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@polarisleigh
polarisricki:
from: Olympia Eun <[email protected]> to: Amara timestamp: September 02, 2020 at 08:51pm subject: Re: My sweetest sympathies and heartfelt regrets.
Amara,
Darling ––– you really think I don’t have house full of sex toys?
Yours,
Olympia.
from: Amara Willoughby <[email protected]> to: Olympia timestamp: September 02, 2020 at 09:45pm subject: Re: My sweetest sympathies and heartfelt regrets.
Olive,
I don’t think about your sex life at all, actually.
Mara
polarisashley:
He says it in jest, but Henriette takes it in stride, crossing the threshold into his office and closing the door behind her. While she has her moments, charming is not her default unless she’s trying to fuck someone or get something, which —well, on second thought, it might be worth flipping on now. She doesn’t really think she has to be overly nice to him, though. If he’d just stuck to jackets…
Hm.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you brought the curse on yourself just to see me again.” Once a little shit, always a little shit. Her eyes crinkle a bit in amusement at her own bullshit. “You look good.” That one’s not sarcasm, so Henry doesn’t let it linger too long. She sinks into the chair across from his desk, crosses her legs, and looks up at her ex. “I assumed you’d have a few more gray hairs in the aftermath. Get that sexy salt and pepper look.”
This is stupid and it hurts, and Edward kind of hates himself for not seeing this coming. The only thing more humiliating than being divorced is knowing that he’s failed at the job his divorce was over, and his ex-wife has come to rub it in his face.
She deserves it, too. He’s colossally fucked up, and she’s come to say she told him so. He’d never known her as vindictive towards him, at least, not while they were married, and he can’t help but feel a little ticked at himself for missing the signs. She’s truly in her element, here-- calculating, almost cruel, enjoying him like a cat might before she swallows the canary.
“Compliments aside,” Edward isn’t even going to entertain it, because it hurts, and this is not their second meet-cute where they get back together. “I’m assuming you’re here to question me?”
TEXTS || ALARIC + ECHO
ECHO: So we're having that kind of night. Okay, okay. I'm with it. Level locked and shots loaded.
ECHO: Are we celebrating or commiserating?
ALARIC: A little of both, I think.
TEXTS || JEMMA + SAMMY
SAMMY: you wouldn't be thrilled if you saw how gross i look rn!
SAMMY: I mean, not really? It just kind of all sucks and I didn't think this would happen and I feel dumb because I didn't and it hurts and I've been curled up in bed and eating junk and nothing is okay and I'm getting fat
SAMMY: I totally wouldn't be much fun
JEMMA: not possible samalamadingdong. u are the real ass hottie deal.
JEMMA: okay so first of all, let's do laps
JEMMA: second of all we can burn calories in other ways
JEMMA: idk third of all ur hot af no matter what?? so have the junk? esp if they're hot cheetos
JEMMA: but i'm the most fun so it evens out
[...]
JEMMA: do u need anything or w/e
TEXTS || RUBY + TALIA
TALIA: bad oh? it might even be a million and one percent
TALIA: i was really hoping you'd say that!
TALIA: better than good! it's amazing and perfect!
TALIA: i'll bring the snacks
RUBY: No, a good oh! The best oh!
RUBY: Can we make butterscotch fudge?
polarisricki:
“You’ve been obsessing for ten minutes,” Chao interrupts bluntly, flipping the page in her book and letting her fingers graze the Braille. “You’re going to hyperventilate if you don’t chill out a little. I mean…” Beneath the table, the heel of her foot taps lightly against the ground and the world paints itself in vivid detail behind unseeing eyes. She looks up to her companion before their image fades again. “Is it really that serious?”
“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Mari asks, after she’s stopped pacing back and forth in the greenhouse. “I mean, I can’t stop obsessing over a single thing he said. But it was just one thing, and it was the way he said it...” She shakes her head, grabbing a watering can to sprinkle down some life force onto a series of lavender plants. “I don’t think it’s serious, but I just want to know if he’s mad at me or not.”
polarisashley:
“Honestly, and I say this with all my fucking heart,” Shiloh begins, words muffled as she tries to hold a cigarette securely between her lips while she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, “you’re kind of being a piece of shit today.” Karma is quick; the hair tie snaps in half and falls to the ground. Shiloh grunts, plucks the cigarette from her mouth, and expels a steady cloud from her lungs. “I’m gonna unfollow you on Instagram if you don’t get your shit together.”
“I can’t, Shiloh,” Amara hisses back, shooting a jet of magic at the hair tie to fix it. A nervous habit, smoking-- Amara bites her nails, instead, and what was once a perfect black manicure is now a mess of teeth marks and chipping polish. “I just can’t. My life feels like it’s unraveling ten threads at a time.”
polarisashley:
Galatea has become Henriette’s temporary office, though Carmen had given her shit for spreading herself across two tables every morning; the argument dropped when she left a hefty tip on the table at the end of day 1, and she’s been enjoying sandwiches and suspiciously strong cappuccinos every day since. But her cushy time kicking her feet up is quickly running out now that her real agenda is set.
She finds herself there, still, wasting time kicking around some low priority emails. Henry’s lips press tight together as she works up the will to do her actual job. After a moment, she turns in her chair to disrupt someone at a nearby table. “Hey. I’ll buy you another coffee if you give me a tour of campus. But, like, a good tour of campus.” Henry doesn’t want a map. She wants something of substance to get her started. “I’ll even throw in a doughnut if you answer some questions.”
Okay, so the lady sitting at the table who’s been there for the last few shifts of Carter’s is... smoking. He really didn’t need to get himself involved in another sort of mess when it came to more primal matters, but there was no harm in looking, right? “Offering me coffee and donuts from my own job, how benevolent,” Carter drawls, as he waves his wand and her cup refills. “If you wanted a tour from me, all you had to do was ask.”
polarisbri:
Bast | Starter
Bast wiped down the last of the bartop. The entire counter smelled like some more pleasant version of Pine Sol and he tossed the cloth back into the cleaning bucket. “…They ought to make a cleaning spell.” He muttered. “…Abra-ka-clean! Poof! Done.” He wasn’t really speaking to anyone although there were people around. Some patrons, a co-worker who was still working on some drink orders. He leaned against the back wall as he took a brief moment to mentally go over what still needed done on his shift. He looked over at his guitar that he had stashed over to the side and thought about getting it out to play. Lucian didn’t seem to care if he took breaks to play so long as he clocked out to do so. The door jingled with the familiar bell that rang to signal someone was entering and he was only half paying attention. This was, until, he glanced over to recognize a familiar face walking into the bar. He stood up straight, grinning and beckoning them over. “You made it!”
Blair didn’t make a habit of being early to her shifts at Nova’s-- if only because she had so much schoolwork that she constantly felt like she had to catch up on. Still, she was happy to help Bast out with a few spells, considering Luc could be anal retentive about how spotlessly grunge he wanted the bar at all times. Make it look shabby, sure, but spotless. “I did,” She greets him with a grin, shoving her hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Are you ready for Nova Spells 101?”
polarisjeanne:
“If I say again that it’s for a good cause, can you forgive me for stealing your afternoon?” The task is heftier than Molly had originally planned — not only do they have to sort each piece of clothing, but they also need to remove any charms or traces of magic put on them. She hates to think what might happen if they accidentally donated a bewitched pair of socks to the mortal town’s local shelter. Luckily, the pair she’s handling now seem to be magic-free, so she carefully folds and puts them in a bin with the other socks. “And I’ll make it up to you, too. Though I think the act itself is its own reward, hmm?” Coming from someone else, it may sound like an attempt to get out of reciprocating the help. But at this point in her life, she truly can’t imagine anything better than knowing you had done your part to help someone else.
Jillian has never had anything of her own, so the concept is entirely foreign to her. Molly is telling her that this is a good thing they’re doing, and the clothes are so beautiful, but Jilly is utterly saddened at the fact that these clothes are no longer used, or wanted. Her fingers run through a particularly gorgeous cashmere sweater, and she wonders how the soft fabric would feel on her skin. “Yes, of course,” she answers dutifully, but to be perfectly honest, something about Jillian wants to take the sweater for herself. And that’s wrong.
polarisjeanne:
Lenora has seen a great many things in her life. Some tragic, some hilarious, some she would sooner scrub from her memories with a poorly ground walnut facial. But this may just take the prize for most cringeworthy: a poor boy, most likely a first year, attempting to flirt with their very taken, very gay headmistress only a few yards ahead. “Please tell me you’re seeing this too,” she says to her companion. “If I knew what embarrassment felt like, I’d be experiencing it second hand right now.”
Lenora’s talking shit and Mabel feels her own energy start to heighten, like a cup of gossip coffee that she’s just chugged in its most concentrated form. “You gotta give the kid credit,” Mabel eggs on, “To think that the headmistress would want anything to do with him in that way. Men.”
polarisjeanne:
How anyone could stay at this land-locked mess of a school for too long completely baffles Ginny. There’s the obvious answer, that most of the other students here haven’t spent three decades living under water and are perfectly used to dry skin and lung breathing, but Ginny isn’t here for obvious answers. The lake on school grounds really is her saving grace. Or at least it is most days, when her favorite spot right on the edge of the water is unoccupied. Today though, someone else has taken up residence in her perfect spot, and she needs to mentally count to seventeen (ten just doesn’t cut it). You don’t own the lake. “Hey.” Despite her most mediocre efforts, she can’t fake too friendly a tone. “Do you… mind if I sit here too?” If they said no, she was going to do it anyway. But manners.
“Oh heyyyy,” Jemma grinned, as she scooted over on the sandy shores. Grape, her dolphin and familiar, who was at the edge of the water, cackled and lifted one flipper as a hello in greeting. “No, not at all! We were just practicing some jumps, weren’t we, Grape?”
polarisjeanne:
How anyone could stay at this land-locked mess of a school for too long completely baffles Ginny. There’s the obvious answer, that most of the other students here haven’t spent three decades living under water and are perfectly used to dry skin and lung breathing, but Ginny isn’t here for obvious answers. The lake on school grounds really is her saving grace. Or at least it is most days, when her favorite spot right on the edge of the water is unoccupied. Today though, someone else has taken up residence in her perfect spot, and she needs to mentally count to seventeen (ten just doesn’t cut it). You don’t own the lake. “Hey.” Despite her most mediocre efforts, she can’t fake too friendly a tone. “Do you… mind if I sit here too?” If they said no, she was going to do it anyway. But manners.
polarisricki:
Kellan huffs out a laugh, shaking his head lightly. While it’s hilarious to imagine Sage as the mayor of anything, he can’t deny that they have a point. Daringly, his hand falls from his knee, fingertips grazing the inside of their wrist. There’s a pulse there; it’s threadier now, because they’re not exactly alive, but their heart still beats. They still live and breathe and their skin still has a bit of warmth beneath his touch.
He breathes easier.
“I’m with you,” he says, instead of any sort of rational answer. “That’s when I’m at my best.” And it’s a little too honest, even though Sage never takes a hint, but he’s never lied to them in the first place. “Why are you here?” He asks, curious rather than rude.
No one should be at their best with her, but Kellan is.
Sage pretends that doesn’t affect them, even though it’s something... confusing. They glance up at him, almost as if they can’t believe this is real, but in a way, it’s not. Kellan is so confusing. It makes their head hurt.
“It’s quiet here,” Sage replies with a shrug, as if the spirits will hear them and then start to bother them here, too. “They can’t scream at me here, and I can tune them out. But I don’t mind the human company. Not a fan of the dead ones.”
They pause, almost afraid of the answer. “Why are you here?”
polarisjeanne:
“We’ll find another option.” It’s negligent to not entertain it as a possibility, even as a last resort like Alaric said. But Lucia is nothing if not stubborn, and messing with time in any capacity is a line she refuses to cross. At least not now.
Though… that does still leave them stuck in here. She’s not quite sure where here even is. She’d hardly been paying attention to exhibit or room names while hunting Alaric down. Images blurred along the edges of her mind; she recognizes them as ones from that jar, instanced of him and her past self being stuck as well. Again though, stubbornness. She pushes those parts away and gets as close to the lock as she can without bumping Alaric.
The frustrating thing is that Lucia knows she has an answer. These specific circumstances, with this specific person, at this specific point in her life is what’s leaving her with a mental block and she hates it. She attempts the unlocking spell once more and, just because why the hell?, she gives the handle a good, hard pull. No luck.
With a sigh, she stalks to the other side of the room, glaring at the tiara that had lead them here in the first place. “If Matilda knows we’re here, that may be our best option. Or someone might come looking when it’s time to take the students home.” Unlikely, since the students were technically adults who could walk the few blocks back themselves, but Lucia is trying to retain some hope. “They’ll find us soon.”
Alaric’s mouth is a thin line as he debates the consequences of this. “She hasn’t answered,” he lies, glancing down at his phone (which he’s now turned off), but Lucia seems ridiculously uncomfortable with this situation, and he’s not willing to push it. If she really wants to be out of here, he’s always got a sure fire way to make that happen.
It’s not exactly the most surefire way to get them out of there, but Alaric figures it might take a couple of tries before he can get them to a place where the door is unlocked. It won’t be the most exact science, but as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the collapsed time scythe.
He shuts his eyes, feels his magic take hold of the wood, bronze, and blade, and when he opens his eyes it’s in its fully actualized form, and he’s quite the not-Grim Reaper looking witch. “Unfortunately, you’ve got to grab onto my arm in order for this to work,” he holds out an elbow, fully aware of the fact that she probably won’t want to.
The stained glass windows in the common area are reflecting colors across Amara’s notebook, turning her notes several shades of red, green, and orange. Her pen scratches across the yellowing paper, and Amara relishes in the sound. If Light were here, they’d love the colors, probably. Her heart sinks as she’s once again reminded of her fallen lover, but she doesn’t let it bother her. There’s another person sitting at the same table who happens to have the book that Amara needs to finish up her studying. “Excuse me,” she calls softly, her voice surprisingly hesitant for someone who killed without a second thought. “Could I borrow that when you’re done?”
text || lenora&beth.
LENORA: But frowned upon isn’t the same as prohibited.
LENORA: I will not be doing that.
BETH: Well... I would think that murdering another student is prohibited, but...
BETH: Why not?