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Greetings|| Jules/Lynn
"Hmm-- so you're the new Hazel Runner? They say you're the oldest thing here. Can't imagine someone like you would have any reason to agree to come back to their gilded cage so easily. Stockholme Syndrome?"
@mymusesins
Para|| Reunion: Juliette/Elliott
Elliott stared down at the folder in his hands. He’d memorized it, completely dumbfounded by the information that had been handed to him. Not just that he was being given a case-- though that in and of itself was unbelievable. From what he’d picked up, there had been a harsh volleying of arguments about putting him in the field. But they needed someone who was familiar with the charge, and Elliott was by far the most qualified in that respect, powers or no.
And so here he was, sitting on a bench in the gazebo, mind whirling with thoughts about meeting his friend for the first time. The dark-haired boy had to admit that many of his thoughts were shallow ones-- whether she would notice that he was still much thinner than he used to be; the bags beneath his eyes; the teeth marks that make-up likely couldn’t hide from vampire vision. He wondered if she knew he was back behind a desk-- Juliette never had trouble picking up information in a short time after all-- or if she even cared. So much had changed since Hazel Run, and he knew that the one thing Jules valued over all was her freedom. Maybe she was bitter to be shuffled back into yet another refuge town: maybe the last thing she wanted was to see him again.
Elliott was pulled from his thoughts as he watched a statuesque brunette come toward him, looking as flawless as ever. He cleared his throat and gave a nervous half-smile as he watched his long-time friend approach him. “Hey Jules,” he greeted, letting out a breath of relief he hadn’t even realized that had been building ever since he’d lost sight of her.
for @mymusesins
para|| On the Wings of Change: Santana/Mason, 10/10/2015
Santana sat at the base of the Old Man Statue in Wilde Square, contemplating the people as they walked by. She had work in a little bit, but she still probably should grab a bite to eat before heading over. For most of the summer, she’d spent a lot of her meals at Neptune’s Trident or Style and Glaze, making good use of the fact that her boyfriend and best friend made excellent munchies. And through September, she’d still done the same, even as the numbers lessened with so many residents heading off to school. And then her birthday had come and gone.
Santana had no desire to go to Luxsit-- she didn’t have any reason to sit in a stuffy classroom and learn things she was never going to need to know. She tolerated being on ROTC because she always enjoyed pissing off Darling, and hell, she’d admit it-- she still hadn’t let go of the idea of being reunited with Britt by becoming a Suit herself. Plus the workout was damned good for her.
But she felt a little on-edge since her nineteenth birthday had come and gone, and while she couldn’t really identify the source of the feeling, it had been enough that she’d taken to trying to roaming the town-- avoiding places where she had instant links and people-- in order to try to shake the restlessness. The town square was kind of dull, but a lot of people did walk by. Maybe she could at least find someone to mock.
A body slid into the seat beside her, about forty percent confidence and sixty percent uncertainty. Throw in the slight ruffle of his feathers behind him, and the Latina didn’t even have to glance in her peripheral vision to guess who was there.
“What are you doing here Chicken?”
Text: Warnie
Ronnie: Are we still fighting?
IM: Warnie
Ronnie: Ok-- seriously? Are we really doing this over the freaking computer? You know that I think you're okay: I mean, I've tasted your "experiments": you've got talent. But you're the one going around all like "I spent the last three months just fucking around, so obviously it's your fault that the anons are gossiping about us because you wrote a ten-word reply to something I posted." Seriously Warren.
Para|| Back to the Start: Ronnie/Santana, 9/21/2015
Ronnie pushed the beads of sweat off of her forehead and onto the back of her hand, rubbing the slicked skin roughly against her cotton shirt as she finished her circuit and turned to face the rest of the group. Most of them were old vets of the game, pushing off the last dregs of summer laziness; some were new recruits, trying to catch up to the higher standards of college level ROTC. And then there was Santana-freaking-Lopez.
The Warg shouldn’t be here-- she wasn’t in college, or any school for that matter. She wasn’t an Agent-in-Training; hadn’t been officially recruited for anything. And yet, just because she didn’t suck at her powers (okay, so she was pretty damn good), and was a rare sub-species of their kind, she somehow got a pass onto the team. It royally pissed Ronnie off.
Arguing with the Director was useless-- Santana Lopez was a top candidate in high school, and she still worked hard and came out second to only Ronnie herself on the field, so why shouldn’t she be allowed to be part of the team? Despite that she apparently had no futuristic aspirations based on her day job as a bartender and her refusal to take college courses. And the fact that she was probably only even entertaining the idea of being an Agent because her mistress or fuck buddy or whatever was one. And the fact that she had a painfully obvious attitude problem, didn’t play well with others-- and oh yeah: she was dating a freaking Rebel,
In the Healer’s mind, the list of reasons Lopez shouldn’t be here could go on for days, but the wavy-blonde was forced to keep her opinion to herself until formal reviews, when the supervising Agents would actually ask for it. And that wasn’t going to happen in the very beginning of the school year.
Speaking of the Devil, the winged-Latina panted slightly as she finished up her own track, chugging water and tugging the hem of her shirt up to her face, completely exposing her toned stomach and sports bra as she wiped the sweat off of herself.
The college sophomore glanced at the clock beside them and clucked her tongue derisively. “You know Lopez, you might be able to skim off those extra seconds if you actually put some real effort into your training. You know, like taking your fat ass out of the air conditioning when it wasn’t required. There is other cardio besides Reverse-Cowgirl, you know.”
It was a cheap shot, the blonde knew, but she couldn’t help it. Somehow the bitch was getting all of the breaks even though she didn’t deserve it in the slightest, and if no one else was going to call her out on it, Ronnie was.
self-para|| Not So Black and White, 5/23/2015
Ronnie ran her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair, flashing the Agent at the ramp a grin as Nico handed him their tickets. The man gave the younger Darling an approving smile and gestured for them to go ahead onto the ship.
It was perfect-- the blonde Healer was wearing the right dress that turned quite a few heads; and she had the right date: Nico Wright was a well-liked resident, and Danica’s cute older brother with the perfect gentlemanly mannerisms. The witch didn’t even have to worry about her Cadets behaving-- even Lopez (who thankfully was not living with her) seemed to be too distracted with having a good time with her unusually mellow traitorous boyfriend to be her normal bitch self. The night should be everything she wanted.
And yet, as Nico went off to grab them some punch, the blonde girl couldn’t help but glance searchingly around the primped and polished students and guests. Not for anyone in particular, she insisted to herself stubbornly. She just wanted to get a feel for the event. It was beautiful-- the club in charge of organizing it went all out. And so had she. Granted, her date was a little...boring; sweet and polite, saying all the right things and perfectly approved by her chaperoning sister, but at the same time, he was just one of those guys that was very happy to simply stand in the crowd and watch things happen. Not that Ronnie had any intention of causing trouble or doing anything crazy on the boat or when they docked, but she also knew Nico wouldn’t even dream of such a thing: it had been as good a reason as any (besides his looks) to have him escort her to the dance, but now that they were here...
The Healer’s heart jumped against her will as her gaze caught sight of an impeccably dressed shape-shifter entering the room. With a blonde Runner, just as he’d stated-- Charlie Fabray looked alright, Ronnie forced herself to admit. Maybe a little worn around the eyes, potentially still raw from her fall-out with Yang (which in and of itself was pathetic, but not her business). The younger girl couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose slightly in irritation-- Warren really could do so much better; if he was planning on ditching her anyways (as he’d implied in their conversation), why bother taking someone so wrecked? Not that she cared, she reminded herself again. It wasn’t like she had allowed herself to consider him taking her for even a second-- it would have been a complete disaster. And if he wanted to put his energy and disarming charm and smile into a lost cause, she wasn’t about to ruin her night to try to stop him.
The girl forced herself to glance away when the kanima’s eyes shifted upward, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her looking, and by then Nico had returned with a chivalrous smile and a drink. She made sure her returning grin was wide and radiant as she kept her focus on him and their (admittedly dull) small talk until the anchor pulled up and she pulled him onto the dance floor to distract herself and allow herself to enjoy her time. Ronnie found herself looking around again, and this time when she caught sight of her sister’s approving gaze, it didn’t really make up for the seemingly knowing one she thought she saw in Warren’s.
The two hottest witches at the B&W (in prep-- believe me, I would never let him go like that)
