* OTHER SIDE / PARADISE !

Olivia Finch, #22, Defensive Dealer.

[oliviasfinch]

( HENDRIX, CASEY )

fox towers roof, 11pm, september 19th      ( open. )

They still weren’t really over everything that had gone on over the last weekend, and they were pretty sure there wasn’t much they could do to help with that problem. There was still anger and frustration, but after press duty, after spending the night hanging out with their sister, trying to forget about the game, they had woken up feeling awful and guilty. And the guilt had only grown once she left and they started seeing the articles pop up about what had happened. Losing was one thing, but being so blinded by frustration that they’d said things they never should’ve admitted to a bunch of piranhas put the blame back on their shoulders, settling in that familiar place just below their neck, the tension nearly aching.

Not even the good things happening in their life could take that away. In a way, it just made them feel like they didn’t even deserve to be here at all, to have been given a last chance and then to be so ungrateful, talking about their teammates like that. Practices passed by with a sense of melancholy, unable to bring themself to maintain any sort of eye contact with their teammates, knowing what they’d said and felt. And that was all without considering the upcoming banquet that they were dreading even more than a game, at this rate.

Unable to concentrate on their work, Casey had grabbed the bottle of cheap whiskey they’d stashed under their bed just in case, a new pack of cigarettes, and headed to the roof. They’d barely been up for a second, only just found a spot to make themself comfortable, when the door opened. “I was just breaking out the booze, perfect timing,” they said, voice flat despite the joke, not looking up to see who it was.

On bad days, Olivia wonders if she’d made the right decision by transferring to Palmetto State, wonders if it’s worth it. She’s been fundamentally changed by what happened to her, and no time away from Penn State will ever undo what those boys did to her or ever stop looking over her shoulder from becoming second nature. And if that’s the case then maybe she’s given up a spot on a team that had a decent chance at winning the championship in an attempt to reverse damages that can never be undone.

Logically, she knows she did the right thing. An Exy championship isn’t worth her dignity and self-respect, but with the sting of two losses in a row – especially when this season is supposed to be the one where she redeems herself for last season’s abysmal performance – Olivia’s mind has started to meander towards some rather dark what if scenarios. She thinks maybe some fresh air might do her a little good, giving up on trying to get any work done that night. 

Only, it seems like she’s not the only person who’s thought to clear their head on the roof of Fox Tower. The suddenness of being addressed when she’d expected to be alone startles her, but she recognises the voice, and when her eyes adjust to the darkness she’s not surprised to find Casey. “I don’t drink,” she replies. Casey’s not drunk yet, but they clearly have plans to be, and Olivia surprises herself when she chooses to step out onto the roof anyway. Maybe it’s because it’s Casey. She’s not sure if complicated feelings towards former their respective former Exy teams are enough common ground to constitute a friendship, but she doesn’t need to be their friend to guess the reason why they’re nursing a bottle of alcohol up on the roof.

“I admire you,” she says as she moves to sit next to them, “I don’t think I could have gone out there.” Olivia pauses, feeling the beginnings of a wry smile tug at her lips. “For what it’s worth, I agree –– if we keep this up, we might as well kiss the championship goodbye right now.”

[oliviasfinch]

( HARRIS, SIENNA )

Sienna feels the boom of inside’s music as she lays her back lazily against the wall of the Vixen Den. Small embers fall off the cigarette she holds between two fingers, while a phone rests on her free hand, her gaze fixed on its dimly-lit screen. Lips purse together in frustration. Where the fuck were the views? This was the one night she isn’t stuck working or babysitting, the one night she can actually boast some semblance of an enviable college life — evidence of it captured and immortalized ( at least, for twenty-four hours ) on her Instagram story — this was the one night she could let everyone know her youth wasn’t being wasted holed up in her mother’s house, and nobody was online to see it.

A voice she recognizes as Olivia Finch calls out and Sienna’s forced to swallow her shallow vexations. Lips curl into a smirk to feign calm self-possession, and without taking her eyes off the screen, she says, “Didn’t expect to see you here, princess.” The last word is enunciated with subtle condescension.  False lashes brush against cheekbones as Sienna closes her eyes, placing the tip of her cigarette between her lips to breathe in the nicotine. A cloud of smoke forms and dissipates as she exhales. Eyelids fluttering open, she turns her head to the speaker’s direction. ”Whats a girl like you doing in a place like —”

For a split second, words fail her.

Sienna bites her lip. She’s not drunk — hasn’t been since highschool — but somehow all of her composure seems to crumble when her gaze falls on Olivia’s face. It could have been the nicotine. It could have been the atmosphere. But perhaps it was that this was the first time Sienna’s seen Olivia Finch in something that wasn’t athleisure or Exy gear, and her heart surges at the sight. It’s a feeling she can’t put a name to, an uncomfortable amalgamation of confusion and captivation rising to her throat in excess. Whatever it is makes her distracted enough to let her hand fall open, her smartphone sliding out and falling face first into the ground.

Tempered glass collides with concrete, and the sound of the impact is drowned out by the noise inside. When the night falls down, the speakers blare, muffled by the walls of the Vixen Den and the drunken conversations within it. I wait for you and you come around. Sienna drops down to pick her phone up, only to find a crack fissuring across its screen.  And the world’s alive with the sound of kids on the street outside. She strikes her forehead with the bottom of her palm in exasperation. “Oh fuck me.” Red rises to her cheeks as she realizes the unintended implications of her words. Raising her finger, she says, “that — that wasn’t an offer.” … was it?

She must have spent half a minute sitting on the concrete, staring at her cracked phone and wondering whether the damage impaired any of its functionality, whether she could scrape enough money to get it fixed, and whether the fuck she could explain this to her mom without earning a scolding, and every built up frustration comes crashing down in the form of a laugh. “Fuck it,” she exhales, laying her head against the wall. She looks up at Olivia. “You can join me down here.”

Even if Olivia hadn’t recognised the smoke-husky voice belonging to the other girl, the familiar nickname would have been a dead giveaway. The moniker isn’t one borne of fondness though, if the subtle change in inflection at the word is any indication. Maybe she should be offended, but truth be told there’s a part of Olivia that enjoys the way Sienna’s lips wrap around the word – princess, princess, princess – enjoys the way they pucker at the first syllable before being stretched into something almost like a smile. Besides, Olivia’s been called far worse things by far less pretty girls. And if this makes her something of a masochist then, well, so be it.

What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?

It’s a good question –– one that Olivia doesn’t have the answer to. There’s a million things she could say, probably. What do you know about girls like me, or I don’t know, or maybe I was meant to be out here with you. But she’s spared from having to come up with some sort of witty response that isn’t too painfully honest, the rest of the question forgotten as Sienna’s phone takes a nosedive towards the ground. Olivia opens her mouth, the question is it okay? on the tip of her tongue, only to swallow the words at the quietly muttered expletive from the other girl.

It comes as something of a surprise the speed at which Sienna’s normally airtight nonchalance cracks, spilling red all over the cheerleader’s cheeks. The shade matches her lips, and Olivia is taken by surprise yet again by the sudden unbidden thought: a blush suits her. There’s a burst of frustration at herself, at her inability to string words together with the ease the way that so many of her peers can. Instead, there is a girl on her knees at Olivia’s feet and she is tongue-tied, choking on all of the things she dares not give voice to.

“I didn’t think it was,” she says, finally, as she claims the spot on the ground next to Sienna. She’s sitting close enough that their shoulders brush, fully prepared to blame the non-existent nighttime chill if she’s called out on it. For a while neither of them says anything, and if Olivia ignores the thumping of the bass through the wall at her back then she can trick herself into thinking it’s only the two of them out here. Something about Sienna unsettles her in a way that’s easy to ignore when the only time they ever really see each other is during games, when Olivia has more pressing matters on mind than a girl who knows how to get under her skin without even trying. 

Strangely, she doesn’t mind the way her world seems to tilt off-kilter when Sienna is this close to her, and maybe the lack of personal space is what compels her to be honest. “I don’t know why I’m here,” she admits, before adding, “At the party, I mean.” She doesn’t know why she’s out here with Sienna Harris, of all people, either, but that’s not really a question she feels the need to get answers to anytime soon. A huff of air passes though her lips, a cross between a sigh and laughter, incredulous and amused all at once. “I fucking hate parties.” 

[oliviasfinch]

( JEWELL, CLAUDIA )

Date: September 15th Time: 6:07pm Location: Downtown Open

Claudia had been shaken. The conversation she had with Miranda the day before played on a loop in her head. Even worse, Miranda had found her. She was at Palmetto and potentially still lingering around town, as if waiting for Claudia to come to her senses. This wasn’t okay, the fact that she actually called Jessica yesterday proved just how unsettled she was, relying on someone who had hardly ever been in her life, not for lack of trying though. 

There was a small voice in the back of her head telling Claudia that it was her fault they lost. That Miranda had gotten her so fucked up that it threw off her entire game (it had) and that she wasn’t strong enough to not let Miranda get to her. In the mirror of the shop, she held a dress up to herself, a pathetic attempt at distraction when all she could see in the mirror was Daphne. Daphne wore dresses. Claudia never had. All of that progress made with Betsy over the past few years, the way she stood up for herself, apparently just lead into her backslide into not being able to tell herself apart.

The argument in the middle of Palmetto was still fresh in her head. She had managed to shut it up, even just a little, during the game, but now when it was just Claudia, up in her head, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. All of her issues, displayed out for classmates to see and pity her for. She wasn’t sure if any of the Foxes had seen it, but fuck did she hope they hadn’t. The absolute last thing she needed or wanted was for any of her team to get that glimpse into just how badly fucked up she was. 

And, yeah they were all fucked up. But Claudia had prided herself on never letting her issues show. She put the dress back after a moment of staring blankly at herself in the mirror, shaking herself out of it before continuing to browse the racks. With everything with Miranda and the game, she just couldn’t be at the court right now.

After being holed up in her room the entire day, Olivia figures the best way to release some of the tension in her aching muscles is to get in some extra practice. She’s halfway to the court when her shoelace comes undone, and Olivia pauses at a bus stop to tie them. Just as she straightens up, a bus pulls up to the stop, having mistaken her for a waiting passenger. The driver watches her through the open doors, and she knows she should tell him that she’s actually headed somewhere else but she’s paused too long already. There are many words that one might use to describe Olivia Finch – athletic, talented, driven – but spontaneous is not one of them.  And yet––

Olivia ends up on a bus heading downtown, dressed in ratty old running shorts and an equally worn tank top, carrying nothing but her phone and keys. As the bus leaves the campus, confusion at her own decision bleeds into something almost like excitement. It’s a small thing, but it’s a step in the right direction. And who knows? Maybe one day she’ll collect enough of these one-off instances of spontaneity to feel as if she has some semblance of a life outside of Exy.

Her first order of business once she gets off the bus is to get a change of clothes, and so she enters the very first clothing store she comes across, not expecting to see a familiar face among the racks. She’s never really spoken to any of her teammates much outside of training, unless they talk to her first. But she figures since she’s already doing things she wouldn’t normally do, adding one more to the list wouldn’t hurt. 

“Hey,” she calls softly as she approached, “Sorry about interrupting your shopping, but I’m not much of a shopper and I need a second opinion.” Her lips twisting into an almost sheepish smile, Olivia holds up the off-shoulder top that had caught her eye as she’d made her way over to her vice-captain, “It’s a little more girly than what I’d usually wear, but... change is good, right?”

[oliviasfinch]

( RIDLEY, PAX )

Location: Fox Tower Date: September 15th Time: 3:16 PM OPEN

          Pax said goodbye to Emma and Luana earlier in the day. They both needed to head back to Atlanta to work on some details for the wedding, which seemed so close yet so far away. Pax was looking forward to it, even if it was a constant stress for them because they could only do so much to help from this far away. They were just happy to see their sister finally happy. Although the game was terrible and Pax could have played much better than they did, they were still trying not to feel down like all the other Foxes. Pax was trying their best to remain as optimistic about the rest of the season as they could – even if they didn’t say anything out loud. They wondered if everyone else was feeling the loss and if they could do something to cheer everyone up. 

          Taking the plate of cookies, Pax walked into the hall of Fox Tower going to the nearest room and knocking on the door. Hopefully, if nothing else, Luana’s cookies would help the situation. Pax had one and felt guilty for eating it, even if she’d made it with gluten free flour and made them vegan. They were still cookies and Pax didn’t have a sweet tooth. “It’s Pax. Emma’s fiancée made cookies. Please help me eat them. I don’t like sweets and I can’t eat the whole plate.” 

The weight of their loss clings to Olivia still, like a weight tied around her ankle and dragging her down. You are a disappointment, her father had said–– maybe not so much in words, but it had been clear in his eyes then, and made clearer in his absence now. She’s always known that neither of her parents would make it for Parents Weekend. Still, maybe a part of her had held out some hope that her mother might have made it, and the lack of any familiar faces in the stands last night had cut deeper than she’d expected it to. 

Sentiment is a distraction though, one that Olivia refuses to let herself dwell on. Whether her parents had been at the game or not, it wouldn’t change the fact that they had lost. She channels her frustrations into productivity, mentally going over everything that had gone wrong, thinking of the most efficient line-up to maximise their strengths, drawing up possible strategies for future games. 

The soft knock at her door breaks Olivia’s concentration, and she leans back against her chair, dropping her pen in favour of running a hand through her hair. “Come in,” she calls back, “The door’s unlocked.” The haphazard mess of writing and diagrams in her notebook mocks her, reminds her that she is too much like her father, and it’s impulse that has her ripping the pages out, crumpling them in her fist before tossing them into the bin. She gets up to greet Pax at the sound of the door opening, offering them a tentative smile. “Can’t say I’ve got much of a sweet tooth myself, but they do smell pretty good,” she says, plucking a single cookie off the plate, “Emma’s your sister, right?”

[oliviasfinch]

( TATE, RIVER )

Practice makes perfect, River believes fully in that. And so, they give everything they have into Exy. Being on the bench was not how they imagined how their first game would go, much less a defeat, nonetheless, they felt like they were not good enough. A rare and very hated feeling for them. But, if the effort they were already putting in was not enough, then, they would try even harder.

They had seen Olivia train, and she was good, perhaps even better than them. Still, they held a kind of respect for her, a fellow defensive dealer and another player that did not have a chance to show their abilities on the court, at least not yet. River was raring for a chance to finally train against someone that they knew would be able to keep up with their insane limits. Pushing themself to become even better was what gave them purpose, a sense of achievement, especially in Exy. Not a lot of people would understand their love for the sport, and to be completely honest, they gave up caring, all they were focused on was showing them how beautiful it was, and the only way they knew how to do that was to show them how amazing of a player they could be.

“That sounds great, besides, we’re both defensive dealers.” A comfortable smirk found its way onto their face as they gripped onto their beloved racquet. A sudden rush of excitement and adrenaline rushed through them, just like that. After all, it was the rush they got from Exy that kept them alive. Over the past training sessions, there has been a slight competition between the two of them and River looked forward to finally showing Olivia how passionate they were about Exy.River decided to stand a distance away from them, a training plan already forming in their head. “We can always start with passing drills.” They stated, glancing back up at her then back at the ball in their racquet, aiming it precisely. Offering her a thumbs-up, they proceeded to throw it towards her. “Should we make this some sort of contest between us?”

“A contest? Are you sure you’re up for that?” she asks, her lips pulling into a grin despite the trash talk. Following the trajectory of the ball as it arcs towards her, Olivia’s not surprised when it falls soundlessly into her net. River’s aim is perfect, she’ll give them credit where it’s due, but she reckons she can do the same faster, better. The impact of the ball in the back of her net is familiar, but she hardly gives herself any time to get used to it, snapping her wrists the moment she feels the weight start to settle and watching as the ball zips back towards River.

They’re good, but more than that, they’re level-headed. In a sport where the source of most injuries are fights, Olivia knows the value of a teammate who knows how to keep their cool. It’s almost pity that they won’t ever be able to share the court during a game, but perhaps they can turn this into a regular thing. They already try to one-up each other during practice anyway, almost like a little game of sorts, determined to–– well, she’s not quite sure what they’re trying to achieve with the little rivalry they have going on, except perhaps wanting to prove their worth as a dealer to each other. 

“We start with five points each,” she decides, “If you drop the ball, that’s a point off. First person to hit zero loses.” Flexing her fingers to adjust her grip on her racquet, she raises an eyebrow at them, silently asking if they’re fine with the rules that she’s laid down. “What do you suppose the winner should get? Or maybe the loser should do something?” she asks, the glint of her eyes almost teasing, “Wanna make sure you’ll be okay with the forfeit you’ll be doing later.”

Despite the taunting, Olivia knows better than to actually underestimate River. But even if she sees their potential as an Exy player, she also takes pride in her own skill. Sometimes she wonders if Exy would’ve still become such a big part of her life had it not been for her father, but it doesn’t change the face that the game is in her blood, she’s basically grown up on the court. River’s got grit, but she remembers being eighteen and thinking she was untouchable. That kind of self-confidence will serve them well, but she knows that if she plays it right then it can be their downfall as well.

[oliviasfinch]

( NGUYEN, ALANNA )

Alanna knows all the Foxes by name already, but she can’t expect them to know her. They’re  famous, after all, and she’s…just Alanna. “Oh,” she says, sitting up a little straighter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’d expected another Vixen, but the Foxes are a different beast entirely. They’re larger than life on campus, shrouded by mystery and notoriety, and she’s sort of fascinated with all of them. She doesn’t expect them to include her in anything, especially when they’ve got each other—but she feels connected with them anyway. After all, they were the reasons she’d tried out for the Vixens in the first place, out of all the cheerleading teams in Palmetto. 

Truth be told, she’d been terrified. It would’ve been so easy to drift through college the way she had her last year and a half of high school. Head down. Mouth shut. Afraid to speak up. The Foxes stood for second chances though, and she wanted one of those desperately, no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself otherwise. She’d reasoned that any team connected to the Foxes had to be more understanding, kinder—and so far, it seems to be true.

“I’m Alanna! I’m a Vixen,” she says, even if that’s probably obvious, given that she’s on the front steps of the Den right now. She likes identifying herself that way though. It’s always easier to be in her own skin when she can wear a cheerleading uniform like a shield. “Mine aren’t usually different either,” she confides, the words coming out in a rush. “Honestly, I was probably going to go watch Netflix.”It’s probably alright to admit to that—Olivia said it first, and Alanna takes her cues from other people. She can’t help it: she’s always hungry for approval, but perhaps especially  so when faced with a pretty girl.

Alanna’s been on top of the world and she’s come crashing down. These days she’s  somewhere in the middle, and it’s a start. Sometimes the Vixens get together, and she trails along, warm with the glow that comes from friendship. Sometimes she’s alone in her dorm, curled up in front of her laptop and wishing she had something better to do. This is her fresh start though. As long as she doesn’t ruin it, things can only go up from here. “What’s your typical Friday night?” She pauses, reconsidering. That’s a boring question. Fuck, she’s being boring. “No. What’s your ideal Friday night?”

Alanna. It’s a pretty name, fitting for a pretty girl, Olivia supposes, filing this new tidbit of information away. There’s not much of a point remembering the names of all the Vixens, and even though most of what she does is motivated by pragmatism, she tries to anyway. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of growing up in the shadow of her father’s former Exy career. There had been countless articles written when the news that she’d been recruited by Penn State had broken, but she could have counted with one hand the number of them that had actually used her name instead of simply referring to her as “the daughter of former U.S. Court player Oliver Finch”.

“Olivia,” she offers in return, and the sound of her own name eases some of the bitterness that seems to accompany any and all thoughts of her father recently. “I’m a Fox,” she adds, her tone just this side of teasing, knowing that the statement is about as necessary as Alanna’s about being a Vixen. Olivia’s not really saying that just to make fun of the other girl though, not really. This is probably the first time she’s ever referred to herself as a Fox out loud, and although the word is foreign on her tongue, it feels right in a way that she can’t explain.

“Netflix, huh?” The admission that she doesn’t have a Netflix account sticks in her throat, and instead, she finds herself saying, “Maybe you should give me some recommendations on what to watch sometime.” Between keeping her grades up and Exy, Olivia’s never really had much free time. Even if she did, she’s not sure she could sit through several movies or an entire series without getting restless, although she guesses she should at least give it a try before writing it off entirely.

The question catches her by surprise. “I don’t know,” she admits, before she thinks to lie, “Sometimes I think it’d be nice to go out and let loose, but that also terrifies me a little.” She bites her tongue a little too late; she’s already said too much, any more and she might as well confess that the rumours about why she transferred from Penn State are true, even if she’s aware that most people already assume they’re true anyway. “Having dinner with a friend seems like a good way to start the weekend though.” It’s a sloppy change of subject, but she doesn’t really care if she’s being obvious as long as it works. “Wanna grab a bite with me?”

[oliviasfinch]

Location: The Vixen Den Date: September 13th Time: 1:00AM Status: Closed // @flippancies

Summer is ending but the sticky heat remains, sweat-slicked bodies moving against each other on the makeshift dance floor. The music is so loud Olivia can barely hear herself think, but maybe that’s a blessing in disguise, the panic that’s threatening to bloom in her chest ignored in favour of dealing with the sensory overload. Someone hands her a drink the moment she walks in the door, but she’s learned the hard way never to accept drinks when she doesn’t know what’s in them. She can wager a guess though, the sting of vodka barely covered by the sickly artificial sweetness of the lime juice as she pours the entire cup down the sink.

After rinsing her cup and refilling it with coke, Olivia finds herself hovering in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room. It’s funny, how she can feel almost invincible on the court, unblinking even when a guy twice her size body checks her. And yet the thought of stepping out from the relative safety of the empty kitchen and into the room filled with people terrifies her. There’s a guy stumbling towards the kitchen and Olivia presses herself closer to the wall to let him pass, only for him to come to a stop right in front of her, much too close for comfort.

It’s like a nightmare come to life, her mind screaming runrunrun but her body remaining frozen. He says something that might be a hello, and when his breath fans over her skin she finally manages to shake herself out of the paralysis. She’s hardly thinking as she shoves her coke into his hand, the dark liquid sloshing over the sides of the cup and onto her hand. He’s surprised by his newly acquired drink, and that split second of confusion is all Olivia needs to slip out from where she’s been cornered, making a quick escape through the kitchen’s backdoor.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit,” she mutters, carding a hand through her hair and pretending she doesn’t feel the way it trembles. She glances at door, heart in her mouth, worried that he might follow her outside. But the door remains shut, no movement or sound from the other side besides the muffled vocals of Belinda Carlisle as she croons about heaven being a place on earth. “And hell is something you carry around with you,” she quotes, then snickers at the absurdity of talking to herself. Except–– 

A movement catches her eye from the shadows, and the spike of panic hits her so hard she gets a little light-headed. Once her eyes adjust to the darkness though, it’s clear that the figure is decidedly feminine. Normally, Olivia might apologise for intruding and leave. But it seems adrenaline is just as efficient at doing away with inhibitions as alcohol, because she finds herself stepping closer instead. “Mind if I join you?”

[oliviasfinch]

( BOOTH, ARLO )

She’s good.

Better than dated ESPN footage from previous Penn State games would have him believe. She’s fast. Determined and accurate and sharp in a way that many of them, even after years of training, have yet to master. Arlo’s torn between jealousy and awe - at once both proud to be on her side and intimidated by her innate skill. 

He doesn’t mean to stare, but, by the time she’s caught sight of him, it’s too late to pretend he was doing anything else. (Although, he had come to the Court with the intent of running up and down the bleachers for endurance practice.) Shoving his hands into the pocket of his track shorts, Arlo gives her a cheeky smile before turning his back to lean up against the glass.

She bursts through the inner court door and heads for the bench, but Arlo stays put, keeping a respectable distance as she rehydrates - he already feels bad enough for pausing her workout. 

“Ah, sorry,” Arlo winces and offers her an apologetic shrug, rubbing his elbow. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You’re just…. Well. You’re pretty damn fun to watch, you know?” Grin still in place, he gestures vaguely in her direction. “Wymack was crazy for not playing you, against the Jackals. You woulda’ kicked some serious ass.” Thinking back to their first game of the season sours his mood slightly, though, and the smile falters momentarily as he stares out over the empty court, temporarily blinded by the reflection of the fluorescent lights on the freshly waxed floor. 

If they’re ever going to make it to the playoffs, to Theo, they have to be better. All of them -  himself included.

“Hey,” he zeroes his full attention back onto Olivia with no warning, expression blinding and earnest, “you want to do a little one-on-one?”

Over the years – and culminating with her experience at Penn State – Olivia’s gotten used to hostility from her teammates. Back then, it had been easier to shrug everything off; if getting a shot at making court meant being made a pariah then it had been a price she had been willing to pay. But she’s never learned how to deal with friendliness. Maybe it’s a little sad that someone treating her like a friend throws her off to this extent, but she’s still not used the way he seems all too happy to send a grin her way. Sometimes, she wonders if the friendliness is a mask he wears, wonder maybe he’s not so different from the rest of them who hide behind apathy.

“You’re good,” she reassures, shrugging, “It was about time for a break anyway.” Compliments have always settled under her skin awkwardly, but she’s been working on letting herself accept the praise she deserves. “Thanks, I think?” she replies, allowing herself a moment of openness and letting the mixture of pride and sheepishness find its way into the slight twist of her lips. “As much as I would’ve loved to play, I can’t blame Wymack for keeping me on the bench after my performance last season. Maybe next game, if you put in a good word for me.”

She’s only half-serious, a small smile tugging at her lips as an indicator that she’s (mostly) joking. But any of the levity she’d managed to muster is immediately dashed by his sudden seriousness, and she has to resist the urge to take a step back, hoping that he doesn’t catch the small involuntary flinch. 

Breathe, she tells herself, this isn’t Penn State. And–– he’s not going to hurt you.

She takes his expression in, reassured when she looks for any hint of malice and finding none, and then almost feels bad for thinking the worst of someone who’s only ever been nice to her. It’s easy to shove the guilt aside in favour of anticipation at the offer of a one-on-one though, and she even manages another smile as the tremor in her chest settles. “Sure,” she agrees, “What rules are we playing by?”

[oliviasfinch]

( HART-ASHBY, SASHA )

After a terrible game on Friday and a Saturday practice, the last place Sasha should want to be on an early Sunday morning is the court. It would’ve been the perfect morning for sleeping in, given how tired and sore her body is, but her mind doesn’t seem to get the message. Sometimes, she can sleep until the late afternoon and others she can’t stay in bed past six in the morning. It all depends on how her sleep the night before went.

She never told anyone about the nightmares. Not AA, not Betsy, and definitely not her mom. As far as they know, Sasha did what she did and sleeps just fine. She doesn’t hear the sound of crunching metal in her dreams. She doesn’t see her sister’s face twisted in fear. She’s just a light sleeper and an early riser, which is why she’s going to the court in the early hours of the morning.

Sasha doesn’t change out of her·athleisure wear into her armor just yet, figure she better check and see if the court is empty before going through the trouble. Knowing her luck, Grant is already there. As she enters the court, she hears the sound of feet pounding against the court and braces herself for the worst, but relaxes when she sees it’s just Olivia. She didn’t even notice her bed was empty when she got up.

She doesn’t know what to think of the new Fox just yet, but her story alone is enough for Sasha to let her be. She seems to keep to herself and mind her own business, so she hasn’t had a reason to lash out at her just yet. She watches her do drills for a second before her eyes grow heavy. It’s like the lack of sleep finally catches up to her, and she decides she might as well lay on a bench until Olivia finishes up.

Sasha doesn’t realize she dozed off until a voice rouses her, causing her to blink up at Olivia in confusion. “Not unless you’re done,” She grumbles as she forces herself to sit up, stretching her arms over her head. “You don’t really look like you need the extra practice,” She adds before realizing it’s technically a compliment and not an insult. This is why people say eight hours of sleep are necessary for proper brain function.

Olivia’s always been a light sleeper, which makes sharing a sleeping space with three other girls a little difficult. She gets along well enough with her roommates though, if one counts generally keeping out of their way as getting along. She minds her own business and they mind theirs –– this is most of the reason why Olivia hasn’t tried to talk to Sasha about her erratic sleeping patterns. She’s been woken from sleep in the middle of the night before, listening to Sasha’s shaky breathing, waiting until Sasha leaves the room before falling back asleep.

Sasha never explains her early morning disappearances, and Olivia never asks. It’s none of her business, after all.

This is perhaps the first time she catches a proper look at her teammate. Sleep lingers in Sasha’s gaze, and Olivia can’t help but notice the shadows under her eyes as she looks up at Olivia. Sasha looks tired, haunted even, and something akin to sympathy sits heavy in the bottom of Olivia’s chest. But it is a dangerous emotion to have, and she knows better to indulge in it. She’s under no illusions regarding Sasha; she’s seen the girl tear people down with nothing more than her sharp tongue. The smallest sliver of weakness is like blood in the water, the tiniest gap in her armour an invitation to strike.

Olivia should know better. And yet–– “I definitely need a protein shake though,” she says, not pausing long enough to talk herself out of it before she’s pushing her next words out, “And you look like you could use a coffee.”

“Wymack will have your head if you hurt yourself because you thought it’d be a good idea to get some training in while half-asleep,” she continues, keeping her tone calculatedly even, refusing to betray anything as soft-hearted as concern. Turning her gaze away from the only other person present, Olivia starts to toss her belongings into her bag before stripping herself of her gear. “If you still want to go ahead then it’s your prerogative. The court’s all yours.”

Swinging the duffel bag with her gear onto her shoulder, she finally lets her gaze fall on Sasha again. “But... I could use your help looking for a place that sells good post-workout smoothies.” It’s not quite a lie –– Olivia would appreciate the help, but she’s been doing fine on her own so far so it’s not like she needs the hand-holding. Still, maybe it’s about time she starts extending olive branches to her new team.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I’m sorry you couldn’t find me. I have been in the woods. I put myself there because I couldn’t be good. I have been running with foxes and running with crows and I have found myself a home where no one goes.

Florence Welch, from “Useless Magic: Lyrics & Poetry,” published c. 2018 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[oliviasfinch]

( TATE, RIVER )

They ran their fingers through their hair, trying to style it out, as they walked to the court. The defeat still weighing down a big part of their focus. River had opted to go for a morning training session to get their act together and to get some extra training done. After all, the last thing they would want to do is to lag behind the entire team and drag all of them down. A few drills were all they needed to start off first, and with the thought of playing Exy, they found themself bursting with just a hint of excitement.

The distance from the locker room to the court was used as a warm-up for them, where they would proceed to do a few rounds back and forth of jogging before turning it into sprints. It was sort of a habit now, one they found themself developing since young. Speed was important on the courts, and this, they found, was the best way to train that. Finally, the target was reached for them and they grabbed their gear before heading to the court to practice.

River stopped right before the court, pleasantly surprised that another teammate was already there training. It showed them how much each individual wanted to improve and that filled them with a new-found sense of happiness. They found themself stopping by the glass, uncertain whether they should interrupt her training. It was only when Olivia turned to look at them did they decide that they needed to make a choice. Right then.

The walk towards her was nerve-wracking – they were hesitant as to how she might request for them to not bother her or something along those lines. “I came to do some morning drills and I didn’t expect you to be here.” River chuckled, “Do you mind if I train with you? It’s okay if you want me to train somewhere else, I really don’t want to be a bother.” They made sure to add the last part in.

Olivia knows it’s a mistake to underestimate anyone on the team. Even if the Foxes have a bit of a reputation, no one ever got to play Class I Exy without both talent and dedication. River, on the other hand, strikes her as being rather relaxed, and there’s a part of her – the little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like her father – that judges them a little for it. Although she supposes the fact that they’re currently at the court with her on a Sunday morning proves that just because they don’t seem as intense as some of the other members of the team doesn’t mean that they’re any less dedicated to the sport. 

Briefly, she thinks maybe she can learn a thing or two from them about not being so uptight all the time, and the thought almost makes her laugh.

Still, something about their presence makes Olivia feel a little less like she has to be constantly on guard. Perhaps it’s their age, or friendliness, or generally non-threatening demeanour. But either way, the small smile that she flashes them is genuine. “I don’t mind,” she tells them. They play the same position, and while a little rivalry goes a long way as motivation to be better, she’s not so arrogant to think that there’s nothing she can learn from them. “We can even do a few partner drills, if you’d like,” she offers.

After dropping her water bottle back into her bag, she unstraps the armband holding her phone. Usually she likes to listens to music while working out just to block the outside world out a little better, but there’s not much need for that now. Besides, she’s seen River play and they’re good. She’ll need to be focused, and music would just be a distraction. 

Her ponytail had loosened a fair bit over the course of her workout but she makes quick work of re-doing it before grabbing her racquet and heading back onto the court, glancing over her shoulder to see if they’re following. Stopping just short of the far-court line, she pivots on her heels to face them once more. “What would you like to start with?”

[oliviasfinch]

( ROLLINS, GRANT )

Grant’s up before the sun, as always. He’s a creature of habit, and he pours over notes from their last practice while he finishes off first one cup of coffee and then another. He finds his way to the court with caffeine buzzing in his system as the sun rises above him, and that too is familiar—after all, he knows the Foxhole Court better than anywhere else by now. 

At a certain point, it became more familiar to him than his childhood home, the cramped corners of their one bedroom apartment fading away admist all that went wrong there. The Court, though, is different: somehow untouched by anything else, it’s his favorite place in the world. Leaving it behind will be almost as hard as leaving the team, but it’ll be worth it. He loves the Foxes, but he loves his dream more—and besides, he’s always known that his contract had an expiration date. It just hadn’t felt as real until this year. 

It’s rarely empty at the Court, and Grant isn’t surprised to find another Fox there, even at this hour. Pax, Akira, Claudia—the team is full of dedicated players, and he appreciates each and every one of them. 

It’s Olivia this morning though, and Grant doesn’t want to sneak up on her. He remembers how jumpy Zia was when she’d first joined the team—remembers how jumpy he’d been when he first became a Fox, guarded and uncomfortable after all he’d seen and been through in Freeport. He’s not going to pretend he understands what she’s going through, but he’s more careful than normal this morning anyway. She’s caught up in Exy regardless, focused with a kind of determination he can relate to, and it takes a moment before she notices him. “Just looking to practice,” he says, when prompted. “You mind sharing the court?”

Olivia has yet to figure out how she feels about Grant. She will readily admit that she admires his tenacity on the court, envies his loyalty to the team, recognises his aptitude for leadership. She knows about his relationship with Zia, and against her better instinct, it makes her trust him–– no, it’s not quite trust, perhaps a mere facsimile of it, but it’s more than she can ask for after everything that’s happened anyway.

But there’s shame too, misguided as it may be. The termination of Zia’s contract with the Lions had turned out to be a blessing, and she’d found her place with the Foxes. But still, knowing the outcome does not make Olivia feel any less guilty for leaving Zia to fight an impossible battle on her own. Zia had always had her back, and when it came time for Olivia to return the favour, what had she done? 

Stayed quiet, kept her head down, prayed that no one would look her way.

Grant looks at her now and just because she’s not terrified to be alone with him does not mean she’s not uncomfortable. He’s always been patient with her and even though she will always be grateful, she’s not quite sure if she deserves it. There’s a part of her that wants to lash out, to yell at him until he starts treating her the way she thinks he should, but she’s tired of not being in control of her feelings and so she tamps it all down, lets her lips pull into a pleasant smile instead. 

“Not at all,” she replies, but as soon as she’s pulled out of her thoughts, she’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she feels like she’s just been to hell and back, her entire body aching from being battered day after day with little rest. It’s almost comforting in a way, the physical pain is an effective distraction from the mess that is her headspace recently, but Olivia knows her limits. “I might just watch you for a little bit though,” she adds, “If that’s okay?”

[oliviasfinch]

( HENDRIX, CASEY )

It’s a bad habit to get into again, exactly the thing that they had been trying to stop themself from doing upon arriving, the sort of thing that Betsey had mentioned working against in the first, and so far only, session they had had. But here they are anyway, already having gone for a run by the time the clock hits 6:30, changed into practice gear, and ready to run some drills before another five minutes have passed.

They know they shouldn’t be doing it, and yet, and yet, and yet. It’s easier this way, after all, it makes them feel less like shit to know at least they’re doing all they can, legally, to be better, to do better for the next game. To not let their new team down again after doing just that in the first game. At least when they’re pushing themself, it leaves so little time to actually think about how the regret was settling in the back of their throat lately, how the pressured settled between their shoulders, full of tension. It makes it a little easier to remind themself that there are good things about being here, that they’re making friends, that maybe soon they’ll feel a little more like part of the team in a way that was genuine, that at least they’re healthier now.

But not that easy.

And so here they are, nearly ready to take the court to practice, expecting to be alone, only they’re not. As soon as they realize who’s beat them to it, they decide not to interrupt, instead opting to stand behind the glass and watch for a bit, take a breather after their run, drink some water. When she finally does come over, they realize that maybe standing there watching without announcing themself was just as bad as interrupting her practice. “I’m sorry, didn’t want to interrupt you,” Casey explains. “I was just thinking of getting in a bit of practice before actual practice, too, but I didn’t want to mess up your flow, or anything…You’re looking good out there.”

What does Casey Hendrix know about good, she thinks, almost viciously, and then immediately regrets it. Olivia knows who they are –– of course she does. The moment their scandal had broken, Casey had become the new favourite subject of her father’s vitriol. Like Icarus, they had become a story of caution told to children: this is what happens when you get too cocky. She hadn’t thought too much of it then, too embroiled in a nightmare of her own, and eventually as with everything else, she had found herself parroting her father’s views.

He had told her that players who took drugs only did it to compensate for a lack of talent, and she had believed him. Until one night after a particularly brutal practice, she’d laid on a bench in the locker room, struggling to catch her breath between recovering from how hard she’d been knocked around earlier and crying because no matter how much effort she put in she would never amount to anything in the eyes of her teammates, would never be enough. She finally understood then that sometimes people do stupid things because they feel like they have no other choice, and in that moment, she had felt strangely close to a person she had never met.

It had seemed like fate, learning that Casey would also be transferring to Palmetto State. But the helplessness that had consumed Olivia before had been replaced by sheer determination to prove herself, and she hadn’t had the time or energy to spare much thought about Casey. Now that they’re standing right in front of her though, she remembers all her curiosities from before. She wants to ask them why, wants to hear their side of the story, wonders if they, too, bear the secrets of a team that had been all too willing to feed them to the wolves.

But she doesn’t know them, and she’s not about to ask them to lay themselves bare for a stranger. Not yet, anyway. “Thank you, I learned quite a bit from watching you play,” she says, and then in a moment of honesty–– “You’d be the first person in a long time to say that though. If ever. Mostly my old man likes to tell me all the things I’m doing wrong, so.” Her tone is light, but the admission hits a little too close to home. “I could use some help with cool down stretches, if you don’t mind,” she says, not wanting to dwell on the subject of her relationship with her father, “And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

[oliviasfinch]

( DUARTE, LEO )

Leo hates waking up early, and no amount of early-morning Fox practices have been able to convince him otherwise. As far as he’s concerned, Saturdays are for sleeping. And if he had to give up his Saturday to wake up early to drive back to Palmetto from Breckenridge and then run sprints on what was supposed to be a day off from practice, then Sundays were, without a doubt, for sleeping. 

So imagine his surprise—and his displeasure—when he finds himself awake early on a Sunday, forgoing that precious sleep. 

It’s easy to figure out the source of his unease. Part of him had been dreading the start of the Exy season, part of him hadn’t felt prepared, and after the game against the Jackals it’s hard not to feel like his worst fears are coming true. That this won’t be the season that he proves that he belongs on the Foxes, belongs in Class I. That, at best, he’ll be mediocre. At worst, he’ll be an active detriment to the team. It was just one game, but he felt like he needed—something, in that game, to get this season off to the right start. A goal. An assist. Anything. Instead, he’d gotten—he’d been—absolutely fucking nothing. 

And so instead of staring at the ceiling, he decides to head to the court. He’s sore from the game, sore from sprints, knows that practicing might just be punishing himself—but maybe that’s what he needs. Or maybe he just wants the court, to soak it in when there isn’t a game, isn’t practice, isn’t the ever-present fear of people watching and judging and him falling short. He hasn’t quite made up his mind, but it seems like it’s been made up for him: the court isn’t empty, and so he stays outside of the Plexiglass walls. 

“Sorry,” he says, when Olivia turns to speak to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his Fox-orange sweatpants. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Didn’t think anyone would be here, which—yeah, probably wasn’t thinking at all. Someone’s always here.”   

The thing is, Olivia’s always had an easier time trusting people on the court than off of it. And even as the prickle of unease remains at the thought of being alone with a teammate – there’s no one around to hear you scream, a little voice in her head reminds her – she finds it’s not as hard as she’d thought it would be to smile at his remark. “Guess we’re all gluttons for punishment,” she returns, only half-joking. She’s never been good at reading other people, but she’s played Exy all her life; she can at least understand what it feels like to want to be the best.

There’s no guarantee that she’ll be off the bench any time soon. No, after her disappointing performance last season, she knows she will have to prove herself and earn her spot on the court. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to be patient though; with every minute she spends sitting on the outside watching other people play, the itch under her skin grows even stronger. But observation can be a strength as well, and being on the sidelines means she can get a better idea of the strengths and weaknesses of her teammates.

“You caught my eye,” she says, realising only once the words leave her mouth that it’s probably a weird thing to say when the other person hasn’t been privy to her initial train of thought. “During the game, I mean,” she clarifies, “Not much else to do besides watch when you’re on the bench.” The biggest thing she’s noticed about the Foxes is that even when they’re not playing at their best, there’s potential. Off the top of her head, there are a dozen things she can say to him – you hesitate too much before a shot or you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep up the sloppy turns – but the voice in her head sounds too much like her father and how pathetic must she be to let a man who’s not even there control her life still?

“It’s good that you’re here,” she says instead, “A little hard to do passing drills without a partner.” It’s unspoken, but the invitation is clear nonetheless, although she does add after a short pause, “If you’re up for it.” It’s a bit of a cheap shot – she’s yet to meet an Exy player who won’t take offence at their abilities being brought into question – but if it gets her a partner to do drills with then, well, her conscience will just have to deal with it.

[nguyenalanna]

Location: Vixen Den, the porch Time: September 7th, 7:15 PM Status: Open

Parents Weekend is coming up, and Alanna’s counting down the days. She calls her mom nearly every day, of course, but it’s just not the same. She misses their makeovers, their movie marathons, and perhaps most of all, her mom’s cooking. Of course she knew moving out would be hard, but there’s a difference between knowing something and feeling it apparently, and homesickness is an ache she can’t quite swallow. Her world was just her and her mother for so long, and now there’s a $200 plane ride between the two of them—she knows, because she looked it up just the other night—and it’s an adjustment. 

Alanna perches on the steps up to the Den, criss-cross applesauce like they teach in kindergarten. Her phone’s in hand, but it has yet to light up, which is—well. It’s typical. She shouldn’t miss her old squad, not after they’d treated her so badly, but she does sometimes. They were cruel, but when she was with them, Alanna felt like all eyes were on her. She mattered. There’s a kind of magic in that, a power that comes from knowing the girls who hate everyone still like you.

Until they didn’t. Until they’d hated her too.    

She squints at the walkway in front of her, and perks up immediately when she realizes there’s someone else in the distance. It’s a good thing, even as her heart seizes for a moment with the uncertainty of whether or not she should say something. Maybe she’ll stop second guessing herself someday, but it certainly hasn’t happened yet. By now, doubt feels like a living thing inside of her, something that’s taken up residence and simply won’t leave. Hopefully it’s not obvious. She doesn’t always wear her feelings on her sleeve, but they’re in her throat instead, too big and often too intense to ignore. 

Her loneliness outweighs her doubt tonight though, and Alanna speaks up. “Hey!” she says, her voice a touch too loud and chipper as she interrupts the silence of a warm evening. “Friday night! You got any big plans?” Because I don’t. 

[oliviasfinch]

Olivia hadn’t even noticed the figure on the steps until they had spoken and broken her concentration. There is a rush of annoyance at being interrupted, but she takes in the lone girl perched outside in Den and bites her tongue. Loneliness is an emotion she’s familiar with, even if she does her best not to let it take root, filling the empty patches in her life where most other people had friends with Exy. It’s easier that way anyway –– the sport has been the only constant in her life, and she’s always been better at catching and throwing balls than connecting with people.

Still, she’s made a promise to herself to be better at the latter, hasn’t she? She tells herself maybe now that her father isn’t constantly breathing down her neck, scrutinising her every move, she’ll have a chance at a normal life for once. But the truth is that he is only half the problem, and Olivia herself is the other. Week after week after week, she’s overhead the other Foxes discuss their plans for the night at Columbia after practice, thinks maybe she should ask to join but never finds her voice. 

This week, someone had asked her if she wanted to come along. Yes, she had wanted to say, but then she’d thought about the last time she’d let her guard down, recalled how it had felt like to wake up naked and alone and in pain and not remember anything from the night before. The higher you go, the harder you fall. Olivia’s stayed close to the ground ever since, and so she’d swallowed the acceptance that had been on the tip of her tongue, made some excuse about having work to do and then ran laps around the campus until she couldn’t feel her legs – or anything else, really – anymore.

Maybe this is a chance for her to try again. Nights out with the team remain too daunting, but she thinks she can stomach a conversation with a girl who looks as lonely as Olivia feels. “No,” she replies, letting herself be drawn off-course and heading towards the girl instead of merely passing by, hoping that she doesn’t look nearly as apprehensive as she feels. “My Friday nights aren’t usually too different from any other night,” she admits. Now that she’s closer, she can make out the girl’s face, but try as she might, she can’t seem to put a name to it. “I’m sorry, you look familiar, but I don’t think I know your name. Have we met?”

[oliviasfinch]

Location: The Court Date: September 2nd Time: 6:30AM Status: Open

Although she hadn’t played in the game against the Jackals, the loss had still stung. She hadn’t seen her father in a while, but Olivia could hear his disapproval loud and clear –– I told you it was a mistake to join the Foxes, and This is what you get for not listening to me. Underneath the determination to prove him wrong, there was a fear that perhaps he would turn out to have been right all along. And so Olivia does what she does best –– she trains. 

The sun’s not out yet, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling her trainers on and going on a run. She appreciates the privacy that comes with working out while most people are asleep, running until her lungs burn, running until she feels like her heart might burst if she takes another step. This is when she feels the most alive. The morning air is a sharp chill in her chest with every breath, but the pain both grounds her and distracts her from any wayward thoughts.

She hasn’t been here long, but the route from Fox Tower to The Foxhole Court is already familiar. The sun’s just beginning to rise when she enters, grabbing her gear from the locker room. Her heartbeat has yet to slow from her run when she jumps right into running drills. Olivia has practically been raised on Exy courts, and the rest of the world melts away whenever she steps foot in one. It’s probably the reason why she doesn’t notice that she has company, not until one of her shots goes wide and rebounds against the glass that her newfound audience is standing behind.

Deciding that now is as good a time as any to take a break, she heads for where she’d left her belongings on a bench in the inner court. She downs half her bottle of water, mostly to quench her thirst, but also partly to buy her some time to come up with something to say. Olivia’s never really been good at dealing with people, and she hadn’t expected anyone else to show up at the court this early. Eventually, when she can drink no more, she tugs at the cord of her earphones – it’s rude to talk to people with your earphones in, she reminds herself – before finally turning towards them. Be polite, be polite, be polite–– “Can I help you?”

[oliviasfinch]

01. BASICS

Full Name: Olivia Grace Finch Nickname: N/A Birthday: September 16th Gender: Cisfemale Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Astrological Sign: Virgo Spoken Languages: English Birthplace: Concord, New Hampshire Relationship status: Single

02. PHYSICAL TRAITS

Hair Colour / Style: Black, Shoulder-length Eye Colour: Brown Face Claim: Naomi Scott Height: 5′5″ Tattoos: N/A Piercings: N/A Unique Attributes: Diamond-shaped birthmark on her left elbow, various scars from Exy-related injuries

03. PERSONALITY TRAITS/TYPES

Positive Traits: (+) Ambitious (+) Focused (+) Incisive (+) Methodical (+) Prudent Negative Traits: (–) Blunt (–) Critical (–) Opportunistic (–) Regimental (–) Incurious Hobbies / Interests: Exy, keeping fit Insecurities: Not being good enough Quirks / Eccentricities: She counts her steps –– not all the time, but definitely when she’s moving between places; it’s sort of a way for her to practice maintaining immense focus MBTI Type: ISTJ-A (The Logistician) Enneagram Type: Type One Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral Temperament: Choleric

04. FAMILY & HOME

Immediate Family: Oliver Finch (Father), Vivien Finch née Dasai (Mother) How do they feel about their family?: Oliver has been more of a coach than a father to Olivia, and Vivien, while kinder, is distant. She harbours a degree of resentment towards her father for his control over her life, but at the same time can’t help but want his approval. She doesn’t feel any particular way towards her mother –– although occasionally she gets angry at Vivien’s passivity, and the fact that she let Oliver dictate both of their lives. How does their family feel about them?: Oliver had high hopes for Olivia, but her inability to get into the Edgar Allen Ravens was the first big disappointment, and her subsequent transfer to the Palmetto State Foxes was the final nail in the coffin. Her father thinks that she made that decision to spite him as a sort of delayed teenage rebellion. Her mother has become even more distant, largely due to guilt; Vivien is aware of the implications of the Penn State scandal and is ashamed at herself for her own inaction. She’s relieved that Olivia is on a different team now, but will never say it for fear of drawing her husband’s ire. Pets: N/A Where do they live?: Concord, NH / Palmetto, SC Description of their home: Her father’s side of the family has always been well-off, and coupled with the earnings from Oliver’s stint as a professional Exy plater – no matter how short-lived – the Finches live very comfortably. Olivia’s family home is a three-storey house with a garden out front and an inground pool in the backyard, complete with a separate pool house. Description of their bedroom: As she is new to Palmetto State, her room at Fox Tower currently lacks any personal touches. However, her choice in decor is rather utilitarian anyway. Her childhood bedroom is painted in neutral colours, her furniture simple and minimalistic. There are posters of a variety of professional Exy players, but even those had been put up to serve as motivation for her to one day make Court and not as an expression of her interest in the sport.

05. THIS OR THAT

Introvert or Extrovert? Optimist or Pessimist? Leader or Follower? Confident or Self-Conscious? Cautious or Careless? Passionate or Apathetic? Book Smarts or Street Smarts? Compliments or Insults?

06. FAVOURITES

Favourite Colour: Fall / earthy colours, i.e. burgundy, mustard yellow, olive green, etc. Favourite Clothing Style / Outfit: Athleisure –– trendy & comfortable Favourite Bands / Songs / Type of Music: She mostly listen to whatever’s on the radio, but she likes working out to Zayde Wolf, or anything with a heavy beat Favourite Movies: Bend It Like Beckham (2002) Favourite Books: She doesn’t really read too much outside of what’s required for school, not nearly enough to have a definitive favourite, but Flowers for Algernon did leave quite an impact on her Favourite Foods / Drinks: Food is fuel, she’d hardly consider any of the foods she eats as worthy of being a favourite Favourite Sports / Sports Teams: Exy / Used to be the Ravens, but now she keeps up more with individual players instead of whole teams Favourite Time of Day: Dawn, because she’s an early riser and likes to get a workout in without having to deal with people before she starts the day proper Favourite Weather / Season: Fall Favourite Animal: Cats