#(tima | interactions)

[ursulavilla]

for: @timaelmasri​ 

location: chez ursula 

 “Have you been sharpening your knives, preparing your battle axes, creating some sort of code that’ll hack into the Syndicate and expose the Malkovich siblings deep love of Shrek?” A sleepover of sorts, before pending mayhem, seeing Úrsula and Tima seated on Úrsula’s couch (it was lumpy due to cats, thank you very much), picking at the scraps of a pizza that had long gone cold. “Is it bad I’m all giddy? It’s just been too chummy lately - I haven’t had the threat of death in at least a month or two. And you? Terrorising people at a tech place can’t be as fun as rioting and civil war.” 

[naomiberkeley]

for: @timaelmasri​

location: the met ; ducth masterpiece’s exhibit 

    “I think my favorite is Disillusioned Medea - I feel like I should pick something by one of the few female painters in the collection, but there’s a quality to this painting I can’t shake. Are you a fan of greek tragedies?” It was Naomi’s habit, to make conversation with those who lingered near her at museums - if you didn’t want to socialize and share ideas while staring at art, you should get rich enough to buy it and stare in silence ... or so Naomi believed. It was a warm Thursday afternoon, during the blissful hour and a half of her lunch break - never one to merely sit and eat, she’d slipped away from the office, using her yearly pass to cut the lines, and get lost in the newly decorated hall, of dutch art. “Medea fascinated me back in high-school, but she’s grown all the more complex, in the wake of motherhood. What madness is strong enough to bid you to destroy your own creations?” 

  Her newfound companion was a beautiful, intelligent looking woman - no older than twenty eight, by Naomi’s assessment. Undoubtedly unencumbered by any real times, flitting through her days with only the worries of youth - aside from her newfound shackles in the form of a jewish mom. “You look young enough to be an art student - history, perhaps? Or a painter?”