Mole

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

@Qia,

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

Now that Elly's no longer on her phone, does anyone want to collab?

Book Quotes

But the pain, he intuits, is the only thing that keeps him breathing.

Without the sadness, he has nothing left.

— Agustina Bazterrica, Tender is the Flesh

Your first memorable original character?

The earliest one I remember was way back when I was a wee-babe Zweit trolling around RP chatrooms. A spunky half-demon thief character named Ryo, with long braided hair being her only consistent physical characteristic. Possibly inspired by too many YuYu Hakusho reruns. Ryo didn't have a story of her own, but was adventurous enough to plug into almost any fantasy group RP. Sometimes a friend, sometimes a foe, equally as prone to leaving her companion's pockets empty as she was in stealing from the enemy.

@Zweit

Mine was also a half-demon.

His name was Aleksandr. and he looked more like Ashitaka from Princess Mononoke -- down to the gloves, large cloak, and some purple crystal dagger hanging around his neck. There were some stylistic differences as I described him in written word, but the inspiration was there. He specialized in Tavern Medieval/Fantasy games on Neopets.

My best friend at the time and also the person who introduced me to online role plays, would play some short elf girl named Ova who followed Aleksandr around ruthlessly, to his embarrassment. Ova was very outspoken, loud, and obnoxious while he was more of a mysterious, brooding-type. It was a fun time.

I HAVE ARRIVED

Hello & welcome!

𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒖𝒎 - 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

_{a short story | ————
materialism & social media}

[+]

<sub>Bestfriends

The electric doorbell jingled.

When Chelsea looked through the monitor, it showed the fingerprint that signaled the cheery rhythm matched who was at the door. It was her best friend and favorite confidant Hannah. Her friend’s arms were folded looking vacantly through one of her contact lens screens, prioritizing her primary shopping cart application, most likely.

“Hey, Hannah! You came a bit early,” Chelsea said hesitantly as she opened the door. For some reason, the occasion wasn’t as exciting as she had expected it to be. Something was off. Something felt hollow.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I was expecting another delay today with traffic, but every circuit was running on time.” Hannah’s arms unfolded and gave Chelsea a hug before walking inside and slipping off her shoes.

But, Hannah paused.

“Y-you…” She looked around the apartment. “You haven’t installed the latest app, yet?” She gave Chelsea a puzzled look. Her blue contact lens shaded her dilated pupils. “I mean, it’s so clean, and they upgraded the security systems. It’s harder to get hacked, now. Plus, the new entry design is so clean and welcoming. You’d love it!”

“I…” Chelsea looked down and pushed back several strands of her short brown hair.

When the new app upgrade had signaled on her alarm, she decided not to go through with it. There were things about the old upgrade she loved. Like the couch design. The way the pixels landed made things seem more traditional and family-oriented. The new design was white and bland looking. Sure, it looked clean, but it was sterile in a hospital waiting room kind-of-way. She wanted to wait for the next upgrade to see what the couch design would be like, then maybe she would consider.

“I didn’t like the way the couch looked,” Chelsea smiled shyly. “Come in, do you want some tea or water?” She led Hannah through the foyer and into the living room. There were several toys left on the floor, where the children had been playing.

“You can get partial upgrades, you know?” Hannah laughed a bit.

“I know, I know, it’s just so complicated to mod the system with all the kids and…” Chelsea made a sigh. She wished things could be more simple. She often felt that the world was running around her, and she was too far behind to bother catching up. And then, she was too busy chasing children to really care.

“I can help you another day, if you want. Just let me know when. Besides, the next time you upload a picture of your family onto SocialView, people are going to see you didn’t get the new upgrades. Remember in eMoral Linguistics? We learned that people who don’t keep up with upgrades are usually behind on payments or hackers. You don’t want anyone thinking so low of you, right?” Hannah shook her head. Her short brown curls bobbed side-to-side.

Chelsea hadn’t paid much attention during eMoral Linguistics or other subjects in school for that matter. She had been too busy trying to make her own accessory designs for apps because she was rarely satisfied with any of the upgrades. Even today, she still tried sending in her suggestions, but not once had she ever gotten a response back.

“I haven’t uploaded anything in a while to be honest,” Chelsea relented. Recently, she had been getting anxiety from uploading her family to social media. She knew it was part of social protocol to be a good citizen in good standing, but she found posting less frequently felt better. Also, her standing was pretty immaculate, considering how well her content was usually viewed. She didn’t think posting a little less would hurt her. Although, at this moment, she was having a hard time calculating the last time she even posted anything.

“It’s okay. I see you upgraded your wardrobe.” Hannah followed Chelsea into the kitchen.

“Well, I really liked the bracelet it came with.” Chelsea looked down at the digital gold chain. It had a small pink heart jewel, replicated as an Australian pink diamond. She couldn’t resist this upgrade, no matter what. Pink was her favorite color.

“Here, let’s take Bestie Photos of our bracelets together and post it. We can use the foyer wall and the window as our background. No one will know about the rest of your house, they’ll never know you haven’t upgraded, yet.” Hannah always had her priorities straight. It was easier for her. Her father had been working in the electronics field, while Chelsea’s had been reading through Visual Word Documents for errors. They had completely different priorities growing up, and sometimes, it made Chelsea feel like her parents failed.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. You know, I’ll try to keep anything that is in the new upgrade out of photographs. I mean, why not take pictures of the children playing outside? We hardly go out there anymore.” She looked out of the window. The curtains weren’t her favorite, and she thought, maybe the new upgrade had better window curtains. She sighed. Everything was so complicated.

“That’s phenomenal!” Hannah fawned. “I don’t know why no one else hasn’t thought of that,” She began to ponder. “Oh, well, be careful... Now that I think about it, a lot of poor people do the same thing, but most people know you’re not poor. So, you’re safe. It’d look so artistic from your View. I love it!” She smiled and some dreamlike haze glazed over her eyes. “I could see other people wanting the same View. She was scrolling through her feed, again. "In fact, do you want to take pictures of our bracelets outside? No, nevermind, it’s so hot out there. I can’t believe we can’t mess with the climate legally, aside from disposing of our trash negatively. I wish we could do something else for the environment.”

Chelsea pressed the silicon button on the hot water boiler. A trickle of water poured into a white tea cup with a digital floral design. Steam rose from the spout and disappeared into the kitchen’s digital vinyl. “Is green tea okay? Or did you want water? I can't remember?"

“Oh, tea's fine, as long as you can make it blue,” Hannah picked up the cup after Chelsea carefully put a teabag into it and sipped it--not wasting time to let it steep. Nonetheless, her smile looked zen as she let the liquid soothe her soul.

Hannah followed Chelsea into the living room.

“So how’s Robert?”

They sat on the standard-issued couch. Part of Chelsea wanted to do away with the digital visage and have everything plain and handmade. She wanted to do things herself, instead of hoping to get her upgrades noticed on her View.

She sighed again. “Everyone notices him.” She forced a smile and a small laugh. It was a hassle to have everyone notice his View. It meant her View had to be perfect, which it was, except for this small lapse in getting an upgrade.

“That’s cool, I’m getting a lot more people to notice me, too.” She held up her gold bracelet. The pink diamond shined at Chelsea. On Hannah’s wrist, it seemed more like a brilliant nebula in the a far away galaxy. On her own wrist, the diamond looked more like a cupid’s kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m sure if you start posting, again, people will notice you, too. And hh my God, you know what will happen if people stop noticing you…” She shook her head. Her brown curls bobbed, again.

“Y-yeah,” Chelsea looked at her lap. Her hands were folded nicely over the new skirt design. It was a dimgray, a little more whimsical than the black pleated one. “Its a good thing Robert gets noticed so much, or I’d get the children taken away…” She tried to sound dramatic, but she knew on the route she was taking, it was true.

People who didn’t keep up were called crazy.

Either that or they were poor or a hacker, and she clearly wasn't either of those.

“Did you take your vitamins today, by the way?”

Chelsea looked up at Hannah. The entire conversation seemed off. She knew Hannah was trying to be helpful by checking up on her, but it was starting to make Chelsea feel uneasy, or maybe it was the other way around--Chelsea was making Hannah feel uneasy, and hence, the probing.

“Of course, I did.” Her voice sounded weak. It wasn’t true. She had stopped taking her vitamins weeks ago. It started with that same feeling about not wanting to post on SocialView.

“Good, I started asking for a double dose.” Hannah confirmed with confidence.

“You did? Why?”

“I wanted to keep up with everything, you know. We’ve been getting new upgrades every week. It’s tiring.” Chelsea’s shoulders didn’t drop, but they looked like they wanted to. Maybe the vitamins were keeping her from feeling defeated. “You should look into a double dose, too if you’re having a hard time with the kids. I’d love to see your View of them more, to be honest.” Her head shook. Her hair bobbed. “I guess I should have noticed you weren’t uploading much anymore…”

Her eyes zoned out as they scanned her contact lens. She was scrolling through her SocialView feed, again. “God, it’s been more than a month, Chelsea. Are you feeling okay?” Her eyes refocused. She looked at Hannah, cupping one of her hands over Chelsea’s, still folded neatly in her lap. “You know, we’re besties for life. You’re my ride or die. You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

Chelsea looked straight into Hannah’s eyes. “N-n…” But before she could finish her sentence, Hannah interrupted her.

“Chelsea! God, you’re not even wearing your contact lens. How did you know it was me at the door? I could have been a hacker!” Her mouth dropped slightly open, aghast. Her hands withdrew. An obvious look of worriment wrinkled her forehead and knitted her perfectly shaped brows.

“I’m sorry, I just… I,” Chelsea had no words for it. Something was missing in her world, where Robert provided everything, including noticed Views that trended. It was something about how nothing looked real, nothing felt real. Her memories, especially the ones for SocialView, felt fake. And today, she had wanted to see Hannah without the digital screen cloaking them both. She wanted to see her and capture memories of her with her naked eye.

“Maybe you should leave.”

She stood up.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Chels. I didn’t mean to offend you… It’s just… You know, I’m worried about you.” Hannah set the tea cup on the coffee table, and stood up. Her hand reached out to touch Chelsea’s arm. “You know? You’re my bestie.” There were tears in her eyes.

Chelsea hadn’t seen Hannah cry since the fourth grade. Something felt good about seeing her friend cry. Usually, there was a vitamin to make Hannah feel better. Everything about the interaction felt real, but Chelsea could not explain why. Instead she said what she knew she had to say.

“Maybe, I do need a double dose.” Her shoulders dropped. “I hate to see you cry. Things have been harder to manage recently. If things were just more simple, really.”

She was afraid she would sound fake, and as she watched her friend cry, she saw how beautiful the tears were. Under the digital light, they looked more precious than the Australian pink diamond. They looked more wonderful and mysterious than any star or far away galaxy she could see in the night sky; and as they trickled down Hannah’s face, her digital make-up faltered just slightly.

And, for a brief moment, she saw the real Hannah and hugged her.</sub>

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

^{eleanor hill • the author.....| .....#daa520 .015
nye party > The afterparty • skydeck marquee}

Elly second guessed herself and looked around the room, again. The "afterparty" was buzzing with a gross electric gossip. The lights were hanging like flies, listening and speaking to everyone about everything. There was a tap in her kitten heels, some nervous rhythm making out a secret S.O.S.

And then, there was Ewan.

He was asking if she could FaceTime.

And then, a new message—from Spencer.

The glow of the screen seemed miles away as she stared at it. Her eyes were vacant and glossed with alcohol. For a brief moment, a memory fluttered by her. Its wings cascade dust of frost on cracking glass. Her fingers, trembled into doing nothing but hover, afraid to land on any response.

“He’s going for it.”

“Who?” Elly replied, half-bored.

“Adam Johnson. I wish you wrote more like him.”

He spoke of authors the way other men spoke of football games. It made her sick, and other times, it made her swoon.

Until the icons on the wall interceded.

“Like what?” She asked, taking another sip of wine from her glass.

“Heavier. Deeper.” He took another huff from the paper, not bothering to even look at her. His body was stretched out on the navy sofa, taking more space than necessary.

“Reading your work is like reading Eowyn Ivey or worse Kate Quinn. You keep trying to expand your emotional depth, but honestly, it’s stuck in shallow water.” His tone was dry and accompanied by a shrug of constant disapproval.

He didn’t stop even when her body shifted nervously and the seat dipped next to him.

Elly’s voice was too loud, too concrete, too her. She needed to unlearn this voice and use the next one waiting.

She needed more patience.

“Kate Quinn? Come on, I’m not that bad.” Elly took another sip. The glass was draining quicker than she had expected.

Her eyes glanced at the bottle. It was almost empty.

“Let’s take The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Incest. Rape. Pedophilia. And that’s only surface level pain.” He blew smoke from his lips and added one more comment about war and women’s suffering refined into a laureate’s work.

The conversation died with the smoke. It lingered in the air and slowly faded.

Elly watched the smoke.

The ceiling fan spun circles. It was making a numb noise that reminded her of childhood.

A nervous hand ran through her dark hair, and she took the final sip from her glass.

The empty glass stared at her, and Laszlo Krasnahorkai knocked on her mind. A barbed loneliness entered. It reintroduced her to names and faces she could never ignore.

Tears began blurring her focus. Her lips pressed together, and she dabbed her eyes.

He sat up, unzipping his pants.

“I don’t have much time, Elly.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

She hadn’t received Communion for a month, and her apartment was starting to feel muted.

She was no longer present.

“It doesn’t matter. Elder Thaddeus said I can’t have Communion until Pascha.”

Elder Thaddeus. His Spiritual Father, who lived on Mount Athos — the holiest place on Earth.

Elly couldn’t imagine having a monastic as a Spiritual Father. Let alone one on Mount Athos. Their penances were stricter.

All she had to do was tell him, no, and on Sunday, the veil would be lifted.

Don’t you think my writing would be better with Communion? She wanted to ask.

But, she never did.

And when she woke up in the morning, she was still on the couch. Curled into a ball.

He was gone.

Morning light peeked through the window. It cast shadows on the floor and couch.

There were two text messages on her phone, Don’t worry. Nothing happened last night. You passed out on me. You’re welcome and, “Tell Father Thomas hi for me. Thanks”

The phone’s cracked screen went dark.

She closed her eyes and listened to the room breathe.

There was a relief in her soul, but her heart ached.

Was she Natasha, with a candle burning at her window? Waiting for patience to finally make an announcement?

The thought haunted her before evaporating.

It’s not as if her dad rescued her mother.

Books rescued her mother.

Elly had to write her own.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. It startled her nerves out of her daydream, and her palm clenched tightly around the metal, warm from her tiring grip. It was late, much later than she wished. She wanted to go home; get out of this stupid fashion show; pretend it never happened; and go to bed.

It was Ewan being ever-ready and reassuring.

It's OK if you can't FT rn. I'll stay with you as long as you need me.

A small smile struggled to make its appearance. She wasn't sure if she was going to cry, but she was trying hard to hide the fact. Her eyes were watering, and she was holding breaths in between quickly thumping heartbeats. And something, if she could imagine it, like a black fog with fangs, was gnawing on her chest.

It was the alcohol, clearly... not Ewan's sentimental but creepishly caring response, nor Spencer's shallow, way-out-of-context, Happy NYE text. It was the haze of ethanol stirring her emotions. It was the night telling her to go to sleep when she couldn't.

But, it was too late for her to go to sleep.

She was trapped.

Trapped as the person she has always been and always will be. There was no new year and no new her. It was all the same. It was always the same.

And then, she would be writing a new book.

Spencer would read it.

Ewan would read it.

And, she would be left asking herself, did she really write a new book? Or have all her books been about the same subject merely worded differently?

She slipped her phone back in her purse and took one more look around the room. Her vision was a bit blurred with tears. Her lips parted and hopeful. Her posture, tall and confident, and slowly blending into the scenery. Reality was hitting: she never stood out for wearing the least fashionable thing at the party. No, she had always blended in, simply by being at the party.

And there had been a murder.

If there was one thing she learned in life: everyone was fighting a war of their own. And, if Tolstoy hadn't taught her anything about struggling through unhappiness, it was that Time and Patience were the two warriors are the two most powerful warriors. All she had to do, was wait and be patient...

... And be glad she was still alive.

What Are You Listening To?

Hayley wearing an EGL JSK without a blouse and normalizing the look. "But, in my arms she was always..."

Book Quotes

His father is person of integrity, that's why he went crazy.

— Agustina Bazterrica, Tender is the Flesh

Book Quotes

It's not that he thinks Spanel is dangerous, or crazy, of that he pictures her naked (because he's never seen her naked), or that he's only ever met a few female butchers and that all of them have been inscrutable, impossible to decipher.

There's something admirable in her artificial indifference.

There's something about her he'd like to break.

— Agustina Bazterrica, Tender is the Flesh