Simone’s bio simplified: She's an actress, yes you've heard of her, yes you've seen her in that one movie/billboard/commercial. She started as a child actor and has been in the spotlight ever since. In terms of popularity, think a Lindsey Lohan who grew up into an Anne Hathaway. She stopped aging a few years back and unfortunately people are starting to take notice, including hunters. Which is why she took up the Council's generous invitation to learn more about who she is... and how to get back in the limelight as soon as possible.
Or read the full bio here.
Fun Facts:
Full name is Simone Santos Oliveira, but for professional purposes, she just goes by Simone Oliveira.
Currently living in the Emerald Hotel as she's not planning for a long stay. You wouldn't have guessed that by the large amount of luggage she brought, though.
Being a generous and kind soul, when she found out the local library didn't carry all of her films, she donated five copies of each one. She cares about culture.
Simone wants to make her directorial debut soon and is trying to figure out how soon she can make her way back to Hollywood to do so.
She's a bit useless without her personal assistant, so she brought them with her. It's fine, they wanted to come, really! They signed the waiver and everything.
Has had her actual age and birthdate scrubbed from the internet and any records possible.
Connection Ideas:
Set Serendipity: If you've had a job in the industry before, they could have met once or twice. Whether they were an actor as well, someone on the crew, or anyone on set, we can make it work.
Famous Friends: If your muse has been famous or rubbed elbows with the rich and famous, Simone could have seen them at a party or fundraiser or other function.
Fae-mily: Simone is trying to learn more about who and what she is, so she's more likely to open up to another fae, especially another pixie, if it means she can get out of Lunar Cove faster.
A Reason to Stay: I mean, she just needs lasting connections so I can make it harder for her to logically leave Lunar Cove lmfao
For the rich and famous, the only thing you can't buy, is time. No matter how powerful, how many yachts they own, or how many politicians are in their pocket, time comes for them all. Heartthrobs watch their hairlines recede and their skin fold into wrinkles as time takes its dues. If you're human, at least.
If one is lucky enough to dip their toes in the fountain of youth, it may go unnoticed for a few years. They're young, in fitness ads, take care of themselves and have all the money in the world for trainers and dieticians. Sure, maybe after a few more years, everyone whispers about the work they must have had done, a nip here and a tuck there to keep that youthful glow. But when a decade passes and your face seems frozen in time, hands still youthful and firm —and you can always tell by someone's hands, they say— those envious glances start to sharpen with suspicion. And before the age of smartphones and the internet, it was a lot easier for an ageless being to float through life.
It was just Simone's luck that she was born in the wrong era. Not in a "I wish I could have seen Nirvana live," or "I should have been a princess," kind of way, don't get it twisted. Simone had her bedazzled flip phone glued to her hand as soon as she got one, and some of her escapades caught by TMZ would have had her beheaded in an earlier era. But with her face now frozen in time, it was impossible to lurk in the shadows as those before her once did.
Simone wasn't meant to be in the shadows, anyway. Before she could walk, she was scouted in a mall to be a Gerber baby. Though her mother showed hesitation at first, the yellow notices on their door were beginning to turn red, and it was just one photoshoot. Until it was two, and then three, and then an acting stint on a sitcom with residuals that finally got her family out of the red. Before Simone was ten, she was the breadwinner of the family, and though she didn't choose to be in the spotlight at first, she flourished in it.
As someone who grew up as a child actress, it was easy to assume she didn't take her job seriously, but when she stepped on a set, it was clear to everyone in the room why she skyrocketed so quickly. She wasn't riding on past fame and her name to snag the latest roles, she sank into each character she read for, and stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. With her name splashed over tabloids and photos on gossip blogs after a long night out, it was easy to mistake her for a washed up brat clinging to fame. But no one could deny that she had raw talent, and honed skills. Instead of getting chewed up and spat out by the Hollywood machine, like many other child actors, Simone clawed her way up and refused to let go of her success. Sure, she might be out clubbing with her friends for the entire weekend, but even if she showed up with puffy eyes and the remnants of a hangover, she never missed a day on set or caused trouble for the crew. It was just a matter of time before she hit the prime of her life. Which was the problem.
For most of her life, Simone thought she was human, as most humans do, except for that small gap of time when children are convinced they're witches or have telekinetic powers. It wasn't until she turned twenty that her past came crashing to catch up to her. Only, it wasn't her past, exactly. Though she often tended to have luck on her side, and found people would be instantly sympathetic towards her when she brushed her hand on their arm, it didn't seem out of the ordinary. She was just lucky and sympathetic and everyone loved her, it just made sense. Until a crazed stalker broke into her house and started screaming about past lives and how they were meant for each other. With a knife in their hand, pacing back and forth, Simone thought it was just another deranged fan, and called for her security. It wasn't until they were being dragged out that they lunged at her and Simone felt her world slow to a stop.
Though she could see the stalker in ripped jeans and a hoodie in front of her, another, older, memory was overlayed of the same crazed person in threadbare clothes from another time. Pain seared through her head as other memories flooded in, jagged and disjointed, not fitting into any gaps of her current memory. She felt people trying to hold her up, and realized she'd collapsed. Blood spilled out from her chest and she screamed, only noticing a second too late that the blood she saw was staining an old plain cotton dress, and not the designer silk pajamas she put on that evening. The doctor they called said it was shock, that having an intruder break in could cause such trauma, so Simone took the Xanax handed to her and tried to shake off that clinging eerie feeling.
The next morning, Simone felt her world shift on its axis. The girl who wanted more than anything to be seen, had an invisible hand. She screeched and fell out of bed, shaking her hands like an etch-a-sketch with a messed up picture she couldn't erase. Before she could call someone, anyone, her perfect manicure faded back into view. She was going insane. Another Xanax should take care of that, right? Except it was Friday the 13th, which should mean nothing to a normal human except a discounted tattoo. Unfortunately for her, it was her first full strength day of misfortune. Everything that could go wrong, did. For the first time in her life, she was late to set after getting stuck in traffic, spilling coffee all over herself in her car, and breaking her heel before she could trip into her trailer. She just needed to calm down, take another Xanax, and-- and then her wings popped out. Shimmering gossamer wings, the color of her favorite lip gloss were now fluttering through the holes in her new (now stained) couture top. Xanax could not fix this.
For the first time, she earned the title that they'd always been itching to throw at her: diva. Simone absolutely refused to get out of her trailer until her assistant could bring her a huge parka to hide her wings. In the middle of summer in LA. After shooting was cancelled for the day, Simone shuffled into her car and did what anyone would do in her situation: she googled. Unfortunately for her, 'invisible hand, memories I don't remember, bad luck, sudden wings,' didn't pull up many results. The Mayo Clinic helpfully suggested psychosis. To anyone outside her car watching her scream while gripping the steering wheel, they might consider that a fair assessment.
It would take a few weeks before Simone knew what was going on with her. Although she'd accepted that she saw random visions occasionally (which were coming less frequently now) of a past life or imagined life or something, the wings were what threw her off. They came at odd moments, without warning, just fluttering and sparkling and, okay, yeah, they were pretty, but it was weird! She felt more like a vampire with how she only went out at night now, under thick jackets, just in case her wings decided to act up. She was drowning her sorrows in an Oreo McFlurry and handfuls of fries when she heard a knock on her window. A tired young witch in a McDonalds uniform reeking of stale oil motioned for her to roll down her window. She opened it a crack, grateful she decided to wear her sunglasses, despite the late time of night.
"Can you please stop screaming?" Simone recoiled, expecting more of the usual, 'Wow, I loved you in that one thing you were in, you're my idol!' that she usually got. "The word you're looking for is fae. You're a fae, okay? Now can you please shut up? Your thoughts are so loud I can still hear it in the kitchen and my shift doesn't end for another hour." Before Simone could pick her jaw up off the floor or ask what the witch was telling her, the teen began to mimic her thoughts out loud. After they were satisfied, they turned on their heel and went back into the building. Unfortunately, Simone's brain was now racing as she pulled out of the parking lot.
It would take years before Simone got a grip on her new... affliction, but once she uncovered her talents, it became a lot more bearable. Actually, it was really fucking useful. Instead of worrying about bad paparazzi shots, she could go invisible when needed. If she wanted to get somewhere her name wouldn't take her, her stroke of luck sure would sweep her up. Work picked up again and after she sweet-talked the producers of the film she almost ruined when she first found out she was a faerie, those nasty rumors about being hard to work with soon dissipated.
Simone was at the height of her career when someone first mentioned it, how young she looked. Flattered, of course, Simone giggled and rolled her eyes at the compliment. She was a movie star with more money than she could ever use in her lifetime, and employees that did everything stressful for her. Of course she could avoid early grays or sagging skin when she'd been using skincare diligently since she was a pre-teen. But when five years passed, and then ten, and she still looked twenty-two? It was harder to avoid the scrutiny. Only Simone would be persecuted for the crime of being too pretty for too long. No matter how many skincare ads she was in, or gym partnerships she promoted, it was getting harder to keep reciting her daily health routine through gritted teeth. Losing the ability to lie was probably the worse drawback of her newfound species, but she found ways around it to hide how she somehow tapped into the fountain of youth.
It was a fucking Reddit thread that became her downfall. One of her haters, probably, compared a photo of Simone from a recent Oscars red carpet to one ten years ago, her face identical, spouting conspiracy theories about the illuminati. If that wasn't bad enough, other commenters added photos of an old Brazilian singer who looked so similar, if not a tad bit older, than Simone. She had passed the same year that Simone was born. Her assistant was confused when Simone ordered her to scrub the forum, no matter how much it cost. But even after they managed to get it down, the internet, unfortunately, was forever.
Although Simone was content to keep pushing through life, ignoring the envious and suspicious whispers, not everyone else was happy with that decision. After she'd gotten the same questions over and over again, Simone got a bit too cheeky when she was asked once again, What's your secret? "Well, I promise I'm not a vampire, I only played one on TV," she said with a wink and thought nothing of it. Until she had a Council member on her doorstep the next day, a tired glare on their face as they informed her that she was dangerously close to breaking The Accords. Which, unfair, honestly. How was she supposed to know she was breaking some made up laws for fantasy people in a town she'd never heard of? "Well I can't lie, so what do you want me to do about it?" Was not, apparently, what she was supposed to ask. Because the answer was, "Lay low and stop drawing attention to yourself." It was like asking Simone not to breathe, which she was technically already doing since she gasped so quickly.
Leaving the limelight was absolutely not in her cards. When she tried to argue with them that she wasn't about to end her career because some weirdo told her to, they gave her a tight-lipped smile before telling her it would be her only warning. Then they disappeared, somewhere, somehow. Magic, maybe? Since magic was a thing, according to them. Instead of faking her death or even a long rehab stint until she was forgotten in the public's eyes (which hurt to think about), Simone just made sure no more questions about her appearance would be asked. "It's reductive and sexist. No one asks George Clooney about getting work done," she said with a huff to her assistant as they scribbled it onto their list of questions to avoid for future interviews. Trying to push away the thought of her odd visitor, she picked up the latest script her agent dropped off and grinned. It was Oscar-bait tied up in a bow.
Unfortunately, the next bow Simone saw was being aimed towards her, with an arrow drawn back taught. She was never fucking hiking in the hills again. The man spat the word fairy at her and sneered, leaving her confused for a second. Because yeah, she wasn't straight, but wasn't that slur usually reserved for men? Wait, was it sexist to think that? It wasn't until one of the others said something about using her wings as trophies that her eyes widened. Well if they already fucking knew, she had nothing to lose. With all the strength she had left after the first part of her ruined hike, Simone made herself invisible and popped her wings out to fly as quickly as she could towards her car. Her hands shook as she yanked open her glove compartment to find the name of that place that weirdo was talking about. Maybe she could have a rehab stint, after all.
open starter ft. anyone, located outside of boba cha. (00/05)
josie stepped out of boba cha with her drink in one hand and her phone in the other, already distracted by a string of texts she probably should've ignored. she was so focused on typing out a reply that she didn't notice someone approaching until it was far too late. her shoulder collided with theirs, and suddenly her freshly purchased brown sugar milk tea was no longer in her hand. "oh shit!" she yelped, watching in horror as the cup went airborne. the lid popped off mid-flight, sending tea and boba pearls scattering dramatically across the sidewalk before the empty cup clattered to the ground.
"oh darn it!" for a long moment, josie simply stared at the mess, looking like she'd just witnessed a personal tragedy. then her gaze slowly lifted to the stranger she'd run into. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to bump into you. i just-- i got really distracted with summer break."
Deciding to take this opportunity as a vacation, Simone started exploring the quaint little town. Her first stop, of course was for food. Since she didn't have any shoots coming up, she could loosen her diet a tad and not worry about having to do a juice cleanse for three days if she gained an extra pound. Just as she was about to walk into a promising boba shop, a meet-cute unfolded in front of her, clumsy heroine and all. As the cup did gymnastics in front of her, Simone stepped slightly to the side, avoiding any splashback as the tiny boba pearls bounced off the sidewalk. She had a satisfied grin as she thanked her pixie luck keeping her designer outfit safe. Pixie, which she'd just found out she was, outside of the larger label of fae. The romcom lead in front of her popped Simone out of her bubble as she spoke.
"Oh, you're fine, it happens all the time," Simone said gracefully, not offering any help as she brushed off imaginary milk tea. She squinted at the woman in front of her. "Summer break? From school?" Maybe there was a Benjamin Button type of fae here too, where kids look older than they're supposed to be? "Wait, how did summer break distract you from walking?" Simone asked, before she could think better of it.
Option A: Reese with the possibly possessed table at the Holiday Market
"Alright listen, I don't care what the flyer said, absolutely no possessed items allowed in White Elephant this year, got it?" For once in her life, Reese was dead serious. She stood near a table selling antiques, hands on her hips as she eyed the salesperson. Someone neared the booth and Reese pivoted around to make sure the new customer heard her as well. "If you're getting something possessed, you can't bring it to White Elephant, got it? I will not have another spirit in my chimney. Keep your possessed possessions at home!"
Option B(ea): Bea Builds A (ginger)Bread House at Rose Tinted
"No, no it's fine, I got it," Bea said, her tongue sticking out as she tried to glue the two gingerbread walls together. They slid apart just as quickly. "It's just this fu-- this royal icing." She narrowed her eyes at the swinging kitchen door. "This is definitely from a kit. I shouldn't make my own, right? Do you think they would let me make my own icing? Maybe I could ask." She turned to the person at a nearby table with their own gingerbread house kit, "Is the icing giving you trouble too or am I being sabotaged?"
"Nothing to run to," Ronnie muttered. As much as she hated it, there wasn't really anything for her out there. Less that was here, even if that wasn't much, either. She had parents who thought she was dead, and she had whoever it was that caught up to and killed her sire, and she had little else. She had nothing else, out there. The only solace was that it wasn't here. She snorted. "Tell that to that girl that died a couple of months ago. That wasn't even a hunter. And, like, Jesus, the people that have been tortured and had their organs removed. Oh, hey, and, you know, whatever's going on with our abilities and the humans and shit. The devil's starting to get a little unknown."
Her head tipped to the side in surrender. Couldn't really argue against that, and well Bea didn't particularly feel the need to. Devil could advocate for himself. "Okay, maybe less 'the devil you know' and more 'the casket you know'." She said with a shrug. "But uh, hey if I get any visions about you I'll try to give you a heads up, at least?" It was half a joke, half an attempt at comfort, but what comfort could she really offer when they faced death from all sides? Even her ability to see death coming didn't give her a chance to avoid it. They were sitting ducks, hoping their clocks wouldn't run out too soon. Bea let out a heavy sigh, "At least we still have a drive-in?"
reese: i'm not rich, my daddies are!!
reese: it really is still their building you know
reese: they just make me work day in and day out to keep it running 😔
"Oh, yeah? Something drags you back, huh? Like... demons from hell or some shit?" Ronnie asked, raising an eyebrow. If she thought she wouldn't be killed pretty quickly after leaving, if she thought she could somehow manage to make a living and be a person out there, Ronnie would leave Lunar Cove in a heartbeat. But, unfortunately, she felt stuck. Addie was here. She'd somehow started caring about people, as stupid as it felt now. She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Seems sort of pointless, if I'd just end up back here. Or dead. But, like, who knows? Maybe hunters and mad scientists and who knows what else will take us down here?"
"Something like that," Bea agreed, thinking of her mother passing, bringing her back the first time. Then it was her father, pushing her back to safety. Well, safer than back home, he thought. She sighed, wondering if it was defeat that colored Ronnie's voice or something else. "I mean, it might be worth a try. As long as you're running towards something and not just away from here, you know? Those things have a way of catching up to you." She gave Ronnie a sardonic smile, "But I guess hunters can catch up pretty quick too. It's the lesser of two evils, but it's true what they say about the devil you know. At least we have a fighting chance here."
Suresh narrowed his eyes and pursed up his lips in displeasure. "Don't go to many Lunar Cove shindigs, do you, love? There's bloody potions left, right, and center at every single one. People just toss them back like tequila. Baffling to me, mind you. But do they...do they make you take potion class in witch school? Wait. Wait. It's because I'm English, innit? You're making fun of me?" Scoffing, he turned up his nose. He hated that book series, and he would not entertain it. Still, this idea seemed to strike him. "Like...we make a clone to do nefarious experiments on? It's a little sci-fi horror, wouldn't you say? What if it turns on us?" He shook his head. "And doesn't she have to bloody reabsorb the clone or whatever...? Like a sponge. So is it ethical to test on the Supreme is the real question. And I'm not the one to answer because I don't think you'll like it."
Reese rolled her eyes, as though she wasn't like, the life of every Lunar Cove party. "Duh, but we make those," she said, pointing to herself. "I know every witch in town who's capable of making a potion and well— parties are different," she shrugged. Also she was probably drunk so potion safety wasn't on her mind then. "Uh no there's no witch school, but like, you gotta learn how to make them somehow, you know? That's kinda what the Coven is for, teaching you witch things." She wiggled her fingers at him, in a magicky way.
"Uh I don't think it would turn on us, because it's still Poppy. But is it still a person? Like does it count as unethical if it just goes back into Poppy?" Sometime she did forget that Poppy wasn't just her best friend, but also The Supreme, leader of witches, and kind of A Big Deal. "I mean, if we ask and she says yes, it would be fine, right?" Her eyes flicked back to the mystery concoction. "Well if you don't want to use the clone, then I guess you gotta use it yourself. I'll watch though, call 911 or whatever if you keel over."
" You could say that again." There was a lightness in his tone even if his arms were crossed. The mess was evident to anyone even before stepping into New Leaf. "How bad was the damage after that? I assume there's a few wine stains somewhere you'll never get out." The thought did cause him to cringe. Daniel was someone who prided himself on being a cleanly person. So, you could imagine his skin was crawling this entire time seeing his beloved store in ruins. "I can offer them now if you help me out." He would have offered them regardless but he could use a bit of help if he was going to reopen tomorrow as she suggested. "Some people are very particular about what they like. I do think it's a bit rude to return something. A gift is a gift. Whether it's good or bad there was thought behind it." He paused, lips pursed. "Although, the history of yeast isn't exactly thrilling."
"Wine stains?" Reese's loud laugh rang through the empty store. "Oh yeah, and about half my furniture got smashed. I think there was also a demon or a spirit or something that got released? Did a number on my fireplace. But yeah, 'mess' is a pretty good word for it."
Now, Reese wasn't really the helping type, unless it was helping Poppy, or helping Nico reacquaint his face with a pile of dirt, but well she owed Will. "Alright, what do you need done, Bookman?" Telekinesis had to be her favorite gift behind the ability to control fire, as it let her lift up a pile of books near the man with a small gesture from her finger. "See, I think it's mean too! But my dad always said, 'Reese, a gift shouldn't be a burden,'" her voice deepened comically to mimic him before she sighed. "And sure yeast isn't thrilling but like, are you readers really looking for a thrill? Sitting there? Turning pages?" She rose a single brow at him, not really meaning it as an insult, but. Come on. "Isn't the most thrill you all get like from a paper cut?"
The pink building of the bakery was easily spotted, being in the same neighbourhood helped more with that. If only everything else had been that easy. Zeke didn't really want to dwell on how long this had taken—both in the actual act of baking and in following through with his plan of food bribery. He'd wanted to do this not long after they first met, but the universe had other ideas. In any case, he refused to waste any more time. Despite a few failed attempts that had consumed more ingredients than he cared to admit, he finally had something that looked decent enough.
Pushing aside the embarrassment that began to flush his cheeks as a few patrons turned their curious glances his way at carrying baked goods into a bakery, Zeke, caught Bea's attention "Hi!" he greeted with a small swave and a warm smile, as he held up the treats, "I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" he asked, holding up the box. "Hoping ube cookies and leche flan work as a bribe and apology."
The last thing Bea expected as she slid the last tray of sugarplum danishes into the display case was to see a hand holding pastries not made in their own kitchen. A startled laugh fell out of her mouth as she took in the man bravely carrying in outside pastries to Doce. "Uh no, no, not a bad time at all. Oh my god, you made these? Flan?" A small childlike giggle threatened to spill out in excitement. "I have no idea what you're apologizing for, but I love a pastry apology." She held her hands out expectantly and tried not to pry the cookies away from him. "Ah, actually, come on back to my office. I think one of my employees is going to bust that vein in his forehead if you stay out here any longer." Opening the latched counter, she escorted Ezekiel toward the kitchen. "Do you want a coffee? Oh--" She spun back towards the display case, nearly bumping into him. "Trade! Do you see anything you want?" It wasn't like her to be all over the place, but maybe it was the thought of mouthwatering flan that had her flustered.
an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for DANIEL RILEY set at new leaf bookstore !!
It was not a shock to anyone that Daniel Riley spent most of his time at his bookstore. The last bookstore he owed the man had made it a mission for the shop to be his safe haven. For a few years it had been until that fateful Valentine's day. With New Leaf, his continued that promise, knowing in his soul that the chances of this once actually being safer were higher. The store was not safe from the chaos that had endued. Thankfully, the damage was minimal. It was mostly scattered books and torn pages. A few furniture pieces may need to be replaced but it was nothing too serious.
currently, daniel was putting away newer books on the shelves when he heard the front door bell ring. "Oh, sorry we're closed." he paused, realizing his answer was short. "We're closed for the day due to ... mess. we'll be open tomorrow."
"Oh right, mess days are shit for business around here," Reese said as she strolled in anyway. A conversation was an invitation, right? Well at least she wasn't a vampire so she didn't actually have to worry about the specifics. "One year after I hosted White Elephant I had to have a mess week to get the Inn back in shape." She leaned against a nearby shelf once she found the source of the voice. "So, tomorrow, when you're open, would you have a recommendation for a gift for a nerd who goes through books like water?" Plucking a nearby book off a shelf, Reese thumbed through the pages out of boredom. "Nerds are so hard to shop for you, you know? Get them the wrong book and they're like "where's the receipt?' 'why would you get me a book about the history of yeast?' like calm down buddy, a book is a book. You're welcome, you know?"
Ronnie was looking for cheap wine. It could be in a bottle. It could be in a box. She really didn't care which. Just cheap. Just booze. The plan for the evening was, if she didn't find someone else to go home with, to mope around Addie's van until Addie left to find someone to go home with. Whichever came first. Again, she didn't care. She didn't care about much of anything. Ronnie just needed something she could afford. Which, being broke and mooching off of her less broke older sister, wasn't exactly top shelf choices.
Except, for some reason, the cheapest box of wine in the store just so happened to be out of reach. She stood up on her toes, but the tips of her fingers only barely brushed against it. "Son of a-- Hey, do you think you could grab that for me?" she asked the person on the same aisle.
Option B
Where: Country Club
"Hey, could you move over, like, just a little bit? You're sort of blocking my light," Ronnie said, not looking up from her book. It's not quite fall, so she decided to take every last opportunity she could to ignore whatever it was that was going on around them and soak up the last few decent rays of sunlight. Lounging by the pool required no money and no real effort on her part. She could not give a fuck about what was going on around her in peace. Until, at least, the next mad scientist decided to fuck around with their insides. That would be fun.
Except she was still being interrupted. Ronnie looked up, glaring from behind her sunglasses as she tried to make out the person blocking her natural lighting. "Can I help you?"
Option C
Where: Anywhere outside, night
"Do you ever think of just... getting up and moving?" Ronnie asked, something quiet and vulnerable in her voice. She looked up at the stars, clearing making out some of the constellations that were written so readily all over her body. "Like, is it really that much worse out there?" Granted, Cain had died out there. There were a lot of hunters out there. But was it really worse than living in a fish bowl? Than being someone's science experiment? She couldn't really decide.
Ronnie leaned back in the grass. It was a little damp, dew just starting to blanket the world around them. It might have bothered her more a long time ago. Now, she just couldn't bring herself to care all that much.
Bea's sharp laugh cut through still thick silence of the night. She wasn't trying to be mean or make fun of Ronnie, but if only she knew how hard Bea tried just that. "Yeah, it uh... it didn't stick." Holding up her hand with two fingers up, she said, "I tried twice. It doesn't really seem like much of a choice, honestly. Something always drags you back." Her hand fell to the ground with a slightly wet thud. "You know, it feels like it's less about the outside world than you think. Once Lunar Cove has its claws in you, it has a way to keep pulling you back in." She turned her head to face Ronnie, "You thinking of trying to cut and run?"
Open starter @lunarcovestarters (Limiting at 5)
Option A
Location: Suresh's Suite, The Emerald Hotel
"Mate. Mate. Listen. Listen. It might absolutely be safe. It's not illegal. It's just not approved yet. I can't lie to you. Don't worry about where I got it from. Maybe there was a bachelorette party doing bloody makeovers in one of the suites. Maybe they liked me so much they were willing to part with some product." Holding up a nondescript, unlabeled container of what seemed to be some kind of cosmetic, Suresh gave a huff. "I won't be using it, of course. Maybe it's water-based. Maybe it'll give me a bloody tail. But maybe it'll make your skin silky smooth. Maybe it'll make your lips full and kissable. I'm trying to help you. Would I ever do you wrong?"
Option B
Location: The Edge of the Woods
"No. No. No. You stay there!" Suresh had been jogging, of all things, deigning to commit to physical activity now that multiple people had told him his looks were not the most important thing about him. Of course they were. Still, when he heard the crunch of nearby footsteps in the dead grass, he tugged the ear bud from his ear and moved into a defensive position. His eyes glowed, light flickering in and out as clouds gathered overhead, as though he would strike any wayward hunter down with a bolt of lightning. He sighed, though, in recognition, letting the dramatic display fade. "Oi! What the fuck are you creeping about for? I was going to fry you. And then it would be an incident. We'd have to go to a meeting."
Reese pursed her lips at the mystery container, "The first thing they teach you in potions is to never take a potion you or a trusted person didn't make..." And sure this wasn't a potion, but she thought the same probably applied here. "Hmm... oh! Maybe we can get Poppy to make a duplicate and have the clone use it?" She raised her eyebrows, hoping it was a good solution. "Wait, is that like unethical or whatever? Clone testing? Like animal testing but worse?"
"Ah, I don't speak Portuguese, unfortunately," he said with a slight click of his tongue, but his expression brightened when she mentioned French. "Oh! You're a baker, that's cool. I lived in France for a few years, so I'm fluent in French. Looks like we've got another in common," he said, holding up two fingers. "Oh? Why is that something people expect?" He wasn't sure how things worked in the state she mentioned. "Spanish I know pretty well," he continued, holding up another finger. "There are a lot of loanwords from it in Tagalog, so that overlap helped. That was Cebuano. It ranks a bit higher than Tagalog for me. I'm from Cebu Island, so that's my local language. But I also know Tagalog too, since it's the most common across the islands." There were more he knew, but they weren't among the ones she mentioned. Still, three was pretty good. "Seems that way. I met another yesterday who said he also left and came back."
Zeke had thought that by talking sleep's grip lessened on him, but when it came to actually needing to think, he was back to wading through a foggy mind. "Well, I was going to ask if I could pay for your drink, but then realised you likely already did..." he murmured, "Then had another bright idea of making you a sweet treat later but you turned out to be a baker... I'm not entirely terrible but can't exactly bribe a baker with baked goods now can I?" He ducked his head sheepishly, cheeks warming with a shy smile. "Food bribery is all I know, unfortunately. Would you still indulge my ramblings by the goodness of your heart? Or do I have to keeping thinking?"
Bea didn't expect her smile to lift a bit higher as they ticked off another shared language. As much as Americans seemed to center themselves when it came to language, it was always nice to know a common language apart from English. The kinship felt closer, somehow. "So we've got English, French, and Spanish to play around with. I think we should be able to manage." She paused, realizing that despite her romanization of their shared language, he seemed far more well travelled outside of the continental US. "Ah well, California borders on Mexico, so when they see someone looking like me, that's the first guess. And Spanish tends to be spoken more than Portuguese so," she shrugged. "But Portuguese has a few loan words with Spanish too. Happens with colonization, sometimes," she joked. "Cebuano," she repeated, letting the vowels roll around on her tongue to get the pronunciation right, trying to commit it to memory. For what, she didn't know, but it felt important to remember at least the name of someone's language, even moreso if it was so rarely spoken.
Her lips twitched as his bribery dilemma. Poor thing was all out of options, or so he thought. "Well you're actually in luck. I'll let you in on a little secret, Ezekiel. I'm pretty well versed in food bribery. And no matter how good my own baked goods are? Nothing tastes quite as good as not having to make a butter croissant yourself," she laughed, hoping at least she didn't seem like the kind of person that would thumb her nose at pastries that weren't hers. She opened her mouth to welcome more of his ramblings when the barista behind the counter called out Ezekiel's name. "Ah-- what do you know, seems like you have all the luck today. No bribery needed after all." Leyla wasn't far behind with Bea's latte and a quick cheek peck over the counter. She stood to head back to the bakery, now that she could trust her new friend to retrieve his coffee in peace. "But if you do decide you want to bribe me with delicious baked goods, you can find me over at Dolce," she said, pointing behind her with her thumb. "Big pink building, only bakery in Lunar Cove, should be pretty easy to find if you're looking."
