[hr][hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qv8D0VP.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/ltGHeR5.png[/img] [h3][color=e03c31]Marcella Aveline Bonaparte II[/color] & [color=20b2aa]Rhea Franky Psomas[/color][/h3][/center] [sub]Interactions: Knocking on [color=ed1c24]Jonas Highwind's[/color] [@HereComesTheSnow] door and blowing up [color=6ecff6]Dallas Relo's[/color] [@Plank Sinatra] phone[/sub] [hr][hr] Marcella Aveline Bonaparte the second stood in all her glory as naked as the day she swore to never bring up again in front of a dresser. After an hour in hair and makeup she was finally ready to pick her outfit. The dresser was so unceremoniously stuffed with clothes that the wood creaked with every touch and its doors that refused to close even halfway. Her room was an absolute nightmare, the floors is clothes, the walls are clothes, the ceiling fan had a single bra hung from it. Morale was low, no one was certain when the war would end. Marcy examined each blouse, jacket, crop top, and dress with the scrutiny of a federal judge, each one’s surreptitious flaws so plain to her that she was disgusted by the lot of them. She needed something provocative, but ultimately casual enough to go to a diner. Something that would cause Dal to take a third, fourth, fifth look at her, but nothing that Jonas would remark as out of the ordinary. Something flowy, but also tight to her body. She settled for a burgundy cardigan, black crop top, white undershirt and a pair of airy frilly shorts that hugged her thighs. Selecting each piece with a sense of utilitarian pride. Now the outfit need only pass the most difficult test she could afford. [color=e03c31]“Rhea!”[/color] She crowed, flying to the door to her better half’s room and assailing it with a series of knocks. She had slept in Rhea’s bed after last night. Before the last knock could connect a tired Canadian sea deity appeared before her, only allowing the smallest of openings in the door as her eye peered out of the crack at Marcy. [color=20b2aa]“Yeah?”[/color] She whispered. [color=e03c31]“Don’t be like that.”[/color] Marcy quickly countered shoving as much of her body would fit through the crack as possible, causing the door to jut open and knocking Rhea back a foot or two. The daughter of Poseidon easily could’ve forced Marcy out, had she wanted to, but she was tired and possibly still at least partially asleep. Rhea looked like she was wearing the discarded tee of a trucker and some underwear from a bargain bin back in Canada. Annoyingly, she pulled it off. [color=e03c31]“You know I can get you nice clothes, your ass could be swathed in satin-"[/color] [color=20b2aa]“What do you want.”[/color] It wasn’t a question the way Rhea said it. She threw herself back onto her bed, her comforter the only shield she had against the cold reality setting in. She was going to have to help Marcy pick an outfit. [color=e03c31]“Okay so, I think we should start from the top here.”[/color] Marcy cooed. [color=20b2aa]“How many tops are you wearing?”[/color] Rhea groaned from underneath her comforter. [color=e03c31]“Counting the cardigan?”[/color] [color=20b2aa]“Yes.”[/color] [color=e03c31]“Three.”[/color] [color=20b2aa]“You’re ridiculous.”[/color] [color=e03c31]“they work, shut up.”[/color] Rhea pulled herself out from underneath her covers. Her expression softened when she looked at Marcy. She couldn’t help but smile at her. Marcella was a strange beast, and in the time, Rhea had gotten to know her she still hadn’t quite pinned down just what made Marcy, Marcy. She was charismatic to a point of intoxication. But there was more to it than that and it was hard to place. [color=20b2aa]“You doing okay?”[/color] Rhea asked, gently. Marcy had been somewhat off last night after the fight. [color=20b2aa]“You were pretty shaken before.”[/color] [color=e03c31]“Shaken? I wouldn’t say that.”[/color] Marcy countered. [color=e03c31]“Stirred.”[/color] Rhea rolled her eyes. [color=20b2aa]“I told you last night when you first made that joke, please don’t use that one on Dal.”[/color] [color=e03c31]“You try coming up with [i]only[/i] amazing jokes [i]and[/i] showing everyone else’s outfit’s up. It’s hard.”[/color] [color=20b2aa]“Friendly warning, that’s all.”p[/color] Rhea raised her hands. [color=20b2aa]“You look good.”[/color] She said, after a quiet moment of fake contemplation. [color=e03c31]“Told you!”[/color] With that, Marcy was out the door. Just down the hall, lay her quarry. [i]Bzzt.[/i] Her phone went off. [i]Bzzt. Bzzt.[/i] Short form rapid fire texts? That sounds like a certain muscle-bound intellect she remembered. [color=e03c31]“Making food? Making food?”[/color] No. That just would not do. A diner date was the way Dallas and Marcy always started the year off and it would not be thwarted this year by a child of Ares. Marcella marched down the hall, making her own text. To: The Sun [color=e03c31]“Heyyyy, I just woke up and I’m honestly still a little dishevelled, but I should be good for some diner food if you’re still in?”[/color] Rhea, meanwhile found a rather large hoodie that looked… Alright. It was a Calgary Stampeders sweater that belonged to one of her older brothers. She nestled into a pair of jeans and found her phone in the chaos that Marcy had left behind. She thought back to the last night, something that Marcy seemingly had no time for. She had performed adequately, and had been assigned a lynchpin role in protecting those who could not fight. However, she lacked the glory the others were given. She was the defense for a team with the best offense in the league. It felt, underwhelming. She had been training with Jonas for a while now, and she had grown massively in that short period of time. But still, something felt like it was missing. A chance to prove herself gone, and already forgotten by Marcy, at least. She shook her head, and worked up to leaving her room. She let a hand rest on a trident she had sitting up by the door. Along with it were some generic posters, and a small fish tank that currently lay empty until she could find some fish to put in it. Her room was neat, comparatively to Marcy’s. Though most warzones paled in the face of that monster’s room. [i]Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.[/i] Rhea’s eyes scanned the phone quickly. [color=20b2aa]“Jonas you’re a fucking life saver."[/color] Rhea exited her and Marcy’s apartment, quickly finding 2A and knocking on the door. [color=20b2aa]“Yo coach, you in there?”[/color] She called out.