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[img]http://i.imgur.com/rJTeiz8.jpg[/img]

[b][u]Location:[/u][/b] Sanctuary → Beverly Hills High
[b][u]Interacting With:[/u][/b] Those Who Are Disappointed; Those Whose Eyes Are Full of Lies.
[b][u]Time:[/u][/b] The Times Before the Crash

[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnqzIYZR1GA]All you do is cry
I'm afraid they're gonna find you
and there's nothing that I can do[/url][/sub][hr]


It was hard not to break down in front of the mirror. How many people, young and old, were waking up and spending an ungodly amount of time in front of mirrors of all shapes and sizes, making themselves look 'presentable' and 'attractive' and other synonyms for 'fake' before going out into the real world? Not everyone who gazed into the glass liked their reflection, and those that didn't like what they see weren't always willing to put the effort to change that, to look into the mirror and see someone happy. As she looked into the mirror the only thing that gazed back was disappointment. Depression. Failure. 

Phil Coleman had her bony fingers clutching the edges of the counter as her shaking, scared doe-eyes gazed into the glass hanging above the sink. Staring back at her was a ghoul, sunken cheeks, pale skin, bright, light blue hair, and lips that were quivering and turning dark in color - matching the heavy lines under her eyes. She was like a raccoon fell into a vat of blue flavored cotton candy and then fucked the guy from Munch's 'The Scream'. Below her reflection, it wasn't just her lips that were shaking. Her fingers had to clutch the counter edge as they were shaking rather violently and this was the only way she could ignore it; digging nails into hardwood was painful, but the pain was necessary. She'd dig her nails deeper if she could, but they had been filed down to small nubs, to the point where it was painful to grip a wrapper for a candy bar and pull it open. This was a hell of her own making. 

Deep breathes. It hurt to inhale. Deep breathing. The saliva was like lava as she swallowed a gulp. Deep breathing. She didn't need it. Deep breaths. She needed it. 

Phil's right hand unclasped the counter and hovered over the syringe laying next to the porcelain sink. Inside the syringe was the solution. The pain would go away, the shakes, the fears, but it wouldn't last. But it would last long enough. God she needed it. How could she not? A simple solution to the problems, to the pain, was right there, her fingers were hovering over it - so close she could feel the warmth from the inside of the syringe. Her eyes glanced downward, seeing the hesitation in her own body; the subtle resistance, the constant internal conflict. It wasn't always like this; She was happy, once. She had prospects, once. She had friends, once. She had a support system, once. She went to a party, once. She took a drink, once. She took a hit, once. She did a line, once. Her whole life up to now was a series of onces. So what was once more? Once more the pain would go away. Once more the release would happen. Once more she would disappoint the only people who still cared. 

It was just one more hit. 

Phil's eyes looked back into the mirror and they did not recognize the monster that looked back. She was pretty, once. Her hair used to be so lustrous, so shining and black, so bright and blue, so...unique...and now her hair was sickly blue and stringy, clinging to her forehead like someone slathered glue on her face. It helped when she didn't look. It was easier to handle if she didn't look. She stared into the mirror so she didn't have to look as her fingers closed around the syringe. 

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xX9TDQcCyVE]There she goes. There she goes again. Racin' through her brain and she just can't contain the feeling that remains. There she blows. There she blows again. Pulsin' thru her veins...[/url][/center]

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[img]http://i.imgur.com/QOCg8GK.gif[/img]

[b][u]Location;[/u][/b] Abby Park's Apartment → Beverly Hills High
[b][u]Interacting With;[/u][/b] Potential Clients, Adoring Fans
[b][u]Time;[/u][/b] Before Noon

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[i]"But I thought you didn't trust me? Kirin Tor...spellslinger...that night on the way to Blackrock...did you feel it too?" Khadgar's breathing was low, but his small lips and lowered eyelids gave off a rather coquettish vibe as he stared towards the object of his obsession, his desire. It seemed a bit unusual for the young mage to act like this, but when dealing with sorts who care more about the size of their weapon and the bulkiness of their chainmail, it helped to put on the act...the weak, unassuming visage of a stringy little spellslinger. But it had worked, it had allowed him to get closer...

The mage did not wait for confirmation. As their eyes locked, a silent moment of understanding, of acknowledgment passed between them. And Khadgar didn't even have to use his magicks to ensorcell his target; it was too soon to call this anything, certainly not love...but lust was closer. That night on the mountain pass was stuck in his mind for weeks now. At the time the half orc distraction had assumed the curious, knowledgeable weakling of a mage had been interested in sleeping with her. So full of herself she was, chalk it up to orcish pride running deep even in the blood of one with half parentage. It was not the greenskin that the former Kirin Tor had been interested in; he had been gazing at the orc only because she was a nuisance, an obstacle, a rival for the affections of the one he truly had feelings for. 

For as strong a combatant that orc no doubt was, it was the mage who won in the end as he could now feel the warmth of breath on his skin, the tingling sensation that came with it, and the look of passion in those deep, beautiful eyes. Khadgar extended a hand, pressing his ungloved palm to that rough, rugged cheek before him. Oh how he enjoyed the feeling of stubble betwixt his fingers as his palm traced a small downward line towards that jaw. Khadgar's index finger pressed gently against the lips that were trembling. So the strong sorts did have vulnerabilities. Did have soft sides. Or soft lips as the case was. 

It was okay. Khadgar would take care of this, he would make the nerves cease. With a calming grin at the edges of his lips, Khadgar closed the gap between them and took the initiative. The mage pressed his lips against Anduin's in a gentle, taking kiss. In that moment as passions flared and emotions rose to the surface, the little game he had been playing with the greenskin had ended. Khadgar won. Though Anduin and the orc had similar interests in battle, it was this little unassuming caster that had won in the end. The thought lingered in Khadgar's mind as he enjoyed the prize. It was the mage who bested the warrior after all. 

The kiss broke and their breathing was increased. "Your king can wait a moment longer." Khadgar whispered, voice dropping to a sultry whisper as his fingers were already set on their task of unclasping Anduin's obstructing mail, "Right now, your loyalties lay with a different sort. Lay with me." There was a gentle thud as Anduin's chestplate collapsed onto the stone floor, and Khadgar's hands could hardly contain their excitement as his palm felt along those chiseled, toned muscles. There was something to be said for the Stormwind Guard training regimen. Neither man was sure just how much time they had, but they would make the best of it while they could. Another -[/i]

[color=orangered][b]"HANA, DON'T BE LATE. TRUANCY'S A CRIME, YOU KNOW."[/b][/color]

Hana Park blinked and hurriedly clicked the save icon on her word document before closing out of it entirely. A sigh escaped her lips followed by a quick shaking of her head; she had intended on publishing the latest chapter online before school started, but that seemed like an impossibility now. There would be so little time to finish the chapter during school hours - not that she WOULD, of course, eyes were everywhere and not all of them were working for her. 

[color=magenta]"I know, Abs, I know!"[/color] Hana called towards her door. Hana had been living with her older sister Abby for almost two years now, an arrangement that took some convincing for both sides. Abby had enjoyed living by herself since no one was there to judge her for both stocking the fridge with cheep beer and for getting invested in reality competition shows on a regular basis and though she loved Hana - they were the closest siblings of the Park family after all - living alone had brought a comfort to the young police officer. Hana did work her charms and magic, though, and convinced both Abby and their father that Abby's closer location to the high school meant a shorter commute and would certainly make her extra-curriculars  more palatable. 

It had been an excuse, of course, but they remained none the wiser. 

Hana got up from her laptop, shutting the top as she stood. She was already dressed for the first day; white skirt that would surely give the new arrivals and old returnees a fresh reminder that these were the legs of both the softball team captain AND a damn great tennis team member, pink top cut just low enough to fit the acceptable dress code while also maintaining that air of allure and confidence - she was classy, not trashy. Leave trashy to the cheerleaders who flipped their skirts as soon as some lunkhead in a letterman jacket was creeping around.

Either way, the latest chapter in VanillaSunrise's fic would have to wait until the evening. Such was life. 

Hana left her room, grabbing her bag from the doorknob as she did, and walked down the hall towards the small kitchen area. Abby's apartment was a bit on the small side, unusual for one living in Beverly Hills, but it offered cheaper rent and utilities. Hardly a loft, but a simple two bed, one bath that was practically in spitting distance of the high school. Hana grabbed a vanilla yogurt from the fridge and gave her sister a wave good bye before heading out of the door. [color=magenta]"Catch the criminals,"[/color] Hana called before leaving the apartment altogether. 'Catch the criminals' is what Hana used to say to Abby when they were both younger and playing one of their imaginative games. Hana doubted that Abby remembered those days, but it served as a nice reminder to Hana that she still cared for Abby even as she was taking advantage of her hospitality.

Another year was starting at Beverly Hills High School, and that just meant one thing to Hana Park. Another batch of new arrivals with access to their parents' bank account and a dire need to seem cool. There might have been a new Queen Bee roaming the halls, but there was only one Queenpin and she was making her way to her area of distribution.[/center]

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[quote][i]badazzbrekkie uploaded[/i]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/maLcK37.jpg[/img]

#breakfast #homemade #foodporn[/quote] 

Phil could count on one hand the things in life that brought her joy and posting her breakfast onto Instagram was one of those. At first she just did it to occupy her hands, but when she saw that people actually seemed to respond to her posts she kept doing it. Breakfast was one thing Phil did better than anyone she knew. Well, breakfast and shooting up, but the people she knew weren't addicts. Not like she was. The morning trip in the bathroom was exactly what she needed to start the day and by the time she was out of the door of her grandparents house, she was almost smiling. 

The hard part was making it through the day without wanting another hit. She could get it, but not on the first day and she would be insane to bring the spoon, the needle, the flame to school grounds. Not that anyone would care. Phil all but vanished the last few months of her sophomore year and no one heard hide nor hair of her for all of summer, which was unusual as even if she was uninvited Phil had a habit of showing up at parties and livening up the place with her antics. The Phil from last school year was a different person, not as thin, not as haggard...Phil was different now and she hoped that that wouldn't draw attention to her. That was the last thing she needed.

When Phil arrived on school grounds, she did not attend the assembly. Too many people. Too much useless information. Too many eyes and too many lies. Like the ghost she resembled, Phil stayed to the outskirts, hanging out near the wall of the auditorium until her eyes settled on all the movement, her ears picked up all the sounds...the Activities Fair. That was still happening? It wasn't all that long ago that Phil was sitting with the Art Club doing quick caricatures of people in order to entice them into joining. A distant memory. A painful one. She would absolutely have to avoid the Art Club and their no-doubt judging stares. She hadn't picked up a paintbrush or pencil since she picked up the syringe. 

Phil kept her head down as she walked through the Activity Fair. She didnt' belong here, she had nothing to advertise and she wasn't about to join any club. Who would take her? Who would want that responsibility? All the noise, the clubs handing out fliers, the young sorts curious as to what the place had on offer other than sadness and petty bitchy bullshit. Out of the corner of her ear she heard someone call for others...she sounded like a real...'treat' but a quick glance towards the girl and Phil's feet carried her quickly past the...Yearbook Club, but only long enough for Phil to snag not one but three cookies. [color=cyan]"Happy Halloween,"[/color] Phil muttered under her breath at the girl's choice in color for her dress. She was thankful for the inadvertent distraction from the crazy surfer linguist. 

As she continued her walk through the shadows of the Activity Fair, a flier for battle of the bands was dropped into her hands and to her side she could hear people discuss entering. She snickered to herself as she balled the flier into a, well, a ball and chucked it aside. [color=cyan]"Work on the band name first..."[/color] another muttering as she walked past like the ghost she seemed to be. Unwarranted confidence was a nice side effect of her addiction. 

Phil came to a stop as she noticed the Art Club booth in her peripheral vision. She couldn't go on. She had to turn around. And she did. Phil turned around,not wanting those memories to come flooding back, not wanting to face her former art buddies, and as she stepped away it all came tumbling down. Phil made contact with someone walking and she fell onto the ground, head hitting the pavement. 

At least the cookies remained grasped between her fingers. [/center]


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[b]"Captain!"[/b] Some of the softball team members were rushing to greet their newly appointed captain, Hana, who had skipped the assembly because honestly who cared. As the captain of a sports team and a well known member of ANOTHER sports team, Hana had a generally busy time at the Activity Fair, bouncing between sports booths like a ping pong ball. The Activity Fair sure was lively, and Hana enjoyed that aspect of it. Lots of people talking. Lots of eyes and ears making the rounds. 

[color=magenta]"So, what's the plan?"[/color] Hana asked one of her team mates as she arrived at the athletics corner of the Activity Fair. 

[b]"Well it's softball, Captain, people will either want to try out or they won't. But since you're the Captain..."[/b] 

[color=magenta]"...Right, it's my job to interest people. No problem. Although I already promised I'd help out with a Tennis Team demo. It'll be fine. You girls can explain softball to people."[/color] Hana could think of nothing she wanted to do less than sit and smile and tell girls about how much fun softball was. Other clubs had more active examples but softball was so explanatory that all the team members usually did was stick some junior varsity girls at the booth to tell them when try outs happened. 

Which is exactly what they were going to do this year too. 

[color=magenta]"Anyway, you all know the drill. I've got appearances to make elsewhere, I'll come check by later."[/color] Almost as soon as Hana had arrived at the softball booth she was turning around to make her presence known to others at the Fair. Hana Song was a somebody on the campus and people would have to be made aware of this fact. 

The first task of any new school year, of course, was scoping out old methods of distribution. The Pizza Man would be opening the doors soon. But that could wait. Hana had a genuine interest in seeing the other booths, in mingling, in making herself known. The duty of a popular jock didn't start and stop on the field, after all. 

But for now, she was simply going to play it by ear. A few waves. A few smiles. A couple of knowing winks to those who got caught leering...just another day at Beverly Hills High School.[/center]