𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜 𝗗'𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 [arts & crafts instructor @ le petit club] for ileazure. [intro]

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@verrdure
𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜 𝗗'𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 [arts & crafts instructor @ le petit club] for ileazure. [intro]
"did they?" and isn't that the problem, when he braves himself to dig deep enough and unearth whatever went down between him and midori those years ago? there was never really a conclusion. no one to say, the end. nothing that screamed, that's it. it's done. except someone had. he had watched midori's back grow smaller and smaller, hoping for her head to turn — to meet his eyes again over her shoulder. and she never did.
maybe that's what she meant. you don't always get to say goodbye. wasn't last season not the same thing? he'd fallen off the bike and they'd taken him to the medical center and he'd just— he knew. time to kiss the rest of the season goodbye. he'd held onto the hope that he can come back stronger next season. looking at midori across the table now, sam thinks that's what he did wrong with her, too. he'd held onto that hope for a little too long. she can walk away now. how long until she comes back again? midori never did. his fingers curl around the half forgotten menu book on the table, tugging it closer to his chest. what a sorry excuse of a shield it is. it's not enough to cover his face, anyway. just a flimsy little cover held over his heart.
the words tumble out of his mouth : "you never said goodbye, you know." she hadn't needed to. "how was i supposed to know what you did with my number?" you never said anything. "if i didn't know better ..." he trails off — leaves the sentence hanging in the air just in time for a waiter to stop by. sam turns his head. he wonders if she knows how hard it is to look away from her, sometimes. "a bottle of sake, please," he tells the waiter. "two glasses with that."
his eyes find midori's again. "you still drink, don't you?" if he pretends that he isn't samuel gao and she isn't midori d'amore, maybe they can be just two friends catching up. his smile has no humour to it when he says, "careful. i might get the wrong impression here. you still care enough to be annoyed, don't you?"
Every word he says is an extra wound. Midori was once unfamiliar with the way guilt can curl up in the base of your throat, colouring your every word before you even say them. She misses when she used to talk to Samuel without the words meaning something else, without burying things under the vowels. There is a shovel and one grave between them and she keeps telling herself pick it up. Pick it up pick it up pick it up. She has to keep fighting off the urge to undig.
Did they? Midori's mouth gets stiff from all the fake smiling. You never said goodbye. And the smile slips. Tumbles off her face. She knows. She left the door open hoping it would haunt him, the hole where the goodbye should be. But the ghost goes both ways. How was she supposed to know that? If she was more honest, she might admit she left it that way on purpose. The only reason you don't close a door is because you still want it open, right? Right?
“Guess I thought you'd take the hint with the radio silence.” She shrugs, like it's inconsequential, like she doesn't just miss him, plain and simple. He orders two glasses with his sake and Midori...? Midori is relieved, isn't she? Cruel as it is, stupid as it is, she's glad he decided to sit here. This island used to feel bigger.
Samuel wouldn't be Samuel if he didn't get a reaction out of Midori. It just used to be sweeter, is all. Less complicated. “Yes, I still drink,” she says, and this time she's grinning, and she doesn't care if it strains her cheeks, if it feels too manufactured to be natural. She hopes it looks off on her face. She hopes it scares him a little. When the sake is placed on the table she snatches it up immediately, just to keep him from getting to it first. “I'm not annoyed.” It's a pointless insistence, because when has Midori D'Amore been good at obfuscating? When has Samuel Gao been bad at seeing through her? “Maybe this is just what I'm like now. Maybe you stopped knowing anything about me a long time ago.”
She pours sake for the both of them, and she is smiling.
[ @moissan1te⁎
Midori eyes the hay bale speculatively. If it looks comfortable... She turns to Bessy, or Betty maybe. Demian can go on about his horses, and Midori isn't always listening as much as she should be. Bessy, she decides. “You wouldn't mind if I snuck in there and took a nap on your hay, would you? I'll only be like an hour, two hours tops.” Bessy blinks at her. Midori pouts, about to cajole Bessy some more before she realises they're not alone. She turns to find Demian standing there, the horse whisperer himself. “Just in time! D, you think I should be allowed to take a nap on some hay too, don't you?”
afternoon, some random garden
feat. @verrdure
“you’ve got to say his name. stupid little man only eats when you say his name,” zack nods towards the only pigeon not feasting on the crumbs. “or wait… does that make him smart?”
To think there'd be a day where one of her babies don't immediately descend on whatever's edible in front of them. And sometimes non-edible. She hasn't forgotten the pebble incident. “Didn't he try to peck your toe off the other day? There's no way he's suddenly smart. C'mon Pichard, here boy.” She tries her best to tempt Pichard into eating, but unlike his sister Pichelle, he's refusing to budge. “No way, you don't think Pichard's becoming a picky eater, do you? Ugh, I bet one of the guests did this. I bet they tossed out some caviar or whatever and it made Pichard's palate all boujee now.”
› closed: for midori ( @verrdure ) › location: le petit club, after 5pm
THE CLUB HAS JUST WRAPPED UP FOR THE DAY, and as julian walked down the hallway, still drying his hair with a towel, he noticed a few large, heavy-looking boxes stacked by the arts and crafts door. the label on top read ‘craft supplies’. his gaze lifted, landing on midori inside. he couldn’t help the way his expression softened a little at the sight of her. without missing a beat, julian stepped over to the boxes and gave them a quick glance. “ whoa, looks like you’ve got a delivery, ” he called out to her before shifting the boxes with a grunt before peeking inside one — everything seemed in order. “ but why do they insist on sending boxes that weigh a ton? ” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. he knocked gently on the doorframe as he stepped inside, offering her a smile. “ want me to take care of these for you? ” he asked, his tone light and easy, but there was a sincerity in his eyes as he motioned to the boxes.
Clean up always takes just a little too long for Midori's liking, her energy having been all but sapped up already, leaving her moving sluggishly through the process of clearing up the room. When Julian shows up by the door talking about the boxes, Midori realises there was something she'd forgotten entirely. “My construction paper! I totally forgot.” She might have ordered a bit too much in fear of not having enough after she realised she was running low on paper. She was worrying too much, clearly, but the kids would've been a right terror if they found out there wasn't enough paper to go around. She still has nightmares about the day they ran out of pipe cleaners. “Would you? Since my arms are so terribly weak...” Midori places the back of her hand against her forehead and acts the part of a frail, sickly young lady. “I could definitely use someone very nice and very strong to help me carry the boxes inside.”
does she fall for it? perhaps for a moment, though when the other breaks into laughter so too does ahri. panic aside that she'd been right with the joke, ahri just giggles with midori instead. how absurd that would have been to be right? "noted, don't call on you for baby help in the future then." she pretends to write in a little notebook before shrugging. "azure would be a cute name for a kid, i'll admit that. but a baby as a mascot? get real, no way that's going to happen."
“If you need me to dogsit though, I'll be there. Winston is so much cuter than any baby we could ever get.” Midori's not even fully lying. She loves her little protégés, even if half of the stuff they end up making look like a colourful mess, but sometimes she does think it would be nicer if they didn't talk as much. Couldn't talk at all, maybe. Had a tail and a bit of fur, even. “Oh, I see how it is. You just want Winston to be the mascot, don't you? C'mon, don't get jealous of an imaginary baby. Winston's the unofficial mascot in my heart.”
closed starter for —› @verrdure
petit club alike a second home . . . well , or third , hugo moves about just as casually . shifting through the remaining kids that haven't been picked up yet , all the while carrying arts and crafts supplies stacked in both hands . truly a master of his very own arts in regards that are beyond even him sometimes . “ hey , mids ” to which one particularly energized kid speeds through the gap between his legs ( surely only fueled further by their pushed back bedtime ) . it takes a minor stumble and a lost brush among the way , but hugo manages to reach destination . “ geez , it's like trying to avoid mines . literally can't wait for clean up time ” bright hues meet midori and they smile before his mouth even gets the chance to . “ anyways , came here . . . might I say , impressively fast for given circumstances , to ask about the marble paintings you made earlier . actually , not exactly the paintings . just . . . the marbles ” a hefty sigh tied into the actions of unloading his arms on the table . “ in short . they are gone and I fear for davian's nose , ears or . . . well ” it solely took a nod of hugo's head in the general direction of said kid in hopes midori would catch on quick .
Hugo's face is a welcome reprieve. It helps that he's an adult, and therefore is largely snot free whenever he comes by. Midori is so tired of crying children and runny noses. Any little thing sets them off, and it always takes a little too long to get them to calm back down. “Hey, Hugs.” She smiles as he drops the boxes off, turning just a little to avoid a collision with the back of her legs. She's beginning to get a sixth sense for these things. “Oh, don't worry about the marbles, I've got 'em.” She leans in closer to him and opens up the front pocket of her apron, showing off a bunch of marbles hidden inside. “I can't put them back in the containers until everyone's gone. Last time I caught Sasha with her hand in one, trying to steal a bunch.” She sighs, just a smidge too dramatically. “For a bunch of rich kids they're getting scarily good at stealing stuff.”
there’s an empty seat right across midori staring at samuel and taunting him. doesn’t matter that her table is a party of one. he’s not invited, but— the empty seat is still there. if he takes one step closer, he could curl his fingers around the back of it. yank it out from under the table and find it waiting to be filled. he considers his options.
they’re both already here, aren’t they? he pulls the chair out of its rightful resting position and slots himself in — knees just lightly knocking against the wood of the low table. apparently one step is nothing at all. sam’s eyes are still trained on midori when he settles, leaning back again. it’s like a free fall. only this time, the back of the chair cushions it. “didn’t know you deleted it,” he says, casual. there’s only a table that sits between them, and yet. “i still have yours.” untouched since that fateful day, long buried and forgotten, but he knows how to volley back a challenge all the same.
it’s like they’re at a corner battling for the lead. it’s sam before the apex. thought you’d be more careful than to end up here. midori ahead when they’re through it. sam switches gears — accelerates again, pulls ahead of midori once more. he won’t let her win this one. “scared of a little haunting, midori? you know what they say.” maybe he is a ghost. some part of him died with her. another when he crashed in thailand for the whole world to see. samuel’s lips quirk into a smile. his eyes stay on her even when he raises his hand to flag down a waiter. “ghosts only haunt you when they have unfinished business.”
Midori tenses up when Samuel takes the seat opposite her. Gearing up for a fight, or getting ready to run. Either way, it feels like he'll win. So Midori forces her shoulders down, pushes herself into looking relaxed, like none of this matters, like there's not a shovel in her back pocket.
She'd like to not feel guilty anymore. I still have yours. Her mouth twitches. “Oh.” Why couldn't he be mean, instead? Why couldn't he be yelling? If he started a scene she'd have an excuse to leave, she'd have her cue to yell back, to storm off. Instead he's sitting across from her and looking at her like he's waiting for something. Midori prays for an asteroid, or an earthquake, or a million wasps swarming in through the window. Things would be so much easier if they were just two bodies at a table, no names, no faces, no history.
“It's just annoying, is all,” she says, mouth around her bitten down straw. But it is scary, looking at Samuel's face like this, imagining all the ways it could've looked coming back on the ambulance stretcher if things had been just a little bit worse. “Things felt pretty finished to me.” She smiles around the lie. It used to be harder, lying to his face like this. She doesn't feel all that proud about it. “Unless you've got something you need to get off your chest? Might be better to get it out now, incase you eat it on the track again and don't come back next time.” She smiles wider to mask the way her stomach tenses at the thought. Kindness feels so foreign when he's in the room. It didn't used to.
starter 4 @verrdure !
the thing about art is that unless your name is already big, it's all about scouting potential. in haneul's eyes, midori is nothing but potential, someone who's luck ran bad but who could have been great. if nothing else, her skills are useful, so he plays nice with her. as nice as he can be. “ if i say that i find your art lessons riveting and want to know what you taught the kids today, would you believe me ? ”
Midori hikes the sketchbook up higher on her lap and laughs. Clarence III is turning out quite well on the page. She thinks she might frame this sketch of him horking down someone's leftover breakfast sandwich and gift it to Zack. He'd like this one. “Absolutely not,” she replies, shading in the side of Clarence III's face. His pigeonly eyes and pigeonful beak were looking extra pigeonesque this afternoon. “I don't even find my lessons that riveting.” She raises her eyes from her sketch to give Haneul a playful glance. “If you want me to teach you how to fold an origami frog though, I can.”
࿐ located at the racquet club ࿐ closed for your muse of choice @4tide @tingedrose @dcydreamz @lookloveds @whodnnit / @verrdure @stupidiots
࿐ despite her athleticism when it comes to swimming, the truth is that it may as well be the only sport she's good at. thea stands on one side of the court, over a dozen tennis balls on the opposite end littering the red clay surface. she can't get the hang of serving no matter how hard she tried, with all her attempts either hitting the net or going completely off the white lines. “ god damn it, ” she mutters to herself, hitting the next ball with her racket, only for it to go into the direction of someone walking in. “ oh my god, i'm so sorry! ” thea exclaims, dropping her racket as hands move to cover her mouth. “ are you okay? did i hit you? ”
One second, Midori is standing upright, the next there's something flying right at her face. Then she suddenly finds herself sprawled out on the ground, her forehead throbbing. She blinks up at a pretty face as apologies tumble out of her mouth. She's starting to understand what happened. As Midori sits up, she makes a show of looking at her surroundings, as if she's seeing it for the first time, before locking eyes with her attacker again. “I'm fine, I think. Head's just kinda fuzzy. I'm...” She blinks again, slower this time, like she's well and truly confused. “Huh. I can't remember my name. Actually, can't remember where this is either. Weird.”
SERENA MOTOLA Benetton 25 Summer Collection
gio didn’t move when she touched him. just stood there, letting her fingers ghost along his collar like she had every right to be there, like they weren’t standing in the middle of one of the most well-dressed rooms on the island, wrapped in champagne breath and bad decisions waiting to happen. “ smooth, huh ? ” he echoed, low and easy, his grin slow to bloom. “ right. you almost ate floor in front of half the azure elite, but sure. smooth like jazz at 2am. ”
eyes following hers toward whoever was watching as he leaned in a little. the club regulars always thought they had gio pegged. the charming bartender with just enough accent, just enough mystery. but if they were smart, they’d know … midori was the real distraction. “ let ’em look. they’ll live. ”
her pout hit, and gio huffed a soft laugh through his nose, head tilting, eyes running over her frame in a slow, deliberate drag. no shame, no hiding. just letting it all hang out there between them, hot and unspoken. “ you do look good in that dress, mimi, ” he said finally, voice gone a little rougher now, thumb skimming along the side seam of her waist like he might trace the whole silhouette if no one was watching. “ but you look better when it’s on my floor. ”
he pulled back, just enough to let the words settle, then flashed her a grin that was pure danger and dimples. “ now be honest. you gonna keep teasing me all night, or do i get to return the favor ? ”
Flames lick up the inside of her belly, fuelled by jealousy and other nastier, dirtier things. It's not about possession. Gio is beautiful and charming and right here under her hands, there's not much more to it. It's just a little annoying seeing other people eyeing her food like that.
She runs her hands over his shoulders next, brushing off some non-existent dust. It feels a bit like she's putting on a performance now, pulling off some elaborate mating dance just to get Gio to follow her home later. The woman who had been sizing up Gio turns away with a bitter set to her shoulders. Midori smiles to herself. Her mother always warned her not to play with her food, but how could she resist when it's this fun?
Gio's got a knack for playing along too. Coming close only to pull away, his touch practically burning through the fabric of her dress. She snorts when he calls her Mimi, but it's a testament to his charm that it doesn't shatter the moment. “Baby's okay. Darling, sugar. Cupcake, even. So no on the 'Mimi', 'kay?” She presses a little closer, until they're chest to chest, but just to boop him on the nose; though she makes no effort to move away after.
“Teasing? Me? Never,” she purrs. “But if you want to return the favour, I'm sure I can take it.”
A girl's gotta eat.
security and privacy were things that eurydice treasured in her life, god forbid a rabid-fan convinced that she was secretly in love with them or her ex ( they could try, maybe she would even punch first ) try to attack the film director. not like previous incidents were serious enough to start having to keep and active eye out - but it was always good to at least be prepared. “ say, how many bodyguards are too much? four? five? two? seven? ” dark optics are focused on nearby passerby / victim now, waiting for an answer.
𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋… @unscr1pted @ofidrissi @4tide @dcydreamz @whodnnit / @verrdure @badnews
As soon as Miss Richie Rich opens her mouth, Midori twists her lips up into that blithe smile she reserves for parents who like to come bother her personally about their kids, going on about how he's wearing Gucci so if it gets stained that's coming out of your paycheck and if you see her getting angry please stop her before she bites someone, I can't handle another apology payout. As soon as the question leaves her lips though, Midori relaxes a fraction. A guest is a guest, but at least she isn't asking Midori to hold her bags or pick up after a tiny dog with the manners of a feral raccoon. “Oh, I don't think there can ever be too many bodyguards. I'd go with a nice twelve. A good, even number.” After Midori says this, completely serious as if she isn't just messing with her, she leans in like she's sharing something confidential. “I've seen a lot of the bodyguards sitting around crying when people don't hire them, so take some pity on them, pretty please?”
he could've walked back out. would she have, had the roles been reversed? would that have made her braver or more cowardly? samuel exhales. he's not sure he wants to know the answer.
instead his feet move at their own accord, carrying him closer to midori. they're almost at touching distance now, eyes still locked on each other. why hasn't she looked away first? why hasn't he? three years feels like almost no time at all when he remembers who they used to be.
"you could've called," he says, because if she's going to say the first thing that lands on the tip of her tongue, he can do the same. "or come to see me. i've been around." but you knew that already, goes unsaid. month after month after month on this island and somehow he's only ever caught sight of midori on the opposite end of the room — on one occasion too many for it to be a coincidence. samuel leans back on his heels, and he wonders yet again why he hasn't walked away. maybe it has something to do with the way that midori thinks he's here on vacation making his throat feel tight. his arms fold over his chest. a pause, and then, "does it look like i'm here on vacation? thought you knew me better than that."
Midori has never had to dig a real grave. But she digs small ones all the time, arranges small funerals for those little deaths that aren't deaths at all — but have left something behind to bury anyway. Just one single mourner and her cemetery of little dead things.
There's a monument erected in the centre for Samuel. This huge, ostentatious thing made out of stone that's sometimes an angel and othertimes a gargoyle. You could've called, comes out of the gargoyle's mouth. Midori wraps her fingers — clean and unstained with soil — around her glass and takes a sip. The thing about burying something yourself is that you know you could just as easily dig it back up. “Did you want me to?” She tosses back, like this is a game now. Ping pong. Let's see who cracks first. “You'll have to give me your number again if you do.” She whacks the ball across the table with her paddle, but does she lose or gain a point for lying?
Thought you knew me better than that. Point Samuel. “Thought you'd be more careful than to end up here.” Maybe the worst part of this is that she bought herself the shovel. She bought herself the shovel and she put on her mourning dress and she worries anyway. She keeps wandering around the island like she's hoping she'll catch a glimpse of him, just to make sure he's still whole, as if she has anything to give if she finds him hurting. She's already built him a coffin. “You're like a ghost,” she says. Has he thrown a funeral for her too? Or is there still some breath left for them in his head? “You keep haunting me.”
[ @unscr1pted⁎
The world shouldn't be this small.
Midori makes it a habit to watch, like any second now her star-crossed something might be walking through the door to sweep her off her feet. So when he comes in, she's already looking. She surprises herself with the flicker of affection, the gut reaction that comes hand in hand with the familiarity before the reason kicks in and it sours in her mouth.
She doesn't look away in time. Something flares up when they lock eyes, something bitter sinking into her stomach. The anger and guilt pair unfairly well together. Should she say hello? How have you been? Sometimes I wish you could still remember me as I used to be and not as I am now. How are your parents?
“I thought you'd look worse,” she blurts. There's something terrible about how Samuel he still looks, how she remembered him just right. “Must be nice to just go on vacation whenever you want.”
each day on the island anika learns just how unconventional her upbringing was. what do you mean not everyone had the ability to have their own personality petting zoo at their 5th birthday ? “ instead my mom made it some stuffy tea party theme … i think she just wanted to be able to invite some old actress to network or something, ” hand waving in front of her face, she remembers crying into her earl grey petit fours. head quirks to the side considering the other's words, “ maybe if they put the magician in like a chanel suit … would be a classy spin on it. pitch it for the next party. ”
Midori nods. Old actress. Networking. Mhm, mhm, mhm. If she thinks about it in a detached sense, it's sort of funny. Better it be funny than a cause for envy, anyway. She's walked that road once, she'd not like to walk it again. “Networking at a kid's birthday party... don't know if I'm jealous or if I feel sorry for you.” She laughs. The only thing she'll actually feel sorry for is the state of Anika's career right now. “Is the top hat they pull the rabbit out of not classy enough already? Shaking my head,” Midori says, as she shakes her head. “I don't think they'll ever take my suggestions. I asked for a bouncy castle last time, you know, for the kids, and Chantal left me on read.”
he shifts a little under her weight, giving his shoulder a gentle shake like he’s trying to rouse a sleepy kitten. “no no no, we’re not fading already,” he protests. “you didn’t get all dressed up and came all the way here just to wilt in a corner like a sad little sea widow. croissant would be so disappointed,” he murmurs, half a laugh in his voice. he tilts his head toward the bar, then nudges midori lightly with his arm. “the choice of music is kinda bringing me down though. come on, let's get something to drink and have a little fun!”
She's actually pretty sure Croissant would appreciate a nap in the middle of all this more than anyone else, but she lets Ansel convince her otherwise anyway, agreeing with a groan.
Midori takes off in the direction of the bar, this time tugging Ansel along with her as if it was her idea. She tells the bartender, “one sex on the beach, please.” Then, to Ansel, “think we could trick the DJ into leaving the booth? I bet if I put some Pitbull on, this party would really get crazy.”