#oroopen

[sydneyclarkson]

Tiny Dance Film Festival || Open

Sydney floated around the venue, occasionally looking at the videos being projected on the screen. She was drinking a glass of wine -- her third glass of wine -- and was starting to feel light headed. It was too early to go home, she decided, but she was alone and starting to feel bored. Scanning the crowd of people, she didn't see any familiar faces, which was kind of unusual, seeing as the type of people that Sydney knew would be at festivals like this. However, it was particularly strange for her to end up here because dancing was never something that interested her, and she had been burnt out on posh parties for years. She sighed, sitting down at an empty table and sipping her white wine. She slipped off her heels under the table and looked up to see a stranger standing before her. "Hey," she said with her raspy New York accent and a smirk. "Wanna join me?"

[sydneyclarkson]

Sydney sat in the grass of Alamo Square, the sun beating down on her face. Spring was around the corner, and the air felt clear, smelling like nature. This was something Sydney rarely experienced in New York. The city was so dirty, but it had it's redeemable qualities. Sydney would always have a soft spot for the place -- it's where she grew up, and spent most of her life. She was still so young though, and opportunities were springing into life. Going back to work is really what she needed. Sometimes getting back into the simple every day routine is necessary.  

Suddenly, she felt the warmth of the sun disintegrate. It reminded her of quote from Great Expectations she had read a long time ago that resonated with her: "It was one of those March days, when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade." She glanced up to see a stranger, staring down at her. "Can I help you?" she asked, giving them a quizzical look. 

[cheyenne-davis]

Start A War - Cheyenne & OPEN

Cheyenne took a seat on a porch step, There was already a cigarette dangling in between his lips as he reached into his pocket for a lighter. He ran his thumb over the switch a few times, forcing a flame out of the used up lighter. As soon as he saw an orange glow he brought the lighter up to his cigarette and hurriedly lit it. He took in a deep drag, letting smoke blow out from his nose before taking in a smaller one. Cheyenne had grown up being allowed to smoke in the house but he detested the idea. He knew that going outside for fresh air was a bit redundant when you walked out and filled your lungs with toxins, but he thought it was better than being cooped up in a house.

After putting the lighter back into his pocket, he rested his free hand on the step he was sitting on as he continued to smoke from his cigarette. Cheyenne was taking his time, there was no rush to go back inside and he was enjoying people watching. A lot of people were walking their dogs at this hour and if it weren't for the cigarette in his hand, he would have gone up and greeted each and every one of them. He couldn't be responsible with a pet. Putting his schedule aside, he knew that if he got an animal it would just get lost somewhere in his room. Cheyenne would find it days later in a Cheetos coma from not picking up his trash. It was better for him to admire them afar. 

Staring off into the distance, distracted by every passerby, Cheyenne was abruptly pulled back into his own life. He jumped up and covered his mouth, withholding a scream from himself. Something had crawled over his hand. Shuddering, "Ew, what the hell?" Careful not to let cigarette ashes fall on him, he swiped at his hand. Cheyenne looked around, whatever it was must have been flung off when he leaped up. Assuming that it was safe to sit down again, he approached the step only to find the culprit crawling out from underneath it. This time Cheyenne couldn't control himself from yelping, and even worse he ended up tripping on the bottom step, hitting the sidewalk with a thud.

[asabjones]

dreamy days in cafés ; asa ~ open

      Asa had been scribbling in a shitty notebook for over two hours, in a cute café he had found on one of his daily strolls. It wasn't anything special, just doodles of Bonnie and stickman cartoons. He hadn't noticed the time, and didn't really care.       A barista came over to wipe down the nearby tables and asked if he needed anything. Asa looked up, smiling. "Nope; thanks, though!" The barista smiled back and finished cleaning.       The bell above the café's entrance chimed lightly, and Asa looked up absentmindedly. The customer ended up sitting at the table beside him. The drink they had gotten smelled really good, and he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask them what it was. Bonnie told him to be careful talking to strangers.      "Um, sorry if I'm interrupting you! But I wanted to know what sorta drink you're having. It smells really nice," he tried. Asa kept his expression light. He hoped to get an answer, and not something mean. Not a lot of people, especially strangers, liked it when Asa bothered them.

[pippapoe]

a night of light reading ; [ pippa & open ]

      Phillipa had stared at her computer screen for three minutes and forty seven seconds before realizing it had faded into her screensaver. With a quick shake of her head and several sticky blinks, Pippa awoke from her stupor. She had been playing Coterie for hours, and...well, she supposed she just drifted off at a loading screen.        Checking the time on her computer, her eyes bugged. It had been more than just a few hours -- it had been over thirteen. Her stomach grumbled (as if sentient!), and she rose from her chair. Her legs instantly ached terribly, in desperate need of movement.        Pippa snuck out of the house with her peacoat in hand. She grabbed a spare house key from the hook beside the door and locked it behind her. It was late, but in San Francisco, nobody really slept. Or so she hoped.

      The young woman called a taxi to pick her up just around the corner, feeling around in her coat pocket for some change. She had about thirty dollars, or at least what she could tell. That would get her closer to downtown.        She asked the driver to drop her off near a 24-hour comic book store, hoping that the library down the block was still open. Pippa gave the driver what she owed, then stuck her hands in her pockets and trotted off down the sidewalk.       When Phillipa entered the library, it was quiet. As it should be. There were a few people chittering and occasionally laughing off to the left, so she went right. As she followed her feet, she ended up in the historical fiction shelves. Perhaps there would be a book about witches.        Pippa trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, head cocked at a very odd angle to read the titles. Eventually, she found one set in 1912. It would do. She pulled it off the shelf, but the books on either side came tumbling with it. She gave a squeak, glancing around if anyone had seen her -- and someone had.        "S-sorry if I disturbed you!" she peeped sheepishly, her heart beating too quickly to breathe properly.

[pippapoe]

des pas sur la neige ;; pippa & open

      Breathing was heavy, tight in her chest. She didn't want to leave the safety of her bedroom -- no terrible disease could grab hold of her, no monster in Man's clothes could take her heart...In her bedroom, the four walls would continue to stand tall around her for all eternity. But Mama always told her living in a box was not a life at all; Phillipa hadn't seen actual sky or felt the actual warmth of the sun in over two weeks. A sigh fluttered past her chapped lips.       Phillipa didn't want to trek across town, but her parents had insisted. She gathered up her things and waited on the front porch for Arthur. He was the family's chauffeur, and had been for two generations. When the current Templeton son chose to move to America, Arthur couldn't bear to leave them.        She hummed an angry tune, pressing fingertips to skirted thigh as if playing it out on the piano. When she caught herself, Pippa sniffed disdainfully and balled her hands into fists. Waiting wasn't the problem, it never had been; it was what lurked in the time in between that caused trouble. "Miss Templeton? Are you all ready?" The voice startled her, but the young woman nodded in response.       They arrived at the café, which looked absolutely dead. She hated when nobody else was there, because it meant the baristas would try to talk to her. A shiver snaked its way up her spine. Phillipa waved goodbye to Arthur and headed towards the wooden door.

      A seat in the corner, where she always sat. One of the baristas, an older teen named George, wafted over to her table. He was drying his hands with the end of his apron. "Read any good books lately, Pip?"       She didn't respond at first, her attention only for the laptop screen before her. After a few more clicks of her mouse, she tilted her head upwards, but her eyes never left the screen. "Eh?"       "Uh...H-have you read any, uh, good books? Lately?" he tried again.       Pippa's lips pulled into a thin line. "Mm, no. I haven't." Attention reverted back to her game. George sighed, hanging his head and returning behind the counter. Pippa didn't even notice. In fact, she didn't notice anything or anyone else in the café except the damned computer screen.        She took a quick break from her game to check Skype, but neither Rowan nor Lavender were online. Well, that made sense, since it was well past midnight in London. It still bummed the young woman out. She slowly rose from her plush armchair. 

      When she approached the counter, George's eyes widened happily. "Can I get, er, a big cup of chamomile? Sugar and cream on the side, yeah?" she mumbled. George smiled. He started pouring hot water into the largest mug he had.        Pippa folded her arms, looking towards the café's door.