A Life Measured In Loss

Nova Cohen-Davis is the teenage daughter of Mark Cohen and Roger Davis. She has a flare for the dramatic, something she gets from her biological mother (and one only needs to look at her fashion choices to know who that is). Currently said drama is manifesting itself in a goth phase -- Nova has deemed herself the next Mary Shelley, draped in dark colors and scribbling away in leather bound notebooks. Who knows what it will be next week. Perhaps she'll decide to take up espionage. Either way, she's a good kid at heart. She's just had a hard go of it. [Indie RP blog in the RENT/Musical Theatre fandom. Also a spawnling. Mun and Muse are 18+]

[alifemeasured]

[text] Maureen just found out that you've been skipping your therapy sessions. [text] She's not happy. Run Nova run.

[text — Daddy]: What??? How did she find out???

[hidesinhisworkarchive-blog]

[text: Baby Girl] I don’t know. She didn’t say.

[text: Baby Girl] They may have called her or something.

[alifemeasured]

[text - Daddy]: Fuck

[text - Daddy]: Right. So initiate avoidance protocol.

[alifemeasured]

◊

a sticky note left on your fridge in the morning by my muse

Finished the Cocoa Puffs. Sorry! <3

[alifemeasured]

[text] Maureen just found out that you've been skipping your therapy sessions. [text] She's not happy. Run Nova run.

[text — Daddy]: What??? How did she find out???

[flamingnatsu-metalicerza]

Put a "◊" in my ask for a sticky note left on your fridge in the morning by my muse.

[ask-scarlettrails-deactivated20]

Send a ◎ and a question and my muse must answer, even if it's a secret.

[alifemeasured]

It had been a particularly bad night. Or rather it had been an okay night that took a horrible turn. The party was fine — mostly kids from school and some others that they knew from around the city (friends of friends, boyfriends, etc) — and Nova had been having a great time until a particular song came on. His song.

It was old. Back from before everything. And it was clear the recording was a bootleg from some old concert in one of Brooklyn’s underground clubs. Even now that was where he was most popular. In the underground scene. Hipsters pretending they were the first to ever discover the ‘under-appreciated, tortured artist’. They weren’t. Not even close.

It gutted her like a meat hook. Every line, every word dug deeper, twisted more. It hurt. Hurt more than it had in a long time. It became hard to breathe, the walls beginning to close in, and if it wasn’t for the cold glass of bright green liquid pressed into her hand, Nova was pretty sure she would have fainted.

"What…?"

"Just drink it. It’ll help."

One glass quickly became two. And two quickly became four until the room was spinning in a whole different way. At least it didn’t hurt anymore.

Absinthe. It seemed some old bohemian traditions refused to die.

Which was why the next morning (give or take 3:30am), it took two of Nova’s friends to see her home. She was blitzed. Well and good and if left to her own devices she was as likely to end up in Rhode Island as she was back at the loft.

She looked awful. The all too familiar look of a night spend indulging written all over her. Flushed cheeks. Messy hair. Glassy eyes. It wasn’t a good look for her. Or anyone.

"Shhhh." The redhead (Julianna) to the right tried to quell the giggles escaping the girl in the middle as they slid open the loft’s door. "Do you want to wake the whole building?"

"Yes." She nodded and then stopped as nodding was kind of hurting her head. Everything was hurting her head. "We could have salon. An impromptu salon! Collins was a fan of those…I need another drink."

"No, babe. You need sleep. And water. And aspirin. Tommy, check the bathroom for some advil…"

Gently detangling himself from the two girls, their male companion headed dutifully down the hall.

[lawyer-joanne-pookie-jefferson]

Joanne sighed at the lack of enthusiasm. Nova could be.. moody. Though she supposed most teenagers were these days. “I see. It didn’t go well?”

[alifemeasured]

With Nova, her moodiness was a combination of genetics, life, and just general teenagedom. "It went. It mostly sucked that we had one...but I think I passed." Hoped she passed.

[lawyer-joanne-pookie-jefferson]

alifemeasured has a case

"Hello Nova." Joanne greeted the young woman. "How are you, honey?"

[alifemeasured]

She shrugs as a response -- the universal teenage sign for 'eh'. She was fine, mostly. Save for her experience with absinthe a few nights before. But hey, it was a learning experience, right? "I had a pop quiz in trig today...that sucked."

[teenwolfsterekfan]

[alifemeasured]

Visual reference: Tommy

[who-wants-tea]

[alifemeasured]

Visual Reference: Julianna.

[alifemeasured]

It had been a particularly bad night. Or rather it had been an okay night that took a horrible turn. The party was fine -- mostly kids from school and some others that they knew from around the city (friends of friends, boyfriends, etc) -- and Nova had been having a great time until a particular song came on. His song.

It was old. Back from before everything. And it was clear the recording was a bootleg from some old concert in one of Brooklyn's underground clubs. Even now that was where he was most popular. In the underground scene. Hipsters pretending they were the first to ever discover the 'under-appreciated, tortured artist'. They weren't. Not even close.

It gutted her like a meat hook. Every line, every word dug deeper, twisted more. It hurt. Hurt more than it had in a long time. It became hard to breathe, the walls beginning to close in, and if it wasn't for the cold glass of bright green liquid pressed into her hand, Nova was pretty sure she would have fainted.

"What...?"

"Just drink it. It'll help."

One glass quickly became two. And two quickly became four until the room was spinning in a whole different way. At least it didn't hurt anymore.

Absinthe. It seemed some old bohemian traditions refused to die.

Which was why the next morning (give or take 3:30am), it took two of Nova's friends to see her home. She was blitzed. Well and good and if left to her own devices she was as likely to end up in Rhode Island as she was back at the loft.

She looked awful. The all too familiar look of a night spend indulging written all over her. Flushed cheeks. Messy hair. Glassy eyes. It wasn't a good look for her. Or anyone.

"Shhhh." The redhead (Julianna) to the right tried to quell the giggles escaping the girl in the middle as they slid open the loft's door. "Do you want to wake the whole building?"

"Yes." She nodded and then stopped as nodding was kind of hurting her head. Everything was hurting her head. "We could have salon. An impromptu salon! Collins was a fan of those...I need another drink."

"No, babe. You need sleep. And water. And aspirin. Tommy, check the bathroom for some advil..."

Gently detangling himself from the two girls, their male companion headed dutifully down the hall.

[imperfectnumberseven-deactivate]

Reblog if you create infinite numbers of stories for your character in your head that never get written or rped

[heatherincoldblood]

[iloveyousugarsnappeas]

[prettylittleliartheorie-s]

[roleplayerscoffeeshop]

Reblog if it’s okay for me to write fics or make graphics of your character and tag you. Sometimes the mood strikes me but I’m nervous my partners won’t like it or won’t be cool with it.

[lacrossedwerepup-blog]

do it and our wedding shall take place next month.

[notquitewicked-blog]

"You ate half the bowl before Bella got to it," he said rolling his eyes a bit.

[alifemeasured]

"It had M&Ms in it. I am not responsible for my behaviour when M&Ms are involved."

[rpprompts]

my muse has been up all night working on a project, and refuses to come to bed. how does your muse convince them otherwise?