, focus. Backstage mode, she reminded herself, exhaling as she moved on.
She caught the distant sounds of rehearsal—a fight scene. The clashing of prop weapons, the rise and fall of voices. Good. It would be sharper the second time around. And for now, it gave her a chance to finalize a few adjustments with the assistant stage manager tucked behind the wings.
Then came the scream. A sharp cry of pain, the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the stage. Iris’s head snapped toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. She saw the movement first—people rushing to the edge of the stage, voices rising in alarm. Not where Theo was supposed to be. His marks were nowhere near that spot. Then the fear-stricken faces turned to her.
“Theo?” she whispered to a cast member. A frantic nod confirmed her worst fear, and the next few moments blurred into instinct. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for the first aid kit beneath the assistant stage manager’s desk before sprinting toward the scene. The moment her gaze landed on Theo, her stomach twisted. “Give us some space,” she ordered, her voice firm despite the way her heart pounded. She dropped to her knees beside him, forcing herself to push past the panic and assess.
His hand was first—blood smeared against his skin, pooling from a deep cut. “Shit, Theo,” she breathed, grabbing gauze and pressing it firmly against the wound, wrapping his hand with gentle precision. “You need stitches. That’s for certain.” Then her eyes drifted lower. Her breath hitched. Feet… don’t bend that way. She swallowed hard, pushing down the dread clawing up her spine.
“We need to get to the hospital,” she declared, snapping into action. Her gaze flicked toward the strongest cast member she could find. “Help me lift him.” Without hesitation, she placed Theo’s hand on his chest, patting it briefly before looking back at the others.
“Angie,” she called to the assistant stage manager, voice clipped and authoritative. “Work through the rest of the scene. Check the set markers—something had to have been off. Call me if you need anything.” A pause. “If someone isn’t doing well, use the understudies.”
With one last nod, she turned, following Theo and the cast members as they carefully maneuvered him out of the theater and into her car. A small, beat-up thing—worn down by years of use, its windows still operated by hand cranks. A cassette player sat where a CD player should have been, a relic of an era long past. But it would do.
Theo was in, as comfortable as she could manage, and before she could second-guess herself, she was peeling out toward the hospital. The panic clawed at her throat, but she forced it down, her voice steady even as her hands tightened on the wheel. “Keep your hand up. Squeeze. Breathe through it,” she instructed, casting him brief glances between turns. “You're going to be okay.” She just had to believe it, too.
lillymity
Junior Member
- One on One
- Off-site
lead actor
