Cut. Print. Moving On...

Greatness or madness. Event planner extraordinaire. Camille Preston, at your service. [This is just a roleplay blog, I am in no way affiliated with Megan Hilty]

[beeowens-blog]

001 ♦ Autumn's Arrival

[beeowens-blog]

  August managed a small chuckle, despite the connotation of Camille’s words. Babysitting. God. The thought alone was a rather daunting task, and she knew that the act of it was a bigger one. August wasn’t quite sure if she even knew how to hold a baby for more than five minutes! She didn’t know how to care for another human being, let alone one that obviously needed care and love and maternal figures. If anyone from Runway heard of August being a babysitter, they would laugh their heads off and convene amongst themselves how August would probably have the infant working for her before it can even learn how to speak. They’d bond over coffee and talk about August’s lack of skills in the people department, something which August knew of herself but would not dare admit or succumb to. The thought repulsed her, as it always did when she came to think about her employees, but as always, it was a passing thought as she told herself she did not care.

“Oh, trust me, there’d be no need to pay for any babysitting,” August said with a convinced shake of her head, “and mostly because any babysitting done by me will not be worth any pay back. I’m telling you Camille — if I were you, I’d think twice before I put a baby in my hands for more than a few seconds.” Maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say to someone who planned to make you a godmother. And maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say to someone who just told you it was an honor that you accepted to be their baby’s godmother. But August had long passed the nice-boundary with Camille. She knew she could joke about such things in front of her friend in a way that she couldn’t with others — or, well, didn’t with others. August didn’t joke. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile. Except in front of Camille.

That was exactly what she did at the next of Camille’s words: she laughed. Granted, it was a short chuckle, and not quite really long enough to be called a laugh, but it was the closest thing to whatever August could give. She’d smiled today more often than she’d ever smiled on any other day — for which she had baby Autumn to thank. “Don’t worry,” she said with that small chuckle, “I’ll keep you grounded. Or, I’ll try to. Sometimes, I’m not so grounded myself, especially if you ask my employees, but hey — friends try, right? That’s what friends are for.” She gave a slight tilt of her head, and there on her lips formed a smile again. August couldn’t help it — no, she wouldn’t help it. She had many and many a day to frown and scowl and be her proper self, but today was not one of them. Today was the birth of a beautiful baby girl, brightening up the last day of August as the last day of August so deserved it.

“Oh, I plan to teach her some things, yes,” August said, “but you’d have to stop me every now and then, or she’ll turn into a mini-me, and then she won’t make a lot of friends. God, I was always horrible with making friends when I was younger.” A laugh escaped her as she shook her head. Now, she could laugh about it. Now, August didn’t really care how many friends she did or did not make — whether now or during her younger years. But, at the time, when she was a little girl, it had hurt. When she saw her sister with her many friends, and the girls at school have groups of their own while she stood alone by herself, August had hurt. And that was a fate she did not want to pass down to her goddaughter. Thank god that she would not have a daughter to steer the same way; thank god that she would not have her own daughter to worry about. “Let’s hope that that trait isn’t something she takes after.”

[camille--monet]

The thought of August as a babysitter hadn’t been new to Camille. Even before the idea of a baby had come to fruition. Whether or not the other woman knew it, she was in a way, babysitting Camille. Now, Camille was as independent as they came and didn’t need a constant sitter, but having that person she could go to, rely on and usually get to accompany her on various adventures, she needed that. She needed someone to keep Camille’s feet on the ground and point her in the right direction. If it wasn’t for August being busy, Camille would be more inclined to ask her to go to more events than Hadley, and even then, August was always another plus one, another person to keep an eye out on Camille and one for Camille to keep an eye on.

“Look,” she gave August a pointed look, “everyone in this room is lucky that they’ve gotten a chance to hold her right now. So me even entertaining the idea of you watching her sleep is enough trust.” she knew August wasn’t completely serious and even if she were, Camille had the plan to hire a nanny in case her work situation would not pan out. August was her in case of emergency. August was basically family to Camille, she had put her down as such, without thinking about it, without consulting her friend first. Even with August’s tone, Camille knew her friend was only joking and even if nobody else in the room did, she knew she wasn’t serious.

August did more than what she realized. August did more for Camille in general than what she realized and Camille recognized it. Camille recognized it and did her best to show August that she appreciated it. Even if she didn’t outright say it to her. “You already do it. So much better than what I could’ve asked for from anybody.” her words were said with conviction. If Camille could talk about one person who was good for her, even at the age of twenty-six when most of her decisions should be good, including the people she surrounded herself with, it was August. It was unusual to see August smile so much and so often, even with their mostly surprise trip to Disneyland, August didn’t smile quite as much.

“Good.” was all Camille managed to get out before a nurse entered the room with a smile. The nurse spoke with a cheeriness in her town that Camille was sure was only used because of the amount of people in the room. The nurse’s words were clear, visiting hours were over and with the exception of Hadley, everyone had to leave. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” she told her, frowning a bit at the almost sudden end of their time together. “She’ll pick up the best qualities from you though, I know it.”

END

[camille--monet]

Phone Call 01 ☎ Augmille

August: A sigh escaped her, but August nevertheless remained silent for the rest of the time that Camille spoke. At least her friend wasn't saying anything to protect Jakobi. At least her friend wasn't saying anything to justify his actions. And that, in itself, was all she wanted to hear. She just wanted to know that someone else thought him wrong. She just wanted to know that someone else thought that he did the wrong thing, that he screwed up, and that he deserved none of her kindness or her time. Being in her own head was tiring; it was nice to finally have someone to talk to about this (even if she did mention this to Camille before, though only briefly, for August was never one for emotion).

When Camille finished, August sighed again, but she did feel much better to be reassured that she did not need to forgive him or forget what he had done. It was uplifting, in a way, to know that her anger was valid. Of course, she knew this within herself -- but to hear someone else say it, and for this someone else to be one she trusted, was so much more /relieving/. Her sigh this time was more out of relief than anger. Or was it? She /was/ angry, and the anger overtook her. Was it not out of anger if anger had become her default?

"Thanks," August said, finally, "for not defending him and for not telling me I have no right to be angry. Thanks. I just... I needed to hear that. Everyone else will tell me to forgive him, or that I'm being a bitch by not letting this slide, or that I should forgive him because he's already said sorry, but I want to hear none of that. He hurt me. He broke my trust. He cheated on me with someone else, and I'm not wrong to be angry. Thanks for listening to me. Thanks for not protecting him."

Camille: Another sigh. Camille knew how to speak with August in this moment and in most moments, really. Part of her was mildly surprised that August had believed, even for a brief moment, that Camille was going to support Jakobi. Even though the blonde didn't have the same experience August did, she knew that supporting someone who cheated on her friend was a terrible idea. it was terrible anyway.

"You're welcome. I wouldn't dream of taking his side or defending him. He wronged /you/, he made the choice to do it. You didn't drive him to it, you did absolutely nothing wrong." Camille's words were firm, making sure that August understood that even if she wanted to blame herself, she shouldn't. "Whoever tells you that you need to forgive him needs to be dropped from your life, that's not fair to you, you were the one that was innocent in this. Those people need to reevaluate their choices if they excuse cheating." Camille let out a breath, frowning a bit. She didn't know who would ever think that way, but it was how the world worked and it was going to be up to people like August to change it.

[beeowens-blog]

001 ♦ Autumn's Arrival

[beeowens-blog]

  “Well, you know me,” August said with a dip of her head and a playful smile on her lips, the kind she only ever gave with her friend, “I say nothing but the truth. Especially about you.” The smile on her lips grew, even if only for a second. It was rare, these smiles. August did not give them often; but, then again, it was not often that she witnessed the birth of a child — and not just any child at that! But the child of her best friend. Such was  a reason to smile. The reason to smile at the moment outweighed any reason not to, and so August smiled. She smiled at her best friend,

Even though her friend continuously asked for her apology and whether she was truly okay with all, August maintained a smile. The prospect of these apologies were amusing to her, if anything. The prospect of her answer — whether it be a yes or no; whether she was okay or not with all this — making a difference made her smile. It didn’t. Even if she said a word, she would not have been able to stop Camille from giving birth. This painted an an amused smile on her face as she once more shook her head and said, “It’s absolutely fine.” There was that tone to her voice: the one that said there was no place for anyone to argue. She used it at work often; she used it when she spoke to her subordinates. Rarely did she use it on Camille, but for this particular situation, August would have to make an exception. “It’s not like I could’ve said anything that would’ve stopped it anyway, right?” she continued. “It seems baby Autumn was determined to share a birthday with me. And for that, I will forever be glad. So, there’s no need to make up for anything.”

August managed a tiny laugh at the next of Camille’s words, though she did, at that moment, take to looking at Hadley, who was holding the baby while pride shone out of his eyes and out of his smile. For as little credit as she gave him, she actually thought that he’d be a rather fine father. Not that this was something August would say directly to his face, but she thought of it. He would be the fun kind of father, she knew; something like her own, before The Incident took place and everything changed. Those were times she liked to remember; those were times merrier. She looked at him now with this knowledge, before turning back to her friend, who had lowered her voice so that others might not hear — or so August suspected.

The reason as to why came to her as she listened: Hadley’s mom was there, and if she were to hear that August, a friend, was a much better choice than her own daughter, then August was not quite sure as to how she would react. August did not know her enough, but she could pick up on cues from her friend — and the lowering of voice definitely said something. She could only understand the silent in her own mind, but she shook her head to what Camille said. “My honor”—she realized how this would go, about them fighting whose honor it was, and thus corrected herself —”well, our honor then. I’m glad I can be a part of her life, if anything. I’m glad I get to be first choice, really. This is— well, wonderful. But I’ve said that already, haven’t I?”

The compliment from Camille painted a bashful hint to August’s smile, but she definitely appreciated the word play involved with the joke. It did make sense, in the way of a joke, but it was putting too much hope on August as a person. A good year — because of her? By god, she was a monster! Ask anyone that she worked with! Ask anyone at all! A good year — because of her? The only reason she could think as to why was because she had a hand in firing people, but even then, the decisions that came with that definitely ruined years instead of bettered them. The smile was her only reaction to the comment, though, as she had nothing else to say, and doubted that Camille wanted to hear self-depreciating talk. Instead, she said, “There is no way I couldn’t have accepted. Again, I’m glad I get to be a part of all this. I’ve never been a godmother before though; no one else trusts me with their kids. You know, most people are scared I’ll turn their children into mini monsters.” At this, August managed a soft chuckle, and a pointed look towards Camille.

[camille--monet]

August spoke the truth, no matter what it was, she spoke the truth and Camille didn’t have any reason to believe that August was lying to her at the moment. August and Camille had an honesty that most people didn’t have with their closest friends and it provided a breath of fresh air for her in a world where she was a different person for a living. That brought enough of a change for her life, more than she had when she initially retired from acting, more than when she moved the first time. Camille was Camille with August around, nothing changed about that.

She recognized the tone of voice August used to reassure her that it was fine. It wasn’t as if Camille had a choice in any of this near the end, but she still felt bad for it. It was fine and the more Camille was prepared to press August into saying it wasn’t and that she wanted to make it up to her, the more she knew August would protest. August’s words did ring true and Camille couldn’t just force her to accept Camille’s determination for her to make it up. Camille would do it without telling August until later, even though the woman didn’t care for surprises. “Well, we have at least sixteen years before she can start repaying you for any future babysitting endeavours you may encounter, but you are forever the best.”

Camille glanced over at her husband who had taken to sitting in the chair next to her bed and watched him for a moment. She made a good choice, she knew that. Even if it was a mildly intoxicated wedding, Camille made a good decision in a husband and mate and if for some reason it all went sour, they still had their friendship. She wouldn’t tell him this in front of everyone, an audience to her telling him he was any sort of decent spouse would just increase his ego and he’d remind her for the rest of her life and then remind the baby which parent was the superior one.

“You’ve said it, and I don’t get tired of hearing it.” Camille gave a bit of a shrug. “I can’t blame you though, besides, I need someone who’ll understand when he drives me crazy.” she laughed, nodding her head towards Hadley who had been in his own world. Camille had nothing against Babette or the three little monsters she called children and from what Camille had seen, the woman was a good mother and Camille admired her for it, having called her a few days before to find out what she should expect. But August was closer, August was there at any time Camille truly needed her, and August had taken Camille in closer than she figured August had ever let anybody in.

Camille knew August well enough that the her compliment was different from what she was used to. She understood that business August was much more firm and unlikeable than pleasure August. Camille had seen August in action and if she didn’t know August as a person, she wouldn’t have known that there was a kind and bashful side to her. August had put on such a good facade that she was even in awe when August had become much stricter with an employee during a routine visit. “Neither have I, so it’ll be a learning experience for the two of us.” she told her earnestly, “if anything you’ll turn her into a little girl with a lot more sense than most.” August had a good head on her shoulders, August was a good role model, anybody could see that, even in her most annoyed state, August would be a better role model than Camille could ask for.

[camille--monet]

Phone Call 01 ☎ Augmille

August: The first of Camille's words were /exactly/ what August wanted to hear. Men /were/ scum. Cis straight men especially. They were the scum of the earth, most definitely. But, as Camille continued to speak, August wanted to hear less and less of what she had to say. Despite that, she knew she needed to hear this. That was why she had called to begin with -- because she needed the opinion of someone she could trust; of someone she knew was willing to be brutally honest with her without caring for the repercussions. And, August knew, that Camille was such a kind of person; she trusted her best friend enough to be.

Still, this did not mean that she did not sigh at her friend's words. It was a sigh of anger -- not towards Camille, but towards Jakobi; a sigh of frustration at what had happened and how things had turned out -- all of which drew back to Jakobi. The sigh was long and drawn out, then after which came a pause from August's side of the line as she thought of her words. She was still angry, yes, but she wanted to be coherent; her anger would not go away, but she wanted to be steady through it.

"I don't want to talk to him," she said, indignation to her tone, "I want absolutely nothing to do with him! He broke my-- He-- He messed up! This is all his fault, and I want absolutely nothing to do with this sweeping under the rug charade. If he thinks for one moment that I'm going to forget what he did, then he's wrong. I'm so angry, Camille. I have every right to be, I know, but I wish I wasn't." And it was true. For as much as August knew her anger was valid, it was also tiring. It was so taxing to be angry at a person to whom she obviously meant nothing to; it was so taxing to be so angry at a person that should not matter. More than that, it was so taxing to be heart broken.

Camille: She let August continue, turning her attention from her friend for the time being, reaching out to touch the soft bit of hair on top of Autumn's head, trying her best not to coo too loud to tip August off that her attention had started to shift. Of course, it didn't shift completely, but with the way August was sighing, Camille had very well nailed where August didn't want to hear what she needed to.

Camille drew her legs up underneath her, resting the phone between her ear and shoulder, preparing to choose her words carefully. Camille could be frank with August, that was a blessing. She didn't have to sugar coat too much and if she did, she knew August would call her out on her nonsense. She couldn't help but laugh at the tone August had taken when she finally spoke, the very same tone she had grown familiar with.

"I never said you /had/ to talk to him, it was a suggestion." she spoke quickly, as to get her words in before August continued and got on her tangent. "He royally messed up and you're hurting. You should never forget what he did, nor should you forgive, but if the situation arises when you can see him in person or even talk to him, do it. You don't have to be happy about it but you need to be polite and show him what he's missing by having done what he did." Camille wanted to tell August to take a couple of deep breaths, to remove herself from the situation as much as possible but she knew it wouldn't help. It rarely worked when she did it herself, but August wasn't over it (not that she should be) and she didn't want to let it hinder everything else August did for the rest of her life, in business or pleasure.

[camille--monet]

Phone Call 01 ☎ Augmille

August: There were many things in life that irritated August, and a frown was not often far from her features. But, if there was one thing at all that irritated her the most, it was men. Well, not men in and of themselves, but all that came with them: entitlement, greediness, among other things. And, it was this very reason that there was now a frown on August's face. The short conversation she had with Jakobi was /infuriating/, and it alone painted a frown so deep on her features. How /dare/ he? How /could/ he think in such a way? August was getting tired of thinking to herself; she needed a way to vent; she needed her friend.

The moment that the phone was picked up on the other line, the rant began. "I can't believe the /guts/ he has!" she screamed into the phone. "/God/, he's so full of it. Did he think I would /forget/? /He/ cheated on /me/. /He/ broke my trust. /He/ became his own ruin. How can he not get that? And he thinks I want to -- what? -- play video games and be foolish with him? /Damn/ him! Damn him, and damn all he ever did to me!"

There was more pain in her voice than she'd like to let on; there was more pain to her tone that she'd like to hear for herself. But, at the moment, she did not care. She did not care for her pain; it weighed less than her anger. Or maybe, it weighed just as much as her anger -- but, right now, her anger was more overwhelming than her pain.

Camille: Things had slowed down a bit since Camille and Autumn were officially discharged from the hospital and with the extra help from her mother and mother-in-law, Camille was breathing a lot easier than one with a newborn should. She wasn't taking it for granted, she was doing quite a bit of the work with the women standing over her shoulder and gently correcting her as Camille fumbled through a couple of diaper changes and some failed attempts at breastfeeding.

When the phone rang, a collective sigh of relief came from Hadley and Camille, the two of them looking over at the baby snuggled onto Hadley's chest. Since arriving home, whenever someone's phone rang, it was always during the baby's power nap, always when someone would be checking on her, making sure she was breathing. This time, she was awake, staring at the owner of the body keeping her warm. Camille didn't get a 'hello' out before August's enraged voice drifted through the phone, the blonde holding it away from her ear for a moment before bringing it back, August's initial outburst seemed to be over. "Men are scum, what can I say?" she replied calmly, an offended 'hey!' coming from Hadley next to her. "I understand that it will be hard but maybe you should tell him that you want absolutely nothing to do with him until you're ready? He's trying to make things go back to normal and brush it under the rug, he doesn't deserve your time, even if it's to tell him that you hate his guts. But you do need to talk to him."

Camille was pretty sure that this wasn't what August wanted to hear, especially in this time of pain for the woman, but she had to hear it. August was hurting more than she would lead on and Camille felt for her, wanting her to open up more than what would be comfortable, but that could wait. Camille crossed her free arm under her chest, leaning back against the couch. She would be there for her friend and while she wished she knew more of the story, she knew it would come in due time.

[beeowens-blog]

001 ♦ Autumn's Arrival

[beeowens-blog]

  It was a lovely sight to see, truly: the baby that was born, the family that rejoiced, the tangible love in the air. August never wanted children of her own; it was something she’d decided from when she was younger, from when she first realized that she hated even the slightest idea of sex and anything that thus related to it. And yet, she couldn’t help but look at what had happened now, at the people involved in it, and feel a twinge of pride come over her. She was never going to have children of her own, and this might as well be the closest thing she’d ever get to it but by god was she proud — for Hadley, for the two mothers that stood coddling the tiny being, but most especially for her friend. There was the smile that situated itself permanently — at least for the meanwhile — on August’s lips as she looked at all that surrounded her.

When Camille beckoned for her, August moved quickly, finding herself by the side of Camille’s bed in only two steps, the smile on her lips growing as ever. And, it grew more when Camille continued to speak, for out of her words was a certain sense of pride that welled in August. She did not consider herself to be perfect, no; August had faults, like any other person, both known and unknown to her. But, despite all of that, she did know that she had good qualities, too. She was hard-working, and diligent; she knew how to work her way to the top, how to learn and how to keep up. If she could impart anything at all to the newborn baby, it would be this. If the baby would grow up at all to be anything like her, then August would rather she take these traits. There were traits to her that she did not want the baby to have, but now was not the time to bring these up. It was a moment of joy, a moment of celebration, and August would be damned before she ruined all this for her Camille and her family. Instead, she gave a tiny nod of her head to accompany the smile on her lips. “I think she’d grow up fine as a woman of her own, and that you will be — or, well, are — a great mother.”

However, to follow the nod was a shake of her head. The smile never did disappear, though at Camille’s next words August had to shake her head. How many times had Camille apologized? And how many times had August said there was no reason to? If anything, they should be glad for what had happened today! This was one of the best things that had happened on August’s birthday over the last couple of years! To think that she now shared her day with a beautiful baby girl! To think that she had such a privilege! August wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Her parents, as they always were, sent their greetings, but they would be there tomorrow. Autumn Preston James, however, would only be born once in her life, and August would not be the first to miss it. (She couldn’t miss Autumn again. No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t miss Autumn.) Her smile grew as she looked at her friend. “Don’t worry about it. My birthday needed a little spicing up anyway,” she said with a tilt of her head, “after twenty-six years, the seasons were just getting bored with me, you know? The 31st of August needed a little something like Autumn to brighten it up.”

The smile on her lips grew, but it gave way to a look of confusion as the next of Camille’s words were said. August allowed her friend to speak, laughing at the bit at the end where she said that she knew of August’s feelings about kids. It was true, and Camille knew it: August was not a fan of children, especially should there be a large group of them. But, then again, she was not a fan of most people, but she did manage to push through all that. August allowed the laugh to die down, then said, “For your daughter, I think I’d be willing to make an exception.” There was a joking tone to her voice, though it was true for the most part that Autumn Preston James was already more special than any other baby August had ever met. “I’d be willing to do it — no questions asked, no hesitations. I love her. It would be such an honor, truly,” she continued. “It would be my honor, and I love that you even took me into consideration.”

The look on August’s face brightened as she looked to the baby. “And could you imagine?” she continued, “Hadley calling me by the months, and calling her by the season. It’s quite a match, if I do say so myself, though don’t give Hadley the idea.” August said it in such a way not quiet enough to keep it from Hadley. If anything at all, she reckoned that her friend had been planning such a thing since before the baby was born. “But, in all seriousness, it’d be my honor to be her godmother,” August said, looking to Camille now, “I don’t need time to think it over. I know I would love to be.”

[camille--monet]

Camille was surrounded and in a good way. She was surrounded by family, by people she loved, by a little bright spot in the ever darkening world. She let other parts of her extended family coo over the child that had been passed to Hadley while she focused on her conversation with August. The blonde studied her fellow blonde companion, unable to stop a slight bout of laughter at the fact that August had been smiling so much since she entered the room. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen August smile so much, let alone do so in a room where half of the people were strangers to her. That did make Camille’s smile grow wider, which did not seem at all possible to her.

Her smile faded a bit at August’s words. Those were the typical words that came to any new parent, no matter how much the person believed it. The way the words came from August however, gave Camille cause to believe that she was right. August was rarely wrong when it came to the things she believed in. Camille nodded, the initial dip of her head causing her to realize just how tired she was but she wouldn’t let it on, they waited most of their day on her and she could spare another ten or so minutes. “Normally,” she began, reaching a hand up to brush her hair out of her face, “I wouldn’t believe it coming out of anybody else, but from you, I can’t help to believe it.”

Camille could apologize profusely for this and August would still say that she couldn’t imagine something better. She appreciated August’s honesty, the woman wouldn’t steer Camille wrong or lie to her about something as big as a ruined birthday. That was why they got along, they were similar in the beliefs and while their personalities were different, they didn’t clash; August could be honest with Camille without worrying about hurting her feelings and Camille could do the same with August. Camille could be herself without having to worry about anything going out of either of their favors. August kept Camille even more grounded and she would not trade that for the world. She let out another laugh, nodding again. “That’s true, although a bright autumn, the season, seems a bit of an oxymoron. It’s a good thing the kid is what’s making it work. Are you sure you’re fine with it? I know this definitely wasn’t part of the plan for today but if there’s any other way I can make it up to you once I get out of here, let me know.”

She couldn’t help but smile again, hearing the acceptance of the offer. If she could have, she would have reached up to pull August towards her to give the woman a hug. “With Hadley for a father, she’ll need someone to help teach her how to handle it, I can only do so much.” she laughed, “Besides, she’d be in really good hands and between you and me, you won in a landslide.” she told her, dropping her volume so the others in the room couldn’t hear her. “No,” she added, holding her finger up as if to correct her, “it’s our honor, like I said, there would really be nobody better to do it.”

Camille couldn’t help but let the laughter bubble out of her. “Oh Lord, I already told him he was going to give her an identity crisis if he did that, I’m surprised you’re not there. Maybe now he’ll knock it off,” Camille cast a sideways glance over at her partner before looking back at August, “I doubt it though. You’re the months, she’s the seasons, we definitely have a good year between the two of you.” Hadley had been the one who even suggested the name and the gleam in his eyes when he was about to add that she would also be called Summer, Winter and Spring when the time came. “Thank you, it means a lot to us that you accept.”

[beeowens-blog]

001 ♦ Autumn's Arrival

The last day of August meant many things. It meant that fall was one day closer; it meant that another month had ended, and that another was to begin; it meant deadlines needed to be met; it meant that the moon had once more rotated around the Earth; it meant a new day, but also a day old. Save for the fact that it was the last day of August, the 31st was of no greater importance. Despite all the things it carried and brought, the 31st was as any other day: as ordinary as people would make it to be, or as special as one could make it to be. To the better half of the world, the last day of August — the 31st — was just as it was: simply just a day, with all its meaning and all it brought, yet without anything that made it so much more important than any other day.

But, to one August Maedelle Zamora, it meant something else: her birthday. This fact did not make it all the more important, though. For as long as August could remember, she never did like celebrations. When she was younger, her parents always did like grand get-togethers. They invited everybody: the neighbors, unknown aunts and uncles, and worst, classmates that August did not consider as friends. They brought with them their fake smiles and useless gifts, with greetings for August on their lips though none of them truly knew what she liked or how she was on any other day. If she had grown up differently, and birthdays had been celebrated in any other manner, then maybe — just maybe — August would have liked the idea of celebrating the day of her birth. Maybe, if she had been given the chance to celebrate her birthdays the way she wanted to, then she would not loathe the arrival of such a day.

Today, however, she had one less reason to hate it. Today, it was no longer just her birthday. August had spent a good amount of her birthday in the waiting room of a hospital, hoping and wishing for the very best for Camille — her best friend — who had been giving birth. All of the hoping, the panic, the excitement, the wishing had paid off though, for hours later, there arrived the most beautiful baby girl that the world had ever known, on the 31st of August 2014. Autumn Preston James. Her name was a memory of who had been the most beautiful girl to August; her name was a memory of the very best person that August had once known. She held the little baby with careful hands, almost brought to tears by the life that was Autumn. She would remember that name now for the life that it brought on the last day of August, as opposed to the loss of a sister all those years ago. The tears remained in her eyes though; August willed them not to fall.

August returned the baby to her mother. Camille bloomed as beautifully as her newborn baby,with the radiance that only the happiest of mothers could glow. Though August never wanted children of her own — and for this, she was as certain as certain could be —, she did look at her friend with a bit of reverence; a certain hint of awe for her as she took the baby in her hands, as she chose this life for herself and Hadley, as she chose to give birth to a beautiful baby girl. August had worn a smile since she stepped into the room with Camille, but it grew now that she watched her friend hold Autumn.

“She’s beautiful,” August said again, though she’d repeated this plenty and plenty a time, “and she looks just like you. Maybe a bit of Hadley, but don’t let that get to his head.” A small chuckle escaped her, and she reached out to stroke gently the baby’s small cheek. “You’re going to be a great mother,” she repeated with the same conviction as when she had said it the first time, when she first entered the room, “and I’m sure she’ll grow up to be a wonderful person. I’m so happy for you and Hadley.”

[camille--monet]

Camille had about twelve hours of active labor, although she only payed any attention to the last six hours of it. The blonde wasn’t completely oblivious to the pains throughout the day leading up to her water breaking, she had taken them as Braxton-Hicks contractions, even though she was only a few days away from her actual due date. She had plans to take August to lunch, getting some of her last free time with her friend before she would have the tiny plus one wherever they went. Her plan didn’t completely work out in the way she wanted. At least baby Autumn waited until they had gotten to dessert to really announce that she’d be coming soon. With August being the worry wart for Camille and her mother, it balanced them out, getting through the whole ordeal calmly wasn’t going to happen at any point if someone didn’t do the panicking for them.

It took about six hours from her water breaking to the arrival and Camille didn’t expect to see August still there after the birth, let alone having heard she stayed through the whole thing. It was the other woman’s birthday and August staying the whole time surely had put a damper on her plans. Despite everything, Camille was grateful her best friend stayed, she was grateful that even with it not being set in stone, August gave them permission to use her sister’s name. Camille was grateful that August had come into her life and even though Camille had stolen August’s birthday thunder, she was grateful that baby Autumn shared a birthday with one of the best women she knew possible.

When August had entered the room after Camille and the baby had been cleaned up, she wanted to solely focus on her best friend, her daughter’s godmother, her real other half. But then her mother reached for the baby first, a grandmother’s right, she supposed, before the baby was passed over to August who held her so carefully. She had heard most mothers worried about others holding their newborn and Camille too worried that she’d be concerned over who held her but Camille put all of her trust in August and there were no worries that shot through her. August holding Autumn was the least of her worries. She could only smile as she watched August look down at the tiny life in her arms, even though she had no worries about August slipping or dropping the baby and her eyes refused to look anywhere but the little person she created. She created. Camille made a soft noise at the return of her daughter, not wanting to let her go but wanting to let Hadley hold her once more or even let his mother do the honors. Her solution came after a couple of moments, Hadley reaching into Camille’s arms to scoop the bundle into his own to pass her to his mother.

“Thank you.” was all that she could say, her eyes leaving the baby for a moment to look over at August. Camille beckoned her closer, knowing her friend didn’t need to fear anything. The hard part was done and now, if for the next few hours, Camille could relax and revel in the fact that she was able to carry another life for nine months and for the next eighteen or so years, she was responsible for it. Camille scooted up further in the bed, crossing her hands in front of her. “If she grows up to be anything like you, then I’ll know that I’ve done a great job.” she told her, nodding to punctuate her point. “I still feel bad for keeping you from celebrating your birthday. I appreciate you staying but I wouldn’t have been upset if you left to do something with your parents.” Celebrating the circle of life could wait, it always could and Camille was sure that if they hadn’t had planned their lunch, August wouldn’t have found out until Camille had already gotten to the hospital.

“You do want to do it, right?” she asked, “be her godmother? It was between you and Hadley’s sister but I couldn’t think of anybody better for the job.” They hadn’t told anybody who was in the running and as much as Camille adored Hadley’s older sister and her three kids, Camille couldn’t think of adding the burden of a fourth in the event something tragic happened, to the woman, and even if August wouldn’t go to the complete ends of the Earth for the couple, the option was open and Camille wouldn’t be hurt if she declined. They left it open for her and with August’s proximity to the couple’s main residence, she was the easiest and obvious choice. “We understand if you don’t want to, I know how you feel about kids, so you don’t need to decide on the answer right away. There’s no rush.”

[zaryv]

"She’s a star. She has always been a star." 

[camille--monet]

Picture Perfect ♦ August & Camille

[beeowens-blog]

  As with any ending of a month and the beginning of another, those on the top positions of Runway magazine would gather to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of  the monthly issue, collate feedback from different sources, —both from the fashion industry and the civilian world— and brainstorm for new ideas to produce a better next issue. As with any kind of meeting like this, tension was high as disagreements not only about the magazine but about certain viewpoints and values rose to meet the pressure of being better than competition. Sleep-deprived, but picture perfect, stylists, editors, writers and such threw ideas across the table with their perfectly manicured nails and straight postures, as if each one of them was not only trying to make their idea sound better, but also attempting to look better than the person seated next to them.

These meetings seldom ended on time, and this was no different. Pushing the tense atmosphere was always the hardest part, as everybody made sure—and this was what made the magazine so great—that at the end of it all, every staff member knew their part and worked for the greater good. The bottom line was that they all had the same goal, and they best made sure to instill this inside their heads so as to prevent any in-house rivalries. No one could say that the atmosphere would completely be warm or relaxing, as it was almost impossible to be relaxed—and she knew this—when anyone was around August, the ice witch of the west, and Madeline, whom they liked to call the good witch from the north, or something as equally idiotic as if they were in some Disney story. But when everything settled down to a more or less normal work atmosphere, the meeting was thus called to an end.

Though it wasn’t glaringly obvious, August did rather enjoy this unspoken rule. It was a way to keep things light, and a way to remind everybody that disagreements should only last as long as they were in the form of healthy and advantageous discussions. Should was the keyword, as August knew herself that there were more than a few names who took to personally speaking about her behind her back, but at least everybody could pretend to remain friendly with one another during these meetings. Today, however, she was less than pleased. The receptionist had gone in and out of the meeting room with several reminders that Camille Monet—or Camille Preston, August corrected herself—was waiting for her outside the room. This was the Camille Monet Preston she was talking about— why didn’t anyone understand that? August had been more than ready to bolt from the room even before the meeting was over, but that would have guaranteed a warning from her superior. So she thus waited with the ever present scowl on her face, refusing—not for the first time—to adhere to the less tensed atmosphere everybody else so greatly welcomed. She had been the first to leave the room when the meeting had ended.

Yet, August knew better than to wear her scowl whenever she wooed those she wanted into working with her and the magazine. While she may be considered as the ice witch within the confines of the office, she knew better than to let it seep beyond its four walls lest they lose potential clients and customers. She smiled readily as she strutted to face the woman (as opposed to just telling her secretary to lead Camille inside her room), a professional smile without any personal emotion. August held herself together as any adult would have; she was not a teenager mad for Camille Monet on television, and she refused to let anybody else see this.

“Good morning! I’m sorry you’ve had to wait for so long,” August said immediately as soon as she had approached the actress. She gave an agreeable smile and extended a hand towards Camille. “We had to discuss certain matters in the meeting, but everything is fine now. Say, how do you like your coffee? Sharon”—August said the name loudly, so as to catch the attention of her secretary— “here will meet us in my office to take note of how you take your drink. Maybe you’d prefer tea?” After she gave the woman a strong handshake, August led the way to her room.

[camille--monet]

Camille shook her head, wanting to shoo the secretary away as she followed the woman into her office. “Oh no, I’m fine, really.” she shot the secretary a sympathetic look, this woman gave off a bit of a cold demeanor, despite the smile that was offered Camille’s way. “It’s no problem, I understand, meetings run long, I have been there many times.” Camille in turn gave her a practiced smile, taking a seat on the edge of the chair. Meetings were like filming. It was a lot of stop and go and reiterating this point or that scene.The blonde tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, taking a breath and releasing it, watching the woman before her very carefully. It wasn’t that Camille didn’t trust what she was getting into, it was that she needed to say no and she had a feeling that it was not going to be easy.

“Now,” Camille was ready to get down to business. In and out, that was all she needed. In and out. “I assume you’re aware that this isn’t my…” the woman paused, finding the best way to word her sentence. “forte. I’m not a magazine person, I haven’t had a subscription since I was a teenager and I promise you, I am no model.” Perhaps she was laying it on a bit too thickly, anything to change this woman’s mind about whatever was put in her head about her. The last time she even graced a magazine’s pages came from episode stills in Soap Opera Digest and she was pretty sure it wasn’t even her but a body double in it. Not to mention at least ten years had passed since then and her life had been quiet for the most part, with very few hiccups. Yet, all of this was nearly in jeopardy, what with the gift baskets and such making it to her office, Camille’s co-worker’s were curious as to who the blonde had as a secret admirer that was so desperate for her attention. As per usual, she had written it off as someone she had a relation with trying to win her back but with the cards dictating from where it was from, it had started to get trickier.

Camille cleared her throat, shifting slightly in her seat. “I mean, I am incredibly flattered, honored really that you would consider me to even be apart of this.” she told her, bowing her head just slightly. “Although again, I just don’t think that I’m the right choice. Especially right now, I don’t have too much extra time for anything outside of work.” This was a white lie, Camille had plenty of spare time and she was currently on route to wasting one of her sick days just because. Camille brought her eyes up to watch the woman’s reaction. Maybe this would be a good enough reason to dismiss the blonde and even say ‘maybe next time’ and never think about it again.Those were all of course, high hopes Camille had and the blonde doubted that it would work in her favor; things like this rarely did. Still, she was going to try and get out of it, it was something she was genuinely good at doing, it would just depend on the person she was working with.

[camille--monet]

So get this

[officeremerson]

  What? She just isn’t telling you things? I hope she knows she’s not doing herself any favors, especially if she shows up and tries to yell at you over flowers or some other stupid detail. They did for the most part. It wasn’t something the police could monitor and most of them probably wanted to indulge with some alcohol at the end of the day themselves. Did you know the prohibition era was actually the birth of mixed drinks? No one could stomach the taste of the alcohol, so they used mixers. Is it rewarding afterword? I can’t imagine planning a party I wouldn’t get to attend would be much fun.

[camille--monet]

Very few details. It's almost like planning a wedding with a bride who keeps changing her mind. I think she still doesn't have a full idea of what she wants to do so I make sure that we have plenty of meetings between now and the date. Was it really? Bless them for coming up with a solution until it was over. It is, very much so. I attend all of them just to make sure everything goes according to plan. It also gives me a chance to see how the guests are enjoying it. 

[camille--monet]

So get this

[emily-g-hayes]

  Consider it done then. It would be nice to have an event planned by someone with as vibrant a personality as you. Most planners can be a bit robotic and…stuffy, if that makes sense. The APA likes their events to be sophisticated…but no completely without fun. Well we have plenty coming up so should you need to give me someone else’s name for the next one, you can rest assured that there will be another one for you to snag. What’s your name, dear?

[camille--monet]

Perfect, thank you. I just hope I'd be able to do it justice, I don't want to give you false hope. That's always good, if they were stuffy people would only show up to brag. The small inter-company banquets usually end up as a bragging contest, the open bar never helps either. Camille, Camille Preston.

[volkosv-deactivated20160611]

If I complained about american pubs, would that make me seem like a drunk or european?

[camille--monet]

Probably more European, if I may ask, what exactly is the problem with American ones?

[camille--monet]

So get this

[emily-g-hayes]

  You know, I go to a lot of benefits and events for The American Psychology Association. If you give me a business card, I can drop your name. The person they’ve had running the events for the past three years has been rather boring and unmotivated. Just make sure to ask your friends for wine on your next birthday or christmas this year.

[camille--monet]

Oh God that would be fantastic. I mean, nobody here does anything spectacular or relatively noteworthy. Even if I'm not available the next time one comes up I know perfectly capable workers who can. Not that I would pass that opportunity up. I definitely will, I know enough people that should be able to do it.

[camille--monet]

So get this

[officeremerson]

What does she have in mind? Some sort of Gatsby-eque twenty-first? I’ve probably busted more of those than the police even bothered to during prohibition. I’m assuming you’re some sort of party planner? 

[camille--monet]

I'm thinking it's a Gatsby themed engagement party, she isn't giving me very many details except for the kind of food she wants served. I tend to think the police turned a blind eye during prohibition, but I think I learned that in something on the History Channel. I've worked with less but...I appreciate having more. I am, it's never this rewarding during the actual process. 

[zaryv]

Perfect People // Megan Hilty

[camille--monet]

So get this

[emily-g-hayes]

  They say there’s a first time for everything, and hey…when a strange request still manages to benefit you, it’s a definite win. I’m guessing you’re an event planner? The sampling will certainly be fun in and of itself but perhaps you’ll get a complimentary bottle of wine as well and your wine rack will be started for you.

[camille--monet]

Who am I to deny a service like that? I am, or well, an attempt to be one. I attended enough in the past to know what does and doesn't make a good one and generally just go with that to get my work done. I have never done a tasting so if that comes true I'll be set, if not I'll really need to start taking advantage of those five cent wine sales.

[camille--monet]

So get this

[emily-g-hayes]

  How does anyone go their whole life without ever having a drink…I mean it’s 2014…unless it was a religious thing, in which case I guess it would be understandable. God you have an amazing job, I would have felt like it was an affront to the rest of humanity if you had said no to the girl. Denying an opportunity to get your drink on is just a cardinal sin. An expert you may not be…but you could still be helpful. If you take a sip of something and it tastes like it could be boxed wine, you can make that observation.

[camille--monet]

Honestly, I didn't ask. I assume she's Mormon since I know they have all kinds of restrictions on what they can and can't drink, I don't know how many people would have that as a personal choice. It was such a strange request, I don't get asked to do anything like that when it comes to clients. That's true, I should start a wine rack, if this turns out well.