SELF-PARA: The Edge
DATE: Wednesday, September 7 2005
LOCATION: Spare Room
GIF CREDIT: keetika
TLDR: Naomi still supports the staff in the kitchen, changes her mind on performing, gives an average performance of a talent (parts in bold are what your muse would be present for)
"Would it come off as needlessly dramatic if changed my mind?" Naomi asked quietly to the woman who had managed to strike mistrust, fear and tension in her: Mrs. Tristan. It hadn't been like her to be indecisive or to not consider her words as she said them and when she had chosen not to participate in the show, the sting of Sebastian's judgements and the glare of the eyes on her at her eulogy were freshly replaying themselves in her mind. As her day progressed, spent helping set up the Spare Room, helping prepare dinner and helping clean up, she still hadn't come up with a talent that she could display until washing the dishes, when the sharp edge of a knife gleamed against the above lighting. When Naomi learned from Mrs. Tristan that her name was still in the hat, she figured she had her answer.
It was not something she was eager to admit, but Naomi did find joy and entertainment in watching the others, admiring how they all came together, the beginning of their lives mostly complicated leading them there, and Richard's generosity allowed them to flourish. It made her miss him more than ever, wishing he was occupying one of those seats. She had just downed her shot from Frankie's fun talent, which including a lovely speech when she heard her own name called. For a moment, she wondered if it was worse to follow after Frankie, someone who possessed a warmth that Naomi never could.
Naomi left the room momentarily, questioning re-entering but doing so with a black slim, fabric case and the confidence that liquor could instill. "Um, hi. I wasn't going to do anything, I had a hard time coming up with something, but I hope you enjoy." Her voice was too quiet to reach the back of the room, and her nerves could be heard for those close enough. "As you all know, I make food." She didn't dare make more eye contact as she spoke, rather preparing for her performance by setting up a piece of plywood that had been found during the greenhouse cleanup, and unfolding the case to reveal her old knife collection, freshly sharpened of course. "I was lucky enough to learn from Pierre, go to culinary school and all of that. Richard was very supportive." She paused, reminding herself that this, their gathering, was for him. "I enjoy it a lot, but it doesn't make for the best show." Naomi ran her fingers down the handles of the knives, to select which one. "The way we used to blow off steam sometimes, might be." Naomi selected the one in her hand and threw the knife towards the thin piece of plywood, which landed on it but on the most outer ring of the target.
After throwing eight knives, Naomi managed to hit the center ring once, the target four times in total, and two which dropped to the floor. No bullseye, and it felt like another public embarrassment, which were starting to pile up this week. Naomi's skin felt hot as she collected the knives into the fabric case, did a small curtsy, thanking everyone, and returned to her seat. She sat back, unsure if Richard would be proud of that, of her, but hoping that he would be proud that she tried.
who: Sama and @naomikojima
where: Bolton, NY
when: morning, 7 September
Sama was beginning to feel like she was waiting for something that was never coming. She’d come back to Woodrow, something that she’d thought she’d never do, because she wanted to be of use. Starting the week with a scavenger hunt that Richard had planned made sense, even if it wasn’t strictly productive, but now they were three days into the week and working on a talent show. Admittedly, it was something Sama would have savored as a teenager, but not now. Not when there were more important things to do and, possibly more to the point, not when she hadn’t been en pointe in more than ten years.
The impatient energy that had been building beneath Sama’s skin was reaching a fever pitch and she knew she needed to do something about it before she did something stupid. It was easy to decide to get out of Woodrow, and easier to come up with an excuse. She explained to Mrs. Tristan that she needed specialized supplies to do calligraphy for the talent show and obtained a set of car keys.
Then, a long buried habit kicked in, and Sama set out in search of Naomi. She couldn’t be accused of skipping out on family bonding if Naomi came along with her, and she probably needed a dress for the gala just as much as Sama. There was no reason not to stretch the respite out by multitasking.
Sama wasn’t surprised to find Naomi in the kitchen, and smiled as she approached her. “I don’t know about you, but I seem to have neglected to pack my spare ball gown. Can I interest you in some last minute gala shopping?” Sama held up the car keys by way of an invitation.
Naomi had been in the kitchen, taking stock of the supplies in there, what needed to be sharpened, replaced etc. It really wasn't her business, this wasn't her kitchen anymore, but it helped to make her seem busy while the others prepared for the talent show. It was moments like these that really showcased how much creativity and showmanship her faux-siblings had, which Naomi couldn't relate to.
Hearing Sama's voice was a welcome distraction, and Naomi smiled before she even turned to face the other. "I think I'll end up in a Chef's coat since I'm on kitchen duty, but I will gladly welcome the adventure." Naomi set down what she had in her hands and made her way to join Sama. "Mind if I stop in at my room for my wallet and stuff?"
It wasn't as though they weren't allowed to leave, which made the fact that it felt like sneaking around confusing for Naomi. It seemed Sama had found the right excuse, or had stolen the car but Naomi was willing to trust the other. When Naomi emerged from her room, wallet in hand, she returned to Sama. "Are you really wearing a ball gown, though?"
open starter @woodrowhq
when: september 7th, lunch time
where: the main kitchen
a talent show? of all the random things to happen this week, that was not something mickey could have anticipated. it was also the last thing she would have wanted to do. she'd much rather go back to the day before and clean the greenhouse again if it meant getting out of preforming some talent she didn't posses in front of the others. mickey wasn't talented in the same ways as her siblings, she wasn't good at music or dancing, wasn't good with words to recite a poem or play. her talents were in her mind and that was all, but the idea of cleaning up after the fact was also not appealing. sitting at kitchen table with a plate in front of her, mickey tried to rack her brain for something to do or some way to get out of this without having to clean all night. "do you know what you're going to do?" mickey asked her company. "i have no idea what my talent could be."
As Naomi picked at a few remaining crumbs on her plate from lunch, her mind had been swirling with Mrs. Tristan's unexpected announcement. The greenhouse, served the estate better to be cleaned so Naomi could see why she insisted on that, but this was frivolous and for them. Was Mrs. Tristan softer now that she wasn't in charge of them in the same way? Had she been such a hardass to balance out Richard's demeanor? Her thoughts were interrupted by Mickey, asking a question that Naomi struggled to have an answer for.
"No, not at all. Right now, my front-runner is cleaning up the kitchen." Naomi had managed to work her up to being able to avoid doing cleanup, letter the less experienced staff handle it, but the risk of humiliation with the alternative was too great. "It's hard to make cooking exciting to watch, I'm not exactly an Iron Chef." Though, it was the host who brought the theatrics there.
Naomi looked at Mickey as she thought about the other carefully. Mickey was incredibly talented and gifted in Naomi's eyes, brilliant in some that so few people could even begin to understand. "I understand. You are really talented, it's the making it a show on short notice that's tricky." Her mouth turned down when Naomi realized she didn't have a good suggestion for Mickey. "You could always draw the constellations, though we would be probably be taking your word for it that it's accurate."
She thought back to what Mrs. Tristan said when she pitched the idea to them, when Naomi wondered if she had a medication issue or something to explain this idea. "Is there anything you liked to do here, back in the day?"
SELF-PARA: The Talent Show The Onlooker
DATE: Wednesday, September 7 2005
LOCATION: Hallway
GIF CREDIT: keetika
TLDR: Unwilling to repeat her embarrassment at the funeral, Naomi chooses to support the hardworking staff (but I will probably have her sneak out to catch glimpses later)
Mrs. Tristan had managed to make her way into Naomi's neutral books, until she strung two words together that made Naomi's mouth dry up when she heard them: talent show. It had seemed unusually whimsical for the woman to pitch, but knowing her fellow wards, she knew there would be some very excited to show off with all eyes on them. It was that very excitement that Naomi was eager to avoid, the sting of the funeral and Sebastian's critique of her eulogy were still fresh.
It wasn't as though she didn't entertain the idea, even going so far as to enter the Art Room, Music Room, Games Room and Kitchen to see if anything could stand out as a performance. Naomi was talented, she believed it and it seemed others did to, when it came to her culinary prowess. It wasn't a matter of not having a talent, but rather not one that made for great entertainment. She had considered proving how thinly she could cut something, but thought perhaps only Natalia would enjoy that. She had considered trying to find something she could make in front of them in the Spare room, but thought perhaps only Reuben would enjoy that. As much pride as Naomi had in her work, it couldn't be as entertaining as the others, and her talents were not varied enough to make up for it.
Once she had decided that there was no way she would be taking the stage to showcase, the new goal was to avoid whatever kind of negative impression that would give and the best way to avoid all of that, was being busy and helpful. Naomi knew that there would be enough to clean up after dinner and during the show to keep her busy. It would be the hours before while the others were practicing that would be crucial.
It was during her walking around, in an effort to look busier than she was that she ran into Mrs. Tristan. It amazed her the way that seeing this woman still instinctively made her uneasy, sent her shoulders rising closer to her ears. It had only been with a few years at Woodrow that she was able to learn to quickly recover back to her regular posture.
She feared more judgement for her lack of participation (especially knowing how Richard felt about the arts), but perhaps Mrs. Tristan's unusual whimsy had lingered, perhaps she had already expected as much from Naomi, but to the younger woman's surprise, it had gone smoothly. Mrs. Tristan suggested that Naomi could be helpful in setting up, preparing dinner and cleaning up afterwards. "That sounds more than fair. I agree, thank you."
TASK SEVEN: The Birthday
DATE: Monday, April 30, 1990
TIME: 9:42pm
LOCATION: Naomi's Bedroom/Bathroom and Hallway
GIF CREDIT: keetika
TLDR: Naomi's sixteenth birthday is a lot better but connecting is hard
The luxuries of having her own bathroom were not lost on Naomi as she bent down to spit out her toothpaste. When she resurfaced, Naomi looked at herself in the mirror, knowing that the girl staring back at her was now sixteen years old.
Birthdays had never meant anything to Naomi before Woodrow, most had been forgettable, although she unfortunately hadn't. As a child, they were lonely and it was something that had easily been phased out as Sayuri had more children. It caught her off-guard the first time Mrs. Tristan had mentioned it in order to build the menu.
Over the past three years, they had become a tradition Naomi looked forward to. She had requested a breakfast of Eggs Florentine which the kitchen staff had made wonderfully. Richard had joined her for a game of chess, though they hadn't had time to finish it. The wards had been kind to her and because it was a Monday, everyone had went on to their schooling. It was an ideal level of attention that Naomi would miss in her adult years.
Naomi! Happy birthday! She recognized the voice that greeted her from the hallway. For a second, Naomi let herself smirk as she walked from her bathroom through her bedroom and poked her head out to greet Beverly. "Hi. Thank you, Bev-" She was interrupted by the elderly woman's warm hug, leaving her frozen in place. Naomi was sure in her training as house staff, the woman had been instructed not to be physical with the wards. She felt the woman's hand in her hair and let her own hand hover over Beverly's back. If any other day, Naomi would have dodged the action and avoided Beverly in the future, but it was her birthday and this hug and the breakfast shared with her new family were the gifts.
She supposed such niceties were what was expected from the day--and Celia was good at small talk. But still even with her supposed skills of putting people at ease, she felt the tensions only rising in Naomi. Given the events of the day, she wasn't going to judge.
"Wow, a new location is very exciting," she replied with a grin. "What your favorite dish to make?" Celia hoped it would distract Naomi enough to talk about something she loved so she wouldn't have a panic attack on the walk to the wake.
The abrupt halt at the doorway meant that her distraction wasn't presented quickly enough, so she added, "I've been really into baking apple crisps lately." She pushed the door open and the sun from outside fell on them like an unwanted spotlight. Their silence filled the lawn and she added an, "It'll be over before you know it" under her breath and gave Naomi's hand a squeeze.
The silent eyes reminded her of her walk down the aisle, only Richard was on her left, providing her with the same reassurance she was giving Naomi now. It somehow put her at ease and she was able to fall back into conversation. "I would love to share the recipe with you sometime. Or you can just tell me how to improve. I trust your expertise."
It was always so tempting to be swept up in Celia's optimism, her excitement for what was to come, but Naomi could never shake that cynical voice that questioned it's sincerity, not Celia's, but the real chance that things would be worth celebrating.
"I'm not sure." Maneuvering through her brain to avoid the figurative bruising Richard's passing had left was harder than anything else Naomi had experienced. "It's easier to have a favorite dish when I know the kitchen well. I suppose I likely won't be cooking in the new place much at all, more of the staff handles that." It was odd, to be more respected she had to climb the ladder to become an executive, but it just kept her further from the kitchen.
Naomi's hope to steer the conversation back to Celia lazily, by repackaging Celia's own question back at her, was dashed when she thought of the other's line of work. She could hardly ask about Celia's favorite patient or therapeutic technique. It left her grateful that Celia offered a food based conversation. "Apple crisp is delicious. Tell me about how you make it." It was the type of enthusiasm people regularly approached gossip with, and was a rare moment of excitement from Naomi.
Naomi felt Celia's hand in her own and despite the instinctual hesitation, she clasped onto it tightly. The water began to gather in her eyes but she did her best to swallow any crying down. Naomi's eyes looked down at their held hands and found their way up to Celia's face. She wanted to thank her, for giving her the push to make it down there and for being Naomi's lifeline in that moment. She opened her mouth but when it seemed like her voice would croak with emotion, she shut it again and looked away.
"I would love to taste your apple crisp sometime." Her head was still pointed away from Celia. "Please." Like many of her thoughts and feelings, Naomi didn't express it, but she knew she asking for more than just the dessert, she was begging to keep Celia as her lifeline.
TASK SIX: The Beginning
DATE: Wednesday, April 30, 1980
TIME: 9:42pm
LOCATION: Bolton, New York
TW: neglectful parenting
TLDR: Naomi's sixth birthday is a huge bummer
GIF: keetika
The only sound that could interrupt Eddie Albert's voice from Green Acres, was the sound of the potato chips Naomi chewed. She didn't really understand the series that glowed at her in the dark, bachelor apartment she shared with her mother, but that was true for most of the series that aired at this hour. It was colder that April, and Naomi wrapped her small body in a blanket that used to have some cartoon figure from her mother's childhood, now faded and unrecognizable. She sat a few feet away from the television on the floor, a habit that was instantly discarded of in her adolescence.
It hadn't been the day that she thought it would be, having created fantasies that this would be the greatest birthday ever, that some surprise would be waiting like a kitten or a trip, maybe even some large candies that she could pick up, since she was turning so much older and tried to behave so well that year.
She slept in with her mom that day, morning wasn't something they saw often unless school was involved. Sayuri had brought a gift bag with a doll in it, but Naomi wasn't sure why her mother would leave the gift on the doorstep. Her grandparents had done that at Christmas, Naomi recalled. When her mother's friend, the one who smelled weird, came over later that day, Naomi knew the routine. They would change their faces with those powders, get really loud and leave for the night. She would have her snacks, her sleepwear would be left on the bed and Sayuri would come home sometime tomorrow.
She smiled when Arnold the pig came on screen, letting her forget how scary the dark apartment could be alone. She wondered when his birthday was, whether they had the same one and didn't even know it, or how many pigs she shared a birthday with and had no idea? She certainly couldn't ask, so Naomi decided that they were in fact birthday twins. "Happy birthday, Arnold."
WHO: OPEN @woodrowhub
WHEN: Tuesday, September 6, 2005
TIME: 7:03pm
LOCATION: The Great Room
GIF CREDIT: HERE
Naomi could feel herself sinking into the part of the plush, vintage sofa she was sitting on. It was tempting to slip into another nap, given her sleep schedule had yet to reset and the day the group had. It had been a varying level of hard work across the wards that day in the greenhouse and admittedly, Naomi was somewhere in the middle.
The Greenhouse was a lovely spot, and gardening had seemed like a good hobby choice for a quiet, solitary child like Naomi. For Richard, Naomi had wanted it to stick, but she didn't have a green thumb and working today was a sore reminder of a connection to Richard she could have had, if she were better at it. Even so, when she looked down at her hands that afternoon with the sun shining on the various ticks of scars that lined her hands caked with soil rather than food products, she felt proud.
Now they all seemed far more deflated, tired from the labor and the night creeping up. She looked around at her peers, thinking about the little moments that she caught on to, tensions that she wasn't sure of. Mostly, Naomi didn't care about those things, happy to disengage and let people sort it themselves. Here, stuck together for the week it felt inescapable and it beckoned memories of her own mother, and the ways Naomi would try to anticipate the fallout when they shared a small apartment.
"I thought we did well today, right?" Naomi offered unprompted, the nervous kid returning, leaving Naomi to run her fingers along the velvet sofa as she spoke, eyes remaining on her fingers. "In working together and the amount we accomplished. It was a good idea."
Naomi did her best to stifle a yawn as she walked into the dining hall, still recovering from her theater nap. It was odd to return to the routine from her youth of getting ready for dinner, walking past the same walls and it not feeling as familiar as it should. She slid her hands down the back of her legs, smoothing out her brown dress before sitting down. It was always a chore to pick where to sit, to find the spot that would provide the more boring, therefore peaceful and calm, dining experience she could.
Her eyes widened as the food as in front of them, an excited inhale and smirk soon followed. Naomi loved food, and this was exactly the reminder of Richard's favorite that she needed in her preparation for the gala. If anything, Mrs. Tristan was starting to earn points with Naomi by doing this, and letting her stay in the kitchen during the gala.
The last interaction with Richard felt insignificant except for it being their last. A quick morning phone call for Naomi that was a late afternoon call for Richard. She couldn't recount everything they discussed, except that she wanted to read more, he spoke about cars (which Naomi knew very little nor cared much about) and the foundation. He went off on his tangents as he normally did, and she spoke only a little as she normally did. The last time she had been at Woodrow, left more of an impression.
It was the last day of a work weekend, some gala hosted by a rich asshole who was paying handsomely for Naomi, Taro and two of their staff to fly to New York and attend. She was hesitant about accepting it, but it was a chance for her to return something to Richard. She didn't want to stay too long, linger in the memories good and bad, and chose the last day on purpose. Richard seemed excited to see her, she was grateful to see him and only Mrs. Tristan briefly. They spoke about the book she was returning, chuckled that Richard had already replaced it, and had a light snack together. It should have been an ideal visit, but the little things nagged at Naomi. She was away long enough for to see him through fresher eyes, he seemed so much older than she remembered. The way he walked, how his skin was a little thinner and the veins in his hand seemed more obvious than she could recall. It was possible it was all in her head, that he was moving and looking amazing for his age, but it brought a grim reminder. Richard wouldn't last forever, but he was the best parent she ever knew.
The thought of recounting it all, laying her emotions bare in front of the others made her shudder. Naomi had made herself a public wound at the eulogy, letting not only those close to her, but people Richard respected see her love for him in all it's awful, complicated way. It wasn't sufficient for Sebastian, and likely the others, Naomi feared. Vulnerability wasn't welcome at Woodrow, and she wasn't willing to let that wound bleed again.
"I guess I can go." It was towards the beginning of the others speaking, eager to be in the less memorable middle, Naomi's spoke fast, but kept her eyes on the candles on the table. "I don't know if I ever mentioned, but he taught me to swim. In the pond, actually." She had used his name so rarely since he passed, it didn't feel right to bring it out again. Her mouth was dry, and it was tempting to down what remained in her wine glass before continuing. "Um, I am grateful for that. He didn't have to do that, but I was scared and he made it easy. I felt safe with him." She ended her tale with a shrug, an attempt to wave it off it wasn't good enough.
Her foot tapped on the floor at an anxious rhythm and Naomi didn't meet anyone's gaze, worried that she'd see something, Mickey's innocence, Steph's pain, Sebastian's judgement, Celia's sympathy, and it would bring the tears back, and the chance to say the quiet parts out loud. She trusted Richard, loved him and now he was gone. "So whose next?" Naomi made sure to bring the wine glass to her lips, vowing now to lower it until someone else was in the hot seat.
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