❥▐ cupid's brew

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Location: Theater {} Mood: Uncertain {} OOC: N/A​

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After seeing more and more people go into the theater, Sasha herself should also go in, but seeing how the others situated themselves with others made her feel uncomfortable. Man...at least they get to socialize and talk to people. According to the general public, I'm not even a nobody! Will they treat me fine? Or will they shun me and leave me for myself to act out? Maybe I should come back when no one else is there. She was about to walk away until she remembered the thought and sighed sadly. Right...these meetings are pretty mandatory. If I miss even one of them, I'll probably be out of the rehearsal. And being out of the rehearsal... She shook her head and clenched her fists. "I have to do this! I don't want to be known as a bigger pervert!" Realizing she just said that out loud, she quickly looked around. Dumbass! At least no one is around...She took a deep breath and grabbed the handle. ​

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Quietly entering the theater, she looked around. It seemed as the practice hasn't really started yet so at least she would have some time to relax. She made her way to an empty spot of the theater and sitting down on one of the seats before cracking open one of her books, labeled Ways to Improve Your Voice. She wasn't a bad singer, but she had to improve it since she was a background singer. She slipped on her headphones and hummed quietly with the music as she read her book.​

 

♔: ♠ « MUSIC ♠ « WEARING ♠ « ✉ 0 ♠ « OOC: N|A ♠ :♔
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It was quiet for a few awkward moments and he was about ready to strike up another idle conversation when someone new entered. He went straight for the coffee, and then some ... Questionable doughnuts before greeting them all. Oliver gave a small nod and a friendly smile before shoving his phone back into his pocket and breathing out.

"Hey, there." He greeted. Then, he returned his attention to Sophie and Pierce. She had introduced herself, Sophie, and he was mildly interested by him knowing her name but her not knowing his. He had caught it a few times, around school, and then a lot during reversals. Then again, he wasn't doing anything quite as extraordinary as she was with the compositions.

"Oliver." He answered clearly, making eye-contact. She had pretty ones. They reminded him of the ocean, during a storm.

He got up and checked the copy machine. Just a few more sheets and it would be finished. In the meantime, he checks the fridge for anything of interest and eventually grabbed a bag of pretzels to munch on.

 

[/url]

╔XxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxXXXXXXxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╗​

WEARING ⧉ DATE▹ 12/18/2015 ⧉ DAY▹ 1& 3/5 ⧉ MUSIC​

MOOD▹ AH! ⧉ LOCATION▹ COPY ROOM ⧉ OOC▹ ✘​

ACTIVITY▹ TICKETS ⧉ INTERACTION▹ SOPHIE ⧉ ❤▹ 0/10​

╚XXXXXxxXXXXXXXXXXxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╝​

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Sophie had asked how she was doing before they left the box office, but Oliver ushered them out of the room before she could reply. He directed the two teenage girls to the copy room and slipped the original in the machine before taking a seat. She sat down as well as Oliver pointed out the refreshments in copy/break room. A blonde haired boy that she vaguely recognized walked in and grabbed a donut, greeting them with a hello. Pierce dropped her gaze to the scissors in her hand. She wondered how much longer the copy machine would be. She nibbled on her lower lip as the sounds of the machine printing on papers filled the silence of the room. Oliver returned the greeting.

❝ H-hi, ❞ she finally said aloud, still not looking up. When the copy machine finished, she jumped to her feet--almost knocking over chair. She caught the back of it with one hand and righted it before walking to the copier and pulling out the warm printed sheets of paper. Pierce sat down beside Sophie and began to slowly, meticulously, cut along the fine lines. She was very exact with things like this. The sound of paper sheering under the scissors was enough to relax her, slightly. ❝ I-I'm fine,by the way.... you uh--you asked in the b-boss department who was worse. You are, always... ❞ she refrained from the conversation at hand and had an 'i told you so' look on for some reason.

 

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✧ location: fortissimo theater [ copy room ] ✧ mood: hungry ✧ theme: tea? ✧​

✧ affection: -- ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ✧ ​

✧ ooc: -- ✧​

[/url]"Good afternoon, Richie. Did you give Quentin the climax lyrics so that he could check it with the song?"

Richie shook his head no, and replied, "Not yet. I was planning on giving them to him after I got a bite to eat." He paused and took another bite of the donut, the creme slightly spilling out of its revealed center. The fallen creme landed on his hand; he finished the donut quickly and sucked the creme from off his hand. Feeling his cheeks turn rosy, Richie hoped no one would notice as he grabbed a napkin from behind and wiped the saliva off.

He heard the other boy in the room introduce himself as Oliver. Richie watched him as he got up and opened the fridge, which was right next to the counter. He was tempted to introduce himself as well, but he figured it was mainly geared towards the two girls. Looking back to Sophie, the boy said, "I'll, uh, go look for him now. Do you have any idea where Quentin might be?"

Richie doubted she would know... she wasn't his keeper after all. But if anyone had the slightest idea of where Quentin might be, it would be her. The name had a sour taste on his tongue; after the incident at McDonald's a few years back, the two had barely spoken. This musical was the first time Richie had seen him in a long while and... he wasn't sure how he felt about it. His affection for Quentin almost ceased that day, but the remnants of the crush still lingered in his mind.

Upon remembering that day two years ago, Richie also thought about Tucker and Bryan. He'd kept in closer contact with those two, but Bryan more-so. Despite this, the contact was still minimal. The Girl in Watercolors was a great way for him to reconnect with his crushes, and his old friends in general. But none of them could compare to Elisa, who was his best friend. Their bond, unlike the others from Camp Fortissimo, had only grown stronger. If everyone else had finished, all he needed was Elisa by his side...

Richie snapped back to the present, and continued to smile as he waited for Sophie's answer.

 

​

Most of the students in the play were quite busy doing their jobs and paid little heed to the man that sat there. This really didn't bother Julius in the slightest since it meant that they were actually doing what they had to do and it made his job a whole lot easier. Julius was quite impressed with the effort that the kids were putting into getting the play on its way and despite not really a big fan of musicals, he didn't really complain. Though at the beginning he was loathing his job he soon found himself loosing that negative thought. It was just like that camp two years ago.

As Julius closed his eye and stretched his arms, the voice of Tucker reached him and Julius immediately opened his eye and smiled as he looked over at the former fellow counselor "Perfect! Thats great to hear" Julius said lowered his legs and rested his arms on the top of the other two chairs beside him. "Once we get the stuff all prepared, things will be much more smooth and organized. Lighting, sound, and even the stage...if we get that all set without a hitch then the there really won't be a problem other then the actors themselves" Julius said.

Closing his eyes Julius grinned a cheerful grin and laughed "hell...you kiddos are doing so great that I don't even thing I'm even needed" Julius said happily. Julius had great faith in most of the students in the play and he actually was surprisingly awaiting just what they would be able to create together. He had at least hoped that Troval and Maria had at least managed to at least be able to stand each other...otherwise he would have to act. For now he would witness how well they acted together and silently watched Maria act.

 

⎛ DAY 1 ‖ 3/4 ⎠ ☁ ⎛ DATE ‖ DECEMBER 18TH ⎠ ☁ ⎛ LOCATION ‖ COPY ROOM ⎠
⎛ MOOD ‖ CONVERSATIONAL ⎠ ☁ ⎛ ❤!! ‖ %9 ⎠ ☁ ⎛ WEARING ⎠
⎛ OOC ‖ . . . ⎠

❝ＲＯＵＮＤ ＴＷＯ : ＳＴＡＲＴ ！！❞​

Oliver, he had told her. She quirked another smile and decided she liked his spunk ( Sophie's definition of 'spunk' being able to be confident around her and level themselves with her -- sometimes it was annoying, other times, it was admirable. Of course, in Oliver's case, it was admirable ).

❝Pleased to meet you, Oliver.❞

Sophie looked over at Pierce who was just stumbling over herself. It was amusing to see that she still had issues around boys, and she had yet to find out why. Maybe she had daddy issues? Or was a victim of sexual assault? Or she just had a phobia of boys and was indeed homosexual. They were all likely, but most likely of all was that she was just ridiculously shy.

❝Not yet. I was planning on giving them to him after I got a bite to eat.❞

She looked over at Richie again, and a bit of a mess happened with his doughnut. White creme making a mess on him. He would love that, wouldn't he? It seemed he was falling along the same thoughts, as his face turned red.

❝I'll, uh, go look for him now. Do you have any idea where Quentin might be?❞

❝He should be in the auditorium. If not, you should check the ensemble room with the grand piano.❞ Sophie pulled out her phone and confirmed Quentin's location without saying anything to Richie. The ensemble room it was.

I've fixed some spelling errors, corrected only one or two notes.
I think we're ready to make final copies.
Come back when you can.​

❝He'll be done with the work when your done. If you care to practice with him, he'll be there.❞ Sophie then noted, and she glanced at her phone, but put it away before she could let herself check the other received messages.

 

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✧ location: ensemble room ✧ mood: content ✧ theme: tea? ✧​

✧ affection: -- ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ✧ ​

✧ ooc: -- ✧​

[/url]"He should be in the auditorium. If not, you should check the ensemble room with the grand piano." Sophie paused and pulled out her phone. Maybe it was Quentin...? She looked back up shortly before glancing at her phone again, adding, "He'll be done with the work when you're done. If you care to practice with him, he'll be there."

Richie nodded and waved trio goodbye as he headed out the door. He breathed a sigh of relief; Sophie was quite the tough one when it came to being conversational, from what he could tell, but it went smoother than he expected. However, he felt the atmosphere in there was stuffy and it made the boy a little uncomfortable.

Quickly locating his tote bag, Richie looked inside to make sure all his notes were still in there ( which they were ). He then scanned the auditorium, and didn't spot Quentin anywhere. His brown hair and blue eyes flashed through the boy's mind as he flung the bag over his shoulder and began to walk towards the ensemble room.

He opened the one of the doors to the hallway ( opposite the one of the copy room ) carefully. It was pretty heavy, so Richie had to use both hands once he opened in a crack. He placed one of those wooden stoppers to keep the door ajar; he proceeded down the hallway and made the first right, then the first left. The ensemble room ( note: just imagine a grand piano by the chairs on the left lol ) was the last door at the end of the dead-end hallway. Approaching the door, he peeked through the small rectangle of glass. The lights were on, which was a good sign someone was in there.

As a force of habit, Richie knocked lightly two times ( and waited a few seconds for a response, to which there was none ) and opened the door. Immediately he spotted Quentin sitting by the grand piano, on the bottom row of the thing that choir people would stand on ( the word slipped his mind ) when performing. Quentin seemed to absorbed in whatever he was doing to notice him, so Richie quietly sat down next to him and greeted softly, "Hey there Quentin. What are you working on...?"

Waiting for a response, Richie placed his tote bag down next to him and pulled out of his notebook that he kept all his musical notes for The Girl in Watercolors in. Gripping the book with both hands, the green-eyed boy rested his hands on his lap as he crossed his legs. He opened it to his latest entry, and looked to Quentin with a bright smile.

 

Gosh she was pretty. And pierced. He could see the glint more clearly now that she exposed it to the backstage lighting. Did she really think she was bad? He'd seen her work, and it complimented everything, including the clothing his side of the production made up. He examined her a bit more, oh, she was smiling! He rested a bit easy, before speaking up again, "I like being a little dirty, makes life more fun." He grinned a cheeky grin back at her. Glancing at his recently finished product because of her compliment and thanking her with pride, "I would normally take full credit for that compliment, but there's an entire team backing me up. Haha, wish one of them wasn't so clumsy though." He said as he gestured down to his grey bottom jeans and completely grey paint caked shoes.

He began to search for a spare chair, he didn't want to bug the actual cosmetics area so this would do just fine. His heart thumped a little harder in his chest as he settled down into a foldable metal chair that was used to stand on while painting high places. He grinned at her and gave her a shot of his baby blues. "Paint me like one of your French girls, Elisa." He gave a chuckle at his own lame attempt at humor before turning a serious smirk onto his face. "I will worry about the clean up, you just do your thing. On my face." He was a tiny bit mortified, she may have been cool with piercings, and a scary looking blonde guy, but such bad jokes had to be a strike out into the friend zone. He almost buffer aloud at the thought, but he wouldn't stop trying, especially with them being in the same building so much.

He readied himself and assured her one more time that her 'dummy' was absolutely sure he wanted to get what he was asking for. Today was a day for Makeovers. "We don't have any classes together. Or friends for that matter. What I'm trying to say is, hi, Elisa the makeup artist, I'm Zachary the set designer."

 

(*) Mood: Average (*) Location: Theater (*) OOC: I'm back for a limited time (*) Music (Off) (*)​

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So this is my role then. Alex thought, looking at his script for the second or third time. Right now he was on his way to the auditorium to see if anyone else was there. Since was the supporting character number 1, it made sense for him to hope that one of the leading characters would be there. Still this was new to him. Participating in a play was something that he definitely wouldn't do two years ago, but aside from the insanity that he experienced, there was also some good things that happened.​

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For starters he made some improvements on his personality, which lead to his inner voice becoming less frequent. It still chimes in from time to time, but mostly it's his own voice inside his head. Next was his stuttering problem, which was solved with the help of one of his female cousins. Now whether it be to a girl or anyone else, he words came out clear. If hew as nervous however, there was nothing that he could do.​

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When he arrived at the auditorium and walked inside, the first person that he noticed was Julius. Considering that he was his Cabin leader for the brief time at camp, it made sense that he would be the first person that he noticed. There were some other people there too, one of which he recalled seeing before but nothing more than that. "I'm guessing that there the leads." His words were directed at no one in particular, but they were referring to the duo the he could see on the stage.​

 

◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
⌠ DAY 1 │ 3/4 ⌡ ◆ ⌠ DATE │ DECEMBER 18TH ⌡ ◇ ⌠ LOCATION │ ENSEMBLE ROOM ⌡
⌠ MOOD │ DISTRACTED ⌡ ◇ ⌠ ❤ │ 30% = NOËLLE / 30% = SOPHIE ⌡ ◆ ⌠ MUSIC !! ⌡
⌠ OOC │ IF ONLY I COULD STAY FOCUSED, TOO. ⌡
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆​

Quentin browsed through the composition with affected intensity, marking suggestions and questions along the way. It wasn't his job, but it was his nature to be thorough, so he was. Between that and the fact that Sophie had asked him, he had all the motivation he needed to stay focused. But in spite of him, his mind wandered.

He was glad to be able to work with Sophie on the project. They had grown closer since the disaster at the summer camp despite the lack of love potion. He had been quite upset when it expired. Of all of the things to survive the events, the most valuable one went bad. He eventually spent the lucky quarter on a vending machine, a decision which he later regretted because he never got a chance to see Noëlle again. He had learned that the counselor had been her brother, but it didn't stop him from being jealous of the attention she gave him. In her place, he became bit more involved in the student body and was even helping manage a school-wide project.

His mind wandered now because he was wondering when he would bed Sophie. He could tell he had earned a place in her heart, but had yet to make a place in her bed. Quentin wasn't used to that. He mused about why she was so guarded and what he would have to do to undress her, figuratively as well as literally. Every time he wandered, he concluded that the composition was a logical step, so along he clogged.

He barely noticed when a boy knocked on the door. Someone else will get it. His pen checked and circled more vigorously with each mark. He felt that he was nearing the end when a small voice brought him back to reality.

"Hey there Quentin. What are you working on . . . ?" Quentin glanced to the door. That must have been him. He looked up at the boy. It was the lyricist. He couldn't quite remember his name. . . . Rodger? Richard? Ricky? I'll figure it out later. He saw that the boy was going over his own notes, so he read over the composition one last time as he answered.

"Reviewing the composer's notes for her. What brings you here?" He asked out of courtesy, but now that he thought about it, he wondered why the boy had chosen to sit next to him in this room when he could have gone anywhere. He glanced at him when he wasn't looking, but couldn't read his intent. Then he remembered. Richie.

 

♔: ♠ « MUSIC ♠ « WEARING ♠ « ✉ 4 ♠ « OOC: N|A ♠ :♔
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Stacking a few copies together for efficiency, Oliver started cutting away neatly and swiftly inbetween each intake of pretzels. The boy had left, leaving the three of them to themselves. He was beginning to feel a bit of regret for letting Sophie tag along. Had she no where else to be? Today was a bit more awkward as a result of her presence. She and Pierce were friends. Pierce was stupidly timid around him, which left Sophie to act as a distraction and Oliver to become socially unnecessary.

Overall, he guessed it was okay. It was just ... interference. He had been planning to talk to Pierce with a bit more depth, today.

Ah well. Instead, he kept quiet and stayed out of their conversation, doing his job and busying himself with pretzels and eventually his cell phone. It rested on the top of the blue table, buzzing every once and a while with a new message from her. Mary.

Message From: Mary Berry oliva' oliva' ~ never before has a boy wanted more!

Message From: Mary Berry do you get the reference? :D

Message To: Mary Berry I'm pretty sure they didn't have that thick an English accent, and that's a pretty violent song to be referencing. Good afternoon, by the way. How are you?

[b]Message From:[/b] Mary Berry[br][/br] maybe ... but you like it ruff don't you? [plain];)[/plain] i'm ok. on my way to work. *puke*

[size=12px][color=#e0646d][b]Message To:[/b] Mary Berry[br][/br] ... Ruff. [br][/br] I don't know why you don't just quit, if you hate it that much. I mean, just quit and get a job here in Candlewood when you visit. You can work at my uncle's car shop with me until you get something else.[/color] [tr][td][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][color=#D03E49][b]Message From:[/b] Mary Berry[br][/br] oh. right. okay. uh. we need to talk ... about the trip.[/color][/size][/font][/td][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][/size][/font][/tr][font=MS Gothic][size=12px] [tr][td][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][color=#e0646d][b]Message To:[/b] Mary Berry[br][/br] ??[/color] [tr][td][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][color=#e0646d][b]Message To:[/b] Mary Berry[br][/br] Mary?[/color] [/size][/font][/td][/tr][/size][/font][/td][/tr][/size][/font][/size]

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[size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px] [/size][/font][size=12px][/size] [/size][/font][/size][/font][/size][/font][/size]

[font=MS Gothic][size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][font=MS Gothic][size=12px][/size][/font][/size][/font][/size][/font]​

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Bryan wasn't answering his phone, which was unusual of him, but ... She could understand. He was likely busy. Instead of continuing to call, she left a groggy voicemail stating that she wasn't feeling well and didn't plan on attending rehearsal. It was true, though she felt perfectly healthy with the exception of a dull stomach ache. Really, she just wanted some time alone. A break.

Her mother was out at work and she was able to lounge around the comfy home wearing nothing but a pair of pajama shorts and a thin tank top. It was nice, being home alone, and always refreshing to take a mental health day.

Noëlle spent most of her afternoon in the music room, practicing scales and reviewing her own bland, uninspiring compositions with contempt. She had a huge project due at the beginning of the new quarter and so far nothing was turning out the way she wanted. It was annoying.

Once she gave up with that, she returned to her bedroom for a cigarette, pinching it between her lips and lighting it. The smoke danced about, eventually giving her room a hazy glow. Her muscles clenched and then relaxed, and she gathered herself up onto her bed, raising her leg and lazily using her foot to unlatch her window and push it open.

A cold, winter breeze immediately swept through her room and she shivered and groaned out softly. Her body twisted onto it's stomach, and she plucked the cigarette from her lips, gazing over the headboard and at the vanity she had set up last spring.

She hadn't changed that much on the outside. Bright turquoise eyes, long dark-red locks -- dyed, of course. Same button nose, roundish cheeks, pointed chin and heavy eye-lashes. She had -- err -- developed a bit in certain areas, something her mother had predicted.

Other than that, same old Noëlle, she thought. Well, physically.

When she was through giving herself a stare down, she leaned out of her window to flick her cigarette and take one last deep suck. Then, she sighed and rolled out of bed, shutting the window and going on the search for her ashtray.

She wasn't entirely sure when her fear of smoking had disappeared. Sometime after her talk with Bryan, probably. He had advised ( well, told ) her not to smoke ever again but she eventually brushed the warning off.

The ashtray was found in the music room. Once she put out her cigarette and opened a window there, too, she carried herself to Bryan's room. He wouldn't be home for a while, and she missed him. As she usually did while he was away, she closed his door and started to dig through his ****, searching for condoms or any other indication that he was dating -- or sexually active.

They were never apart for too long, so she never got a chance to really turn the place upside down. Maybe today would be different ...

 

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✌ CLOTHES≛ MOOD» HAPPY! ≛ TUNES≛ LOCATION » THEATRE ≛OOC ✌​

A unnoticed sigh of relief escaped Tucker as Julius - who he more saw of as his boss nowadays - responded positively to what he said. A small, crooked smile expressed his satisfaction while his chestnut eyes only showed happiness. He liked making people happy and getting things done or helping out (to make people even happier). If he was a dog, he'd be wagging his tail right now - which was quite an accurate analogy. The young adult himself kind of felt that way sometimes, like a dog but he didn't mind. Dogs were cool! Dogs were never alone and treated nicely. Dogs are a man's best friend who's there to play and make people smile and be a loyal, good boy.

"hell...you kiddos are doing so great that I don't even thing I'm even needed"

A small laugh escaped of him as he heard the older man's words. He didn't consider himself to be one of the 'kiddos' even though he of all the eldest ones was the most childlike, mainly because he always felt responsible for the kids (which were the students). Nonetheless, he agreed with him as he turned to look up at the stage as well as darting his eyes backstage. These guys were insanely talented and so much was going on already in the early days of the production. Sets were being made, actors had their lines memorized, music was great, heck even people helped out in the things they didn't sign up for! It made him smile.

Not wanting to further disturb the director, he turned back to Julius and said, "I'm going to stay at the sound booth now while we rehearse." he said quickly before excusing himself and leaving the front row.

The familiar notes of a piece he knew from the piano suddenly played through the theatre. He stopped his jogging and looked back at the stage, seeing Erik as he expected. He smiled. He didn't even know the other guy was there, already! See, that man was kind of his partner in crime for this thing, being the sound director. Erik provided the sounds, Tucker let it be heard throughout the entire auditorium with his tech.

Realizing this probably meant they would go to work now, Tucker quickly jogged back to his station, waving to people who he didn't notice were already in the theatre on his way back.

​

✿ OUTFIT | MUSIC | OOC |MOOD ↝ SMILES + LAUGHTER✿​

✖ LOCATION ↝ BACKSTAGE ✖​

​

"I like being a little dirty, makes life more fun."

Her eyes closed in delight as a small laugh escaped her. She rested her blue eyes on him again, this time looking more at him rather than his piercings, before she added innocently "You know, I'm starting to like you already."

This guy was nice. Rather, a better, more fitting word was cool. It wasn't just his piercings that completely fascinated her but he seemed very kind too. Why hasn't she ever talked to him before? Not like she had much opportunity to in school - she was much too busy and focused during her classes, and when she was out of the classroom she made her way to her best friends immediately: Richie and her laptop.

"I would normally take full credit for that compliment, but there's an entire team backing me up. Haha, wish one of them wasn't so clumsy though."

She had walked back to where she dropped her things as he spoke, clutching her small, brown bag with her right hand and keeping it close to her body as she walked back to the boy. As he looked down at his vandalized jeans, she looked over at them too, her eyes widening as she coughed back a laugh, placing her other hand over her lips. "Oh man, that's unfortunate! Yipes!" she looked around at the floor, careful not to be a klutz.

"If said clumsy team member is nearby please give me a fair warning, I find myself to be kind of loving my outfit today." she said jokingly, but clearly meaning every word. She was wearing mostly white after all! She'd hate to see the cute faces of the kittens on her sweater, or the white fabric that hugged around her legs be stained grey. What would be the use of her outfit if that happened? She did take photos of it before leaving, but the feeling was the same. If that happened it would be sad face central on the internet tonight.

With a skid on the floor, a chair seemed to magically appear, and the boy sat down before making a very… strange remark that really made Elisa laugh.

"Paint me like one of your French girls, Elisa."

She couldn't help it. It wasn't exactly funny even, it just caught her so off guard. She couldn't help but spit out a laugh. She probably giggled a little more than she should, placing a hand over her lips tightly, muttering small apologies as he reassured her not to worry. Still with the slight case of the giggles she reached down at her bag and started rummaging through her things. "I-I've only got one set with me right now, and it's just basic things so I don't think I can make you look…French." she said jokingly, hoping he'd get her connection of his last remark. It was probably a really horrid joke but Elisa just had really awful humor. Like, she laughed at practically anything. People have asked her if she was on drugs… multiple times.

She pulls out a small compact with press powder, this matched her skin tone and as she looked at the boy seated in front of her. It seemed like it would match him too! Just a little powder foundation. She didn't exactly want to erase his face and go completely theatrical on him. Pulling out a brush, she opened the compact and started circling around on the powder, collecting a fair amount.

"We don't have any classes together. Or friends for that matter. What I'm trying to say is, hi, Elisa the makeup artist, I'm Zachary the set designer."

That brought her attention back to him. She smiled. How did he knew her name? Sure they went to the same school but she didn't exactly thing people knew her - sure if she got it from someone from the internet, okay. But not here. Hm. Was he someone from the internet? She brushed off the thought as she twirled the big powder brush in her hand. "It's very nice to meet you Zachary, the set designer."

With that, she bent her knees a bit to lean into his face, her eyes darting around to analyze his face once more. They weren't super close and it wasn't anything awkward - well, not for her. Being a make up artist herself, like not just in the production, she was used to being close to strangers while she had make up in her hands. Of course, if someone else sat on the chair - let's say, Bryan for example, who made her blush show past her rose tainted cheeks and her heart skip a beat - then, it would be another story. She pulled back and gently began to stroke powder onto Zachary's face, giving his skin a more even and fair tone.

 

​

✧ location: ensemble room ✧ mood: content ✧ theme: tea? ✧​

✧ affection: quentin ❤ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ✧ ​

✧ ooc: suggestive theme...? ✧​

[/url]"Reviewing the composer's notes for her. What brings you here?"

Richie looked up from his notes to Quentin, who seemed really absorbed in his--well, Sophie's--notes. Was he uninterested in talking with him? He sighed and answered, "Sophi e said to check the climax lyrics with the music." Holding up his notepad so Quentin could see, he added, "We were both in the copy room. I don't exactly why she had me come to you." He looked to the notes in the brown-haired man's hand. "Unless those are the musical notes for the climax song...?" Richie etched closer to Quentin, almost looking over his shoulder to view the papers. Realizing how odd and childish that seemed, the boy quickly moved back to his original position. Unfortunately, he hadn't looked on long enough to see what the notes were for.

Quentin still seemed to have his undivided attention on the notes, so maybe he didn't notice.

Hopefully.

Blushing, Richie peeked from his lap back to Quentin. He whispered the word climax to himself and allowed his mind to travel to... unclean places. He abruptly shook his head. 'No... don't go back down that track Richie...'

. . .

'Damn he looks fine though.'

 

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◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆​

⌠ DAY 1 │ 4/4 ⌡ ◆ ⌠ DATE │ DECEMBER 18TH ⌡ ◇ ⌠ LOCATION │ ENSEMBLE ROOM ⌡​

⌠ MOOD │ OBLIVIOUS ⌡ ◇ ⌠ ❤ │ 30% = NOËLLE / 30% = SOPHIE ⌡ ◆ ⌠ MUSIC ⌡​

⌠ OOC │ . . . ⌡​

◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆​

Quentin's mind was back to being half on the composition, half on the color of Sophie's underwear. He figured that she wore something bold, just in case. About the music, he had gone over it twice but could not shake the feeling that something was off. He was debating about whether or not she would wear lace when Richie replied, so he was slow to react.

"Sophie said to check the climax lyrics with the music." Something is missing. The boy continued to fill the gap. "We were both in the copy room. I don't exactly why she had me come to you." The boy was distracting him. What's left . . . ? "Unless those are the musical notes for the climax song . . . ?" The repeated use of the word climax made him aware of what he had been thinking next to someone. His head swiveled and he addressed the green-eyed boy. Lyrics? Lyrics!

"Oh, that's right. You're just in time. Can I see the lyrics?" He held out his hand and took the sheets once offered. "Thanks. Is that all that you need?" He was already turning away as he finished the question. He went right back to being engrossed with the new assignment.

 

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╔XxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxXXXXXXxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╗​

WEARING ⧉ DATE▹ 12/18/2015 ⧉ DAY▹ 1 & 4/5 ⧉ MUSIC​

MOOD▹MEH ⧉ LOCATION▹COPY ROOM ⧉ OOC▹ ✘​

ACTIVITY▹ TICKETS ⧉ INTERACTION▹ SOPHIE ⧉ ❤▹ 0/10​

╚XXXXXxxXXXXXXXXXXxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╝​

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Pierce had sat silently cutting tickets while Sophie talked to the boy, Richie. She felt out of place. Sophie was a natural when it came to talking to people. Her lower lip was bruising from how hard she had been chewing on it. She was grateful that Richie had finally left in search of Quentin. It was one less person to bother.

Her brown eyes glanced to the side and she noticed Oliver sitting quietly messaging someone on his phone between whole cuts. Pierce cleared her throat awkwardly, the scissors trembling in her hand. Some of the cuts were crooked and she cursed internally. Cursing--that was something new. Pierce didn't quite frankly care for cursing and it nearly gave her mother a heart attack the first time she did it aloud near her, but she was seventeen now! Everyone curses.

She pressed her lips together and set down the scissors as her hand began to cramp up. She brushed a few stray bangs out of her face and refastened them in place with the clips in her hair. The billowing salmon colored sleeves slid down to her shoulders, baring her arms. Pierce let her arms fall back to her sides and pulled the sleeves back into place, readjusting her shirt as she did.❝ So um... Sophie, how uh.... has break been for you? ❞

 

『WEATHER』 COLD 36°! ✖『DATE & TIME』 12/18/2015 - 9:00PM ✖『DAY』 01.2​

Just a few hours ago, books lay tossed and discarded over the plush carpeted flooring of Bryan's room. Clothes, papers, and miscellaneous objects she had no interest in where thrown onto the bed, or his desk. His entire wardrobe and closest were gaping, spilling items out over her feet.

She had found all sorts of interesting things in her brother's rooms, but only a couple of things that really caught her attention. Finally, after several failed attempts, she had really gathered the courage to look through everything. No mercy. She had even managed to accidentally tear a part of one of his posters off ( oops ), and when her mother had gotten home, she pretended to be out -- with Bryan, and shut the lights off, sitting on the center of his bed holding the box in her lap absently.

Her tongue ran over her bottom lip several times in deep, deep thought. Bryan was ... twenty-one. It wasn't unusual for a twenty-one year old to have condoms ... or lube ... It wasn't unusual, but it pissed her off. Heavily. Very, very much so. Intensely. Her entire face was burning and her chest felt constricted.

About a year ago, her mother had had a ... talk, with her about all of the time she spent with Bryan and how clingy she was. It only deepened Noëlle's growing resentment towards the woman, but she could -- logically -- understand, so she backed off. Where she would usually follow, she stayed back. Where she would usually confide in him, she wrote in a journal instead. It took a while, but she eventually started to casually 'date' -- though it was just to get everyone off her dick about it.

Drugs, alcohol and mild vulgarity eased their way into the Bryan-less pits of her existence and loneliness ate away at her previously friendly demeanor. Inside, she was just as sensitive and emotional as always, but ... She fell into depression hard and fast and while her obsession with her brother appeared to have dissipated to the outside world, it was probably ten times worse. She loved him. She wanted him, and he -- apparently -- wanted someone else ... or more than one person. It made her sick.

Before he got home, while her mother was still cooking, she messily fixed up his room and slipped out. Then, she snuck back into her room -- with the condoms and lube -- and tucked them under her mattress, scratching the back of her hand in the process.

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When she heard him walk through the door later that evening, she opened her window and climbed out with a pair of sandals, trailing in after him the moment their mom asked where she was.

❝Rehearsal was fun tonight, ❞ Her voice was a bit scratchy, but otherwise usual. Her eyes met Bryan's, attempting to somehow request that be play along if needed, and as soon as Ms. Chambers left the living room to answer a phone call, Noëlle was heading into the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat -- just to hold herself over.

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{OOC: This is a name banner to be used until after finals when I can create a proper banner, so alas. Will add status information for next post, still deciding. MICHAELA and ALBERT are filler names until I can discuss things with hyuge.}​

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Torvald cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie.​

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...​

<< IGNITE REVOLUTION >>​

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In the mirror, the icy blue eyes stared back at him. Cold and unfeeling, frozen like Greek marble.​

His hands were coated in Maria's dried blood, as he held the wilted blue rose by the sink, contaminated by the blood of the dirty bourgeois oppressors. He scoffed at the rose, his eyes narrowing gravely like a ruthless wolf.​

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Next to the porcelain basin lay his script, wet with tiny spots of water, blood, wine, and tears. Wine stains plastered his -- Albert's -- tie, but things like this were easily replaceable, as all machines were in his infinite revolution. He drew himself closer to the mirror, his Oxfords letting out piercing squeaks upon the marble floor, as he examined his face closely.​

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The duet had gone well enough, but there were still problems. Many, many problems. Michaela's death wasn't believable enough! What good was it to sing the songs of proletarian, working class suffering as Michaela was wont to do, when Maria herself couldn't focus on the emotions behind it! Terrible, terrible! What was this? Torvald sprung up towards the top of the mirror, where he could see the reflection of the door open ajar. What was this? It was, of course, the pungent smell of a lack of perfection.​

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In a revolution, when dealing with the oppressed, there was only perfection or elimination. No in between.​

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He turned the faucet and watched the torrent of tap water stampede into the porcelain basin. The cold beads of liquid splashed onto his hands, and he felt the pinch of needles upon his fingers. Immediately, he laid the blue rose next to the sink and began washing his hands.​

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That wasn't enough. This duet wasn't going well enough.​

It wasn't just because Maria wasn't perfect, but he wasn't perfect either, right? Right. Haha ...​

Torvald grimaced in the mirror, bearing his beastly cuspids in disgruntlement. Useless. Useless! Perfection or nothing! And here was Torvald, being unable to himself capture the feeling of the class struggle! Insanity! Torvald balled his hands into fists beneath the cold water, and widened his eyes.​

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But he loosened his grip on his invisible heartstrings.​

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The bloodied rose began its descent. Torvald immediately shot away from the sink and tried to catch it, but as he descended to the marble floor, it slipped through his fingers, the thorns cutting through them like butter. And with a small twirl in the air, the blue rose fell to the tiles in a puddle of water and blood.​

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Torvald rose, and stared at the fallen flower, floating in its ethereal puddle on the floor. The rush of tap water sung through the small bathroom, but it was the only sound that Torvald could hear. And there, by the sink, he stood staring at the blue flower for a long time.​

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He slowly brought his hands to his gaze. They were rife with involuntary trembles.​

His right hand was clean of all blood, but his left ... ah, his left still bore the stains of Maria's blue-blooded bourgeois life.​

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...​

Torvald's eyes widened and twitched.​

How ... how disgusting! Ugh! He ran back to the sink and began to wash away the rest of the blood from his left hand.It wasn't perfect! The washing wasn't perfect! How disgusting! Absolutely wretched!The water splashed everywhere as Torvald desperately tried to clean Maria's blood off of his hands, but it took effort after effort after effort, and the water and blood danced together in puddles all over the sink and floor.​

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Nothing was perfect! He could not afford to allow the struggles of the oppressed to eliminate him as a result! No!​

He kicked the edge of the sink in barely-suppressed anger. It cried out a loud clang that seemed to echo through the room and momentarily make him forget everything.​

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Torvald stood, dead-eyed, by the mirror. Just for a moment.​

The noise rung like a bell in the room, knocking his head with its loud, grandiose vibrations. Such was the structure of reinforced tin and steel; the true working-class of metals.​

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But to Torvald, the noise only brought back memories of the duet. The talking through mirrors. The pools of blood everywhere. Michaela's lamentations.​

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He slowly turned his head towards the blue rose that lay lifeless in the puddle of water and blood.​

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Everything was imperfect.​

They needed more. More. Something more. How dare it was she reject his peace offering.​

He would have to make sure that the world would eliminate bourgeois scum like her, forever and always. It was inevitable. It was the law of the history of humanity; the ascension, where all dissident elements would be weeded out. Where the production of the Girl in Watercolours would eventually achieve the perfection it requires.​

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But would he be the one to spearhead the perfection?​

... Ah, he had to be. There was, of course, nobody else who would listen to him about this ...​

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Torvald turned off the tap and turned around, but-- ack!​

He felt the ground fall from beneath him in a slippery rush as he fell to the floor. His eyes suddenly widened and he helplessly thrust his arms out to latch onto something something anything anythinganything in his desperately descent but bang, he his his head on the sink, and was immediately knocked out, slumping by the blue rose and the pools of watery blood. The smell of wine lingered on his tie -- on Albert the alcoholic's clothing -- and it was the one pungent scent that permeated the room.​

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Funny, too.​

Torvald hated alcohol, but what else could he do but always play his roles?​

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<< CEASE REVOLUTION >>​

 

ooc: i had a good post but i lost it on my dumb phone :c

richie was like omg i'm home hey bitchy little sis and dickhead older brother and naggy mother. he recollected on meeting his boi zach ( "happened" over timeskip ) and thinks real deep and dramatic like about his feelings for quentin. ooooooooooooh inner termoil omg but yeah then he was all like let me text my biffle elisa good night and his white ass went to sleep

 

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Maria jiggled the keys in the lock of the two bedroom apartment. With a small nudge, the door flew open into the dark hall. ❝ Stephan, ❞ she called into the apartment,❝ Stephan I'm home. ❞ No reply. She set her purse down by the door and her heels clicked on the floor. All the lights were off. It wasn't entirely unlike him, but when she entered the kitchen she noticed their dinner half finished. He must have left in a hurry. Maybe he ran to the store--missing an ingredient? But then he would have asked her to pick it up for him or left a note. He knew she would be back at this time.

Maria cleaned up the kitchen before moving off to the bathroom. She wasn't in the mood to eat. The duet was still not 100% and they were running out of time. She sighed as she began to shed her day's wear. The jewelry was dropped in a cup by the sink, the pins pulled out of her hair--letting the platinum blond locks spill out around her shoulders. She kicked out of her heels and reached for the satin robe on the back of the door, wrapping it around her body. She reached behind and tugged on the zipper of her dress, letting it fall to her ankles before knotting the draw strap at her waist.

Maria pushed everything into a pile in the corner with her foot before walking to her bedroom. Her parents had set them up handsomely. They had told Stephan when he moved out four years ago the they would only pay his rent if he found a place big enough for her to live at as well when she graduated. She stalked across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She laid back on the cool sheets and stared at the ceiling. There was something missing in the duet. She laid her arms across her eyes and shut them. It was frustrating. Maria drew in a deep breath and let herself drift off to sleep, bare legs hanging off the edge of the bed, blond hair pooling around her.

✜ Wearing ❖ Music ❖ Date: 12/18/2015 ❖ Day: 1 & 5/5 ✜​

✜ Mood: Irked ❖ Interaction: ✘ ❖ Location: Home ✜ ​

✜ ❤: ✘ ❖ Activity: Getting Ready for Bed ❖ OOC: ✘ ✜​

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