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@brielle-adams-blog
sometimes i reread IAD and i immediately imagine addison and emma and ava and then sutton and jc the feELS
(ok i can't get over that i finally figured out the email i used for this acc...it's my school email...)
((i'm also v sorry i ever left this place bc i literally stopped rp'ing after this bc i missed it so much))
(((hella considering hitting u all up and being like wassup w the wassup)))
guys hi i miss you all a lot
*
Witches Love Coffee || Owen and Brielle
Brielle’s look, a badly concealed self-satisfied smirk, brought Owen’s eyebrow even farther up. When she attempted to mimic his voice, he had to work very hard to keep from laughing at her. Her accent was awful, and she shouldn’t possibly believe that was how a lady was to sit. The things she was saying disappointed Owen. So she was just some air-headed shallow gossip after all. He kept his face fairly expressionless, but was feeling skeptical as to the usefulness of this meeting.
“I was hoping, Miss Adams, that you and I could talk about a mutual interest. I’m sure it’s a rather sensitive topic fcor someone as…” he paused, looking for the right word. “Integrated as you are. I’d like to know how things are managed here, and who manages them.” He kept his tone casual, and used wording that no normal human would think tobe particularly odd.
“I don’t have anything to tell you,” Owen spread his hands out and shrugged. “I’m 40, a warlock, and I’ve just moved in. I’m quite boring, really.” He said simply. It was the smallest and most menial of information, and that was how Owen preferred it. He never gave much of himself away and his past was his own- not to be told and gossiped about by some social butterfly witch.
The glimmer of hope that was of Owen being interesting vanished. Sighing with agitation, she crossed her arms and decided to not speak until waitress came back with their drinks. When getting her order, Brielle used the small stirring spoon that came fitted nicely on the saucer with her cup, twirling it around and around until it seemed that enough time had passed.
"Firstly, darling," she started, then paused to take a sip of her coffee, "do not call me Miss Adams. It makes me think of the Addams family and I am not a goth vampire-wannabe." Being careful about the next topic to be addressed, she glanced around where they were sitting and finally decided that if anyone heard anything they shouldn't she'd just torture them until they shut up. Or kill them. But that takes far too much effort, she thought, and I really do not want a murder on my hands. Certainly not before the Accession, however if they refuse to oblige... Her thoughts distracted her momentarily, then she snapped back.
"Anywho, let me get this straight. You've asked to meet me for coffee only to one, get tea, and two, ask about who's head honcho here in Emerald Cove?" She scoffed. "If that's what you meant, then I should tell you now that it depends on who you ask. Everyone thinks they run the show here; so full of themselves and very my-horse-is-bigger-than-your-horse. There are a modest few, though. I'm sure you'd become best friends forever within a week." Brielle's tone took a sarcastic turn at the end, and she made it clear that she was done speaking by taking another sip of her drink and going back to fiddling with the spoon.
Witches Love Coffee || Owen and Brielle
Brielle was obviously very comfortable with herself and with her place in the little town. Owen watched her order, a specific drink which led Owen to believe that she frequented the small cafe. Why anyone would was beyond the warlock. Who in their right mind would actually spend large amounts of time there? It wasn’t in any way exceptional- though the coffee might be good.
“Do you have any teas?” Owen addressed the waitress. She nodded, listing off a few. “Black tea, please. No cream or sugar. Thank you.” He said curtly. She nodded and walked away. Owen turned back to Brielle but found himself looking at a completely preoccupied woman. She had her phone out, and appeared to be bored by what she was reading. Owen rolled his eyes.
People these days and their technology… He thought in exasperation. He cleared his throat, an eyebrow creeping steadily up. It was quite clear to Owen that she did not think he was worth her time, and he was finding himself a bit irritated with her already. Stupid witches… He thought huffily. he’d never liked women really, and thought that witches were always a bit… irritating. They always sought such menial possessions through their magic, or, just as commonly, love. Owen thought love was a ridiculous thing to be so taken in by. It seemed to him to be time-consuming and unrewarding. And so far, he was finding his meeting with Brielle to be similar.
Why the hell order tea at a coffee place? was Brielle's thought before putting her phone back down and looking up at the Warlock. He was probably already agitated with her, which made her hide a smirk. Snarky as she was, she liked when people knew that their presence was unwelcome and that she'd rather put a bullet in her foot than converse with them. But hey, she was the socialite of the town, thus needing to interject herself in the lives of those around her at times.
Folding her hands in front of her, she made her poster very straight and basically mimicked his tone of voice when saying, "So, my dear, why have you decided to spend time with little ol' me? I'm sure you don't have any gossip to give since you've just moved in, but perhaps you want to dish out a few things about yourself?" The smirk that was being hidden before now came out to play. "Come, I don't bite. Not hard, at least."
Of course hoping for the later--Owen revealing anything interesting about his past or why he's come to Emerald Cove--she eagerly awaited his response. Newbies were annoying, yes, but full of secrets and possibilities. They opened doors for good gossip, and that was something that made Brielle's day just a little bit better.
Witches Love Coffee || Owen and Brielle
Owen heard the bell jingle as she stepped in. He could feel her- the feeling a Lorean always got when another was near. Not a strong sense or even always an accurate sense, just… a feeling. Like when you can tell someone is watching you. Hairs raised on the back of his neck, but he looked out the window fixedly, knowing that she would walk over to him.
He stood as she made her way over to him, and nodded to her, meeting her eyes. “Yes, You may call me Owen if you wish.” Owen said curtly, Brielle’s obvious coldness quite clear to him. he was not used to being called darling by strange women. Still, as a gentleman, he felt it was required of him to remain courteous. “Shall we sit down?” He asked politely, gesturing to the booth.
He studied her discreetly. She was pretty, of course. Most Loreans were- a gift, Owen supposed. She held herself with a cold air of superiority. Aloofness was a good word. It was clear that she thought herself to be the best and brightest in the cove. Owen very nearly smirked. He wasn’t exactly fond of competition, but he took a vicious joy in undermining another’s authority.
“Waitress?” He said, smiling (or making at attempt) at and waving to the woman from previously.
A brow was raised at his tone of voice, though it dropped just as fast. As expected, her palm was signaling to her that this Warlock was in fact powerful, but not what she had anticipated Not evil, though she could see him being a sneaky one. "Owen it is, then," was her brief reply before sitting, crossing her right leg and placing her handbag down.
First impressions were tough, and when they came from her, they were tougher. Brielle didn't like most people (98% of them didn't like her back, but what did she care?) so she wondered if this newcomer would try and step on her toes. Which would be a mistake, most certainly.
The waitress, when appearing, was a familiar face given that Brielle was here nearly all the time. Not having to think about it, she spoke up first, "Café Americano and a bit of soy."
Upon finishing her order and waiting for Owen to give his, she picked up her phone and began to reply to the vast amount of emails she had accumulated over the past few days. She already addressed the situation of Damien getting shot--although she wished she could have gotten more detail--and now tapped away at answering simple questions, i. e., who's been sleeping with who. A dull topic, really. Brielle found it so 90210 and definitely not worth her time, but it was the only thing people seemed to want to hear about.
Change of scenery.
That must have truly been devastating for you, Brielle. Sure. Next time I’m lying in a ditch covered in my own blood, you’ll be the first person I tell.
That brings me great joy, darling. You've just taken yourself down a spot on my hit list.
Perhaps.
Change of scenery.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but it was merely a suggestion. I wouldn’t want you to be too happy now, would I? I’ll stay to make you miserable. I’m just that generous.
If you stay, then can I at least be promised that the next time you're shot I get a full report? I couldn't even begin to explain how annoying it is when all you're being texted is "SOMEONE GOT SHOT."
Change of scenery.
A vacation from everything isn’t a bad idea really.
Ta-ta!
Witches Love Coffee || Owen and Brielle
Owen wasn’t one for socializing. He wasn’t particularly charming, and while he was handsome, he was also snarky, sarcastic, and arrogant. And he knew it- and believed he had every right to be. After all, he was going to be the greatest warlock who ever lived. He, Owen Alexander, was going to take on the world- and win it all. Except, he needed a band of followers. Which, as everyone knows, must start out as a coven. And so, Owen was subjected to the unfortunate task of having coffee with a local witch- a dark arts user like himself.
He wasn’t really evil, of course. Owen did not see himself as evil. He acknowledged that some of the things he did and methods he employed were…in poor taste, but he saw it as for the greater good. The greater good of Owen, that is. To be quite truly honest, Owen didn’t have half a mind for the well-being of others. Why should he? All he cared about was that they did as they were told, or he found a way to make them. If they resisted, he only cared that they get out of his way. He was not cruel, nor did he relish “evil” things- like bloodshed (it actually gave him the willies)- but he believed in necessary evil. And so, justified all his evil as necessary. So works the mind of Owen Alexander.
Punctual as ever, Owen sat himself down at a booth in the cafe, feeling distasteful at the sliding one had to do in order to properly situate oneself. It was a nice, small, quaint sort of place on Main Street. It wasn’t filthy or shady, but Owen disliked it simply because it was so public. And because there was a couple in a nearby booth who seemed to want to broadcast their conversation to the world. A waitress politely asked him for his order, and he replied that he was waiting for someone- not wanting to be rude and order without her. Terribly bad form to order before the full party arrives. He folded his hands in his lap, and waited, attempting to ignore the loud chattering couple in a near booth.
Coffee--something Brielle liked. Coffee with company? Not so much.
Tossing her brunette locks over one shoulder as she hastily walked from her car to the quaint little coffee place she normally found herself situated at on days where her class schedule didn't interfere, a gust of wind sent chills up her back. She was going to turn around and return to her vehicle to retrieve her coat, but she was just nearly to the door. Besides, it would come off within the first few minutes of being inside.
Brielle wasn't very sure why she agreed to coffee with some newbie, Owen Alexander. Rumor had it that he was a practitioner of the Dark Ages just as she, however that not only made her curious, but wary. She didn't like being invited out somewhere before getting a feeling of how strong a person's ability, so to speak, was. A defense mechanism of a sort, her palm let her know if there was a fellow Lorean hanging around her just by a feeling that could be compared to having pins and needles. Now, depending on the Lorean, those sensations could range from faint, to show that their power wasn't very strong, or nearly antagonizing, which usually had her on her guard.
Waiting for that exact feeling to begin, Brielle stepped inside and took a brief look around for the one she was to meet. Her brown eyes suddenly spotted a man sitting by himself; curly hair that needed a good brushing, decent facial structure, odd posture, looking a bit full of himself. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner, she said inwardly before making her way over to who she assumed was the fellow.
"Hello, darling," Brielle said in an even tone. "You must be Mr. Alexander."
↳ 92-94/100 gifs of Diana Meade
I keep hearing that someone got shot.
You've heard correctly. Unfortunately, the fellow wasn't killed.
I do love spring time.
With a tongue that sharp you should be in politics. How do you feel about getting finger banged in the toilets by some power in a skirt whilst simultaneously planning a speech about how ‘being gay is immoral’?
Yeah I would too, except I’ve been a bit, eh, busy, lately, so I can’t really have random obese electricians walking around my house when they could accidently see something they shouldn’t.
Well, that's just the thing--I don't feel. Besides, if anything, I'd be the one with the rope around his neck and barking the orders. Not the other way around.
Busy with...? Come now, sweets. Don't leave me hanging.
I do love spring time.
Well well, I don’t speak to you for a few weeks and you get even bitchier in my absence… I’m so proud.
I know, I’m sorry. As awesome as it is to have…the buzz, there are some things that still render me human. Like unpacking and sorting out the busted wiring in my house.
Me? A bitch? Oh, no, no. That would mean that I play fetch and do what others tell me to. Not quite my style; I prefer Michael Kors over PetSmart.
Busted wiring, you say? Hm. I'd usually have someone do that for me.
I do love spring time.
A mysophobe wouldn't say the same, given that it's allergy season and allergies means sneezing and well I think you can put together the rest.
Anywho, so glad to see that you're still around. Haven't heard much about you lately, you know.
Why so quiet?
Jesse Cole. And you?
Cole...And why does that name--Ah-ha! You must be one of the twins I heard moved in. How interesting.
My name is Brielle, darling. Brielle Adams.
Why so quiet?
Not really sure to tell you, this place seems pretty quiet.
Ah yes, but that just proves how deceiving this town and its residents truly are.
