#dylan001

[theromandaniels]

≈ blue harbor public library. with @dylxwestwick

Libraries were the last few places of pure sanctuary on this earth. Open to all, free, people mulling about and minding their business. Quiet. Oh, so so quiet. When the noise of the store got to Roman, he often found himself just leaving mid-shift, deciding that Re-Chording would be fine in the hands of the college kids the previous owner before Roman’s takeover had hired. 

Look, he was nice enough to keep these kids in a job, even if they were ignorant and a bit up themselves. 

It had been one of those days, and he slipped out before another stupid fucking question could be directed his way, walking over to the library, grateful for the bright sunshine warming him through the small journey. It meant more families would be outside today, and not ruining the sacred serenity of the library. Still, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he beelined straight to his preferred non-fiction section, finding that the biography of the artist he had been reading about wasn’t on the shelf. After consulting the librarian on duty, he found that it was the only copy they had, and whilst they could request another one, it hadn’t actually been checked out yet if he wanted to wait and see, meaning the status was left up in the air, but the book hadn’t gotten far. Roman decided to find out who had it, see if there was a way he could obtain it for an hour or so. 

The only reason he didn’t check it out himself was simply the reason he liked being at the library: everything outside these walls was loud and distracting,and  taking it home or buying his own copy when he could find respite in the library seemed counter-productive to his needs. Also, he wasn’t that up himself to admit he’d probably rack up quite a few late fees as well. Eventually, scanning the tables rewarded him, briefly recognising the brunette who had the book on her person, remembering speaking to her a long time ago about music and art. “What are the chances you’re just holding onto that before another book catches your fancy?” He asked when approaching her, “Or is that book absolutely vital to whatever you have going on?”

[thephoebeyates]

> The People's Pierogi. For @dylxwestwick

With the sun shining, Phoebe decided to take advantage of the nice weather, and to her personally, no better way than with some delicious dumplings in a place where it was outside seating only. Feeling like she hadn’t seen Dylan around, she invited the art curator to join her, because good dumplings were only matched with good company, after all.

“So, how’s everything? How’s Theo? And Nana?” She asked as she collected her food from the stand, sitting opposite the other brunette on the benches provided.

[angeloconnor]

Status: closed @dylandunsmore​

Location: the carnival 

Angel has the munchies, which is multiplied by a million now that alcohol has been thrown into the equation. There’s no point in pretending that the hunger suddenly consuming her is anything different, but what better place to have the munchies than at a carnival? At the moment, she’s a bottomless pit with an abyss for a stomach, and she has deep fried anything and everything at her fingertips. If there’s a god, then goddamn this must be heaven. 

She’s methodical as she lays the spread out on the table, flowing with excitement as she swings her long legs across the bench of the picnic table and takes a seat across from Dylan. A little shimmy touches her shoulders as she slides her beer out of the way, getting in position to fuck up this food. But then she glances up, immediately squinting when the weird fog seemingly hanging over her friend finally registers. “What’s wrong with you?” Angel asks plainly as she reaches for a fried pickle spear, dipping it in ranch before taking a bite. “You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” 

[annie-perrault]

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

@dylan-meir​:

[The girl says she’s okay, but everything else about her says otherwise. She’s practically shaking, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Dylan is given the strong impression of a newborn calf lost in a herd. Any panic Dylan felt over nearly running someone over is replaced by pity and pure concern. All she wants to do now is wrap this girl up and shove a mug of hot tea into her hands.]

Nothing to be sorry for. I was the one not looking where I was going; well, me and Queenie here. Technically the horse is supposed to do half the driving, but frankly they just don’t have the smarts for it. [She lowers her voice to a stage whisper.] Don’t tell them I said that, though. They’d never forgive me. Now, are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit shell-shocked.

☀

[Dylan’s stage-whispered joke about the horses being stupid elicits a short, surprised laugh from Annie. She’s still amped up from the panicky adrenaline running through her veins but it’s easier to make the conscious decision to slow down and take a breath when it’s so obvious Dylan hadn’t done anything maliciously. Not that Annie expects anyone would deliberately try to run her over with a horse, but her mind jumps to dark, paranoid places sometimes, in the heat of the moment. And Dylan’s approach is about the best way to put Annie at ease -- acting like the two of them are in on a joke. ] 

Mhm, I’m... I’m okay, just... catching my breath. Haven’t had a near-death experience since the Falling so it kind of caught me off guard. [Annie manages a smile, if an awkward one. Dylan seems really nice, she’s got a bright, open sort of energy that kind of reminds her of Maisie.] The horse is called Queenie? I didn’t know they had names. Is it... okay if I touch her?

[Annie had taken a couple of horse riding lessons when she was a kid, and she liked them, even if they were a bit intimidating. But she’s not sure about this one yet, because it’s still pawing at the ground from its exertions. From the easy way Dylan had leapt off the horse it’s pretty clear she’s an experienced rider, so the fact that she’s comfortable with the horse doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a nice horse.]

[cambieandrews]

Friday Night Blues || Dylan & Cambie

@dylan-meir​:

[The warmth from the ovens mingles with pride at the compliment in Dylan’s chest. It’s one thing to be told her cooking is good by her family, who are more or less obligated to like it. It’s another thing entirely to be validated by a complete stranger who has no stakes in the game. It makes Dylan feel a little less homesick, if someone who isn’t from home enjoys her bread just as much.]

It’s not imposing if I’ve invited you, is it? [She points out with a smile.] It’s challah. My family used to make it every Friday. But this is my first time doing it on my own. If you think this is fancy, you should see my aunt’s six-strand circular braid. [On holidays, she’d do elaborate patterns and decorative shapes, and in the end it’d almost be too beautiful to eat. Maybe someday Dylan could get to that level. For now, she’s just happy that it didn’t come out burnt. As she speaks, she breaks off a piece and offers it to the woman.] Here. It’s best with butter and honey, but since those are in short supply right now, we’ll have to eat it plain.

☀

Very true. [Cambie laughs, taking a seat opposite Dylan. She’s trying to get better with boundaries, but… yes, given she’d been invited, there obviously wasn’t anything to worry about here.

She sees why she’d picked up on a little melancholy in Dylan’s face -- it’s her first time making it alone. Cooking with family is something that can be so personal, and in the wake of so much loss… it probably is quite an emotional thing. Cambie certainly still gets wistful whenever she makes a batch of doughnuts; the only thing that stops her from getting weepy over missing her father is the number of happy memories associated with the act of baking. Happy, sleepy early mornings at the diner, disastrous Christmas experiments, the delighted smile on the face of a regular when they got a free doughnut with their coffee… Cambie thought that was what her dad would want her to think about, not how much she missed him.

Thanking Dylan for the offered piece of bread, she takes a hearty bite. And god, it is gorgeous. It tastes just as good as it smells, and is beautifully soft. Cambie sighs happily, dancing from side to side in her chair. There’s nothing like freshly baked goods to lift the spirit, and she’d already been in a good mood.] 

Mmm, lovely! You should be so proud of this. It might not have six strands but I bet it tastes just as good as your aunt’s. I don’t think it even needs honey and butter. You’d better not leave it out, or it’s all going to disappear within the hour.

[Cambie usually pretends not to be aware of the fact that people on food prep often help themselves to some extra portions. It seems fair to her that if you prep the food you get a little extra. A loaf of freshly baked bread wouldn’t stand a chance, though, and there’s no use pretending.]

[oceanerowen]

It’s a given that it draws her to the beach, it had only been a matter of time until she finds herself barefoot in the sand with waves lapping at her feet. Her pool, as beautiful and deep as it was, could only keep her for so long. She inhales the fresh breeze, yearning to dive into the cool water. Oh she loves it. The freedom, the raw energy and serenity, that lingers beneath the crashing waves. She still does yearn to control it. It’s been a century and Océane still misses her abilities. As happy and comfortable as she is, as chthonic—- there are things she does miss. A noise alerts her, steps, in the sand, muffled but she still hears them. Dylan. 

She recognizes him, realizes nearly immediately that he no longer carried the stench of the Chateau. “No longer a prisoner I see.” she greets him, a smile playing around her lips. “Care to join me for a swim?” she doesn’t await for a response, dropping her heels that she had been carrying into the sand, out of reach for the waves, and starts to undress, losing her dress, revealing she had worn nothing underneath, before she heads for the waves, expecting him to follow.

@dylanxsong​

[archived-thecjwelford]

≈ waterway diner. with @dylxwestwick

He was hoping to catch Tefi before she headed back to Philly for a few days, just because she had tried implementing some sort of order to the apartment and now CJ couldn’t find his sneakers. However, still reeling from excess partying and jet lag, it had turned out that the racer had missed Tefi by a good day (and felt immensely bad he hadn’t seen her in the small living space she called home). So instead, he just ordered a burger and decided to chill, no point the trip to Waterway Diner being a wasted one, after all.

As he took a big bite of his double XL burger, he spotted the familiar top of a familiar head and, not caring about the other diners enjoying their evening meals in the relative quiet of the eatery, stood up on the old vinyl booth, waving manically. “Dyl! Dylan! Hi!” 

[oceanerowen]

She is playing her favourite game, well, second favourite, she is just outside the café, barely minding the rapidly cooling paper cup in her hand because her attention is focused on the pedestrians that flood past her. She is picking them at random, a child that lets go of his mother’s hand and runs off, disappearing in the forst of legs here, a prisoner that attempts to make a run for it there—- idle business, something to keep her mind a little occupied while the plan of what to do next, of whether or not and if so how to impliment an arm of her business here still formed.

When another prisoner–guard combination approaches her, she decides to mess with the guard instead of the prisoner, prompting him to turn around and wander off, forgetting his duties of making sure he got the prisoner around town. Her attention shifts to the prisoner, curious to see what he would do with his new found freedom. // @dylcnreid​