SgtEasy

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

<Snipped quote by ReusableSword>

I saw it Don t worry, I know you had permission.
GM stamp of approval.

@PrinceAlexus

>Tfw when the cutest seal also has the cutest seal
>mind blown

CANCELLED.

My apologies for how boring my post is but alas, its 12am once more and Im tiiiirrreeedddd

CANCELLED.

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Location(s): The Kyong Household -> El Jefe Beach House
^{Person(s) he bothered: Ariana @Bee, Min-seo @Fabricant451 and Issa @Taytay}

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It was midday in sunny and beautiful Beverly Hills. And wow he had a problem.

Well. This was a predicament. He was definitely in a predicament. Now, predicament was a synonym of problem but the word problem never really captured the awkwardness of a true "predicament". A predicament felt more powerful, more cringeworthy and generally worse than a mere problem. Problems made him think of mathematics and that wasn't too bad. Now why was this particular Korean in a predicament, thinking of the word predicament in his head? Because he just learned what the word was in English a few seconds ago. Park mouthed the foreign syllables, mixing the word in his mouth. Connecting that word to "predicamento" in Spanish was easy enough. He often drew parallels between the two languages to make it easier to increase his vocabulary.

Although American media was prominent within Seoul, he wasn't what you would call a fluent speaker yet. He was slowly but surely getting the hang of the language. He usually had no problems with pronunciations although tenses and verbs still alluded him. Coming from learning a much simpler romance language like Spanish to learning a complicated clusterfuzz of English was a jump. Butt he was willing to do it and damn right needed to if he was planning to do anything productive around here. He had arrived a week ago and he had spent most of it learning English from his uncle who was a confusing teacher. How did the word "bitch" even connect to Ms. Santos? Didn't that mean female dog? How was that an insult? Dogs are adorable! He huffed in frustration, placing down the big Oxford dictionary his uncle had given him for Christmas.

The teen sat up from the couch, grabbing his phone to scroll through Kakaotalk or Katalk. It was a Korean messaging service and he used it to chat to people back home. No new messages. Well that was depressing. He hoped to receive at least something from his coach (well, former but he didn't think like that) and friends in the past week. Alas, nothing. He leaned back and rested his head on the cushions. He was currently experiencing a "predicament" (he was getting better at using that word) every 21^st century kid had - boredom.

His fencing gear hasn't been shipped in yet and his sword had yet to be cleared. There was no gym nearby to train in and he didn't know the neighbourhood yet, hence he couldn't run. The Kyong household was empty and would be for the next few days. It was the holidays and the couple he was staying with wanted to go "camping" as they called it. He had a week until school started and he had spent the last week cooped up inside, exercising and keeping fit. He had gone as far as to order a karaoke machine to sing some songs. Single karaoke felt just as sad as it sounded. He hadn't had the chance to do anything fun yet. But why would he even do so? He was a wallflower, he knew that. He couldn't go to a party, that sounded ridiculous! But as he rolled over and over in the soft cushions, something boiled inside of him. An urge. A want. A pressing feeling waiting to be released. He stopped and paused, sliding his hand down his body. A small smile grew on his face as he closed his eyes. His hands grew ever closer to the hem of his pants before-

*GROOOOOWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLL*

His stomach went as loud as possible. Park giggled, rubbing his belly through his thin shirt. He jumped up and raced to the kitchen. He lunged for the fridge and pulled it open, revealing a plethora of prepared meals he had made the night before. A beautiful plate of sashimi stared at him. His stomach growled even louder. He licked his lips and with a loud "uwa!", he took it with two hands and placed it on the table. He shut the fridge door with his foot before sitting down to eat. He fished his pocket for chopsticks before taking them out with a flourish. He clapped his hands together and bowed his head politely.

"잘 먹겠습니다!"¹ he exclaimed before digging in. Stuffing five slices of spicy salmon into his mouth, he salivated at the freshness of the fish. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, gasping slightly. His mouth opened in an "o" shape, his head rolling backwards. This was what heaven was like. This was orgasmic levels of delight. Within 30 seconds, his plate was empty and his stomach full. He muttered a small thanks for the meal before burping. His tongue would dull for the next day or so due to the ungodly amount of spice he just consumed but who cared? This was heaven. He patted his stomach down and crashed the plate into the piles of dishes left in the kitchen. He'd do that later, he was far too bored to do chores.

Within five minutes, the happiness wore off and gave way to boredom once again. Wow, Park was really bored. He flicked through the channels before deciding that the Spanish Univision channel was the only one worth watching right now. A marathon of a twenty season long show was currently playing. Amor en Los Lagos or "Love in The Lakes" was a popular Latin-American drama show from the 20's that was frequently replayed due to its abnormally large fanbase around the world. He had even watched a Korean translated version when he was a kid and had used it as a useful tool to learn Spanish. He could recall every episode in his head with clarity and this was a favourite of his. The male lead, acted by Demián Bechir, had just punched his mother-in-law's uncle's grave in frustration as his wife watched him.

"Eduardo! ¡¿Como pudiste?!"² His mouth moved at the same rate as the actress, even as he took his eyes of the screen. Eduardo caressed his wife's cheek, smiling widely. The man's stylised fake moustache seemed to flop off a little bit. Park farted. "Oh, mi querida Angelica, mi querida querida Angelica, no quise patear la tumba del primo de tu suegra. ¡Fue un accidente! Un puro accidente. Guau, te ves muy sexy con ese vestido, querida esposa mía. Mi dulce y querida calabaza, ¿por qué no hacemos el amor esta noche? Aquí, aquí mismo. Mi dulce niña de calabaza. Mi niña de calabaza absolutamente deliciosa."³

"Oh Eduardo! How could I deny you so?" The couple proceeded to take off their clothes and the incoming barrage of sex noises was what made this show so popular. It was like a mixture of bad karaoke and a goat mating with a donkey. It was quite disturbing and absolutely hilarious. What made it even better was the all black screen censor and the musical dialogue. Since, of course, the dirty talk was in musical form.

"¡Mierda, es más grande que un pene de burro! ¿¡Es de plástico Eduardo !?"⁴ The Korean sung at a high-pitched accelerando before devolving into fits of muffled laughter.

The dialogue was just as good as he remembered it. Imagining the scene in a still graveyard made it even funnier to him. He paused the show and replayed the same line over and over, his gut twisting from uproarious laughter. He turned and rolled, tumbling off the couch. He coughed and sputtered, eyes blurring with tears as the climax repeated itself over and over again. He sat up after a minute or so, breathing heavily and waved the television off. He wiped the tears from his eyes and cracked his back. Amor en Los Lagos was far too dangerous right now. He could break his spine from laughing too much. To an immature, shut-in bilingual teen from South Korea, the dialogue was the penultimate humour of all time.

But soon enough - actually around two minutes later - Park was once again a very bored teen. But he didn't want to waste the day napping! He had do at least one thing fun. He needed to do something. He glanced at the pile of dishes. Something other than that. He would rather walk around the whole house in a handstand! His eyes brightened and he set to do his work. After half an hour of painful, strenuous and downright abhorrent exercise in the form of handstand house navigation, he collapsed into the couch. Okay. Maybe not the best use of his time. He scanned the room once more, making sure his gaze went up and over the evil dishes. K-pop of Ages caught his eye. He didn't need an aneurysm. Fifty Shades of Red. No thank you, too much blood stuff. The Fabulous Life of Joo Kyong-Park? The most overplayed documentary in his household. Karaoke? He felt a pang in his heart. Too much single karaoke affected the soul. He flicked his eyebrow.

Honestly, Park liked his alone time. He spent most of his life in two places, the apartment and the fencing gym. He only strayed away from those places when he went out with his friends or with his uncle. But only in Seoul, never straying too far from the town centre. He never went on trips, his parents were too busy. Most of the major fencing tournaments were held in his home city so there was no point in going anywhere else. His life had centred around it for so long. But for someone who had been there for the most of 15 years, he didn't know the city like the back of his hand. He didn't know the people and the street culture, he never got the chance to.

Park spent his entire life in a small box in a very big wide world. He explored but only went so far, he ventured but only for so long. The beyond stayed as the beyond, the unknown as the unknown. He always ached to find new things and new friends but maybe he was the one doing something wrong? He thought that being this nice, stationary figure in the distance could attract someone. Nothing happened. He looked back at his phone. No new messages. Not a single bleep, a single reply. A single greeting or "how are you doing". Where were his friends? Why weren't they sending him anything? Soo Ling had called him earlier to tell him about a surprise competition that came up. But that was three days ago and still, nothing? What was going on?

Friends. He needed them. Park glanced towards the karaoke machine and back to his phone. Maybe he had to go to people, instead of letting people come to him. He looked at the clock and back at his phone. No new messages. Time ticked past and still, no new messages. He closed his eyes and flicked his brow. Tick tock tick tock. No new messages, no ding. Nothing. He eyelids crept open and he stood. Time to greet the world. A few minutes later, he would be standing in the living room dressed to the nines. He needed to go somewhere and be someone. He glanced at the forgotten dishes and felt a sudden urge to do them. Mostly spurred on by the image of a specific nagging Spanish auntie. "Crap."

More than a few minutes later, the Korean emerged from his bedroom in a long, loose-fitting black and white stripped shirt which reached mid thigh, blue fitting jeans and a pair of high-cut grey Vans^TM. With tan wide brimmed hat adorning his head and a backpack slung over his shoulders he was ready. He made sure that the karaoke machine in his bag was safe and sound before venturing into the beyond, leaving behind his phone. He was in the driveway, walking out with a cheer as his phone dinged. One new message.

He sneezed. Was he doing the right thing? He shrugged to himself, walking brightly down into the street. He would find his way back home.

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Park was horribly lost. "Mierde."⁵

Now, it technically wasn't his fault. His uncle didn't properly teach English to the point where he could clearly understand directions. Now on the way from the coffee shop, he had asked a nice lady as to where his house was. He had probably gone left instead of right and now he was horribly lost. At night. Wow was this a bad idea. Why didn't he take his phone?! He dragged his hands down his face, sitting at the corner of God knows where. It was getting dark and he had no idea where to go, what to do or how to fluently speak English! What was he going to do?! He heard giggling in the distance, a cluster of teenagers a little older than him entering into a driveway. Music was heard, yelling and shouting. Music + Girls = Party. This was it! He stood. He sat back down. His heart hammered in his chest. Girls. What was he going to do?!

"나는 여자와 대화하는 법조차 모른다. 못쓰게 만들다!"⁶ He flicked his brow, a single strand fluttering off the skin. He was heading straight into the frying pan if he went there. But wasn't that what he wanted? He couldn't sit at home waiting for messages to come! He had to make the messages come to him! Standing up with bravado, ignoring that his thoughts made no sense, he marched down the sidewalk with big swinging arms.

The Korean slowed down as he looked down the driveway. It was a grand home, a large beach house with beautiful architecture and flashing lights shining through the windows. His heartbeat increased with every step he took. Halfway down, he was passed by a stream of people. He couldn't look like a fool around possible friends! He marched to the front and made his way inside of the party. Now, the poor boy has never been inside of an actual party before. The loud music, overwhelming sights and smells were a little too much for a newcomer. The people smoking weed in the corner, the couple making out on the couch, the countless people milling around and talking - it was all a little much. He was soon pushed out of the doorway and into the grinding, sweating bodies. He froze and immediately went to the wall, being mostly unseen by most of the people in the party so far.

This was far too much. He tried to control his breathing as his head swivelled around the place. In out, in out. Wow, this was way too much. Who said this was a good idea again? He started to panic, his fingers tightening on his bag strap. His heart hammered in his chest, pulsing with the beat of the music. Everything began overwhelming his sense and he tried to find his way out of there. Sweat began to gather on his forehead, his tongue going dry as he tried to find a solution. He looked to the couches but they were all full. The dance floor was packed with people, far too many people for him to deal with. He had to find somewhere to go Anywhere at all, anywhere but here. He went on the tips of his toes to sneak a glance at a bar at the other side of the room. It seemed relatively quiet.

The awkward teen crawled along the wall, slipping through the crowd to avoid bumping into anyone. He was like a ninja, a wallflower ninja that avoided any and all contact with anyone else. He muttered curses to himself along the way. HE DIDN'T NEED TO JUMP INTO THINGS THIS FAST! But alas, he was here and he had to find a safe starting point to make some friends. Why did the liquor corner seem like a good idea? He didn't have a clue and right now, with the sweat slicking off hair and landing on his cheek, he could care less. He stuck to the wall as best as possible, going so far as to jump into the curtain when a couple crashed into the couch he was stepping on. After jumping over a particularly high stoner in his path, he lunged for an empty seat.

Peace. Park sighed. He looked down at the water cup in front of him and emptied it into awaiting lips. Due to his dull tongue, he hardly tasted the alcoholic burn the vodka he downed had. The impact was a sudden wooziness to a new drinker and he slammed his head into a nearby wall after the sudden dizziness. He blinked a few times. He didn't hit his head on a wall. He looked up to a very angry looking, older teenager who he had just slammed his head against. He jumped in his sea with arms in the air, accidentally interfering with any conversation his neighbours (one Ariana @Bee and Issa @Taytay) might have been having.

The larger male grabbed Park by the collar of his shirt and raised him from the ground. He knocked the Korean's seat down with his foot in a blind drunken rage. "The fuck do you think you're doing, chink?"

How did you apologise in English?! He went for the best next thing. "¿Lo siento?" The man growled. Oh he was in it now.

Translations for Different Languages

1. Grace in Korean, said before a meal

2. "Eduardo! How could you?!"

3. "Oh, my dear Angelica, my dear dear Angelica, I did not want to kick the grave of your mother-in-law's cousin. It was an accident! A pure accident. Wow, you look so sexy in that dress, my dear wife. My sweet and dear pumpkin, why do not we make love tonight? Here, right here. My sweet pumpkin girl. My pumpkin girl absolutely delicious."

4. "Shit, it's bigger than a donkey's penis! Is it plastic Eduardo?!"

5. "Shit."

6. "I do not even know how to talk to a woman. Fuck."

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

409

CANCELLED.

When it's 1am and you plan to write a huge intro post but you keep the writers block and are lagging behind

So you trying to calm yourself like

_{Sorry about the gifs, its to let out my frustrations. Im gon' sleep and be fresher tomorrow :)}

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

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Centre Point -> City Hall - Friday Evening

^{@Pilatus and anyone else who wants to mess with Jamal}

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The sky was inky black, sparkling diamonds contrasting against the dark. Laughter, chatter and busy noise filled the air outside. Smiles glowed and eyes twinkled. It was moments like these that Jamal cherished. Never before has he seen the city so so beautiful. It was a calming, pleasant sight. It was unfortunate that he was part of the ugly side of the evening. He had been separated from his newly found friends, if they could be called as such. But that, like all good things, had to end. He had a duty to finish and that duty included standing outside looking like a very angry man. So there he was, furrowing his eyebrows at people and growling whenever someone came close. It was almost a routine. He imagined a three meter diameter circle around him. Anyone who passes into that circle gets growled at and maybe even called a rude name. Anyone outside of it gets glared and/or told to piss off. He quickly fell into a rhythm for the next two hours as it was quite the dulling experience. After a first couple smiles after scaring away particularly drunk citizens, it got boring very quick. The two of them - he finally learned the bald guy's name as Ralph - were entertaining themselves whatever way they could while on "scare duty". He was surprised that no policeman came to talk to them but they were technically doing nothing illegal enough here.

As Jamal showed his sharp teeth at a particularly wimpy looking man, he thought back to today's events. Meeting new people was a thrilling experience and it was always good to break the ice every now and then. It was sweet to see such wonderful people filling up his city, particularly that tall woman he never got to learn the name of. Nor did she speak all that much when they talked. Well, now that he thought about it, he didn't think they "talked" at all! He furrowed his eyebrows before relaxing, waving it off as some sort of personality trait or disability. It didn't retract from her pleasant personality and likability so it didn't matter too much. Then he had to deal with those people affiliated with the biker gang, an escalating situation that was thankfully defused. The cartel gangsters with guns were still waiting there but it seemed unlikely that any conflict would arise. If it did, he hoped that the normal law enforcers patrolling the festivities packed enough punch to do something about it. He hated feeling useless but in a situation like that, he would've had no choice but to be a sitting duck. Alas, there was no shootout, thanks to himself. But the unorthodox manner he had conducted his "diversion" had consequences on his mental capabilities for the rest of the evening. He frowned then shuddered, shaking his head violently before setting back in place like nothing had happened. Because nothing did happen. Nothing was going to happen. Everything was alright. He met Kei and the drunk punched bushes, that was it.

Speaking of said drunk, said man was currently approaching Jamal with a solemn and sober expression. He had just finished whispering something in Ralph's ear before coming to him, pausing to glare at the taller man. The undercover cop just rolled his shoulders, suppressing a small smile. It was his fault he got so drunk on the job, why did he need to stop him? The slap marks on the other man's cheeks told the him all he needed to know about how he got sober so quick. He began mumbling under his breath, his lips a little swollen. "What did you just say?"

"I said Ima replace you on this post bitch! Can't you hear, shitface?!" The man started sizing up, some obvious frustration and pent up anger in his eyes. But it deflated when someone behind him cleared their throat. Ralph stared at the recently sobered man, a disappointed frown on his face. He begun opening his jacket to reveal an old Colt Revolver, tapping the butt of the gun with a grin on his face. The drunk deflated even more and pushed Jamal out of the way, leaning against the pole with a tough expression. The shaking hands and shuffling feet showed there was a reality behind Ralph's threat. The policeman nodded at the older man before heading towards the hall, feeling the warmth of inside heating on his face as he got closer. He didn't let himself bask in the hear for any longer before stepping inside to the bustle of people. From his height, he couldn't see any familiar faces in the crowd. Oddly, he couldn't see the 7 feet tall blonde woman from earlier but she might've been masked by the crowd. A person pushed past him to get to the upper levels. More and more pushed past and eventually, the previously immovable rock was moved by a mass of people trying to get a better look. He wriggled and shoved to get his way out, eventually landing himself at the bar.

"Oomph." Jamal caught himself from stumbling, grabbing on to the stairwell railing. Looking back at the hustle and bustle of civilians getting inside and out, he decided that patrolling the upper level was a much better idea. He would soon find himself in the upper level where more commotion was on going. People were separated in groups within the level and there were plenty of people but not as many as the downstairs entry. There were glances and even a few pointed stares. Ignoring this, he confidently strode to the makeshift bar and ordered a warm beer to suit the colder times. He drummed on his chair, bobbing his head as he looked at his surroundings. He spotted a familiar pair, an all too familiar pair from earlier. Marshals. Shit. He turned slower, playing it cool and hoping he didn't attract them. With the big fuckin' patch on his sleeve, he doubted he would get out of the bar without some sorta questioning. His beer glass arrived with a nod from the bartender, the drink soon finding itself easing into his lips.

This was gonna be a long night.

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Will begin to work on a post you buttfaces <3 Im back, bitchessss

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Kiev, Ukraine - June 1960

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Kiev. The capital city of Ukraine and the newest city to catch the Algerian fashion craze. Well, so far the only major city outside of the Arab World to do so but never mind that. If there was one thing the siblings shared, it was obvious optimism. Nour Hamidou stared out into the morning-kissed, dreary streets near her newest chain store. Even in the middle of summer, this place never fails to depress her. Hints pointing to the refugee crisis could be seen even in this rich district of the city. A beggar here and there, intermingled with the rich and upper middle-class that crowded the sidewalks. She was so glad she could be here, inside and out of that dreary looking street. But the government had accepted her goods with welcoming arms and she was going to be one of the first foreign designers to set up shop in urban Ukraine. It was rare that such an awesome opportunity for business could arise and how could she deny a country a dose of her beautiful dresses? She could not have missed a good way to spread her brand far from familiar borders. She had done much to make sure that the Kiev branch of The Algerian Silk would survive and thrive amongst the Europeans that called this place. She had specifically wanted to open during summer, when most of her dresses could be on show and be functional to use. Her beautiful dresses could be put on show and her brand could grow during that time. When winter came, then she would release her brand new, Ukraine-specific winter wear set of The Algerian Silk.

It would be a beautiful mix of local, European and Algerian designs for a functional, and most importantly beautiful, set of clothing. The designer and CEO had many hopes in Europe. She could imagine it now, the first tidal wave of Algerian fashion entering the European scene and she would be its herald. She would be the leader, opening the flood gates to other Algerians and hopefully, other Arab fashion brand. But of course, she needed to get first dibs and this was an easy way to experiment with European customers. If the Kiev-branch failed, they could easily hide it from the rest of Europe, especially Western Europe, since countries were so detached from each other in the continent. If it succeeded, they could carry on setting up chain stores in the country and in other countries. She could easily see it now, a beautiful and Algiers-esque store in the middle of Berlin, standing out as a foreign Arabic-Berber brand. It would be magnificent and a dream come true. As if in her own dream world, she started to hum to herself, smiling sweetly. This was the start to a new age of fashion.

"Um, ma'am? The store is opening in twenty minutes." The store manager - a Sahrawi woman named Jaina who used to manage the Oran branch back home - interrupted her daydreaming. Nour's eyes flew open but she straightened her dress, taking a few calming breaths. She turned around, keeping her sweet smile on her face, tilting here's head in greeting. "My thanks, Jaina. I will be coming down the stairs soon, I will make one last round of the second level. To ensure that everything is at tip top shape."

The loyal employee nodded her head and bowed, turning around to attend to her duties. Her boss waited until she was gone before releasing a held breath. That was close. She couldn't be seen as dreaming already, it was too soon to hope so much. But the optimism helped with the stress of opening a store in a foreign country. Not only that but as the President's sister, her failure could negatively impact her brother as well. And right now, he was balancing two swords in each hand. Any slip up could result in horrible injury to the country. If she was to succeed however... the Ukraine was in desperate need of consumer goods. So much so that they allowed an incredibly foreign brand to enter the country and set up shop on the main street. Algerian culture and influence could start to at least make themselves known among parts of society, particularly the rich and middle class. She had even lowered the prices slightly when exchanging between currencies, making sure that she could get the interest of those demographics. It was those type of people that spread the news, the rumours and the gossip. They could spread the news of a new "exotic" brand within Kiev, from North Africa of all places. This could be big for international relations and could result in an increases in tourism, something her brother was trying to promote. But alas, she needed to keep a level head and rid herself of that optimism once more. A lot was riding on her shoulders and even though a cover up was possible, it wasn't preferable.

Nour started to walk around the second level of the store. She had bought premium real estate and it showed. The old hotel was converted into a white Algerian spire, clawing at the sky. It stood out amongst the European architecture which surrounded it. In a few months of construction, the mini tower had been finished and even now, rumours spread of what it could be. She had spent much time and money on creating it as wonderful as possible. A tailor was hired to fit dresses to richer customers and several locals were hired as clerks and helpers. She had even learned some Ukrainian to make sure she could immerse herself with the culture of the place. She had also made sure that her advertisement campaign would be extensive, particularly two to three weeks before the grand opening today. Radios played The Algerian Silk motto, posters were put up in the urban city and a Ukrainian fashion show featured a dress of her design a week before. She had even sent a gold embroidered, two piece silk jacket and karakou to Anastisya herself, as a gift from her and her brother. She wanted to spin the rumour mills as fast as possible, making sure that this branch's opening could be as grand as possible. Everything was as perfect as it could be within the store.

The store itself had three levels, the first having the cheapest and most affordable dresses, gowns, scarves, jackets and other articles of clothing. The second level had more expensive pieces on show, with jewellery on sale lining the walls. The third level was for the rich and richer. The tailor was set up shop there with rolls of materials lining the walls where women of all shapes and sizes could be made beautiful Algerian embroidered clothes, for a price of course. The more gold embroidery and extravagance, the richer the customer needed to be. But of course, everything was slightly cheaper than current market prices, just to make sure that everything sold well. Selling out on the first day was unlikely, mostly because Nour had prepared the store for such an occasion. She rubbed the corner of a red velvet gown, feeling the materials and emotion of it. She always had a knack for designing and although her leadership skills were on par with her brother's, she always found fashion far more enticing than running a country. Why deal with dreary old politics when you could be a free, bad bitch like her? She made her own living, hired her own people, all without listening to anyone else about what to do! She could never run a democracy, she ran her business like a strict but fair authoritarian regime. She, in the end, would make the decisions but she could listen to advice if she really needed to. But she rarely did.

Music started playing, the sounds of multiple Algerian mandoles playing downstairs. An angelic and upbeat voice started singing in Arabic. It signalled ten minutes before opening and was a last minute choice on her part to include. The band, the Saharan Swingers, were a hit in Algeria and the CEO had reached in deep within her contacts to get them here in Kiev. The mix of the upbeat rhythm of swing with traditional instruments were a new and interesting sound. The voice of the lead singer was just a cherry on top. A very sweet cherry, if she could say so herself. She couldn't help but turn back to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the street. People started to stop and gather, hearing the music coming from the store. They stopped their commute to listen to the music. It was like sweet honey to the ears, a sugary treat in song form. It was an original single of theirs called "Desert Desserts", a controversial song about sex, relationships and sweet love. It was particularly popular to the youth of Algeria but the enticing vibes the song gave attracted native Ukrainians, despite a lack of understanding behind the meaning of the songs. She smiled at the gathering crowd, waiting there for a few minutes before the song reached its climax. She turned and went down the spiral staircase, entering the first floor. Clerks were patiently waiting for the opening, with her manager standing by. All of them were beautiful women of her choosing, both local and Algerian.

The Hamidou sister clapped her hands together, putting on a charming smile before walking towards the glass doors. She took strides with confidence and prowess, unseen in places like these. She was an Algerian woman, someone to be respected and praised. Among her people, she was one of those women to be feared. A powerful, prideful and incredibly sensual being who was capable of taking any place by storm. Controversial but in all the right ways. She attracted the eyes of every outsider in front of the store, approaching the doors in an elegant embroidered gown. As she got closer, her tall height could be seen by the locals and she tried her best to stop herself from winking at a particularly nice piece of eye candy. That wasn't allowed here and she was controversial enough. She had to keep her urges as low as possibly. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and opened both doors with finality. She stood in the doorway, gathering a sizeable crowd while the music came to a climax behind her. "Good morning Kiev!" She exclaimed in accented Ukrainian, opening her arms in a flourish. "Welcome to the opening of The Algerian Silk! I welcome you to our magnificent store, to an exotic culture and most importantly, amazing clothes! Please, come into our store shop as you like." She gave way to people coming into the store, looking around in wonder at the interior of the place as well as the clothes on show. Some left due to the lack of money but some stayed, fishing into their wallets as they looked upon some particularly pretty dress.

'This was the start to a new age,' Nour thought to herself 'a new age of fashion.'

CANCELLED.

When most of the OOC posts have been character sheets



_{Just kidding I love the activity keep it up you maniacs}

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

For my absence ima try shit out a lotta posts :)