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Collab post between EnsoNoctis, Apokalipse, and Liriia posted.
Warren.
Sybil stood in the center of her all so familiar home town, feeling rather sleepy, heavy, and confused, pale eyes drifting over the buildings and sky and trees in the distance with obvious worry. Everything was dyed a light gray or blue, as if frozen in ice, and it was dead quiet. No children, no gossip, no wind or birds or creaking. Just silence. Sybil turned around slowly, feeling the familiar drift of a night gown brush her bare feet, and opened her mouth to call for someone, anyone, but no words formed, just air, as if she was letting out a breathless scream. Her brain groped for answers, but none came, and the thought that she was dreaming never crossed her mind. And then, as if on a cue, she was walking, wandering through the dirt roads of the blued-out town in complete silence. At first, she was calm, deciding that, perhaps, she was just a bit out of it and everything would return to normal soon, but after what felt like an hour of endless walking through a gray-scale, silent town she began to lose hope. And then she caught sight of the church, standing tall and proud against a blue-gray and still sky, and then Sybil felt her heart leap with fear. Shivers racked her body, a combination of fear and anxiety forced her eyes closed, and her mind repeatedly screamed,
"No, no, I don't wanna see, please!"
But she didn't know what she didn't want to see. Odd. Eventually, the walking slowed to a stop once again, and Sybil stood, blind and frightened, until something brushed her shoulder. Blue eyes jolted open and stared wildly to her side, and what she found was extremely odd. It was a blue shawl, worn and familiar, floating just above a thin, orange flame. The flame flickered and danced excitedly, and then suddenly spat out embers, which then formed four more flames. Then those flames spit embers and more appeared, over and over and over. Like vines on a house, the flames spread throughout the area until she was completely surrounded. The fires were not hot, and were much to small to even touch her, so Sybil took it upon herself to suddenly break from her stiff, trance-like position to inspect the flames closely. When she reached to touch them they fluttered back a few steps, and being unable to follow them she eventually gave up and returned her stare forward, catching sight of an old-looking house. Millicent Grant's home. It stood like all the other buildings, gray and silent, but Sybil soon noticed something strange about the old thing. Just outside the house was a rather large flame, and it was spitting out thousands of embers, glowing vibrantly against the still background.
"If that keeps up, Ms. Grant's house will catch." Sybil thought for a moment, and then she screamed a silent scream. The house had caught fire, and it went up quickly and brilliantly, burning hot and loud and bright. Around her, the small flames were suddenly conjoining, becoming bigger, surrounding, devouring, killing. Coolness became heat, and suddenly her flesh was burning and she was still screaming until her mind suddenly set on the blue shawl once more. Something in her head was yelling at her to protect the shawl, keep it away from the fires, it must survive and if it doesn't something bad will happen. Beside her, the cloak floated gently among it's own flame, having yet to be devoured, but just as she turned to reach for the colorful accessory it caught, and slowly ebbed away into ash and ember. And then Warren was nothing but heat and blood and pain, and then a hand clapped over her face and she jolted forward. A cool breeze met her chest and neck and face, and then blonde hair tumbled forward, obscuring her vision. Another hand patted her head three times, and Sybil slowly parted her hair and glanced up to see familiar blue eyes peering back down at her,
"Jeez, finally, you've been mumbling all morning. Get up, Dearie." her sister whine, pushing her head forward a bit as she rose up and stretched. Sybil brushed her hair back and yawned, glancing about the tight attic room. The single window was bright and glowing, allowing the morning sun to cast small shadows across the wooden room. Across from her own bed was her sister's, which has yet to be made and still looked as though it was being laid in. The room felt somewhat humid, and the cool breeze from before was suddenly replaced by the feeling of sweat forming under her nightgown. Truth leaned towards her again, brushing a strand of hair out of Sybil's face before grinning,
"Start getting ready, 's Sunday." a moment of brief confusion claimed her mind, and she stared down at her covered knees for a moment, thinking about the significance of Sunday until the idea of church finally broke through.
"... Right." Sybil finally sighed, kicking off the quilt wrapped around her lower body and standing, heading to her dresser to prepare for the long morning ahead.
Church was over and done with eventually, and the Barwicke family slowly exited the large building with the rest of the townsfolk, standing silent as everyone sighed against the heat and fanned themselves with tight hands and the occasional note. Sybil stared ahead, mouth a gap as sweat dripped from her her brow and formed underneath the layers of her outfit. Beside her, Truth let out a loud whine and threw her head back, staring up at the brilliant sky with sun-strained eyes, the blue shawl around her shoulders fluttering,
"Hot, hot, hot! It's hot, right, Syb?" she cried, shaking her sister's shoulder roughly. Sybil smiled slightly and nodded, fanning her sister with an outstretched hand. Mrs. Barwicke turned suddenly, giving the older sister a hard slap on the back of the head,
"Don't make a scene. Your father and I are heading back home to start work." she told the two, standing tall despite the obvious sweat that gleamed on her forehead, "I expect you home within two hours." and then she was gone, pushing through the crowd quickly with her much taller husband in tow. Sybil turned to glance up at her sister, who stared at the back of their parents with narrowed eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, though, the familiar sound of drunken speech cut her off short, and the two turned to find Young Tom Young, throwing bottles at Millicent Grant's house, shouting out accusations of the old woman being a witch. Truth, obviously interested by the scene, moved forward slightly in the crowd, blue eyes wide with excitement. Meanwhile, Sybil stood painfully still, feeling a strange and painful sort of deja vu at the sight of Ms. Grant's house.
Finally, Truth let out her low, girlish laugh, pulling her shawl hood over her tightly tied hair as she turned to a girl on her left, muttering a quick, "Ya hear that? Millicent is working for Satan! Think it's true?"
Sybil broke out of her trance and opened her mouth to protest against her sister's rudeness, but was quickly over powered by the crowd's murmurs of concern and curiosity. Some simply thought it was just Young Tom's drunken behavior, and others earnestly believed the mysterious old widow was guilty of witchcraft. Henrik, who was standing nearby while waiting for his brother spoke with a loud, stern voice overshadowing the other villagers’ murmurs,
"It matters not. The council shall investigate it and it is up to the magistrate to decide her fate." Sybil turned her wide eyes to the man, but remained silent as Ursula, the fiery Livingstone girl, let out an incredulous scoff at the glacial Magnusson heir.
“Let those pompous wretches handle this? Why, so we can condemn another woman to death?” The redhead hissed. Henrik snickered as he heard the young Livingstone from the crowd -
"These 'pompous wretches' are the ones who run this city. You should spend less time sleeping and more time coming to the city assemblies.”
"You're a filthy piece of work, Henrik! You're prepared to hand a possibly guiltless woman over to arrogant dolts who don't even care!" Ursula argued. Henrik could feel the blood rushing to his head. He glared at Ursula, but before he could rebuke, Ezra was already on his way out from the church and was gazing at him intently, as if telling him to calm himself down.
“I doubt the council will listen to the words of the town drunk,” he scoffed. “Yes, and that poor woman has already been through enough. She’s lost her husband and has no one to help her,” Ezra’s voice was rather soothing compared to the rest of the crowd. Sybil felt herself nod, only slightly, and Truth scoffed at the argument, turning to converse with a small group of girls as the others continued.
He glanced at Ursula and flashed a smile,
"Arguing with Henrik again? You should know by now he's a stubborn old moose," he quipped. Ursula returned the grin, her lips curling at Ezra’s presence when she remembered the situation and it slipped off.
“He’s a vile toad; someone should put him in his place.”
“Why you ignorant little-,” Henrik almost shouted, but Ezra grasped his shoulder and pulled him away, “Henrik, we’ve much more important things to deal with. Your father is expecting a report for this month.” Henrik eased his tense shoulders and started to walk away with Ezra by his side. Ezra turned and waved at the crowd, “Oh, Ursula. Be careful not to trip and hurt yourself when looking for herbs today,” he winked as he signaled to her their secret code. Henrik glanced at his cousin and shook his head as he grimaced. “My dear cousin,” he said in a low voice, “do be careful when choosing the women you associate yourself with. You are, by blood, a Magnusson after all.”
“I will the moment you stop being so picky about your choice of women,” Ezra retorted as he smirked.
“In any case, I think it’s worth investigating Miss Grant’s house,” he continued in a more serious tone, “Tom Young is known for being quite bothersome, but he has never accused anyone of witchcraft.”
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such things,” Henrik cautioned, “else you might end up being accused yourself.”
“We wouldn’t want that on our hands, now would we,” Ezra sarcastically replied. Henrik already knew that Ezra would not heed his warning, but he spoke nothing more of it. Sybil watched the two men off with curious eyes, but once out of sight she returned to glance around for her sister, who had vanished into the gossip as she normally did. Meanwhile, the Pastor and Efferea were approaching Tom Young, obviously trying to calm the drunk down.
'Oh dear.' her mind sighed, 'looks like something troubling is about to happen.'
Sybil stood in the center of her all so familiar home town, feeling rather sleepy, heavy, and confused, pale eyes drifting over the buildings and sky and trees in the distance with obvious worry. Everything was dyed a light gray or blue, as if frozen in ice, and it was dead quiet. No children, no gossip, no wind or birds or creaking. Just silence. Sybil turned around slowly, feeling the familiar drift of a night gown brush her bare feet, and opened her mouth to call for someone, anyone, but no words formed, just air, as if she was letting out a breathless scream. Her brain groped for answers, but none came, and the thought that she was dreaming never crossed her mind. And then, as if on a cue, she was walking, wandering through the dirt roads of the blued-out town in complete silence. At first, she was calm, deciding that, perhaps, she was just a bit out of it and everything would return to normal soon, but after what felt like an hour of endless walking through a gray-scale, silent town she began to lose hope. And then she caught sight of the church, standing tall and proud against a blue-gray and still sky, and then Sybil felt her heart leap with fear. Shivers racked her body, a combination of fear and anxiety forced her eyes closed, and her mind repeatedly screamed,
"No, no, I don't wanna see, please!"
But she didn't know what she didn't want to see. Odd. Eventually, the walking slowed to a stop once again, and Sybil stood, blind and frightened, until something brushed her shoulder. Blue eyes jolted open and stared wildly to her side, and what she found was extremely odd. It was a blue shawl, worn and familiar, floating just above a thin, orange flame. The flame flickered and danced excitedly, and then suddenly spat out embers, which then formed four more flames. Then those flames spit embers and more appeared, over and over and over. Like vines on a house, the flames spread throughout the area until she was completely surrounded. The fires were not hot, and were much to small to even touch her, so Sybil took it upon herself to suddenly break from her stiff, trance-like position to inspect the flames closely. When she reached to touch them they fluttered back a few steps, and being unable to follow them she eventually gave up and returned her stare forward, catching sight of an old-looking house. Millicent Grant's home. It stood like all the other buildings, gray and silent, but Sybil soon noticed something strange about the old thing. Just outside the house was a rather large flame, and it was spitting out thousands of embers, glowing vibrantly against the still background.
"If that keeps up, Ms. Grant's house will catch." Sybil thought for a moment, and then she screamed a silent scream. The house had caught fire, and it went up quickly and brilliantly, burning hot and loud and bright. Around her, the small flames were suddenly conjoining, becoming bigger, surrounding, devouring, killing. Coolness became heat, and suddenly her flesh was burning and she was still screaming until her mind suddenly set on the blue shawl once more. Something in her head was yelling at her to protect the shawl, keep it away from the fires, it must survive and if it doesn't something bad will happen. Beside her, the cloak floated gently among it's own flame, having yet to be devoured, but just as she turned to reach for the colorful accessory it caught, and slowly ebbed away into ash and ember. And then Warren was nothing but heat and blood and pain, and then a hand clapped over her face and she jolted forward. A cool breeze met her chest and neck and face, and then blonde hair tumbled forward, obscuring her vision. Another hand patted her head three times, and Sybil slowly parted her hair and glanced up to see familiar blue eyes peering back down at her,
"Jeez, finally, you've been mumbling all morning. Get up, Dearie." her sister whine, pushing her head forward a bit as she rose up and stretched. Sybil brushed her hair back and yawned, glancing about the tight attic room. The single window was bright and glowing, allowing the morning sun to cast small shadows across the wooden room. Across from her own bed was her sister's, which has yet to be made and still looked as though it was being laid in. The room felt somewhat humid, and the cool breeze from before was suddenly replaced by the feeling of sweat forming under her nightgown. Truth leaned towards her again, brushing a strand of hair out of Sybil's face before grinning,
"Start getting ready, 's Sunday." a moment of brief confusion claimed her mind, and she stared down at her covered knees for a moment, thinking about the significance of Sunday until the idea of church finally broke through.
"... Right." Sybil finally sighed, kicking off the quilt wrapped around her lower body and standing, heading to her dresser to prepare for the long morning ahead.
Church was over and done with eventually, and the Barwicke family slowly exited the large building with the rest of the townsfolk, standing silent as everyone sighed against the heat and fanned themselves with tight hands and the occasional note. Sybil stared ahead, mouth a gap as sweat dripped from her her brow and formed underneath the layers of her outfit. Beside her, Truth let out a loud whine and threw her head back, staring up at the brilliant sky with sun-strained eyes, the blue shawl around her shoulders fluttering,
"Hot, hot, hot! It's hot, right, Syb?" she cried, shaking her sister's shoulder roughly. Sybil smiled slightly and nodded, fanning her sister with an outstretched hand. Mrs. Barwicke turned suddenly, giving the older sister a hard slap on the back of the head,
"Don't make a scene. Your father and I are heading back home to start work." she told the two, standing tall despite the obvious sweat that gleamed on her forehead, "I expect you home within two hours." and then she was gone, pushing through the crowd quickly with her much taller husband in tow. Sybil turned to glance up at her sister, who stared at the back of their parents with narrowed eyes. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, though, the familiar sound of drunken speech cut her off short, and the two turned to find Young Tom Young, throwing bottles at Millicent Grant's house, shouting out accusations of the old woman being a witch. Truth, obviously interested by the scene, moved forward slightly in the crowd, blue eyes wide with excitement. Meanwhile, Sybil stood painfully still, feeling a strange and painful sort of deja vu at the sight of Ms. Grant's house.
Finally, Truth let out her low, girlish laugh, pulling her shawl hood over her tightly tied hair as she turned to a girl on her left, muttering a quick, "Ya hear that? Millicent is working for Satan! Think it's true?"
Sybil broke out of her trance and opened her mouth to protest against her sister's rudeness, but was quickly over powered by the crowd's murmurs of concern and curiosity. Some simply thought it was just Young Tom's drunken behavior, and others earnestly believed the mysterious old widow was guilty of witchcraft. Henrik, who was standing nearby while waiting for his brother spoke with a loud, stern voice overshadowing the other villagers’ murmurs,
"It matters not. The council shall investigate it and it is up to the magistrate to decide her fate." Sybil turned her wide eyes to the man, but remained silent as Ursula, the fiery Livingstone girl, let out an incredulous scoff at the glacial Magnusson heir.
“Let those pompous wretches handle this? Why, so we can condemn another woman to death?” The redhead hissed. Henrik snickered as he heard the young Livingstone from the crowd -
"These 'pompous wretches' are the ones who run this city. You should spend less time sleeping and more time coming to the city assemblies.”
"You're a filthy piece of work, Henrik! You're prepared to hand a possibly guiltless woman over to arrogant dolts who don't even care!" Ursula argued. Henrik could feel the blood rushing to his head. He glared at Ursula, but before he could rebuke, Ezra was already on his way out from the church and was gazing at him intently, as if telling him to calm himself down.
“I doubt the council will listen to the words of the town drunk,” he scoffed. “Yes, and that poor woman has already been through enough. She’s lost her husband and has no one to help her,” Ezra’s voice was rather soothing compared to the rest of the crowd. Sybil felt herself nod, only slightly, and Truth scoffed at the argument, turning to converse with a small group of girls as the others continued.
He glanced at Ursula and flashed a smile,
"Arguing with Henrik again? You should know by now he's a stubborn old moose," he quipped. Ursula returned the grin, her lips curling at Ezra’s presence when she remembered the situation and it slipped off.
“He’s a vile toad; someone should put him in his place.”
“Why you ignorant little-,” Henrik almost shouted, but Ezra grasped his shoulder and pulled him away, “Henrik, we’ve much more important things to deal with. Your father is expecting a report for this month.” Henrik eased his tense shoulders and started to walk away with Ezra by his side. Ezra turned and waved at the crowd, “Oh, Ursula. Be careful not to trip and hurt yourself when looking for herbs today,” he winked as he signaled to her their secret code. Henrik glanced at his cousin and shook his head as he grimaced. “My dear cousin,” he said in a low voice, “do be careful when choosing the women you associate yourself with. You are, by blood, a Magnusson after all.”
“I will the moment you stop being so picky about your choice of women,” Ezra retorted as he smirked.
“In any case, I think it’s worth investigating Miss Grant’s house,” he continued in a more serious tone, “Tom Young is known for being quite bothersome, but he has never accused anyone of witchcraft.”
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such things,” Henrik cautioned, “else you might end up being accused yourself.”
“We wouldn’t want that on our hands, now would we,” Ezra sarcastically replied. Henrik already knew that Ezra would not heed his warning, but he spoke nothing more of it. Sybil watched the two men off with curious eyes, but once out of sight she returned to glance around for her sister, who had vanished into the gossip as she normally did. Meanwhile, the Pastor and Efferea were approaching Tom Young, obviously trying to calm the drunk down.
'Oh dear.' her mind sighed, 'looks like something troubling is about to happen.'
Megumi smiled at Arisu's reaction, just slightly, and then jumped back as Kinzo declared that they should all buy masks. He flashed her a thumbs up while laughing and a thin pink dusted her cheeks, eyes turning to stare off into the distance as she gave one slight nod and a soft noise of agreement. A sudden breeze quelled her heated cheeks and she lifted up her arms to hug herself, kind of regretting not bringing a jacket or gloves as her mother had instructed. Kuyu was busy speaking with Lila-dono, and Megumi only found herself half-paying attention as the boy suddenly began to stammer about after one of Kinzo's questions, instead focused on the path they had just walked up. The sun had finally reached a point high enough to over take the city's distant buildings, and it glowed down on the snow and stone path brilliantly.
'It's still so early in the morning... she thought offhandedly, playing with the zipper of her jersey quietly. Around, there were already more people appearing, girls in fashionable outfits giggling into their phones, parents wandering after high strung children, boys with their casual laughter and lax stances. It would grow even more exciting later in the day, but by then most of them would be working. Her attention reverted once again to the people beside her, and a small smile glowed in her eyes. Such friendly people, hopefully they'll get to buy some masks and enjoy the morning together a bit longer.
Eventually, she found herself staring at the mask stand just a ways away, staring blankly at the humorous depictions of oni and tengu and kitsune. One particular mask caught her eye, a red fox mask with intricate looking details strew into the face. It was pretty, and would make a lovely gift to her mother who often collected things like that. Megumi returned her stare to the group, dark eyes scanning each person at least once. The conversation seemed to have drifted away, leaving many different faces to examine: Lila-dono's contentedness, Kuyu's laughing face, Kinzo's confusion, and Arisu's mask. Such a colorful group. Another gust of wind blasted suddenly, and Megumi shook within her jersey, face burying into the deep collar almost on instinct.
'I wish it were warm already.' she complained mentally, sighing.
'It's still so early in the morning... she thought offhandedly, playing with the zipper of her jersey quietly. Around, there were already more people appearing, girls in fashionable outfits giggling into their phones, parents wandering after high strung children, boys with their casual laughter and lax stances. It would grow even more exciting later in the day, but by then most of them would be working. Her attention reverted once again to the people beside her, and a small smile glowed in her eyes. Such friendly people, hopefully they'll get to buy some masks and enjoy the morning together a bit longer.
Eventually, she found herself staring at the mask stand just a ways away, staring blankly at the humorous depictions of oni and tengu and kitsune. One particular mask caught her eye, a red fox mask with intricate looking details strew into the face. It was pretty, and would make a lovely gift to her mother who often collected things like that. Megumi returned her stare to the group, dark eyes scanning each person at least once. The conversation seemed to have drifted away, leaving many different faces to examine: Lila-dono's contentedness, Kuyu's laughing face, Kinzo's confusion, and Arisu's mask. Such a colorful group. Another gust of wind blasted suddenly, and Megumi shook within her jersey, face burying into the deep collar almost on instinct.
'I wish it were warm already.' she complained mentally, sighing.
Found another anime similar to this game: And Yet the Town Moves. Maid cafes, man.
Posted, it's sloppy and uninspired but w/e ;w;
Posted, it's sloppy and uninspired but w/e ;w;
EnsoNoctis said
Sync.in has temporarily disabled free notes :(
We can always use the PM system on here as well (: but lets figure this out when I get home.
EnsoNoctis said
Okay, so how do you two want to handle this collaboration? I've been using open google drive docs to make the draft, but I think an open discussion is necessary. I opened a chatzy account. I'll most likely be staying at home for the rest of the day, so jump in and I'll be in there. is the link
Sadly I'm not home, but I will be in about two hours. Another site that could work is sync.in, ill make a session in that if chatzy doesn't work (:
Mai would either pick Moonstone or one of the hurt missions (mostly because she would like to try and form a plan that would put the baddy out of commission rather then kill them) but will be rather lenient with whatever the other two decide on.
EnsoNoctis said
Since it's a tight knit community, would anyone like to collaborate?
I'd love to collab! Also, thanks. I thought the new picture fit her much better than the last one.
Also, sorry for spamming the OOC, in just kind of excited to start uwu
Prints Avoid said
Ooh Rainer's not gonna be happy that the weak girl got picked over him. This should be fun.
Sorry! I just thought a leadership position would be a good foil for Mai. Also, do you wanna change the team name? And what missions would you guys like to take up? UwU
Initiation.
The word buzzed continually in her head, a word that fueled her thumping heart and glittering eyes, a word that meant this night was certain to be amazing. Alexandra sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, hands clenching tightly to a warm, half-empty mug of hot chocolate as she eyed the girl across the table. Riley. The newbie with the fiery hair and wide ears. The reason 'initiation' was ringing over and over again in her ears. Alex would be lying if she said she wasn't smitten by the girl when she first saw her, the cute face, radical hair, and quiet nature were all strangely adorable, and a sudden need to befriend this Riley had been tugging at Alex's mind since the group had gotten together for the night. While the idea of a party hadn't been said outright, it was pretty obvious they were going to one, seeing as Riley had yet to join them for one before. A wide grin parted her pale face and she arched her neck to take another long sip of her drink, hoping to calm her giddy nerves. No need to waste energy yet.
Around them, the quiet murmur of diner life played like white noise. The whir of a coffee machine, smell of hot food, and whispers of some shadier clientele all mixed and mingled inside of Alex's head, reminding her slightly of what everything sounded like after a full night of alcohol and blaring club music. Speaking of club music, Alex briefly wondered where they were be heading. Perhaps a coat of makeup would be good for tonight. Another smirk appeared and she giggled to herself, leaning back into the wooden chair until she felt her back creak pleasingly, and then she stood, leaping to her feet like an excited child.
"I'm heading to the bathroom, be right back~." she purred before hopping off. As she walked quickly past the large diner windows and nosy patrons, her hands instinctively went up to pull a black scarf over her mouth, eyes downcast until she was finally in the fluorescent lit room. Inside, she finally let out a breath, and pulled off the scarf to get a good look at her face. Pale. Colorless even. Her frail body was covered by a jacket much to big to be hers, and wiry hands dug into each deep pocket to place countless items on the sink counter. Makeup, brushes, sprays, and many other small items piled high on top of one another until the jacket was finally empty, and then she got to work on herself. A fine-tooth comb was dragged through her thin hair, swishing it out of her eyes and styling it to curve just above her darker eyebrows. Blush was applied in gentle strokes, just enough to bring out her high cheeks, and a pale pink matte lipstick was put on with precise slowness. Eye liner, eye-shadow, smokey blue to show off her eyes, and mascara were applied next with quick wisps, and then she stepped back to examine her work. Yes, look pretty, boys just adore pretty-ole-you.
You've been feeling quite agitated, right?~
Right.
Alex puckered, then smiled once again, ignoring the obvious splash of lipstick that stuck to her front tooth. She had to be cute, had to get in at least one boy's pants tonight. Her emotions had been somewhat out of whack for a few days now, she had became angrier easier, happier slower, sadder, madder, sadder, madder. Sex helped all of that, though. Somehow.
"BPD..."
Alex is not crazy. Her parents had been wrong, she was just a bit emotional. While the specifics of BPD were still foreign to her (the idea of asking one of the group to look it up for her had never crossed her mind), Alex did know that many people were often institutionalized for the disorder. Meaning that they were crazy. And Alex is not crazy. The clatter of plastic suddenly drew her attention away from the mirror, and she glanced down, finding a particularly cheap looking makeup case lying on the linoleum floor. Powder foundation covered the tiles, and a loud sigh escaped her mouth as she reached down to pick up the broken makeup, chucking it into the closet garbage can before she began to pack up everything once again. Once the pockets were full, she reapplied the scarf around her mouth and stepped back into the diner.
Declan had seemed to return a few moments before Alex, and as she passed behind the gruff looking man she ruffled his hair, flashing him a closed-mouth smirk. Finally sitting, Alex relaxed once more, but quickly perked up when Corey started talking.
"The party at the scrapyard should be starting right about now. Everybody up for it?"
"Duh!" she cried with obvious gaiety, hands rising high into the air, the minor mental crisis in the bathroom quickly being pushed aside to allow the excitement of partying all night to set in. Alex quickly turned her attention to Riley, eyes twinkling brightly,
"It'll be so much fun, you'll love it!" she explained, grinning widely.
The word buzzed continually in her head, a word that fueled her thumping heart and glittering eyes, a word that meant this night was certain to be amazing. Alexandra sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, hands clenching tightly to a warm, half-empty mug of hot chocolate as she eyed the girl across the table. Riley. The newbie with the fiery hair and wide ears. The reason 'initiation' was ringing over and over again in her ears. Alex would be lying if she said she wasn't smitten by the girl when she first saw her, the cute face, radical hair, and quiet nature were all strangely adorable, and a sudden need to befriend this Riley had been tugging at Alex's mind since the group had gotten together for the night. While the idea of a party hadn't been said outright, it was pretty obvious they were going to one, seeing as Riley had yet to join them for one before. A wide grin parted her pale face and she arched her neck to take another long sip of her drink, hoping to calm her giddy nerves. No need to waste energy yet.
Around them, the quiet murmur of diner life played like white noise. The whir of a coffee machine, smell of hot food, and whispers of some shadier clientele all mixed and mingled inside of Alex's head, reminding her slightly of what everything sounded like after a full night of alcohol and blaring club music. Speaking of club music, Alex briefly wondered where they were be heading. Perhaps a coat of makeup would be good for tonight. Another smirk appeared and she giggled to herself, leaning back into the wooden chair until she felt her back creak pleasingly, and then she stood, leaping to her feet like an excited child.
"I'm heading to the bathroom, be right back~." she purred before hopping off. As she walked quickly past the large diner windows and nosy patrons, her hands instinctively went up to pull a black scarf over her mouth, eyes downcast until she was finally in the fluorescent lit room. Inside, she finally let out a breath, and pulled off the scarf to get a good look at her face. Pale. Colorless even. Her frail body was covered by a jacket much to big to be hers, and wiry hands dug into each deep pocket to place countless items on the sink counter. Makeup, brushes, sprays, and many other small items piled high on top of one another until the jacket was finally empty, and then she got to work on herself. A fine-tooth comb was dragged through her thin hair, swishing it out of her eyes and styling it to curve just above her darker eyebrows. Blush was applied in gentle strokes, just enough to bring out her high cheeks, and a pale pink matte lipstick was put on with precise slowness. Eye liner, eye-shadow, smokey blue to show off her eyes, and mascara were applied next with quick wisps, and then she stepped back to examine her work. Yes, look pretty, boys just adore pretty-ole-you.
You've been feeling quite agitated, right?~
Right.
Alex puckered, then smiled once again, ignoring the obvious splash of lipstick that stuck to her front tooth. She had to be cute, had to get in at least one boy's pants tonight. Her emotions had been somewhat out of whack for a few days now, she had became angrier easier, happier slower, sadder, madder, sadder, madder. Sex helped all of that, though. Somehow.
"BPD..."
Alex is not crazy. Her parents had been wrong, she was just a bit emotional. While the specifics of BPD were still foreign to her (the idea of asking one of the group to look it up for her had never crossed her mind), Alex did know that many people were often institutionalized for the disorder. Meaning that they were crazy. And Alex is not crazy. The clatter of plastic suddenly drew her attention away from the mirror, and she glanced down, finding a particularly cheap looking makeup case lying on the linoleum floor. Powder foundation covered the tiles, and a loud sigh escaped her mouth as she reached down to pick up the broken makeup, chucking it into the closet garbage can before she began to pack up everything once again. Once the pockets were full, she reapplied the scarf around her mouth and stepped back into the diner.
Declan had seemed to return a few moments before Alex, and as she passed behind the gruff looking man she ruffled his hair, flashing him a closed-mouth smirk. Finally sitting, Alex relaxed once more, but quickly perked up when Corey started talking.
"The party at the scrapyard should be starting right about now. Everybody up for it?"
"Duh!" she cried with obvious gaiety, hands rising high into the air, the minor mental crisis in the bathroom quickly being pushed aside to allow the excitement of partying all night to set in. Alex quickly turned her attention to Riley, eyes twinkling brightly,
"It'll be so much fun, you'll love it!" she explained, grinning widely.
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