The temperature had dropped another ten degrees since he'd last been outside, the subtle semblance of autumn in the air. Well, as much as there could be for Southern California. It wasn't Tennessee, certainly, where on some odd years they saw snow on Halloween. He'd stepped away from noise and music and the loud, dull chatter to call his sister back. Due to her job, she was used to being up at odd hours, and he wanted to hear how his five-year-old nephew's Halloween had gone. But, that could all wait for just a few minutes longer, because no more than a stone's throw away was his neighbor. Loren.
He put his phone in his back pocket, looking like the end of the night — his cheeks rosy from his evening-long consumption of drinks, his hat slightly off-kilter, a little too far back on the crown of his head, and his shirt unbuttoned a button more than it probably should've been. He was feeling good. And it showed on his face; his grin widened, as if he'd just stumbled upon something he hadn't known he was looking for.
"My stars," He announced his arrival, rather in character for his very much so rodeo-themed exterior, the liquor only drawing out his southern accent, "What have I stumbled upon now?" He half said to himself, the male looking her up and down, thoroughly as he approached rather slowly, inspecting her black dress, and then finally the winged mask on her face, "Are you... Some kind of bird?" The male asked, stepping closer again, noting the unique angular pattern of the wing and the black makeup around her eyes, "No, wait — let me guess." He added quickly, moving closer, teetering on the edge of comfortable and personal space, "You're a vampire."
the woman was the last to enter the chamber, shutting the door behind them firmly with a sharp click before swiftly moving a jewellery adorned hand to unclip her golden curls, letting her mane fall free down the length of her back. “you know, things were going somewhat decently until a certain king decided to arrive fashionably late.” she spoke, glancing in tyrin’s direction as she placed herself down on the scarlet lounge chair. “were you planning on attending this whole time, or only later decided we were worth your time?” she enquired curiously, reaching forward to the fruit bowl to pick up a crisp red apple.
When she’s eleven years old, Marianne goes to ask her mom to shave her arms. Sasha is in the middle of cooking, but when she hears her daughter’s request she pauses and turns to give her an inquisitive look. “Por qué?” Mari is pulling the sleeves of her dress over her arms, staring at the ground, face flushed with mortification that is making her force herself to look smaller. “The boys says it’s weird,” She mumbles. “For girls to have hair on their arms.” Sasha furrows her eyebrows.
“Repeat after me. ‘I’m more than that.’” “I’m more than–Valentina, come on, I have a date with Orion in like, three minutes!” “I’m not finishing your makeup until you finish, Marianne!” Valentina’s tone is high and defensive and sharp. Her knuckles go white around the mascara she’s using and she has to pause to take a moment to breathe, jaw tightening. Marianne blinks in surprise while her older cousin exhales and rubs at her temples. The light catches the opalesque orb set in her most precious ring. Valentina looks personally pained, and when she looks at Marianne it is with a strange look in her eyes. “Just say it,” Valentina says, tone a little too tight. “Please.” She’s been like this ever since Marianne and Orion went public. Marianne scrunches up her nose. “ ‘I’m more than that’,” She repeats with a sigh, but her own words roll off her shoulders like water on oil.
Every day when Marianne comes home from work there is a new package at her doorstep. Sometimes shoes. Sometimes perfume, or jewelry, or new makeup, or on one occasion after her phone of five years finally shattered in a freak gnome accident: an entirely new smart-phone.
Xander whistled at that one. She had to call him over to figure out how to work the damn thing.“Wished I had a rich boyfriend,” He commented, kicking his feet onto her new glass table and fiddling away at the settings on the gadget. He had a cunning knack for technology; Mari had no doubt that if Xander had been born a mundane, engineering would have been his second calling. “Well, to be honest, I just wish I had a boyfriend. But the lavish gifts? Definitely seems like it has it’s perks.” “Forget perks, it’s confusing as hell.” Marianne replies with a whine, collapsing onto the couch with a bottle of sparkling lemonade. She takes a few gulps before offering Xander, who gleefully drains the rest of the glass. “I really, really don’t get why he does it. I tell him not to, but if I so much as breathe in the direction of a pair of shoes or something on the Internet too long he’ll buy it. Why?” Xander snorts, plugging his number into Marianne’s contact list. “Yea, Mari, ask the single person. Everybody knows lonely fuckers give the best romantic advice.” Marianne wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re the best advice for everything else.”His ego appropriately catered to, Xander gives a high pitched giggle and flaps his hand a little. “Aw, shucks, you. Nah but seriously, it’s probably just because he’s your boyfriend and wants to make you feel good.”Mari snorts. “Don’t be stupid, that’s ridiculous.”Xander shoots her a questioning look.
A slice of strawberry shortcake and a cup of tea, because coffee is never good for her nerves even when it is 3AM and she has a stack of paperwork to go through. “Loren,” She sighs with a wry, exhausted smile, “What did I ever do to deserve you?” “You were Miss Mari.” They reply without missing a beat, and Marianne blinks.
“I’m marrying tomorrow.” Orion is leaning against her office door, arms crossed, expression half-solemn. He scans over her frame, looking for weaknesses she’s hidden away, finds none. He stays in the doorway. There is a ring around his finger.“I know, Orion,” Marianne says absently, scribbling away at paperwork. There is a ring around her finger, too, and it glints underneath the artificial light bathing her office in a soft glow. “I have a wedding gift prepared, if that’s what you’re worried about.”“You’re alone.” He says.“No I’m not.” She replies immediately.“You could have me.” Orion insists. “I don’t want you.” Marianne shoots back, eyes still concentrated on her paperwork. Orion’s expression grows restless, and he shifts on his spot, spreads his arms out. “I could call it off right now–” Marianne’s pen splinters with how hard she sets it down on the table. Finally, she looks up, eyes glittering a little with impatience. “Listen when people are speaking,” She snaps. Orion twitches a little in surprise. Not all of Valentina’s teachings have sunken in quite yet.
"There is nothing about you that would ever make me want you again. I have an entire family here, and I do not need a man or any sort of romantic relationship to be a valuable person, let alone a whole one. I’m worth more than any shitty half assed affection you could give me, so shove your fucking marriage blues up your ass and GET OUT OF MY OFFICE.“
He was true to his word. As the city-wide power grid came back online and as things began to normalize (as normal as normal could be), he realized an invitation was in order. Loren. The neighbor — the girl across the hall, and now, his 'baking student', evidently. He'd knocked on her door, and by some chance, she was there. A smile, a 'hello', and a spiral into an early evening of showing her the simple ingredient combination that went into his self-proclaimed 'best dessert'. Straightforward and quick. He'd even offered her the spoon with the batter to lick after — perhaps the most exclusive offer one could receive, and stuck the cast iron skillet into the oven.
He eyed the skillet one more time before closing the oven. "So, pop quiz," he began. "What have we learned today, my protégé?" His rhyme came with a smile. Lemon is a garnish. Baking is easy. Raw batter tastes good. He would've taken her smartest and most sarcastic quip as an answer, any form of banter, acceptable. "— Answer wisely. You are being graded." He jested, turning to face her with a boyish expression.
⤷ Who: @lorenlillegard ˎˊ˗
➝ Where: Ocean Crest Apartments, during 'The Blackout'
➝ When: Afternoon
Upon reaching his floor, he realized something was different. Besides the air conditioning being busted, power absent, and half the residents had fled, of course. The door across from his was wide open, boxes stacked to prop it open, with large writing penned across the front. 'LIVING ROOM' and 'BEDROOM' stood out, and he concluded very quickly that he had a new neighbor. As he walked closer to his door, someone came out of the apartment, a young woman with brown hair just past her shoulders and a busy look on her face. They briefly made eye contact, and he smiled, feeling almost diffident, but nevertheless friendly, "... You picked one Hell of a time to move in." He greeted, digging for his keys as he tried to make light of the situation, "— Welcome to the block."
