ICARUS

look who's digging their own grave / that is what they all say DARLENE MORALES the icarus complex twenty seven

[ellisbrookes-deactivated2017042]

       The voice startled her so much that the wine settled in her glass had sloshed just enough to spill on the front of her dress and Kennedy could only thank the gods that it was white instead of red. Quiet had been a staple in this building so it was understandable to jump when her focus had been ripped away from the art in front of her…she didn’t blame the other woman for what had just transpired one bit but it didn’t mean she was any happier to have a wet spot on her nice clothes. And yet her mood seemed to soar into euphoria once the questions had been processed and mulled over in her mind. The young lady thought that she, a mild lover of the arts, was responsible for such a pristine show and Ken’s smile would have disappeared into her hairline had her muscles allowed it to grow any further.

       “Me? Oh, my gosh, no…I only wish I could make something this creative and breathtaking.” It was the most flattering thing that the brunette had ever heard in her life and she was sure to be riding this high well into the morning. Stain on her dress forgotten- a miracle in itself- Kennedy turned to her fellow woman and beamed. “I don’t work here, either. I merely enjoy the building too much. I must be such a pain to you guys with being here so often.” 

       Of course she had seen this woman around and nobody else would be crazy enough to be here so often if they didn’t work here, right? She could only assume as well that this girl was part of the staff and in turn really hoped this conversation would continue- any chance to learn about the work would be taken with no issues.

       “Is the artist trying to remain anonymous? Usually the name is listed and I can’t seem to find it anywhere. I was hoping to meet them and maybe see about purchasing….if they’re willing, of course.” 

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

It certainly wasn’t Darlene’s intention to cause the stranger to spill her wine over her dress. When she walked over, she had the intention of making a friend, not a foe. However, when the wine was spilt, there came over Darlene a sense of guilt and regret as she thought her chances were gone. But, to her surprise, the woman did not show a hint of anger. Not even a little bit. Instead, the woman gave a smile so wide that Darlene was shocked and confused by it. So shocked and confused, in fact, that she was left to wonder why the woman smiled instead of shouted at her. This rendered her silent. Rendered her speechless. An apology wanted to come from her lips, but her mouth did not open.

However, the other woman spoke, killing whatever dead air there could’ve been before it was born. As she did, realization dawned on Darlene: the reason for the woman’s smile was her love for the art piece. Whether or not this was the truth was unknown, but the simple fact that it was assumed put a smile on Darlene’s lips. A warm smile. A notable smile. This was the way she was around art, too. This was the way she was around a breath-taking piece, around a warm-hearting piece. And who could doubt that this piece before them was anything but? Who could doubt that this piece before them was anything but?

“You aren’t a pain, trust me,” Darlene replied with her tone as a matter-of-fact. “The last pain got thrown out because he was too loud around the paintings, and that was only two weeks ago! So, trust me, you’re no pain.” She shook her head, as though to emphasize her words. Darlene did not understand many things in life, and thought that not understanding was quite all right. However, if there was one thing she did know, it was the love for art trespassed most things --- and she could see, in this woman’s eyes, that that was how it was for her. As it was for Darlene herself. “We need people to come more often, really. It’s a small gallery, so we need the attention as much as we can get. I’ve only been here for two weeks? Or so?”

Darlene perked up at the next of the woman’s questions, in that glad way an artist did whenever someone showed interest in art. At once, her eyes darted to the nameplate of the piece before them, though found that the woman was right --- the artist’s name wasn’t on there. She squinted, as if that might make it appear, but ultimately looked back to the woman and smiled. “The artist is anonymous, yes,”---she paused---”but I can try and pull a few strings? I can try and talk to the art manager and find out who they are? And oh, I’ll tell them you love the piece so much! They’ll surely want to meet you!” The excitement in Darlene’s voice was audible, undeniable. As she smiled at the woman, it showed on her features as well.

[kvnickie]

There had never been a point in his life where he would go out of his way to help those in need. With the harsh environment he’d unfortunately been raised in, it was survival of the fittest through Nick’s eyes, and so long as he was above water, there was never any concern for anyone else who may have been struggling around him. So, why now? Why had he so fluidly removed himself from the sidelines and jumped into character in order to rescue this woman, who he shared no connection with whatsoever? There was no definite conclusion, no lesson-learned moral, simply a gut instinct which coaxed him to her side. Questioning it of being anything more was trivial, and Nick was in no proper state of mind to have some sort of life-altering revolution from this one, surprisingly, good deed.

Despite the tension hanging thick in the night air, thanks to shady stranger, a sweet twinge of relief struck his chest before slowly smoothing out overtop of tense nerves. She wasn’t tugging herself from his grasp, trying to pull back and head off on her own again. Instead, she seemed to easily, willingly, follow alongside his guidance down the sidewalk. It was only when realizing, after some time, his strong arm was still draped around slim shoulders that Nick immediately detached himself from her, arm dropping back to his side just in time for his hands to slide into the pockets of his distressed jeans. An amused huff of air was then emitted from the dark blond, giving a shake of his head before saying, “You weren’t a bother. That fuckin’ Herbert the Pervert is the one who needs a swift kick to the mouth.” He was trying his best to brush it off, like it was really no big deal that he’d jumped to her defence out of the shadows, literally, but it proved difficult for him to be his usual distant, brooding-self when he could hardly manage to keep his wandering gaze off of her for very long, especially when he felt her own on him, even through the cloudy dark of the night. “Yeah, well, some shortcut that turned out to be.”

Yet, little did he know, that shortcut she took would be what lead to a series of disarray events, still to maintain an undeniable beauty. 

This woman whom was presently nothing more than a mere silhouette to him would be that life-altering revolution. It would either end up strengthening every fibre of his being in solace on the path to becoming something better than ever imagined, or striking that final blow needed to send him in a downward spiral that would ultimately result in his demise. However, in this moment, Nick was walking her right up to the entrance of the twenty-four hour cafe before his boots came to a scuffing halt against the pavement, unaware that this was only the beginning, nowhere near the end, as he cleared his throat and gave a nod of his head in gesture to the lit up building. “This area’s a lot more stable, but there’s a phone inside… You should call a cab, or your boyfriend, or somethin’.”

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

As they arrived closer and closer towards the cafe just a block away now, more light welcomed itself through the streets. And so, it was there that Darlene could see better. It was there that Darlene could judge better. After all, when everything were brought to light, one could see and judge better. Thus, perhaps she should have judged the man for how he looked like. His distressed jeans, his heavy build, his strong gait --- all these were markers for someone to judge another as a bad person, markers for someone to judge a person differently. But, as her gaze kept coming up to him as they walked, she only furthered the thought that he was good. That he was kind. His face was nice enough to look at as well; this did not push her away either.

Something within Darlene told her that this man believed little of what she thought, though. Of course, it wasn’t like he knew what she thought. However, the way he brushed off the gratitude she handed him told her enough, though the look in his eyes did confuse her. Darlene had never been a good reader of people. She had never known how to analyze or conclude a person from first instance --- and most of this was because she assumed people were good in and of themselves. But this man was something else, something different. He was good for reasons known to her, and not just the general ones Darlene assumed of most people; but his eyes were deep with something secret.

Darlene concluded that she wanted to know what it was.

As they reached the twenty-four hour cafe at the end of the block, Darlene stopped in her tracks as the man gestured inside. “I have no boyfriend, unfortunately,” she said with ease, “though for a second there, I thought you might volunteer for the task again. What do you say, babe?” Now that there was light, and now that she knew the man wasn’t about to lead her further into the dark, Darlene could make jokes like these. The smile on her face was brighter now, too. It was more genuine, less scared of the man who had been following her for she knew him to be gone for good. “But really, though. I want to thank you. Properly. So you are going to get coffee with me. Right here, right now. I won’t take no for an answer --- even if your excuse is that coffee here doesn’t taste all that great.”

Darlene looked up at the man with hopeful eyes. If she wouldn’t win him over with her words, then she had to try another approach. For a moment, they stayed as they were: she, with her hopeful gaze; he, with a look she couldn’t quite read. Darlene interrupted the moment of silence. “Please? C’mon! It’s the least I could do!” A smile formed on her lips as she looked at him. “You can totally get the strawberry smoothie if you want, though. You can totally have that if you don’t want coffee.” She gave a little laugh at her words, though ultimately waited for the man’s answer.

[ellisbrookes-deactivated2017042]

MISTAKEN IDENTITY / KENNEDY & DARLENE --- @dvrlenemorvles

       It was a rare thing in Kennedy’s life for the girl to just be completely content in her surroundings and yet it’s always how she felt when she walked into this tiny art gallery three blocks from her apartment. The building had become her happy place with ambient music and complimentary white wine passed around to the onlookers of fine art, filled with fellow patrons just like her who appreciated the world of sophistication over a world of chaos. It never failed to put a smile on her supple lips. 

       A fact that could only be the main contributing factor of her frequent visits. For the third time that week the brunette found the sound of her heels clicking softly against the linoleum floor filling her ears as her brown hues took in the sight of the same paintings she had seen just the night before. She never got tired of the beautiful pieces hanging against the stark walls, even felt as if the art in this building understood her more than any human ever could, and a happy sigh escaped her when she stopped in front of one of her favorite pieces. 

       Not aware that anyone was standing near enough to hear her, Ken bit down on her bottom lip before whispering softly towards the masterpiece. “If I could stay here with you all night I would….sadly the place closes in an hour and I don’t think the manager would let me spend the night.”

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

The toy company she had worked for never gave her this: peace of mind in the quiet of the night as she looked through the art pieces on the white walls of the gallery she now worked for. There had always been something to worry about, something to stress over, something to fix, and something to tear away. The after-effects of the harsh working hours in the morning carried themselves up until the evening, where Darlene would set herself on her mother’s lap and cry because nothing she did was ever right. Her heart had been so, so heavy; and yet, she had not noticed. That was the worst of it: that her heart had been heavy, and she had merely adjusted to its weight.

When she got fired, everything changed. There was a certain weight to come from the words her boss had etched in her heart, but Darlene felt the light of freedom battle it.

And now, she was here. She was here, in Sacramento, working for a little gallery who gave her more peace in a week than the toy company had in two years. As the night settled down and closing time grew near, Darlene found herself simply lounging about the gallery and exploring the crooks and corners she had already discovered. The thing about art was that it was always changing, always relatable. Even if she’d seen the pieces before, she knew there would be something new about them when she came back around.

But it was not just the pieces that Darlene had seen before. As she turned the corner of the hallway into the second aisle of the gallery, her eyes landed on a woman who had been looking at the same piece for quite some time. Darlene was certain this wasn’t the first time the woman had stayed for so long; she’d seen her yesterday, too. But, this wasn’t what struck Darlene the most. Instead, it was the wonder clearly written on the woman’s features that did. It was the awe in her eyes and her love for the piece that made something pull at Darlene’s heart.

No one was usually around at this time of night, though; she only assumed that the other was staff in the gallery as well.

So, Darlene being Darlene, walked over to the woman with a smile. Something was said between the woman and the painting, but she did not hear it. She felt like she shouldn’t have, though; whatever it was was a private conversation between a woman and an art piece. Though Darlene hated to separate and intrude, she was curious. And so, when she reached the woman, she said, “How long have you been working here? Did you make this painting? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

[kvnickie]

Hovering near a burnt out street light in the safety of the shadows, ears perking up a bit every time a distant sound in the night reached out, and icy blue irises already completely adjusted to the dark watching the otherwise empty streets for any sign of life — it was mostly like any other night for the resident drug dealer. Although he wasn’t bloodied or bruised from what a trip to the underground ring would have left him, Kenickie Lombardi was patiently waiting for one of his frequent clients with a nearly perfectly weighed eighth of an ounce of cocaine bagged and securely hidden in the zipped-up pocket of his jacket. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous life, like they made it out to be in the movies, but it was how he brought in fast money and lots of it.

The only thing keeping him company was half a pack of rolled tobacco and the flame from one of his cheap lighters. It was just after he lit up his third cigarette of the night that the faint clicking of heel hitting against pavement met his ears, blue eyes scanning his surroundings as a thick cloud of smoke gathered into the cool air, drifting from his nostrils. Finally making out the silhouette of a woman, after his eyes had wandered admiringly, Nick’s brow then furrowed. It wasn’t everyday you saw someone taking a late night stroll out in that part of town, especially not a lone woman. The reason for that being she would be easy prey to any creeps lurking around, which was evident even now as he spotted another silhouette through the thick darkness, one much more burly compared to the female. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was happening and what would happen if not interrupted soon.

Taking one last drag from the cigarette, Nick tossed it to the pavement and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot as he emerged from the shadows.

“Babe, where ya’ been?” Without a trace of hesitation, Nick’s arm lifted to slide around the woman’s shoulders and he gently hugged her into his side, which immediately put himself between the two, blocking her from the other man’s path. If this sketchy-looking guy had a whacky personality to match, there was no doubt that Nick could very well be putting himself into some type of danger, but that was honestly the last thing on his mind as he dipped his head in closer to the woman to make it look like he was about to plant a swift peck to her cheek. “Just go with it.” The whispered words drifted from his lips like velvet, low and smooth, but to the point in hopes that she’d realize he was only attempting to chase off the leech she’d picked up somewhere along the way. “Thought you were gonna leave me hangin’ out here all night.” Although he made certain to keep that superficial cheery tone to his gravelly voice, the lopsided smile perfectly displaying pearly white teeth across his chiselled features even as Nick’s icy glare fixed on the opposing man, who seemed to have immediately backtracked once the dealer came into eyesight. It was the exact fumbled reaction that he’d predicted, but he wasn’t about to leave this lone woman’s side just yet, in case the stalking creep was still lurking in the shadows, waiting.

“Walk with me,” was all he instructed, his firm grip loosening around her shoulders. Benefits of growing up in Sacramento, Nick knew these streets like the back of his hand, so he figured escorting her to the twenty-four hour cafe, about a couple blocks away, would be the best thing to do. “So, dunno if you noticed, but you’re in a real shitty part of town. What’re you doing out here so late, lady?”

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

This wasn’t the savior she was looking for, nor was it the way out she had been hoping for. When Darlene prayed to Jesus, she was hoping he’d send someone less like this man and more like herself. What use would that be, though? What use would it be to have another woman in danger with her? Perhaps her mother was right: God knew the situation better than anyone else did. Perhaps. Or, maybe god wasn’t listening. Perhaps he wanted to strike down from heaven and play a trick on the child who abandoned him when she was fifteen. Even if that were the case though, Darlene didn’t have much room to complain. She was in a shady part of town in the middle of the night, with nobody by her side save for this man who appeared to be more friend than foe.

She would take what she had.

And so, she did not flinch, did not back away, did not remove herself from this man’s grasp. Instead, she gave a laugh --- airy and nervous, but a laugh all the same --- and said, “Well, I like to keep you on your toes. It keeps us strong.” Her tone was as perky as his, but she looked into his eyes then and saw the blue of them, the fatigue in them, and mouthed a word of gratitude in his direction. He was not her answered prayer, but he was greater than that. He was safety, protection. And, true enough, this proved itself in the form of the other man walking away. Darlene did not look behind her, but she could tell that he did leave. She could tell that this kind stranger’s plan had worked.

It did not even occur to her that she had another man to fend off now. Instead, she saw him as someone to thank. As someone to appreciate. Darlene was as Darlene was, believing in the good of the world despite the horrors it presented. It was the good in the heart of this man that made her believe, even if he did not believe in the good himself. As they walked and his grip around her loosened, she flashed another smile at him --- with only a hint of an apology riddled in it. “I’m so sorry I was a bother,” she said. “I’m sure you had other things to do, but thank you anyway for coming to rescue me.” There was something sincere in her words, something genuine. The tone translated to the look in her eyes as well, though it was dark and she doubted this man could see the brown of her eyes. “I--- I got lost. I was walking home from work, and I thought I was taking the shortcut, but. I ended up somewhere else, and now I’m here.”

Someone should have told Darlene Morales to stay away, to leave now while it was possible. But, as the stranger’s arm rested on her shoulders, and as she looked back to the street that they walked on, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Little did she know she was walking into the best and worst thing that had ever happened in her life. Little did she know she was welcoming Kenickie Lombardi into her life. In this moment, she was simply walking. In this moment, he was simply a good man and she, a woman in need.

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

STRANGER DANGER / DARLENE & NICK --- @kvnickie

This was a fact: Darlene Morales was often lost. She got lost listening to conversations she was not supposed to hear, got lost looking into the eyes of those who surrounded her as she searched for friendship, got lost thinking to herself in the middle of the street in the middle of the night. Had she been lost at any other time of the day, she would not have minded --- but she was where she was, which was, to say, in the middle of nowhere. The night was dark, and the streets darker. Something heavy hung in the air, and something worse told her it was not good to be alone.

As she walked down a street whose name remained unknown, it was not of any question that the man who walked three arms’ length away was following her. What was of question was where she’d picked him up, where she’d stumbled along his path, but the answers to these questions were neither here nor there as she clung to herself in discomfort. Darlene liked to think of the good in the world, of the good in people, but she was not naive either. She’d heard of what took place when women walked in the dark by themselves. She knew what could happen now that she was in this position.

Her only goal now, then, was to find some place the moon shone upon and people occupied. If she could find a place with more people, she would be safe. Perhaps she would lose the stalker behind her. Perhaps she could cry for help there. However, as she took turn after turn after turn, the night only seemed to get deeper. The darkness enveloped her surroundings, making her cower in fear even further. Under her breath was a silent prayer to the god her mother believed in, a god she had long abandoned. Jesus would not take kindly to her looking for his help, but Darlene promised him she would go to church after this, if she arrived home safe and untouched.

Her prayers seemed unheard. Her cries were silent within herself, but her fear was loud. And the man behind her could sense this, perhaps. As Darlene stopped in front of a crossroads, the man’s steps behind her quickened. Faster and faster and faster, they approached her. Faster and faster and faster, in the dark of the night, her heart raced.

And then, suddenly, her prayers had been answered in the form of another man’s arm around her.

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

BELLE TO REMEMBER / DARLENE & ASTRID — @astridfvck

It had been three weeks since Sacramento, three weeks since Darlene promised herself things would change. And yet, it quite felt like she’d moved only yesterday, and that everything was the same. She had a job now, which was fortunate, but life was life — and it weighed her down all the same. This did not change; this remained. Perhaps the one good thing was that her pieces were finally being showcased in the little gallery she worked for. This was something different.

It was different, and, for a split moment in time, it was enough. As Darlene watched the worker hang up her newest painting on the wall, a surge of pride overcame her. This was it, she told herself, this is the beginning. The smile on her face was a soft one, but it beamed. The glint in her eyes were bright. When a woman approached the newly hung painting, Darlene only perked up even more.

Without hesitation, she approached the woman who was looking up at her painting. It was probably wrong of her to ask the question she was about to, but Darlene couldn’t help herself. She asked, “Do you like it?” The answer to this could make or break her. The answer to this could tear her apart. But, as she looked up at her painting, proud and happy, she knew that it was something to be proud about either way — no matter what the woman said.

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

out of character—

details about me and my character Darlene below the cut!

Hi hi hi! I’m Ysa and it’s super lovely to meet all of you! I’m so excited for this roleplay! More about me: I want to be Bob Morley’s girlfriend one day, and aspire to be more than just a human potato. Here’s stuff about my character Darlene!

so she grew up with her mother who took care of her and loved her. they are v close, like they share secrets and stuff like that.

she loves cooking because her mother is THE BEST COOK in the entire world and Darlene learned a lot from her.

but her passion is art! it’s been her dream to go to art school ever since she could remember. and, when it was time, she was able to go. she graduated with flying colors and all was well.

however, on her first job as an artist, darlene tried too hard and went overboard. she defied her bosses’ wishes and went against what they wanted because she didn’t like the concept they were going for. (she was a designer for a toy company, btw.) so they fired her and it broke her heart.

still, she tries and tries and tries. however, her previous boss is very powerful and has kind of… tainted her name for other people? he’s like “don’t hire her she’s trash” and ofc other ppl believe him because u know… powerful white man what’s she gon do

so anyway this all happened in brooklyn right… and now she moved to sacramento for a new start and things are going well so far she has a job at a little gallery and she’s afraid she might blow shit up again but she’s trying her best!

[dvrlenemorvles-blog]

DARLENE MORALES + aesthetic board           look who's digging their own grave / that is what they all say

[anakkin]

‘please,’ i whisper, ‘let me heal you.’ let me wash your the blood away from your wounds in moonlight. let me kiss your skin and clear the bruises, ugly purple flowers blooming across your face. let me rub a salve of nectar across your cuts. you are strong, but you are not indestructible.  ‘please,’ i beg, ‘let me help you.’ let me wipe the tears running down your cheeks. let me hold you in my arms and warm your icy skin. let me loosen your tired, overworked muscles. let me wrap a blanket around your shoulders on those awful nights, so bitterly cold your very soul could freeze. you are brave, but you are not fearless. ‘please,’ i cry, ‘let me love you.’ let me weave your fingers between mine and hold them there. let me patch the bleeding hole in your heart from trying so hard to be strong. let me cry with you on the top of the bridge. let me take away the hurt that plagues your mind. let me fall asleep on your beating heart with no fear that it will have stopped by morning. you are a hero, but all heroes are predestined for tragedy.

before i can’t | a.w.

[shitedits]

like if u save/use