location: the woolworth building courtyard
@retrorsum
The little courtyard is a welcome reprieve from the busy chaos inside and he's sitting on one of those little flower bed brick walls as he holds a cigarette that the hasn't brought to his lips in a while as he tells the story. " - by that indoor fountain thing, and I just thought that was just some random rich lady thing, but then she found me at the bar and slipped me her number, and am I crazy? She looks hot. Like a hot grandma. Maybe I should just call her, she looks like she'd take me to a really nice dinner, like a lobster and wagyu kinda night, you know what I mean?"
How did he find himself in this situation? There's a woman beside him draped in diamonds, and the other is draped in pearls, and he's certain that a single diamond or pearl would be enough to pay for rent for a few weeks. "Me?" He asks to the question of who he is. "Literally a nobody, ma'am," he responds, shrugging a little. How had this happened? One moment he was at the bar, tugging at his bow tie again, and then the next, he's talking about something called an equities portfolio. He makes eyes with someone who looks a little sympathetic, begging for help.
location: the woolworth building main hall
@retrorsum
"Excuse me, your chair is on my wife's dress," she barely catches the beginning of the sentence but the expectant look on the couple's face is enough to make her realise and so she stands so the chair can be moved. The older couple thank her and walk away, and Tori glances at the table. "Oh, I didn't know you were seated here," she smiles, moving towards the other and then notices they're alone for the moment at the table. "You look a bit miserable. What do we need? A drink? A dance?"
location: the woolworth building bathroom hallway
@hcll-bound
Nobody would describe her as altruistic, but sometimes Tori had her moments. And that moment arrived as she left the bathroom and noticed a little train of toilet paper that had followed the heel of the person a little ways down the hall. "Hey, you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe," she called out to the woman, who stopped and looked at the shoe, shaking her foot until it came off. Without a word or eye contact, the woman hurried away, and Tori huffed and turned to the other in the hallway, who no doubt had witnessed the interaction. "You try to do a good thing, huh?" she shrugged her shoulders. "Shouldn't have told the bitch. You think karma will get her?"
location: the woolworth bulding bar
@fireinhislungs
The bar is crowded but she shoulders her way between some people already drinking, annoyed because the table service is a joke. A drink shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to be delivered - shorter if it's not a complicated cocktail. "Champagne, Ruinart. I know Ivankov's got some back there. Not that other shit," she places her order and then scans the bar. There are a few others she's seen before and some unfamiliar faces. About to say something to the man beside her, who she's certain she's seen with her father before, she's distracted by the drink being set down for the person on her other side, the bartender repeating the order. Tori raises a brow. "Fireball? What is that, a cry for help?"
location: the woolworth building entrance
@dreaminghlyy
The winter chill is a stark difference to the warmth of the car, and her shoulders shiver as the door is opened by a white gloved gentleman, holding an umbrella up. "Oh shit, it's snowing," she casts her eyes upwards as she steps out, heels first, then hand into the other offered hand, then the rest of her in a red dress made by a designer she'll find any opportunity to contribute to a conversation for the evening. The white faux fur trimmed capelet around her shoulders is tugged even closer against the chill as she scans the crowd. "Thank god, a familiar face, you look good," Tori says quickly in relief to a familiar head of hair, making her way towards them, and slipping a white elbow length gloved hand into the crook of their arm. "It's just pathetic entering alone."
His sister had once said that he possessed the lesser known but equally hilarious sibling of the resting bitch face, and that was the resting angst face. He always just looked troubled, and he could be doing something as mundane as opening a piece of mail. But sometimes it comes with advantages, especially when he'd rather be left alone. The resting angst face conceals a little frustration as he makes his way to the bar, because now he has a feeling that the meeting that had been called that evening is not as simple as it seemed. And worst of all, he can't get sloshed. He's a man on a mission as he makes his way towards the drinks, and he's sure the person behind the bar can tell too. "After you," he says as someone approaches at the same time he does, just a little ahead of him so all he can see is the back of their head.
location: the woolworth building observation deck
@fireinhislungs
The observation deck on the 55th floor of the Woolworth Building had been closed since the early 40s, but he'd read down in the foyer that it offered beautiful views of the city from an octagonal viewing deck. It was accessible via elevator but it did take a little knowledge of the stairways to find the right one, and instructions were sent for their meeting. It's not for another few hours, so he stations Freckle by the elevator in case he is disturbed. It's something he's picked up from his father; always scope out a place yourself. The little viewing desk seems devoid of people, but there's a feeling he's not alone, so he rounds the deck. His suspicions are proven correct when he sees a dark figure he can't quite recognise from his distance and he assumes it's a civilian because the meeting isn't to be for quite some time. Vas clears his throat and calls out, trying not to startle them, "hey, are you meant to be up here?"
location: the woolworth building foyer, mid evening
@neverfalling
The sign that he smokes under says no smoking indoors but somehow everyone knows that anyone who has a problem with it either turns a blind eye or finds themselves with one. He's waiting for an associate to update him on their business that evening, and so occupies himself with reading some of the information about The Woolworth building in the foyer. "Hm," he mumbles when he reads something interesting, and it catches the attention of the person a little ways down from him, who casts him a curious look. He points with the cigarette between his fingers to the sign to explain. "They closed down one of the subway entrances in the basement due to concerns over crime."
location: the woolworth building bar, after dinner
@dreaminghlyy
His sister had once said sometime in their first century of existence that chewing food was like chewing a piece of dry paper, and though the feeling was somewhat satisfying, the lack of satisfaction from the taste just rendered the whole experience dissatisfactory. After an uneventful dinner, he finds himself at the bar, and there's still canapes floating around. Just to play the part, he takes a little stick of deep fried cheese and samples it, watching people at the bar as he does. Before long, he's joined at the corner of the bar and he waits until they're waiting for their drink to ask, "Hey, what do you think of the food?" He asks, a little curious about the taste. Then he feels like he has to explain himself a little. "Just trying to decide if we want to use the same caterers next year."
location: the woolworth building, early evening
@hcll-bound
It's been some time since he's attended the annual Ivankov charity because his father had drilled into them all how important it was that they were seen out in public as little as possible, let they raise questions. Many didn't know that they were the ones in power behind the scenes, and Vyacheslav Ivankov was doing a good job being the public figurehead in the human realm. The witches all knew him, because they seemed to know everything sometimes, and he can spot a few wolves and hunters entering the building as his car drove past the front entrance. But for the most part, he likes that he can blend into the crowd a little as their human descendent gave his magnanimous speech and played host.
Francine happens to be manning the door when he walks in from the private entrance, his security detail (a burly man named Freckle) a few steps behind him, and he makes polite conversation with her for a moment as he waits for his date. It's only a few moments until he hears heels clicking down the hallway, and a hand finds his pocket. "Hello," he greets when she rounds the doorway. "The meeting ran over so I had to send a car. My apologies."
There was something about the way Tori spoke over the phone that made Camila want to immediately space out, to force her attention elsewhere for the moment while the other spoke of dresses and colors, rolling her eyes periodically while Cam scrolled Instagram, Twitter–anything that would put a space between the awkwardness of her friend’s current conversation while they both nursed hangovers by dosing mimosas.
“Why’s your mom considering wearing red?” They could circle back to their previous topic later as Cam glanced up from an Instagram story from Tiffany’s “That’s a little saucy for the post-holidays, no?”
An eye roll follows her words. "You're telling me. Ever since she's been on hormone replacement therapy, she's been...well, flirty and it's so gross," she replies easily, and rubs her eyelids with the pads of a thumb and forefinger, then pinches the bridge of her nose to alleviate some of the hangover headache. "She's going to that Ivankov charity thing alone because my dad's out of town and she wants to impress some guy. It's just like, can't she just have an affair with the pool boy like a normal mom?" It's rhetorical but in some ways, she's serious too and then a thought occurs to her, and she frowns a little as she asks Cam. "You're not planning on wearing red, are you?"
for: @cceruleans / devin pike
location: bushwick, warehouse party
She shouldn’t have been there— but one thing ( drink ) had lead to another, and Arielle felt as though a gentle breeze could have sent her anywhere. Tonight it had taken her to Bushwick, but it just as easily could have send her twirling off to Pittsburgh. It was snowing outside, she could tell by the way that the cold clung to the cheeks of those who stomped in, with their wind burned cheeks and snowy boots that left wet trails on the asphalt. It was an impractical event for the wintertime, and thick puffer jackets were strewn over forearms or abandoned on tables. The witch could feel the cold that hung in the air, pushing people closer together, making them huddle in while they talked, or drawing them to the thick of things to dance the chill away. Her friends had long abandoned her, splitting off one by one as they had found more interesting avenues for the evening at each bar along the way, leaving her now to zip up her jacket and make her way for the door. Ari had barely curved her fingers around the handle when someone reached around her to yank it open, gesturing for her to go through. “That’s very polite,” she remarked, cutting her gaze up through dark lashes before grinning wider at Devin’s features. “Hey, I know you.”
" - it's like I'm a fucking sausage in this thing," he tugs at his bow tie for the fourth time, trying to get it to sit right and feeling awkward. He's never worn a bow tie before, because it seemed goofy but even he had to admit that he didn't mind how it looked. Too bad it felt like it was slowly strangling him, and his friends laugh at his remarks and antics. It takes another fourteen minutes for him to untie the thing and let it hang around his neck, after the first button has been untied and he feels like he can take full breaths again. The borrowed tux is a little loose around his hips and tight at the neck, and he finally understands what a "fitted suit" means. By the time Devin is enough drinks in for him to forget about the slight awkward fit of the tux, he's pointing out the satin stripe to someone who laughs back at him and then asks about the satin lapel but he isn't quite sure what the lapel is. It gets warmer, his cheeks rosy from the open bar, and excuses himself for a bit of air. The door is unmanned, which he thinks is strange considering there's a person stationed at almost everything else. He reaches the door at the same time as someone else, and takes the handle, pushing it open. " - here, I got it," he's got a cigarette in his mouth so his words are a little muffled but then he removes it so she can hear him better. "Yeah?" The cold bites a little, but it's refreshing, and once they're outside, he takes a look at her as he tries to place her. "I'm gonna be honest, I don't recognise you. You go to a lotta cafes in Brooklyn?"
"I don't think I'm wrong, Dev." Asher reaches for the white cloth on his tray, wiping at his hand as his eyes raise up to look at his friend. "How long have I known you for?" He asks, wanting to prove that he could probably notice the mischief and bribery from a mile away. "A little sandwich?" He chuckles, stepping toward the other. "My car? What for?" He smirks.
"How long? Uh, like a little while," Devin looked everywhere but Asher in the eye and tries to look as innocent as possible. "It's a really good sandwich though. I made it," he said proudly, finally looking Asher in the eye and beaming at him, overselling it a little. "Got all the good fillings; pastrami, cheese, the good leafy stuff, not that iceberg crap," he shook the bag a little. "Toasted." Devin took a pause. "Listen, there's a party in Bushwick this weekend, and look, I'm tired of taking the bus. Turns out, girls don't go for guys who take the bus."
Asher lifts his eyes up from the hood of the car he's working on when he hears footsteps. His gaze rests on the person standing there, an exhale leaving him. "What the hell did you do now?"
"Uh, okay, ouch," Devin punctuates the word with a hand over his heart and lifts the brown paper bag in his other hand. "I was just walking by - " which was a lie. " - and I just figured that maybe you needed a little sandwich and oh, just thought I'd ask, since I'm here, can I borrow your car this weekend?"
location: brunch at the consulate (midtown)
@dreaminghlyy
" - no, you can't wear red, I'm in red, did you not get the memo?" She's on the phone and usually in different company, she wouldn't have picked up but it's only Camila so Tori tells herself it's fine. "What do you mean? Just pick something else." She rolls her eyes at her companion for camaraderie, and says her goodbyes.
"She always does this," she locks her screen and places it face down on the clean white linen tablecloth, next to the almost finished mimosa, and answers Camila's unasked question. "My mom. Anyway, what were you saying?"
TATTOOS/PIERCINGS/SCARS. No tattoos, no piercings, no major scars
FC. Christopher Briney
FAMILY & PETS .
First Last ( relation, alive/deceased )
Mitchell Pike (father/deceased)
Florence Reed (mother/alive)
OTHER CONNECTIONS .
TBA
EDUCATION .
High school diploma - public school
WORK .
Position
Barista by day, bartender by night.
FAVORITE .
Girls. Long hair, nice smile, smells pretty and makes funny jokes. Can not resist freckles on the cheeks.
Drinks. Tea, mostly.
Tobacco. Social smoker.
AESTHETIC .
Crisp green apples, lazy afternoon walks, riding a bike around the neighbourhood when you were fourteen, smell of freshly mown grass and hours spent in the sun, taking things apart and putting them back together again, fearlessly and aggressively in love with everything, the bright moon over the woods, the smell of blossoms early in spring, and that little mushroom that grows in your pot plants for some reason.
PERSONALITY .
+ outgoing
+ charismatic
+ funny
- imprudent
- flighty
- thrill-seeker
FUN FACTS .
For most of his life, his one defining characteristic has been the fact that he's an only child - and the only child of a single parent household. His mother is his favourite person.
Does not chase wealth or power but a good time - which can also be detrimental. This means that most of the time, he does not take things seriously and this is also a problem.
Grew up around the other wolves and at first it seemed fun not to try to control himself because it was something that made him feel wild and free but it wasn't until he almost lost control near some hikers who had camped for the night that he realised how important it was to control himself during the full moon.
Works at the bar because he tells himself that he likes to watch people but really it's to make himself feel less alone on Saturday nights.
Works at a cafe during the day. Makes good coffee. But is a tea drinker.
