Alimyon winced. “You’re right, no one cares,” she replied matter-of-factly. Often these days, she felt like an awkward shell of her former self, the one who so coolly disregarded anything other people thought of her. Well, negativity did get to her sometimes, but she knew better than to fumble over social interaction. “I, um… I could’ve sworn you were my friend. Sorry I asked you that. It’s an inside joke between the two of us.”
Dante looked over at her, slight confusion was clearly expressed in his features. He nodded a bit, “Right.” He usually didn’t pry on initiate conversations but something seemed to be bothering her. No he didn’t know her but he was pretty good at reading people. And to him something about her seemed off. Maybe she was like him. And she was thinking too much too. “So.. since you thought I was your friend, this friend of your must look devilishly good looking, yeah?”
It was finally the perfect weather and time to go up on the roof. He mostly came up here to be alone. Yeah, he had his apartment but being outside at night was his serenity, almost like a safe haven. Dante grabbed case of his favorite drink and placed his headphones around his neck and headed up to the roof. He did like where he lived but one of the negatives was he was never really able to see the sky clearly but he still enjoyed it nonetheless. As he opened the door to the roof he noticed someone standing there. He stopped in his tracks, usually no one was ever up here. Apart of him really wanted to tell them to leave, that this was his spot and they should go find their own but he decided against it - for now at least. Instead he began walking to the opposite side of the roof hoping the person would keep their distance.
she’d spent the majority of the rainy summer day staring out the floor to ceiling window, the glass cast aside to let the turbulent airflow through her apartment and to let the cigarette smoke swirl out into the atmosphere. it was eerily quiet in her apartment, her baby grand taunting her from its position in the corner of the room. work hadn’t been distracting her appropriately. it took a while of her soaking in melancholy before she pulled a golden velvet duster over the short white slip dress she’d been lounging around in and exited the apartment door. she wasn’t going far, just to the lobby-esque bar adjacent to the Rits. as always, regulars mingled about as she perched on the bar stool furthest from the door. “manhattan, please.” she murmured to the bartender as she noticed the seats filling up. hayden paused for a moment before she reached for the vintage chanel purse she’d set on the stool beside her. “it’s yours if you want it,” she motioned to the seat as her drink was placed in front of her. she wasn’t one for small talk, but she also wasn’t one to occupy space which wasn’t hers.
This was the third time he sighed in ten minutes. He tossed his worn out copy of “’The Odessy” onto his coffee table and ran a hand through his locks, making it even messier than it was before. He wanted to read but he couldn't focus for the life of him. And he did not, absolutely did not feel like working on his presentation for work right now. Even though he really should be right now. Perhaps he wasn’t prioritizing things maturely right now but a drink was always the right answer to any problem. He slipped into his boots, threw on his black jean jacket and headed down to the lobby bar. He went for the first open seat that he saw. “Ah, thanks for your permission?” He slightly mused and raised an brow at her before turning to the bartender and taking a seat. “Whiskey neat.” Luckily it was too crowded, he was never a fan of large crowds or just people in general. He leaned over and rested his elbows on the counter in front of him. “I’d offer to buy you a drink but you already have one. Anything else I can get you? I mean its the least I can do. You did ever so graciously, gave me this seat.”
alimyon leaves her apartment, stepping into the open. she’s not going to be here for a long time, she just wants to take in some fresh air. when she notices the presence of another, however, she freezes. she has minimal makeup on, her hair isn’t styled, and she’s wearing simple clothes. she doesn’t want to say it, she doesn’t want to sound frivolous, but the words escape her mouth. “do i look good?” she asks. a giggle erupts from her; it’s a nervous one, though she doesn’t want them to know that. she doesn’t want to seem weird. “i just… haha, i hope i don’t look too bad. i’m not at my best right now.”
As clever as Dante was he often was too clever for his own good, meaning a lot of the time his mind never stopped thinking. Sometimes he truly did just need a break from it all. A break from life, a break from existing, a break from himself. And as he stood outside, cigarette still in his hand, he wasn’t even there right now. Physically he was but his mind was elsewhere- way elsewhere - to be exact. He just needed to turn everything off. Surprisingly enough, he had gotten quite good at doing that over the years. Something interrupted his vacation from his mind though. It took a few seconds for him to register- to come back to where he was. He blinked a few times and turned towards the interruption. “What?” His french accent way too think but still understandable. “Who cares what you look like?” He brought up his still hand with the nicotine stick in it and pressed it to his lips and inhaled before exhaling the smoke.
harry styles , cis male , he & him – if you hang outside of the rits for long enough , you might dante asher leaving. you know , the twenty-three year old graphic designer ? i hear they’re in apartment J30 and have lived here at the rits for four years. tenants seem to deem them as rits' fallen , seems pretty fitting to me. & ( vinyl records, cigarette smoke and whisky at 3am, tattered classic novels, french accents, litters of tattoos in random places. )
Ello all, I’m Joss and I did my best! I’m so excited to be here. I am always up for all the plots, drama, and schemes. Whatever ideas you have in your gorgeous little head bring em my way. And now without further or do I present to you... * awkwardly shoots finger guns* Dante Asher
Background:
Born and raised in France with his mother and father and twin brother.
His brother was always the favorite child, his aspirations to be a doctor always pleased their parents. And because Dante was more drawn to the arts his parents never respected him much.
Dante has never had many friends and he’s okay with that. He doesn’t trust easily.
During his teenage years he started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Drugs and lots of sex became the every day norm for him.
As this behavior went on his parents didn't want to tolerate it anymore and kicked him out.
He left at eighteen and moved to New York, Since arriving he worked as a tattoo artist until he landed a really good job as a graphic designer at a top company.
Personality
Although he is quite established for his age, he doesn’t consider himself an elite or rich
Sometimes he’ll honestly do the dumbest shit on purpose. But is actually too clever for his own good and will sometimes use it to his advantage.
Can be a real dick sometimes and is mostly very difficult on purpose but if you manage to win him over he’ll do anything for you. Like help you bury a body, anything.
His is fluent in sarcasm and French. Sometimes he slips into his native tongue without realizing it.
He’s a huge nerd for space and will go up to the roof in the middle of the night to look at the sky
Is aware that he can be deadly charming.
Loves sex. A lot. Too much, He has a problem.
Does’t typically do girlfriends. Has only had one serious relationship his whole life. Prefers one night stands
He loves reading (mostly classic novels and poetry) and boxing.
He is actually capable of being the best friend you’ll ever have but has major trust issues so don’t take it personal.
Is learning to play guitar and likes to sing but he’ll sacrifice his soul to the devil before ever letting another human being hear him sing
is heavily into drinking and smoking. Will never turn down a chance to drink
Is terrible at expressing his emotions. Would rather pretend he has none.
Extra:
Usually found wearing all black clothes, combat boots
Always has cigarettes on hand
His tattoos are usually always showing
Has a pretty brooding demeanor, sometimes accompanied by his signature smirk
