*FLUORESCENT / ADOLESCENCE.

arabella holbrook. social media director to @nygovberkeley. daughter to @nymayorholbrook.

[arabellaholbrook]

lonlewis​:

. 

“Mostly ones that are absolutely nasty as hell!” Lonnie laughs, “Ya know, like wearin’ the same pair of socks every fight or not taking off a pair of underwear as long as you have a winning streak- gross shit like that. I’m not generally the superstitious type. All my socks and underwear are clean.” He teases, shaking his head at the mere thought of pulling that stuff in the name of a win, “My theory? Guys who do that aren’t as good as they want ya to believe. Compensatin’ with weird traditions and all that.” He’d rather be known for his skill than being eccentric. Honestly, he’d rather just be known for his skill, all the other stuff a mystery to the general public. Lonnie flashes a grin, “That’s a pretty bold statement, but I’ll take it.” He nudges his shoulder against hers fondly, “Fun isn’t exactly how I’d put it, but it’s entertaining at least. It’s kinda sweaty and hot and usually really damn loud- you should still come though.” He chuckles, hoping that description didn’t sound as bad out loud as it did in his head, “A Holbrook at a boxing match? I’d love to see it. ‘Specially if that Holbrook’s you.” He tells her. 

—

At the explanation of superstitions-turned-nasty-habits, Arabella allows her face to scrunch up in the sort of way that all the etiquette and pageant training in the world would have disavowed: nose wrinkled, lips pouted, eyes squeezed shut. It’s a rare moment of utterly open expression, but Lonnie, despite the short time she’s known him, is one of the few who’s seen her display the wider gamut of feeling that she was prone to hiding away — frustration, excitement, stress, reluctance. When he trained her, he pushed hard, not shying away from doing so on account of her family name or any other reason, and Ari supposed it gave her the freedom to show him the truth of whatever she was feeling in the moment, unfiltered by the constraints of expectation. After a moment longer, she lets her face fall into a relaxed grin as she replies, “Hot, sweaty, and loud... So basically, a Met Gala afterparty, but in athletic wear?” There’s a slight giggle, though it stops short at the realization that he’d said he wanted to see her there, specifically her — not her too-cool-for-school older sister, not her wealthy, influential parents, but her. So, it’s only natural that she chirps giddily, “Of course I’ll be there! I’ll dress head-to-toe in whatever your colors are, and I’ll take so many photos, and I...” Her brow furrows at that, struck suddenly at the reality of what she might very well witness at his match. “I suppose it’ll be strange to see someone trying to hurt you, though. Do you... Do you enjoy it? Even with that — and having to hurt someone else, I mean.”

[arabellaholbrook]

artisticroseism​:

Rosalie wanted to make sure the other was alright, her dress was just that a dress but if someone had gotten hurt because of her lack of direction she’d truly feel bad. She glanced over at the painting and a smile formed on her lips “that’s my painting, I guess I don’t mind the wine on my dress if it was because of my painting that you were distracted” she admitted with a soft laugh smiling at the other before leaning down to pick her purse off of the floor, she sat the rest of her drink down on an empty table because she was done with that drink for now anyway. “That would be an interesting installment piece wouldn’t it be?” she admitted with a soft laugh. 

“But yes I should clean this, hopefully some water will do, at least it’s white wine right?” she admitted with a smile before she looked around trying to figure out where the bathrooms were in this large place.

—

“It’s lovely,” the girl says, gaze flitting over the wall adorned with the paintings of local artists. The natural inclination to wonder if her sister also had one of her works on the wall comes soon enough, and in search of any distinct Liz-isms, Arabella inadvertently ends up ignoring the woman’s attempts to tidy herself up. After too long a moment, the realization of her role in it all dawns, but she gently deflects by turning to the topic of art once more, reply airy as ever, “That sort of installation sounds like something my sister would do, honestly.” And that my family wouldn’t understand, she thinks to add, but chooses to voice instead, “I’ve never quite understood why certain artists choose to go down that sort of...exceedingly conceptual route. Other than to upset people, maybe.”

When the woman mentions cleaning herself further, Arabella can’t help but see it as a hopeful escape from all the trappings of the room. With a soft smile, she leans in to say, “The cameras are constantly trying to catch us with something funny in our teeth, or with a suspicious stain on a lovely gown, so... Here, if you take my arm, I think that’ll help cover it—” A gloved arm is offered out to the woman and Ari continues, “—while we walk to the powder room like two giddy girls who haven’t got a care in the world. Can’t let them see us slip, right?”

[arabellaholbrook]

isabelvasquez​:

-

Isabel slithers through the crowd alongside the most lavish and glamorous individuals, all covered and dripping in the richest materials. It’s impressive and while her own presence may be questioned as she, herself, was brought in as an accessory to a very rich man. A man covered in velvet black, leaving her to slid her way into a skin tight dress that reflects the theme of this year. A breath away from the surface pleasantries is needed. While the giddiness of being at MET was intoxicating, she couldn’t help but keep an eye on those who questioned who she was and why she was here. A girlfriend of the month to a rich man and while they aren’t wrong, her presence is much more strategic than that. Powerful men and women would brush the golden carpet beneath them and her plan was to eavesdrop or try to gain as much information as possible. 

As she shifts closer to the form outside, not daring to taint the gorgeous fountain with the smell of nicotine despite the itch in the tip of her fingers, she flashes a kind smile. “You’ve hardly told me your secret. Simply that you want luck.” With her dress? Finding a partner? “I wish I would have prepared myself for these shoes. They’re killing me.”

—

It’s easy for a girl like Arabella to get lost in the swirl of the fountain’s water, caught in the Cinderella-spell of imagining herself in the rainbow hues of the bubbles. In one, she’s the girl fixed at the center of the room, dazzling the gala’s attendees with the smile she’d by now perfected, charming them with any number of hurriedly-memorized statistics painting her boss, the Governor, in a good light. In another, she’s with her family — her complete family, Liz included — posing for pictures inevitably seen on the front page of some newspaper. And in another, she’s a girl simply sitting on the ledge of a fountain, no longer alone, but amongst unknown company nonetheless.

Still, she offers a gentle smile as the other woman nears her. “That’s precisely my wish. After all, when we’re told something’s wonderful, we can’t help but hope that it truly is everything it’s cracked up to be, right?” It’s a hypothesis easily shot down by accusations of circular logic, but the thought quickly dissipates as a different problem is called to her attention. “You know, I was just about to ask if you were Vogue’s next cover model or something, but then you mentioned the heels,” Ari starts with a small laugh, before delicately dipping a foot out from under the hoop of her skirt, slip-on heel already half off her foot. After a moment, gravity handles the rest, leaving Arabella to offer little more than a whimsical, “Whoops!” The translation, of course, is simply: your secret would be safe with me.

[arabellaholbrook]

lonlewis​:

. 

Lonnie feels out of place at things like this, so seeing a familiar face is welcome. Why they want some relatively known boxer there is beyond him, but his management said it would look good and all of that business-y stuff. He approaches the fountain and can’t help but smile as Arabella explains herself, a soft laugh passing his lips as he shakes his head, “Nah. Lots of athletes have superstitions a lot more unlikely than mystical fountains.” He takes a seat on the edge too, a shrug rolling off his shoulders as he replies, “It is too simple to wish that I win my next fight?” There are other things he could wish for, but that seems like the safest bet, “This isn’t one of those things where it doesn’t come true if ya tell your wish, right?” He grins. 

—

When her gaze registers the familiar face, it’s a gasp that first escapes her pretty painted lips, then the bright exclamation of his name, countenance positively beaming. “Lonnie!” Her cheeks are warm, tinged with pink, and a gloved hand goes to rest against the skin in her most delicate attempt at covering up the blush. “Ooh, what kinds of superstitions? We both know I’m no athlete — so maybe I should invoke a few of my own to come to my aid before I make a fool out of myself at our next session.” Arabella can’t contain her grin when he chooses to sit next to her, though her countenance falters when he reveals his wish. Brows quirk inwards, strewn with concern, before she assures in a quiet voice, “You’re the best fighter the city’s ever seen, Lon.” It’s a statement she’s heard others make before, not one that she necessarily has the knowledge to back up or disavow, but the desire to comfort supersedes anything else. “Well, if you’re truly concerned, you should bring me to one, as your good luck charm! Promise, I smell far better than a rabbit’s foot. Plus, I’ve never even seen a proper match. Are they fun?”

[arabellaholbrook]

phoenixxreyes​:

  “Promise not to push me into the water, and I’ll promise you that getting lucky tonight will have nothing to do with the fountain.” Phoenix stands a cautious distance away, just in case she decides to toss him and his custom attire into the shimmering water below; he grins at her with mirth, delighted by himself, her presence, the evening as a whole. “It wouldn’t come true if I told you, would it? What I’m hoping for needs all the luck in the world. But what would a girl like you need luck for, here? Wearing that?” Phoenix gesture vaguely at her attire, too married to pride and the art of prostrating, to disguise his open admiration of her that eve. “So, when your darling mommy isn’t around - what do you like getting up to? Specifically, are you willing to stick with me tonight?”

—

The half-moon smile across her lips, ever-present even in less agreeable circumstances, brightens considerably at the sight of his familiar face. “Oh, Feenie,” she simply sighs at first, the pet name accompanied by a measured, though not fabricated, giggle. “I wouldn’t dare ruin a work of art — regardless of the reward for my good behavior.” It’s a veiled reply to his own veiled promise, speaking, flirting, and posturing in that pretty way cotillion class instilled in her, and altogether strung by a kiss placed to either side of his cheek when she rises to meet him properly. Phoenix is good company with which to navigate cocktail hour, and if she is to be dealt unanswerable questions, they’re better delivered by him than a stranger. “Well, if you won’t tell me your raison d'être, then I suppose I’ll make a guessing game out of it,” Ari returns, slipping an arm comfortably under Phoenix’s own in unspoken response to his request. As inconspicuous as it is intentional, she steers them in the opposite direction of her darling mommy, musing with faux conspiracy, “At the Met, the only event that would require ‘all the luck in the world’ is a heist. Is that what you’ve roped me into tonight?”

[arabellaholbrook]

*open to: all attending the met gala ! *setting: inside the Met, cocktail hour

The fountain, one of the museum’s guides had said, was an epicenter of luck — and rather unlike most founts of note, there was no decisive tribute needed. Not a single coin littered the bottom of the pool, and the undisturbed nature of it all gave the impression of something tranquil, of something entirely antithetical to the frenzy which existed outside the museum’s limestone walls. Carefully, the brunette lifts the skirt of her gown as she sits on the concrete lip of the structure, and a distinct tenderness accompanies the graceful way she leans over and gently trails a gloveless hand atop the still water. Her eyes remain fixed on the statue at the center, entirely transfixed; Arabella can’t help but respect a deity who does not demand an offering in return for peace, fortune, happiness — or whatever else the sudden impression of a mystery shadow could bring.

She pivots to explain herself to the owner of the shadow, smiling bashfully, “I’ve been told it’s lucky, and I suppose I’m not yet naive enough to believe I couldn’t use it tonight.” Fingers still above the pool as the curve of her lips falters slightly upon realization. “Well, now I’ve told you my wish. It’s only fair for you to tell me yours.”

[arabellaholbrook]

artisticroseism​:

location: the met gala open: open to all

Rosalie was gazing up at the painting she had painted for tonight’s event and she had to say she was really proud of her work. It had taken her awhile to get it perfect but she had done it and finished it in time. She had already taken a couple of pictures to show her daughter before she turned to make her way to the bar, as she was walking she bumped into someone not realizing how close she had been to the other and her purse slipped out of her hand and onto the floor, her left over white wine spilling on herself “ oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you, are you alright? ” When she should have been more worried about her purse and wine instead she was worried about the other.

—

Her artistic eye — or, the belief in it by those with far more authority than Arabella herself — was partially what had gotten her the position within the Governor’s staff. Though most would argue that social media was hardly an art, Arabella decided to frame it differently, instead choosing to believe that each post and each photo was a kind of snapshot in time, a memory captured now for her boss to later look back on from the precipice of his success. She supposed practically all art was that, in one way or another — a moment in time hoping to become immortal — which was precisely why her gaze was so transfixed upon the piece, as though in deep study of its textures and subjects. When the other woman suddenly bumps into her, she jumps back, careful to avoid a champagne-laden mess of her own. “I’m fine,” Arabella’s airy voice starts. “Actually, I should apologize. I was completely captivated by that painting over there. It’s why I didn’t see you,” she explains bashfully, eyes cast down to the woman’s dress. “Oh! We should clean that, shouldn’t we? Unless, of course...you happen to be part of a walking, talking, breathing performance art installation meant to showcase all the liquor at the gala.” There’s a slight giggle at her weak attempt at a joke, though the girl hopes it’s enough to break the ice. 

[arabellaholbrook]

*MET GALA 2022 » ARABELLA HOLBROOK.

The brief of ‘Gilded Glamour’ was a daunting one for Arabella, who — despite previous youthful forays into the world of fashion and celebrity — now maintains a wardrobe of neutral tones so as to blend rather seamlessly into the background. Therefore, the happy medium of invisibility and extravagance for her is a Gilded Age-inspired silhouette with a gunmetal and chrome brocade adorning the corset and petticoat, vintage pearls, and black velvet, iPhone-friendly, evening gloves. 

[arabellaholbrook]

ahclbrook​:

. 

“Hm. Yes, well, you’re still starting out in some ways- you’ll get there.” She shares a small smile with Arabella, waving it off. Maybe she’ll have a conversation with someone in the governor’s office about this. Angelina only pauses for a brief moment to think of the way her micromanaging could be taken the wrong way- she’ll think about it. Or maybe just encourage her daughter to take more initiative. That was always a pretty typical move for the mayor, “Oh,” She waves her daughter off, letting out an amused hum, “I’ve made it my livelihood to know the ins and outs.” A different way of saying, See, no one compares to me and that’s just the way it is, “And, again, you’re still young. You have so much time to make a name for yourself and learn what’s necessary to succeed.” And half the work was done just being born with the last name Holbrook. 

Angelina can’t help but sigh at Ari’s words, pursing her lips slightly and holding her head higher. She’s not sure quite how many of her arguments with Ali her youngest has heard, but she knows it’s a lot. Probably too many, though she doesn’t stop to think about what affect that may have had. But she knows Arabella isn’t too far off the mark. There’s always the potential for some kind of disagreement between Angelina and her eldest, “Yes. It will be fine.” She hopes, at least, “I don’t have any plans on starting a fight or provoking your sister.” Most of it comes down to image, once again. She can’t be seen in public fighting with Ali. The fact that Ali has made herself something of a black sheep is already enough to stress Angelina out when it comes to public perception, “You know I don’t try to make things difficult between her and me, right?” It’s half a genuine question, half a statement of exasperation- a feeling she tries her best to not often show around her children. She’s not being vulnerable, the thought of that alone makes her feel ill, but she’d being honest in a way that she’s mostly not with Ari. Angelina isn’t sure if she likes it. 

—

Her mother was forever a woman who thought of direction, of upwards movement — whether politically, socially, or economically ( and, more often than not, the sucker-punch combination of all three ), Angelina was never not thinking of betterment in some way or another, both for herself and her children. In Arabella’s mind, it was as much a passion as it was the natural byproduct of her mother’s career, her role as the city’s mayor necessitating equal concern over issues of image and policy. This aspect of their mother’s personality was an unchangeable tide known to all three Holbrook siblings, with the eldest being the most openly resistant to it and the youngest demonstrating little more than airy obliviousness and simply floating along the current. 

It’s what she does now, in response to her mother’s insistence on striving towards success. “With time, anything’s possible, right?” It’s neither acceptance or denial, but something that instead rests along the delicate in-between niche Arabella had carved out for herself within her mother’s heart. As her mother continues on about Alicia, the girl’s posture tenses once more, partially brought on by the exasperation surprisingly displayed by Angelina and her own reservations about her sibling’s flair for the dramatic in the name of art. There was more to it, of course — a certain jealousy, perhaps, kept silent and unrecognized and otherwise buried under the weight of their mother’s expectations. 

“Sometimes, I think Ali likes it better when things are complicated,” she admits at last, the words less neutral than she’d usually commit to — but it’s a truth she’s comfortable enough to share with her mother, if only because she knows the woman wouldn’t refute it. “She didn’t have to call herself ‘Liz.’” Perhaps it’s petulant, but the memories of the two girls chanting ‘Ali and Ari forever’ were too precious for her to let go of, even twenty-odd years after the moments had passed. Suffice it to say, she missed the unity of the family, longed for birthday celebrations not marked by a countdown to the next terse exchange instead to the blowing out of candles reused since childhood. Arabella’s lips curl into a gentle smile as she offers genuinely, “What can I do to help you tonight, Mama?”

[arabellaholbrook]

julesxmoore​:

Juliette knew the announcement was coming, well she knew some kind of announcement at least. When the governor dropped the bomb about what happened, the woman knew it meant good things for her boss, but she could also feel another feeling in the crowd. One she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Its good to see you Arabella, and yes i’m sure they wanted the room packed to announce. I honestly couldn’t have planned it better myself if I had done it. “ And that was the truth. What better way to show a force of power than with everyone who had doubted you in the same room.  

—

She grins into the other’s greetings, nodding her agreement as the other girl expresses her pleasure over the night’s turn of events. “When I ran into Mama earlier in the evening, she mentioned an interesting conversation with Mr. Berkeley, but... I had no idea it was going to captivate the whole room.” It wasn’t unusual for Arabella to be the one kept in the dark, though not for reasons like a perilously loose tongue or penchant for gossip — after all, trust often had to be established for those events to occur, and trusting simply didn’t come easy to wallflowers-by-choice like her. So, out of genuine curiosity, the brunette asks, “Did you know beforehand? I only got an official heads-up that there’d be some kind of announcement a few minutes before they took center stage.” There’s a brief check of her notifications before she returns to Juliette with a pleasant smile, “I can’t complain, of course. Mr. Berkeley’s speech practically delivered me tonight’s work on a silver platter.”

[arabellaholbrook]

lizholbrook​:

.

     Her ditsy younger sister’s expression of joy was a sight to be seen; it illuminated the room and sparked happiness in anyone who had the pleasure of crossing her path. Liz’s relationship with her was a lot more complicated, as family matters usually were. While Ari’s comment might have been intended as an innocent joke, it was hard for Liz to not read some deeper meaning into the girl’s words. After all, the other was still on good terms with their parents, and that fact alone was enough to have Liz on high alert anytime they interacted. 

     “I remember,” against her instincts, which always led her to attack before thinking, Liz ignored Arabella’s first statement. Instead, she was insulted by the second one. Do you mean when I sneaked out and you followed me and gave me away? Granted, her sister had never actually turned her in on purpose, but the giggles of a young girl were a lot easier to follow and find in the grand gardens than the catious steps of an older daughter fleeing another dreaded interaction. “You were just a kid,” there’s more than a hint of condescension in her words. Translation: I knew what I was going, and you only followed in my footsteps. Tough love, wasn’t that what the Holbrooks were all about?

     She couldn’t help but bark out a laugh – one of the many reactions on the Angelina-disapproved expressions. “Then you don’t have to drink it,” she assured her sister, tilting her glass to her lips and taking a sip for good measure. “I don’t think she’ll know what I’m drinking,” unless you tell her. Out of everything Liz might do tonight, her beverage of choice would be the least of her mother’s worries. “You look nice today,” she looked Ari up and down and nodded her head. A ten out of then on the Holbrook scale, for sure. “How’s the Governor treating you, huh?”

—

The sight of Alicia, now a lingering one rather than the brief glimpses she’d caught throughout the evening, is enough to bring a hundred childhood moments to her mind’s eye, each one strewn together with threads of hazy pink clouds. It seems that the same memories cross through her sister’s own, but her words make it clear that their respective looking glasses are entirely opposed. Where Arabella had the youngest-child luxury of romanticization, Alicia was dealt the trappings of eldest-daughter responsibilities, and had developed her own specific lens of rebellion as a result — artistic and, as every member of the Holbrook family could attest, otherwise.

In this instance, ‘otherwise’ came in the form of Alicia’s words carrying more than just an undercurrent of accusation to her sister’s tone. The youngest Holbrook is quick to catch onto it, and quicker still to broaden her smile and pretend the note of condescension simply slips past her ears. Grinning eagerly, as if still struck by the memories, she marvels, “You’ve always been the coolest older sister in the world, Ali.” No acknowledgement, no retort — it’s a simple truth that’s easy to offer, even if it is meant to simply dissuade the other from further barrage.

“Mama said the same thing...though she swiftly proceeded to point out that my smartwatch looks out of place,” the brunette says bashfully, shoulders shrugging inward. It’s a stance she’d only allow someone as close as her sister to see, though she corrects it with a delicate reach for a new glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. “Going for maximalism like you did tonight might have spared me.” At that, she tips her flute against Alicia’s glass, and takes a deep sip of champagne before commenting, before commenting, “Forever the artiste extraordinaire.” It’s not overtly proud, per se — but it’s not dismissive either. “Actually, speaking of the governor... We could partner on something for his socials. I imagine that’d be a good way to get your name out there, and that’s why you’re here tonight, right?”

[arabellaholbrook]

dcrekslater​:

he has to tell himself that this isn’t his people, he can’t be so vocal just about everything. he’s told Devon that he would be on his best behavior and he would comply with thy request. he sees the the blushing on her cheeks and maybe this conversation wouldn’t be so bad, he could linger for a while more. ❝ oh no worries ma, I don’t care much for the political talk. if you do I think you have the wrong slater. ❞ devon would be a better person, while she could make an insult sound good, Derek would say what he meant holding no kindness behind them. his digits touch the petals and as she speaks, grassy hues move back to her ❝ not really my scene. ❞ it wasn’t a lie, if it was up to him ; he would be at home watching a movie with a pizza box and cups of coke near by but he had duties and a job to do, so why not ? he remains quiet but then turns to look up at her ❝ what about you ? I’m sure your fat more interesting than I am , what brings you out here ? ❞ 

—

“No, political talk has kind of...always gone over my head, honestly,” she admits with a light laugh, and it’s the truth, even if her family name and job position might suggest otherwise. Then again, upon closer inspection, one might see that, in both capacities, Arabella was often little more than a well-trained bird, repeating words taught to her in a beautiful melody of her own. That was the role she’d taken up in the interior of the hall, practiced and restrained, but here, in the gardens with blooms just as bright as the flashing lights of the press, she’s more than content to slip into something more comfortable, relaxed. “‘Interesting’ is a rare adjective to my ears,” the brunette sighs. Arabella shrugs into her next words as she responds, properly this time, “When I was a kid, I’d follow my sister out here once we both had enough of listening to politics we didn’t understand.” At the memory, there’s a delicate laugh like a ringing bell. “I suppose it’s nostalgia that’s brought me out here. Plus, this jungle is almost definitely safer than that one,” she offers, gaze cast towards the bustling hall for a moment before returning to the other’s grassy green hues. “Have you seen the fountains yet? They’re stunning. I could show you, if you’d like.”

[arabellaholbrook]

ahclbrook​:

Angelina smiles, laughing softly, “That’s fair. I am proud of that. I’ve checked my own emails about five times already.” But, for now, her phone is away safe in her purse, her attention fully (except for the occasional sweep of the room) on her daughter. Work ethic had been something she pushed to her children since they were born, so if the watch is Arabella’s way of staying on top of that, she understands, “Rolex should come out with an upscale smartwatch. I would buy into it then.” She jokes before raising an eyebrow at the younger woman, “Nothing too juicy so far… I did have an interesting conversation with the governor about a few things- though, I suppose you may be privy to that already with your job.” She flashes a proud smile, giving Ari’s elbow a gentle squeeze, “I have gotten some criticism on my proposed budget cuts, but that’s expected. Oh, and a reporter among the line of photographers and all of that nonsense asked me if all of my children were attending. It seemed like a dig, but who’s to say? Always with the personal questions when my office has been making so many strides since the new year…” She tilts her head slightly, “Though, I haven’t seen Ali yet. I thought I caught a glimpse of her. She’s here, right?” 

—

“Oh, I...” Her voice falters for a moment, already anticipating the maternal sting of disappointment once she explains herself. “Actually, I’m not really in the loop about those sorts of things. I get a briefing of some initiatives to highlight, a list of places to show up at, a personal message from Mr. Berkeley himself, if he’s not too busy...” The list reads off as responsibilities for a glorified intern, but the youngest Holbrook child never held the same kind of interest in claiming a seat at the political table as her mother or the governor did — a simple fact that both individuals undoubtedly knew and dealt with in their own respective ways. After a sip of champagne, Ari continues, “Your knowledge on the intricacies of the state is most definitely far more than I’d ever be able to even, like...comprehend.” She demurs at the admission, and brings the glass to her lips once more, perfectly content to let her mother speak more on her office’s accomplishments. It was standard practice, of course, to simply listen and smile and nod as Angelina went on, the words heard and understood but purposefully never contained.

When the topic turns to Alicia, the brunette replies simply, “I saw her name on the guest list, yes.” Eyes scan the room in search of her sister — first, the gallery wall that might’ve proved a point of inspiration for the artist, then to the bar once the pursuit of art proved fruitless. Finding nothing, she returns her attention to Angelina, saying gingerly, “Mama, I know you and Ali haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but... Things will be fine between you two tonight, right?”

[arabellaholbrook]

avxry-hclbrook​:

~

Arabella was perhaps the only Holbrook with a genuine infectious laugh. He had no idea where she had gotten that from. He always suspected adoption. At the age of 8 he had even sincerely hoped she was, just so her ‘real’ parents would come and get her. Needless to say that this ‘I hate girls’ phase was only that; a phase. In most areas. “Dear sister, by now you should know that even your ‘best, professional behavior’, won’t stop the iron lady from being disappointed.” It was a lifelong struggle that he and Ali knew far too well, though surprisingly, Arabella wasn’t so much afflicted by it all. “Hm, yeah, if Alicia’s here, she can shield me from mama’s disappointment.” Avery joked, with a chuckle. 

In his mother’s best imitation, Avery went: “I cannot confirm nor deny that rumor.” He teased, finding a clever way to not have to confirm or deny any of it. If their mom found out he blabbed, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. His eyes shot to the corner and looked at his sister. “I’m here and ready for her photo opt. That’s the only favor I’m doing her tonight. She torture donations out of him herself.” He rolled his eyes. “We’ll just have fun.” Avery stated, downing a the remainder of his drink, smoothly putting it on one of the platters the waiters carried and swapping it for a new glass. “What’s up with you? Anything juicy happened to you? Just remember that I’m your brother and I don’t  need all the juicy details.” He spoke, regretting his choice of words.

—

Her brother’s claims were not unfounded, of course — for every assertion he could leverage against their mother, Arabella could think of five examples within recent months alone to support them. Those particular thoughts never left the confidentiality of her mind, outspoken validation far too much of an alignment towards one side over another, and therefore a sharp contrast to her preferred existence as pleasantly neutral so as to remain invisible. So, for the examples he proffers, she returns only with a sympathetic smile, thankful for the change in topic — even if suddenly was turned to none other than herself.

“Something juicy?” The chosen adjective is both an understatement and an overstatement; nothing dramatic happened during the early hours of the evening before the siblings encountered each other, and yet there were still events which warranted gossip of some kind — quiet revelations to be offered if only to hear them spoken aloud and make the speaker feel less alone. So, she starts, “Anytime I’ve run into Dad tonight, he’s tried introducing me to some diplomat’s son or young, upstart senator.” There’s an implied roll of the eyes, though she doesn’t commit to the action, tone and countenance remaining level as though it was a simple delivery of facts leaving her lips and not a complaint. After a hefty sip of an unfamiliar cocktail, her tongue loosens to spill, “It’s like they can’t wait to find me a husband who’ll love me for all of my days and never, ever leave—”

The sound of her words finds her ears before they can halt in her throat; she knows by now that the topics of love and romance and would-be husbands were best to be avoided, given her own brother’s recent relationship woes. Eyes cast downward, Ari demurs, retreating inward as she often does upon the recognition of too much anything — emotion, action, and thought — clouding her judgment. “I’m sorry, Avery. Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.” 

[arabellaholbrook]

julesxmoore​:

The night was going amazingly. Juliette was making her rounds and rubbing elbows with the people she needed to speak to on behalf of the mayor. It helped that everyone was already a few drinks in and made it much easier to make sure her status was heightened with everything going on. The arrest of one of the gangs in town had helped, but it was the womans job to make sure everyone looked at the mayor in a good light. Working her way across the room, Juliette grabbing a drink off one of the waiters passing by before accidently bumping into someone. 

“I am so sorry. This place is just so crowded.” 

—

The face, the voice — the other girl is familiar in a way that rings distant, but not hollow, and therefore a perfect extension of the connection they shared: Angelina. Truly, Arabella’s grateful to have bumped into her, especially considering the announcement made by her boss in conjunction with Juliette’s own. “For once, I can’t complain about it,” the brunette starts, quietly curious. The youngest Holbrook daughter was a wallflower by learned, habitual nature — not quite a natural fit in the role, but the one she assumed nevertheless, particularly in moments where she needed to find the quiet spaces away from everyone else in order to make the room feel manageable once again. This was one such moment, but with Juliette newly in her company, it seems only proper to explain her logic. “More people to hear the governor’s announcement, right?”

[arabellaholbrook]

lizholbrook​:

     event: gotham hall fundraiser gala      with: open!!

     The setting was hardly a new one for Liz – wealthy people pretending to care about the less fortunate, she’d seen it time and time again growing up at the endless line of events she was forced to attend. Granted, she was at this fundraiser voluntarily. At least, as voluntarily as it could be for someone who needed to secure some friends with money. She wouldn’t lie and say her last name hadn’t opened plenty of doors in the past, but she was trying to make a name for herself in her industry now and being questioned about her mother’s next move was only holding her back. So, instead, she started introducing herself with her first name only. Liz. Like Cher or Rihanna, no last name necessary. 

     From the comfort of leaning against a wall in the Lounge, Liz met Johnnie Walker. She looked into her glass before taking a sip and savouring the liquor momentarily. She was about to dive back in when the relief of seeing a familiar face washed all over her. “Thank God,” she breahted out, approaching them. “I count at least three ways to sneak out.” Old habits die hard. “Are you donating?”

—

“For you, I certainly could be,” the brunette returns as the familiar voice approaches her. Upon sight of her sister, the grin that spreads across full, red-painted lips is undoubtedly too wide, too expressive for the contained cool of the setting, a dead giveaway of feeling in place of intellect — or, perhaps, knowing better and deciding against it anyway. Alicia had that effect on her, the older girl’s penchant for nonconformity inspiring the notion of her own, though it’s quickly replaced by a reminder of where they stood, and with whom. So, rather than give in to the inviting pull of a sneaky escape, she asks instead, “Do you remember when we used to wait until Mama got busy playing politics to make our escape out into Gotham Hall’s gardens?”

The memories of childhood shine a certain nostalgia in her eyes as she smiles once again, this time more subdued, though still lit from within. The happiest moments of her formative years existed in tandem with the closeness she and her siblings shared, and though Avery and Alicia both held distinct places in her heart that no other ( and certainly not either one ) could ever replace — the kind of love that existed between sisters was something else entirely. Complicated, yet simple, never competitive and yet...wholly challenging, in its own way. 

Ari steps closer to her sister then, the scent of cheap liquor catching her nostrils and contorting her face into a rather ungraceful display of displeasure. “Johnnie Walker is very low on the Holbrook-approved list of whiskeys, you know.” A small, uncertain smile, as though surreptitiously admiring her sister’s rebellious streak, though her words suggest anything but as she teases with faux-reproach, “It’s an open bar, Ali. You should’ve gone for a well-aged Macallan to avoid Mama reprimanding you for not inheriting her taste buds...” Among other things, they both know fills the space where her voice trails off.

[arabellaholbrook]

dcrekslater​:

if there was anything that he missed about home, it was certainly the vivacity of the flowers and life that Hawaii enchanted him with. after a few hours being devons arm candy he makes his way outside and walks through the garden. thinking that he’s completely alone, he lets his fingers run through the various of bushes that were around him. the voice startled him from his thoughts as he turns around to see the brunette ❝ braver soul ? ❞ he didn’t know where that came from he takes it. ❝ and somehow you aren’t ? ❞ he inquired with a tilt of his head, grassy hues scan her from head to toe. another chuckle escapes his brims, ( this time a more bashful one ) he can feel a sudden what I’m his cheeks but he dismisses it. ❝ I could say the same thing about you, a divine feminine. ❞ 

—

At his own compliment, a blush tints her cheeks rosy and warm. It’s the bubbly, she’s certain of it; it’d be silly to think she’s seen as anything but pure decoration in the eyes of handsome strangers and familiar faces alike, but perhaps, surrounded by an abundance of blooms under a champagne-colored moon, she could do what she did best and pretend. She smiles softly, and offers, “I promise, I didn’t mean to pull the classic politician move of giving a compliment just to get one back.” It’s an unintentionally candid admission, one that separates her from the majority inside the hall simply by acknowledging their two-faced nature — but there’s a small truth to it, too: for all her pretending, Arabella wasn’t a liar. If anything, she deflected more than fibbed, eschewing attention in favor of molding herself into whatever someone else expected from her so as to appear present, but only just so. It’s a talent and a trouble, particularly now that there’s nowhere and no reason to hide, but most of all, because there’s no known expectation placed onto her by the man and therefore nothing to which to conform. Fingers study the delicate edges of a flower as she inquires, genuinely curious, “What was it in there that made you need a breath of fresh air?”