—sky is womb & she’s the moon

CECELIA FAIRCHILD | 22 DANCER | NEW OLYMPUS she glows. her heavy strands of black hair slide like serpents over somber, blood-red plush. she stands there as a rose within the night. the dark-red rose so deep within the night. — GERTRUD KOLMAR —

[psychedances-blog]

aresfontaine:

Brisk morning walks with Dan were something he had genuinely missed during his absence, a routine that his dog had forced him to adopt that reminded him that there was more to life than simply camping out at his place and planning empty revenges. For the time being, he had been doing a good job of keeping his head down and away from the limelight. After all, no one would ever think to search for a dead man. So long as he kept avoiding being seen with anyone, he could choose the perfect time to strike. Though, it was terribly dull and frustrating to simply sit around and wait for those who had attempted to kill him to reveal any sort of vulnerability that he could use to his advantage. Dante had always been a little reckless and hot-headed, a tiny bit impatient, even. However, he trusted Luli to let him know when it was time. After all, she knew far more about strategy than he ever would.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a tiny girl, practically running up to the two of them. Dante was almost concerned by her appearance, glancing around as though he wasn’t sure that this little girl was talking to him. Little kids had a way of disregarding their surroundings and just who they were talking to, no matter how they looked, and this child was no different. There was something to be admired about her braveness, however. No human adult would ever stride up to him and ask to pet his dog with no fear in their voice. He nearly chuckled at the thought of it before her mother arrived with an armful of groceries.

“No, that’s okay, she can pet him. He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Dante spoke up, bending down to reach eye level with the child. Much to his chagrin, Dan was an overly friendly dog with a curiosity to match. Before he had even voiced his approval, he had already begun to sniff the little girl. Even if he had said no, there was nothing stopping his dog from rubbing up against the girl himself. “His name is Dan, his favorite spots are behind his ears and along the side of his neck, and he’s a little hyper and upbeat this morning so I’m sure he’s going to be pretty generous with his licks.”

Standing up once more to look at the girl’s mother, he couldn’t help but to give her a sheepish grin. It was clear that she had places to be, the amount of groceries in her hands couldn’t have been comfortable and the last thing she needed was her daughter to have gotten distracted by his dog. “Sorry, let me help you carry those, at least.” He spoke, his tone entirely apologetic as he offered his free arm out.

Relief fell heavily on Cecelia’s shoulders as Dan quickly went from Caroline’s Biggest Threat to Caroline’s Biggest Friend. Any ice in her disposition always immediately thawed whenever her daughter looked that happy. ❝ Oh, he’s so sweet with her! ❞ she said, her voice full of surprise and warmth in the midst of all the cold. ❝ You’ve trained him well. She’d try to ride him like a horse all the way home if I let her. ❞ In another life, one filled with white picket fences and a green backyard, Cecelia would be easily put that smile on Caroline’s face everyday. In this one, she’d have to continuously disappoint her daughter and explain that she did not have enough money or space or time for a dog.

Her suspicion towards the stranger didn’t waver, but it was mingled with relief. ❝ Don’t apologize, we’re the ones who interrupted you, ❞ she said as she made no effort to hand her grocery bags over to him. This man was friendly enough and made her daughter smile, but he was still a total stranger. If she was still living in Georgia, where Southern Hospitality was ingrained in everyone's DNA, she would’ve taken him up on his offer with a gracious smile. But New York Cecelia always had her guard up, and for a good reason. For all she knew, he was going to run off with her grocery bags, or wanted to find out where they lived for his own nefarious reasons.

Most likely, he was just trying to be polite. But she was never going to take that chance.

Not taking him up on his offer to carry her groceries quickly proved to be a mistake, as a sudden strong gust of cold wind made her shiver so hard that a bag slipped from her fingers and toppled to the ground. A jar of peanut butter rolled out by her feet, and Cecelia found herself letting out a tired sigh. Here was his chance to run off her sandwich ingredients. ❝ At least it wasn’t the eggs. ❞ Caroline didn’t help pick it up, of course, too enamored by the gargantuan fluff ball to notice anything else. ❝ I’m sorry, but I promise we’ll be out of your hair if you hand me that. ❞

[psychedances-blog]

DATE & TIME: february 14, right before the wedding LOCATION: the metropolitan museum of art STATUS: closed @ofcaerus

This had to be the most stressful event of her life. Gang members surrounded her at every corner, and she was expected to act dazzled by the decorations while trying to gather intel. Thankfully, no one ever seemed to give her more than a passing glance; Cecelia had been worried that her lack of designer dregs would make her stick out like a sore thumb, but it seemed as though people only had their eyes on her when she was dancing at Club Nyra. This was a blessing, for it made it easier for her to watch everyone. When Russell was pulled away to help Victoria with some last-minute wedding detail, Cecelia took that opportunity to pull others towards her. It was only a matter of time until someone else pulled her in.

❝ Thank goodness, someone I know, ❞ Cecelia said breathlessly as she rushed to Ash’s side. At last, someone she didn’t have to pretend with. ❝ You're so pretty! I love your shoes. Everyone here is so... fancy. I feel like a barn mouse in the lion’s den. How are you faring? ❞ Cecelia didn’t get many days off, and it’d be nice if she could get home early to see her daughter. Mob weddings weren’t exactly kid friendly.

[psychedances-blog]

STARTER CALL! ― like/reply to this post for a closed wedding starter between cecelia + your character. please specify whether you want it set either before, during, or after the shootout, or just message me so that we can plot something out!

[psychedances-blog]

orphcvs:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art OPEN

“These are…interesting.” The tiny hors d’oeuvres stared stared back at him from what seemed like a plate made out of marble. He’d never really thought much about weddings before, but this - all of this seemed a little over the top, and he was almost glad he’d come, if only to quietly scowl at the Olympians. “Here, you try it and let me know if it’s actually any good.” 

Olympian weddings were truly an event, Cecelia realized, feeling utterly plain in her cocktail dress as she stood beside Manhattanites in designer garbs. A simple church ceremony was not enough for this pair of mob royalty, apparently. The man beside her seemed to share a similar sentiment, though Cecelia hesitated before replying. ❝ Is it poisoned? ❞ She spoke in a hushed way that made it hard to figure out if she was just joking or genuinely didn’t trust Old Olympus to not sabotage the food. This was, after all, a mob wedding.

[psychedances-blog]

LOCATION: Upper Manhattan AVAILIBILITY: Closed @aresfontaine​

Growing up in Georgia left Cece horribly unprepared to deal with East Coast winters. Even after five years of living in the city, she longs for the warm sunlight that’s so hard to find in the city. Her daghter has grown used to looking up at skyscrapers blocking the sun, but Cece keeps wishing for the southern heat that was a constant throughout her own childhood. Now, the only childhood that mattered anymore was Caroline’s, who at the moment was waddling off a few steps in front of her mother on the sidewalk, a box of Swiss Miss in hand. Their shabby little place in Washington Heights was only a subway ride away, though the trip to the station took longer as Cece juggled with two handfuls of groceries and Caroline kept getting distracted by everything that moved. 

Case in point, all it took was one bark and for her to squeal puppy! before their trip back home was delayed again. The last thing Cece wanted to do was stand in the blistering cold while Caroline forced a stranger’s pet into being her friend, but she also didn’t want her daughter to complain for the next twenty minutes, either. And normally Cece wouldn’t mind a little detour -- like Caroline, she was a dog person. However, at first glance it was clear that she needed to have a long talk with her daughter about the difference between a puppy and an animal that could very easily swallow her whole.

The German Shepherd’s owner looked just as intimidating as his dog. Cece was a tall girl without heels, and this man still had several inches on her. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark disposition, and a gargantuan dog at his heel. Cece’s eyes never left Caroline, who thankfully remembered her manners and stood a good distance away from the dog and kindly asked the tall stranger if she could pet his “puppy.” Her wide brown eyes were filled with nothing but awe as she voiced her request in an annoyingly precocious way that only a five-year-old could pull off.

If her hands weren’t full of groceries, Cece would have dragged her daughter far away from the dog. Even so, she was prepared to drop her eggs if the dog tried anything. One can never be too careful; New York City was full of crazy people, who raised crazy pets. German Shepherds weren’t known to be very kid friendly. ❝ Honey, don’t bother him, ❞ Cece said before the dog’s owner had a chance to respond. Caroline immediately pouted, her bottom lip sticking out because she knew that Cece hated it when she did that. ❝ I’m sure this man and his dog have somewhere to be, just like us. ❞

[psychedances-blog]

LOCATION: Club Nyra AVAILABILITY: Closed @cerberusfelicia TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sexual Assault (mentioned)

There was a lot that Cece loved about her job: the generous pay despite her lack of experience, her understanding boss who trusted her enough with more work, her kind manager who was always willing to change her schedule according to her daughter’s needs, and all the other dancers who’d become like family to her. It wasn’t a job she’d ever thought to have, but it was the best one she ever had, period. That said... there was a lot she could live without. Cece had gotten used to dancing in heels, but that didn’t mean her feet weren’t always sore after a long shift. Not to mention, it harder to make a quick exit in those glittering stilettos made it difficult to make quick getaways whenever she got caught the attention of a handsy club-goer. Security at Club Nyra was great, but that didn’t drunken idiots didn’t thrive underneath the neon lights. If one more asshole grabbed her ass as she attempted to make her way to her dressing room, Cece was going to... Well, in all honesty, she was just going to deal with it silently and alert Julian whenever she got the chance. Cece may have been a member of New Olympus, but she wasn’t some gun-toting badass or capable of throwing any punches. There were no knives hidden underneath her lacy thong, though she’d give anything to cut the hands off of this man who kept trying to make unwanted passes.

Weaseling her way out of his slimy grasp, she quickly scanned the room for the nearest exit. What she first saw was Felicia, and without hesitating she scurried over to her as quickly as she could while wearing heels and surrounded by swarms of club-goers. She’d heard through the grapevine Felicia suddenly returned after disappearing, and that Syrus was not happy with her for some reason or another, but Cece knew better than to pry into unrelated gang business. She simply did whatever Syrus asked and nothing more. Yet Cece couldn’t help but throw her arms around Felicia and draw her close into a hug, realizing too late that all the gold glitter dusted on her skin would rub off onto the other woman’s clothes. ❝ Thank goodness you’re here, ❞ she murmured into her friend’s ear, while she saw her earlier assilant making his way towards them. Tugging on Felicia’s arm, Cece tried to urge her into the opposite direction. ❝ Let’s go catch up at the bar, hm? ❞

[psychedances-blog]

NAME: Cecelia “Cece” Fairchild AGE: 22 ( Month Day, 1995 ) GENDER + SEXUALITY: Cis Female ( she/her/hers ) + Pansexual AFFILIATION: New Olympus OCCUPATION: Dancer at Club Nyra / Informant FACECLAIM: Ashley Moore

BIOGRAPHY:

Born and raised in a suburb near Savannah, Georgia. Had a very cookie-cutter upbringing, full of southern pride and tradition and all that good stuff (sans racism). Fairly popular in high school because she was a cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. The type of girl who dated the quarterback and had her life planned out since kindergarten. Had aspirations of becoming a Texas Cowboy’s cheerleader (no, really).

Fell in love with a ~bad boy~ Y’know, the dark broody guy with a heart of gold that stars in every CW teen drama. He was an aspiring musician who was sick of this one-horse town, man. He wanted to see the REAL world and write super deep songs about it and also bang Cece. He accomplished one of those three things their junior year.

And because public school sex education is a joke, she got pregnant at seventeen. She was understandably too scared to tell anyone out of fear of being ostracized / judged / condemned to hell. Her only real source of comfort at the time was her One True Love and baby daddy, Broody. Thing is, Broody was ready to leave for NYC and accomplish his Destiny of Making It As A Rockstar. And he was not down to stay shackled to their cookie-cutter hometown to raise their kid to be square in the same good neighborhood he was raised in! He was an artist, god dammit. But he also felt too guilty to just ditch his GF after knocking her up, so he gave Cece two options: terminate the pregnancy / not keep the baby, or come with him to NYC where they could raise their baby on love and real music.

Convinced that love could conquer all ( and also terrified of being left alone to raise this child in a hometown that would definitely shame an unmarried teen mom ), Cece ran off with him. Never told her parents where she went, or that she was pregnant. She simply left them a note and her cellphone, committed to being 100% independent and on her own.

Together they got a shitty, overpriced and tiny apartment in the Bronx with two other people, because there was no way they could afford their own place. Shockingly, Broody was not immediately signed by a record label or invited to tour with the Foo Fighters. Cece’s only real “job” experience was as cheer captain of her high school team, and without a diploma their options were limited to fast food and retail, where they were grossly underpaid. It got harder to keep a job the further along she got in her pregnancy, and money only got more tight after their daughter was born.

Cece loved her kid with all her heart, but Broody got on every single one of her nerves. He hated that he had to work to support a kid he didn’t want because he was a real musician, not a dad. One year after the birth of their kid, he bounced. He’s probably now in L.A. begging Jake Paul to let him join Team 10.

Without Broody’s support, the two little ladies were on the verge of homelessness. Cece got desperate. Thankfully had neighbors who would help babysit as she begged every building in NY to hire her for anything. Lied during her interview with the Club Nyra manager about having experience dancing in clubs, but years of cheerleader wasn’t enough to get her through her audition. 

Refusing to be rejected, knowing that her daughter would be out on the streets if she didn’t get a job immediately, Cece buckled down and went straight to Hades himself. She begged for a job, told him about her daughter, and insisted that she’d prove she’d be the best dancer in time. Syrus saw that she was desperate and willing to do practically anything, so he was like “k” and gave her a job. 

And over the years, Cece definitely earned her spot. With time, saved up enough to get place for herself and her daughter, though money is still always tight. Cece takes up basically every shift she possibly can while spending her days taking care of her kid. 

Fell into New Olympus after Syrus offered her a job that would pay a bit more. Basically, she uses her wily feminine ways to get close to enemy gang members, steal their secrets, and report back to Hades. And because Cece needs money, she ofc said yes.

Though now that she’s surrounded by gang members, she’s SUPER wary of them where her kid is involved. Literally her kid will never be seen but is always her #1 priority which is why gang members are not welcome in her home sorry not sorry.

Very cynical and closed off because of her Tragic Past. Always suspicious of strangers, very cold and aloof in their presence even if they seem to have good intentions. Very warm around her Club Nyra family, though. Dotes on the other dancers like a mother hen, always looks out for them when she can. Extremely loyal to Hades because he took a chance on her when she desperately needed it and will do anything he asks mostly because she doesn’t have much of a choice. So basically, anyone else can go choke. If she is nice to you, that probably means she’s trying to get something from you.

[psychedances-blog]

LOCATION: Club Nyra AVAILABILITY: Closed @ofcaerus

❝ Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Ah-Choo! Ah... Ah... ❞ Cecelia’s lips, painted a glossy red curtesy of Kylie’s lip-kit, hung open in preparation of an oncoming sneeze. A few of the other dancers in the employee lounge already had their fourth bless yous poised already, though the niceties died on their tongues when it became clear that it was a false alarm. ❝ Excuse me, ❞ Cecelia exclaimed, her Georgia accent growing more prominent after a sudden sneeze-storm. Gosh, she better not be catching a cold. There was no way she could afford to get sick right before Christmas, not when her seven-year-old was expecting a dollhouse to arrive under their sparse tree Monday morning. Even with the extra shifts, Cecelia knew she was cutting it too close. You are not sick, she said to herself, and then immediately slathered hand sanitizer all over her hands. You are not sick, she said again, as though the mantra could magically ward off any disease if she said it enough times. You are not sick. You are not sick.

❝ You got one of those non-drowsy, fast-actin’ allergy pills? ❞ she asked, turning to face Ash. She was not sick, but the last thing she needed was to wind up in another sneezing fit in the middle of the club. ❝ It’s fine if you don’t. Maybe I’ll get lucky and meet a man who gets off on germs in his face. ❞ Her doe-brown eyes narrowed in on Ash’s face as she spoke, focused on a smudge of mascara on the side of the other dancer’s nose. ❝ Y’know, hold that thought, and hold still for a moment, dear, ❞ Cecelia murmured, gently bringing her index finger to the black dot and wiping it clean. It was a a force of habit, after five years of cleaning her daughter’s face. Sometimes she couldn’t help but get in the other dancers’ personal space as well, but with only good intentions of course. 

[psychedances-blog]

LOCATION: The Warehouse AVAILABILITY: Closed @lovxr-boy 

It’s nothing like Club Nyra; Hera’s castle is forged by smooth jazz and fine wine and it’s all so gosh darn fancy it makes Cecelia’s skin-crawl. Funny how she’s grown more comfortable dancing for strangers in a club than she is sitting at the bar of a high class speakeasy. Cecelia couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the dangers lurking within all the opulence, and knew that she should have her guard up while gathering intel ( especially on enemy turf ). Nothing could distract her from her mission. Not Russell’s kind disposition, or The Warehouse’s glamour.

And yet... the jazz singer’s voice was so lovely, her soft Christmas carols blanketing Cecelia into a false sense of complacency. Sleep was hard to come by, ever since she started taking longer shifts and had to keep her flu-ridden daughter home from school. Silent Night was practically a lullaby in her years, and Cecelia couldn’t help but grow drowsier the longer she waited for Russell to make his way to her. Sweet boy, would he mind if she rested her head on his bar for a few minutes?

Cecelia dozed off before she could come up with an answer to her own question. And she would have slept longer than three minutes, had it not been for that voice breaking through her slumber. ❝ Five more minutes? ❞ she murmured, burying her face further into the soft sleeve of her faux-fur coat.

[psychedances-blog]

STARTER CALL! ― like this post for a closed starter between cecelia + your character

[kardashianjennergifs]