#ft. josephine

[intheseaofred]

crashing waves;

LOCATION: row's end TIME & DATE: 8th march, who knows the time CLOSED STARTER: @semidull

The text he had sent during the week was simple enough, a small greeting followed by the invitation/request for him to go surfing with her that weekend, or rather just him observing her, since he had no idea of what to know or even where to start, lacking everything from the gear to the skills, but making up for all that with good spirit and commitment.

He sat down watching the waves, far away enough not to be a victim of them just yet, but simply appreciating the soft breeze and the sound of the waves as they crashed on the shore as he waited for Josephine - a small moment of calm, one Conrad enjoyed, taking the time to just exist in that very moment.

[elicts]

𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 @ambvrs​ location: strathmore dining area

chance meetings are like experiencing small doses of the universe's magic to the aquamarine. and even when the student population is low and the chances are high to bump into someone he knows, eliot still revels in each occasion. smile already coming in to play as he catches sight of josie in front of him in the lunch queue. "so," he starts as the queue continues to move, desperately trying to hold back an ever-growing smile that urges its way onto his lips. "you seemed like you were in good spirits the last time we spoke." a little too proud of the added emphasis he puts on the word 'spirits' even if it's said in a quiet tone. almost as if he can practically picture the glare his mother would give him for such a cack-handed joke from over one hundred miles away. "saying that, i'm not complaining... the only other person who messages me at that hour of the morning is my grandma." he fails to mention that even then it's usually as a result of forgetting that he's a few hours ahead of her. josie doesn't need to know the terrible sorrow that comes with receiving a mistaken late night text. "and she doesn't even know what a box cow is." finally, with his last ounce of self-restraint, he smiles. big and bright. "how are you? and more importantly - how did you survive?" 

[elicts]

𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 @ambvrs​

the queen’s smile meets his own as he looks at the framed photograph of her and her corgis. something so little and yet it ignites such warmth inside him. if he had his way, all the frames inside the manor’s hallowed walls would be filled with photos just like it. it’s only after seeing the picture of the queen with her corgis does he feel like he needs to take action. for monty, emma, linnet, willow and holly’s sakes. 

he seeks out josie’s help in particular, catching her wrist gently as he spots her walking past. “i need your help,” he pleads, blue eyes batting at her in attempt to win her over. sure that she’s one of the only people who can be convinced by his argument. “you see there’s...” how does he even explain his predicament? for a moment, his brows knit together in thought, a slow exhale leaving his lips as he attempts to do so. “a man who really pisses me off who i want to take down.” an unusual sentence from the aquamarine. one he seems to realise himself, as a brief huff exits his nose as he realises how easily he could be misunderstood. “not in a fighting sense, but in a physical sense. i want to remove him from the frame he’s contained in upstairs.” even the thought of the painting irks him beyond belief. always of the opinion that art should be something for the public to enjoy, until it comes to the man in question. a strathmore donor who he’s sure was a opal society member at some point, but it does little to convince eliot that he belongs in the manor. “it’s nothing personal! i just feel he’d be better suited elsewhere, you know? like in a nice compost heap helping flowers to grow... or...” his lips purse together momentarily, eyes looking down toward the ground as if he’s about to say something terrible. “the bin, perhaps.” eliot looks at josie hopefully. “so... will you help me remove him?” 

[teagan-monroe]

closed starter for @josephine-carter

Despite being a swap, it was still summer in Louisiana, and things got surprisingly flammable in the heat. When Teagan had seen the smoke rising, she'd originally thought she'd be telling off a family or a bunch of guys for having an oversized bonfire, but as she got closer, it quickly became clear that wasn't the case. An old shack was engulfed in flames, the dried out and presumably low-quality wood providing more than enough fuel to send flames several feet into the air above. Curse words were muttered under Teagan's breath as she quickly used her in car radio to call it in, knowing this was going to require more than the small fire extinguisher she keep in the truck. Luckily, she wasn't too far into the main road into the wilderness, reporting her location before grabbing the extinguisher and jumping out.

Putting out the fire seemed pointless, but she could hopefully stop it from spreading to the surrounding grass that was getting rather crispy from the heat. It was only a few minutes before Teagan could hear something behind her, glancing back to see the familiar sight of a fire truck emerging from the trees. "Thank god." The blonde muttered, lips pursing into a tight line.

[elicts]

𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇 @ambvrs​

there was always something of interest to be found in watts’ gallery. he’s been at least a dozen times in the time he’s been at strathmore. none of the pieces have changed in the three years of his attendance and yet every time his imagination manages to be captured by something new. a missed detail. a look on a subject’s face that just seems to resonate in the moment. but on this particular visit, he’s just glad to have company. it’s quiet today — to be expected of a midweek afternoon, and yet it’s almost as if they have the entire gallery to themselves. something of which he’s extra aware of as he stops in front of one painting in particular. “i think...” he starts quietly, gaze altering between abstract design and josie. “there was something quite special about the rectangular cow movement.” for a moment he has to hold in his own laughter, looking cautiously to the gallery attendant just in case his voice is getting too loud, before continuing once more. “i imagine that critics of the 19th century must have said that cows had no right being that rectangular and yet, william albert clark here defied them all and said: ‘no! my cow will be of such a colossal size that in two hundred years time, two strathmore students will come here and stand in awe of its boxlike glory.’” finally, feigned impassivity gives way to a gentle smile creeping its way onto the corners of his lips. “there’s something quite remarkable about having that as your legacy, don’t you think?”