one of the news sites she regularly wrote for had called while she was on holiday — and a poorly-timed break it was. there’d been a gala for a local museum, a big headline that was so rarely expected on kaos, and she’d missed it. nevertheless, a story was a story, and it was finally time to chase those leads back down. she’d gotten the number for some bigshot curator at the museum from a contact, and her fingers tapped them idly onto the screen of her phone, laptop open and waiting. “hi — is this ms. toptani?” the name stumbled off her tongue clumsily, and cat prayed she hadn’t messed it up too much. “my name is catherine — i’m a freelance journalist, and i wanted to see if you’d be interested in an interview. for your museum, the recent gala, whatever works for you!”
pen tapped to celeste’s lips as she surveyed over the mass of inquiries she’d been receiving -- the other staff of the museum, whilst lovely, never seemed to do things up to celeste’s high standards so she had simply consumed their workload amongst their own. perhaps not the smartest decision for her but some need to make sacrifices for the better of everyone.
it took for the second ring for celeste to find the telephone in her organised but somewhat hectic layout. “ hello .. ? “ celeste started, unsure as to who was the source of the unscheduled call. “yes, this is she. “ words came with a frown, vaguely remembering the voice from somewhere, and the name too -- everything was coming to form an image in her mind ... she didn’t want to jump to conclusions too quickly. “ oh, that’d be wonderful, yes. may i enquire as to where the interview will be published ? “
pavlina can barely remember how’s she gotten herself into this situation ; one minute she was simply eyeing some unusual souvenirs in a nearby gift shop and now she’s stuck with her curious eyes glued to a floral dress. all black — but with little red and white roses scattered all across the dark material. succumbing to the temptation, she swiftly decides to try it on, her soft hands immediately rushing to test out the material. it looks good — but then again, mirrors and eyes often lie. so she turns to the nearest person, uttering the one question that just simply won’t leave her head, “ excuse me — does this look bad on me? it does look bad, doesn’t it? ”
with the change of the seasons; celeste felt empowered to buy something new. albeit, her current wardrobe filled of beige sweaters, mom jeans and white button ups already fit the criteria extremely well. but perhaps it was time for celeste to venture out of her comfort zone. hands rifled through the variety of skirts and dresses, unsure of which colours were supposedly “in” right now. but with a question, the towering figure turned her head.with the change of the seasons; celeste felt empowered to buy something new. albeit, her current wardrobe filled of beige sweaters, mom jeans and white button ups already fit the criteria extremely well. but perhaps it was time for celeste to venture out of her comfort zone. hands rifled through the variety of skirts and dresses, unsure of which colours were supposedly “in” right now. but with a question, the towering figure turned her head.
❝ -- bad? why would you ever say that ? ❞ words almost tripped out of celeste’s mouth, unsure why anyone would ask such a leading question when asking for a subjective opinion. ❝ i’m not a fashion expert; but bad certainly isn’t the word i’d use to describe it. ❞
WHEN her mother had, very excitedly, told vera that she had been signed up for the museum’s auction, she had immediately tried to protest. in the end though, her love for the island and her mother won. which was how she found herself immaculately dressed head to toe and fiddling with a glass of amber liquid at hand.
“I might have to agree with you on that.” she sighed softly. “this is a wonderful thing you’re doing for the museum though, celeste.” because even though she was anxious about her own predicament, she had to compliment how well the event was going so far. “and everybody seems to be enjoying it.”
a flustered smile as the woman is uncertain of how to react. celeste ducked her head for a second in case of an imminent blush at the innocent comment. she was bad at social situations regardless, and with the added of nerves of her own involvement and perfectionist streak ? she was a ball of nerves slowly unravelling, which was quite obvious to the few who knew her.
❝ oh, really it’s not me at all... the planning for this had begun way before i arrived at this beautiful island -- ❞ celeste covered with modesty, ❝ i just am so glad that everyone is getting so -- involved. you all live in such a ... beautiful & rich culture, it’d be a shame to not celebrate it ... you know ? ❞
Lux had thrown enough shows to know to know what nerves before a performance looked like, and he figured that those nerves could probably be multiplied by the amount of cash on the line. “This is exactly why people invented pregaming,” Lux said as he finished his own drink and topped off his glass with one of the flasks of gin stored in his pocket before offering it to Celeste. “Here, this might help.”
celeste turned to lux; flashing a gracious smile -- her nerves, by no means were so easily quelled. but it was the thought that counted. celeste knew pregaming was a thing ; she had just never been much one for it. nor drinking in general. but she was besides personal preferences now.
she took the flask with little hesitation, only pausing before tipping the unseen liquid into her own drink, ❝ quick question -- what is in here ? ❞
hands could not stop moving; switching from scratching the skin at her wrist, to twiddling with the tulle of her skirt; celeste was moving a mile a minute -- a speed of which could only be rivalled by her thoughts. lightly, she moved her weight from foot to foot. a second later, and the flash cards she was gripping were placed on the table, quickly replaced with the stem of a glass filled with an unidentifiable clear liquid.
❝ oh no -- , ❞ the sip was met with disgust & a softly worded sigh // not at it being too much, in fact quite the opposite. grey eyes peered down the flute in a look that could only be described as a mix of disappointment & resentment as she lowered it from rouge painted lips ❝ i’m going to need something a lot stronger than this to get through tonight ... ❞
The suit wasn’t well fitting. It had been a haphazard and rushed decision for her to come to the gala and her suit certainly didn’t hide that fact. Mora stood against the wall, a glass of champagne in her hand and nails painted a deep purple standing out against the pale liquid. Looking around the gala, she raised the flute to her lips and took a long drink. It wasn’t quite that she didn’t think she belonged at an event like that but more that she didn’t feel like she belonged at a place like this, surrounded by tailored suits, custom-made dresses, and the extremely wealthy that wore them. She didn’t hide her discomfort well, her posture stiff and rigid and more than a hint of disdain in her eyes. “Well, shucks.” She did her best approximation of an American southern accent. It wasn’t good. Her Irish accent returning, she said, “I’d say I’m a bit under-dressed, even in this get up.
celeste had found herself doing the rounds of the edges of the fundraisers ; partly trying to encourage the less than enthused to release their inhibitions, but also to blend into the wallflowers and remove herself from the barrage of comments & criticisms
❝ you’re at least wearing more than some of the statues, ❞ celeste tried to offer, an awkward smile pulling on her lips that whilst genuine came across as slightly artificial; and mostly forced. ❝ it looks good on you -- very refined, well put together, you get the idea. ❞
CELESTE: thank you everyone for coming out tonight in support of the museum. I hope you all enjoy tonight’s entertainment and become inspired by the local history. also don’t forget to get involved in the charity auction!
the fact they haven’t been back has nothing to do with the two people getting kicked out of disney land for drunk & disorderly behaviour and telling cinderella that she could never be belle.
then athena…donned the battle-shirt of the lord of lightning, buckled her breastplate geared for wrenching war, and over her shoulders slung her shield, all tassels flaring terror—panic mounted high in a crown around it, hate and defense across it, assault to freeze the blood and right in their midst the gorgon’s monstrous head, that rippling dragon horror, sign of storming zeus. then over her brows athena placed her golden helmet fronted with four knobs and forked with twin horns, engraved with the fighting men of a hundred towns. then onto the flaming chariot pallas set her feet and seized her spear—weighted, heavy, the massive shaft she wields to break the battle lines of heroes the mighty father’s daughter storms against.
I. sleep is as fleeting as it is fatal / it takes you in the night as you rest your head against your desk for a second that turns to an eternity. the carefully laid plans of a night owl quickly coming undone as the untouched cup of coffee grows ever slowly colder, and the bills, invoices and decisions remain unresolved.
II. celeste hadn’t meant to fall asleep, she didn’t sleep, nor did she dream. vigilantly, she liked to be awake until everything was sorted. perhaps, she would later theorise, her inability to finish her days work was what would cause such a lucid; horrific dream; with a stench that remained rooted up her nose and a heat that still burned her skin.
III. it was hot; a desert; somewhere further east of here but not too far she would have theorised based off the soil composition ( a nerdy first thing to notice in a dream, but an important note she made in her diary. ) but perhaps her estimation could be have misguided by the crimson hue that stained the sand. it was all to clear from the smell of rot; iron; faeces; what the reason for the bloody hue was. on either edge of the sea of red were two armies, neither moving nor budging as celeste flew unnoticed through the center like a star. her body felt heavier, not just from the falling, not the weightlessness most reported in their dreams. their was brass on her head and a weighted spear in her arm. it was the weight of a continent pressed on arms that usually could only bear so many books before ultimately failing her.
IV. she collided into the farside like a dive bombing eagle yet made not a whisper; no commotion with her armoured movements. despite the considerable weight, she moved as if in a floating sundress, her limbs no longer tied to the conventional sense of gravity that was tied to human existence. harsh words of not her own voice are spoken, she doesn’t know what she is saying, not really, the gravelly words spoken with a bite in an octave slightly too low for celeste’s coppery pipes but she knew the meaning. clearly.
❝ take aim, pandorus. ❞
V. grey eyes glanced out of brass helmet, the very edges of her vision obscured by it’s ornate feature, but her striking gaze was enough to encourage the fatal shot of the trojan aim -- who took aim at the spartan king. but just as celeste, or was she really celeste right now, was there --- she was gone. and on the other side of the sea. facing down the barrel of the arrows spear, her look alone was enough to make it move, veering to graze the skin of the spartan king. a flesh wound. and the sea of warriors roar behind her, roar forward like a breaking tide. the sand is dyed once more that crimson hue as lips curl. she is unnoticed and untouched in the violent throws of war, yet she is in control as she wades through the swell -- the white cotton the only unblemished, true colour, in the aggressions. a cry left her lips more forgotten words of a language lost on her ears, but their is an invigoration in those around her -- the crest of the wave as it crashed the developed stalemate the fight of the few now the fight of the many. and celeste feels nothing but elation, no empathy in her brass laden bones.
VI. this ; it was the type control that celeste has so often yearned for, that ability to control and manipulate all sides of a debacle that only a god can dream of doing. she paused on that thought. underlining it in her bullet journal, thinking, that perhaps later it would serve well in a poem, in an essay.
VII. it felt unspeakably real, a metal tang to her tongue, the lasting smell of death seemed to sit in her office. seeping and snaking around her barely awake figure. pushing back matted obsidian hair, she sought refuge in the espresso beside her. grey eyes staring, unblinking into her reflection in the inky black liquid. she shouldn’t be surprised really; her dreams, as sparing as they were, were often about the tales of history. but nothing ever as vivid as that.
VIII. a deep sigh as she compartmentalised that episode into her memory, neatly tucking away those feelings with the fullstop of ink on the page. leatherbound journal slipped into the hardwork desk as she steeled herself to try and finish the rest of her lot before friday hit.
as per the usual routine, celeste arrived back at heidi’s door exactly 11:30, a good sense of an internal clock, an extremely set jogging route and consistent speed were the factors she chalked up to it. somehow, always managing to corral both of heidi’s dogs into obeying the never-changing exercise strategy she’d followed since she was a hockey player. though, it was obvious from the heavy rise & fall of celeste’s chest, and the beads of sweat accumulating on her brow, that it was a lot harder for her than the two dogs leashed around her waist.
❝ i don’t know what you feed these two, heidi -- ❞ celeste remarked as she took out an earbud with one hand, patting shan lightly on the head ❝ but i think the two of them combined could out run everyone on the island. and be the best dogs at the same time-- ❞
❝ i’ve read roughly … ten books on the topic? of course, even if you don’t think it’s for you it’s best to properly consider & research it first. i just don’t think it’s really my cup of tea, i am an aries sun virgo moon libra rising if anyone was interested. ❞
justice: favorite color of rose?
❝ well, they’re all pretty – but i think no one really talks about peach roses enough. they’re good for thanking somebody with, a useful bouquet of flowers. ❞
the high priestess: what is your dream date?
❝ no … experience to say what i like or do not like but i guess – maybe walking around the historical sights of the island would be nice ? a book date? i don’t know … what do people do, i mean, i know what people do on dates but they’re not really my speed. i’ve done study dates before so … maybe that ? ❞
the fool: do you have any nicknames?
the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else?
the high priestess: what is your dream date?
the empress: do you think you will ever get married?
the emperor: what are some names that you like?
the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts?
the lovers: do you have a crush?
the chariot: thoughts on astrology?
strength: what is your dream occupation?
the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop?
wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle?
justice: favorite color of rose?
the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack?
death: what are three things you want to do before you die?
temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had?
the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?
the tower: favorite colors to wear?
the star: have you ever seen a psychic?
the moon: have you ever written a love letter?
the sun: do you believe in magic?
judgement: do you enjoy school?
the world: do you like waking up early?
the number of books in celeste’s hands seemed somewhat unrealistic ; where there even that many books on the island, and the reason why one woman was carrying them all was also an unanswered question.
she had however preempted her arrival with a quick text ; as per usual punctuated perfectly although she had long known that was not what she was going to receive back. struggling to reach her phone, and text, with weight in hand -- she relied on announcing her presence with slamming combat boot against the hardwood door. ❝ lux -- could you help me with the door ? ❞
Once he heard that familiar voice, Sihyuns’ face immediately brightened. Here came free entertainment. Celeste was a good friend, a great one even, and someone he’d known for a while. He loved her and he loved annoying her even more just to see the way she restrained herself from strangling Sihyun with his own scarf. He watched as her face transformed from an interesting state of blankness into the frown she usually wore around him. Like she wanted to roll up a newspaper and hit him upside the head. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Perhaps the one we’re standing on is the mythical moving island of the Mediterranean. Can you feel the ground move, Cel?” He bent his knees, spreading his arms out like the ground underneath his feet was moving all of the sudden and he had to keep his balance. “Anyways, cara mia, what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?”
her face contorts like she’s sucking on a lemon as soon as she hears that nickname ; any nickname, pet name, shorthand is enough to drive celeste up the wall. she liked her name, and never saw the reason for people to sully it. but she lets it slide, simply because it’s sihyun, who knew how to play on all her nerves like it was a fiddle or a tapestry that one could just string along. it was annoying , without a doubt, but it’s what the two of them always were to each other. celeste, the voice of reason, and sihyun, someone who enjoyed to test the extent of that offered reason.
she offered a laugh, simply shaking her head lightly, strands of obsidian hair catching in bees wax chapsticked lips. ❝ no, bit early to drink that much, isn’t it no? ❞ a lightly snide comment; a jovial jab that made up the majority of their conversations ❝ i just came out for a walk honestly it’s -- ❞ the faintest of smiles passed over celeste’s expression, her forehead smoothing out as a breath took away her worries, ❝ the scenery’s a tad nicer than russell square. appreciating the every day beauty is a key part of art appreciation i read. ❞
Sihyun hated being late. He had never been late for anything in his life except for his birth. Just by a few days. Since then, there were two things he swore he’d never be: late and ugly. So why on God’s green earth did the people he had paid to be here at a specific time on a specific day feel the need to be late? They had no excuse really, he had been tracking the shipment as he did every time and that’s why he’d set out for the docks to receive the crates of imported alcohol and other goodies for his club. And now he would be backed up later stocking the bar and surely lose some profit. Caught up in his annoyance and frustration he didn’t notice the other person near him at the end of the dock. Without turning to the person, Sihyun spoke. “I’m pretending to be Christopher Colombus, trying to find new land, hence the spyglass. Only with less colonization and genocide. Also I have a smaller nose.”
there was something restorative about a crisp sea breeze ; something very cold that it is. but the good cold / the kind that chills you to your bone and freezes racing thoughts. in essence, celeste was distracted from the action of existing. simply standing on the pier with hands rapped in the holes of a worn cream cardigan she was wrapped in. but a towering figure, such as celeste’s, was hard to go unnoticed.
words drew celeste from her thoughts, or lack therefor of, and instantly blossomed into a sharp frown. she presumed that it was meant to be a joke; somewhere there under the historical inaccuracies that sent a shiver down her spine. oh how she would love to correct him, but she bit her tongue and stood there, stamping down on her pride. she didn’t have the energy right now to try and argue something over quite clearly a joke.
❝ did you forget your sea legs ? ❞ celeste questioned with a hum, attempting the humour she’d been so often told to get one of, ❝ or are you searching for the mythical moving island of the mediterranean ? ❞
✧･ﾟ( athena + natasha liu bordizzo + cis female ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen ( celeste toptani ) around ? ( she ) has been in kaos for ( two weeks ). the ( twenty three year old ) is a/an ( museum curator ) from ( milan, italy ). people say they can be ( overwhelming ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be ( composed ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( beige sweaters tucked into belted jeans, coffee stained tea cups, worn leather bookspines ). ･ﾟ✧
hi ! i’m audrey and this is my angel not-a-ceritified-dumbass celeste !
CLICK HERE for her pinterest board. CLICK HERE for her about page & continue reading for a brief synopsis & brief connection ideas !
celeste is from a well off italian family -- or at least on her fathers’ side she is. she doesn’t know who her mother was and was told that she abandoned them and was only ever there for money.
one could argue that it was being raised in such masculine energy that led to celeste’s character; bold & abbrasive, unyielding & controlling.
she was a quick learner, & soon found herself studying years above her peers. thusly, she struggled to communicate with them effectively. believing that she was right, and they must be wrong because celeste knew words that they could barely pronounce. this isn’t an effective friend making solution. so celeste further turnedto find comfort in books & studies over people.
the only time she seemed to have good people skills was on the hockey pitch, and the netball field where she played center and goal defense respectively.
... loves a good bullet journal. loves journalling & developed a secret passion for art that remained somewhat a guilty pleasure but never pursued it in fear of upsetting her father.
she started like 20 businesses during her teens instead of going to parties, learning coding, business strategies, stocks, laws -- knowledgable in a variety of tasks she was great at being the sole worker at her own business because it meant -- not talking to anyone !
eventually; her interest in this also waned, and she found a new academic passion --working in museums & their surrounding history. which lightly touched on all of her existing passions, par sport, of course.
she went to university in london, graduated early, did her masters in paris, and went back to continue her PHD studies in London whilst pursuing a job placement and part time work at the Victoria & Albert museum.
If you haven’t twigged it by now; celeste hates to take time off work. hates it. she’s a burnout ready to happen, yet the amount of coal she seemingly has in her engine is . pretty impressive.
didn’t stop her coworkers for fearing for her life after turning up to work 200 days in a row, even when scheduled not to do so. the talking to some of the statues as well .. wasn’t reassuring for people, how she would sit in the exhibition of the parthenon sculptures .. most people found that weird.
so they forced celeste on a academic leave, getting her a short transferal period to the tiny museum in kaos, the tiniest chillest museum alive just to try and make her have a holiday -- against her will!
so now she’s here ! has been for two weeks, and will be for at least 3 months !
so aside from the skeleton connections here’s some ideas !
- if anyone is a tour guide; she would have gone on a tour . so many time -- asking people every question about the islands history so as to better establish herself in the knowledge of the museum.
- if anyone is a bookstore or a coffee store nerd like celeste; they probably would have bumped into each other by this point & made acquaintances by now.
- anybody who lived in paris, milan or london previously -- there’s potential for past plots! or if they visited the victoria & albert museum in the past 3 or so years ?
- a friendship group similar to the core three from the first season of big little lies with celeste as a jane-esque character effectively being adopted into a social circle after three seconds of conversation .
- celeste . will be the annoying person to start a conversation with someone nearby just to correct them, probably the most annoying person in the world. not an exageration.
- romantic connections but not like -- actually romantic. celeste is #that bitch who has never been in a relationship & kind of doesn’t know what to do -- so if you flirt with her she will break into hives !
- pretty much any connection under the sun ! i’m kind of bad at this but !!!
