#estelle talks.

[cxrleonis]

starter for @anklebitxrs!

usually, the sound of the treats bouncing against the bowl on the kitchenette floor brings a small white cat sprinting (or sometimes lazily strolling, depending on the mood) towards the food. that said, when estelle shakes the bag of treats into the bowl, there is no sign of luna; no pitter patter of her tiny claws against the floor. it’s not normal, and she immediately becomes suspicious. she straightens and looks, padding lightly across the kitchen, along the living room, in the bathroom. 

“luna.” she whispers as she makes her way around the apartment. she tends to be quiet when hurley’s home. ever since the museum incident, anyway. they’ve barely talked since then, except for tiny, awkward little interactions every now and then. she just feels odd... the air in the apartment feels weird, wrong, stuffy since that night. either way, her search for luna ends up with her in front of hurley’s door. she stands there for about five minutes, pursing her lips and furrowing her brows until she gathers the courage to knock on the door. “hey, hurley...” she calls out. “is, um, is luna in there with you?”

[cxrleonis]

i couldn’t help myself | @cvertures

there’s a lilt of a smile on her lips when he looks up at her, and it widens with a chuckle at the apparent nickname he’s bestowed upon her. she pretends to ponder over giving him an answer or not for a moment before dragging the notepad closer to her and writing. “admittedly, i thought you were a bit odd at first (a mostly good kind of odd, though!) and... i don’t know, i didn’t think we’d be friends.” does that sound rude? it sounds A BIT rude. “just because i thought we were just... too different.” after all, he was very OUT THERE and SOCIAL, and she WASN’T. “i don’t know where i’m going with this, BUT i have since realized that you are one of the nicest people i’ve met. i’m glad we’re friends.” 

she slides it back to him with a tiny smile, waiting patiently for a few seconds before her eyes widen with a silent ‘oh’ and she takes it back, adding a bit more at the bottom. “also, i know you’re the astronaut from mars. just to make it clear that i’m not a hermit, and i do indeed pay attention to the news and such. i just didn’t recognize you at first!” and she slides it back with a slightly prouder smile.

[cxrleonis]

@anklebitxrs

when estelle steps into the exhibition hall, it’s all suits and gowns, wine glasses and idle chatter. her anxiety spikes for a moment, makes her shoulders hunch forward and her hands smooth over the skirt of her dress before she forces her muscles to relax and her back to straighten. it’s only when she remembers who she’s here for (and when she fins a glass of wine of her own) that the excitement clouds over her nerves.

is this what it feels like to step into someone else’s dream? it must be, estelle thinks as she makes her way past art piece after art piece. it makes her feel giddy, pulling at the edges of her lips and making butterflies settle in her stomach; hurley deserves this. she’s pressing down on her lips to try and hold back the grin that threatens to break through when her eyes catch him-- blue suit against faded blue hair, back to her as he stares at a painting belonging to the runner-up. the scene in front of her makes her skin feel warm, the buzzing in her stomach turn to a whirlwind. she stands there for a minute or two, looking at him and thinking of what to say. after another sip of wine, she quietly steps up beside him, a shy smile finding its way to her lips. “hi, do you know where i can find hurley mason’s section?”

[cxrleonis]

@littlcstarling

She doesn’t want to impose on the stranger seated beside her, but the movement of the train has their shoulders bumping every now and then and their thigh is pressing against hers ---- the TENSION in her muscles is visible at this point. She presses her lips together before reaching into her purse and pulling out notebook and pencil. Hand nervously jots down a message before poking the stranger’s shoulder gently and showing them written paper, eyes focused on a corner of the notebook, “I’m sorry, but could you move a bit to the side?”

[cxrleonis]

@anklebitxrs

this is the thing-- estelle likes to think she’s a rather rational person. when not overcome by her anxiety, she is able to THINK THINGS THROUGH, to weigh pros and cons, to act based on logic and not on instinct. but then she hears a faint mewl near an alley on her way back home from practice, and a small head covered in white fur pops out-- a kitty.

all sense of logic and rationality goes out the window.

suddenly, she’s juggling with her dance bag hanging on her shoulder; a pet smart bag filled with cat food and a little toy to entertain the small creature (she thinks it’s a her-- she’s not sure yet); and the small tuft of fur cradled between her side and the crook of her elbow. and here’s the MISTAKE estelle makes: she puts too much trust in the seemingly calm kitty that has its head nestled against her but alas-- the moment she sets it down on the floor of their apartment, it runs off. for the next ten minutes, the bag of cat supplies is thrown carelessly on the couch and estelle is running around the apartment after the cat (”i’m not playing, stop running!”).

she’s kneeling on the floor, a hand reaching out below the couch towards the cat that’s curled away from her, when she hears the sound of keys and the front door’s knob jiggling. it seems like enough to make the cat crawl out from under the couch---- only to start scratching at it. “no, no, don’t--” estelle runs behind it, managing to grab onto its body, but it persistently hangs onto the couch’s fabric. “please, just-- stop scratching it, i bought toys for this!” this is not going to look good.

[cxrleonis]

@anklebitxrs

she’s practicing her routine in the living room because her room is too small. it’s not a new endeavor for her, practicing alone, and it’s quite easy when she’s practicing a solo. but that’s where her current problems arise: her routine is a duet. and, yes, there are parts she can practice alone, but unfortunately, she is still unable to lift herself on her own, or do dance moves where holding onto your partner is key to not falling face-first on the ground. there’s only so much she can do by holding onto a wall or the back of the couch. spoiler alert: it’s not much. so she lets the song play, falling onto the couch and groaning into her hands. how is she going to practice this without a partner?

that’s when-- ding-- a bright but ultimately unsure light-bulb hesitantly lights up, and her gaze falls on hurley’s currently closed bedroom door. she could just ask him... but that would be weird, right? he’s her roommate, not her dance partner. then again, she just needs him for a few moves and that’s it. only a few minutes at most! that’s simple, right? she stands up and slowly walks over to his door, grabbing her phone on the way and pausing the music. she keeps convincing herself that it’ll be quick and this isn’t weird at all as she lightly knocks on his door.

[cxrleonis]

@theimpalpable

“So,” Estelle signed, albeit a bit nervously, as Domenic and her sat at the table they had talked all night in during their first... date? Was it a date? Was it just a friendly outing? He had suggested the IDEA of it being a date, but... well, it doesn’t matter. He had offered to take her to lunch after her practice, and they ended up succumbing to their desires and buying some pastries after. “-- I’ve been invited to assist a dance exhibition tonight-- it’s at the museum nearby, it’s supposed to be a combination of still art and moving art, I’ve heard it’s beautiful-- and it’s requested that I bring a plus-one as my date.” She pauses, hands moving to take a calming bite of her blueberry muffin because she feels her cheeks warming up because she’s not used to doing this. 

“I was... I was hoping that maybe you could come with me? That is if you don’t have anything to do, of course! If you can’t, it’s fine. I just thought you would enjoy it, and... I enjoy your company, so...”  She places her hands on her lap before she rambles on further, and awaits his response with a rather embarrassed smile on her lips. 

[cxrleonis]

anklebitxrs:

                        ‘ i – uh. my advice ? don’t, um, don’t work in retail around the holidays. it – friday was crazy. i, um, i saw someone get punched over fallout 4. i think she, uh, i think i heard someone say that she had a broken nose. ‘

                                 her eyes widen, and she quickly writes on the small notebook at hand. that doesn’t sound very fun. shouldn’t they have more security around during black friday? or at least a few ambulances nearby?