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[IC] SoS: Semblance of Suburbia

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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
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Hey Im Jordan Surpass Your Limits!

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Thirty households. Thirty letters. One boy. One bicycle.

It was going to be a long morning. Surrounded by the titanic homes of Lakewood Summit, the young messenger was on a mission. Deliver all the letters, don’t come into work for the rest of the day. He hadn’t needed to be told twice. After all, he hated the country club. The people more than anything. He was young, just over fourteen years old, but he’d be damned if the residents and people he caddied for at the Summit Country Club weren’t exactly pillars of society (despite what they might claim themselves). IN fact, quite the opposite was true: they were rich and stubborn and demanding and full of themselves and just generally all around not nice people.

Some of them had little facades they put on, yes, but it was really just… a game to these people. The game of life, and frankly, they were all winning in their own ways. Winning more than he and his family were, at least. The size of their homes alone spoke volumes to him. The residents of Lakewood Summit may be assholes (at least to a normal person), but… they were rich assholes.

The houses were so big. No family, let alone a single person, had any business living in homes this large. What purpose did it even serve? Gigantic. Titanic. Enormous. This entire place made no sense. Honestly, he was surprised he was pedaling through the streets so cleanly, without being stopped, especially given the time of day. Checking his watch and the letter bag, the boy looked at the rising sun, just barely cresting the eastern skyline. If he kept the current pace, he could be out and on his way by no later than 6:48 AM. (Approximately.)

He was, strangely so, right. One last letter, delivered to the final house. 6:46 AM. It’d only taken him roughly an hour and a half. Now, freedom called him. He pedaled quickly, wanting to escape before they roused and flooded the streets, checking the mailboxes to see the letters he’d stuffed into them:





The invitations were tucked away carefully in stark white envelopes, and stamped shut by hand the night before. The wax that closed the letters was shaped in the symbol of the country club, which the boy thought was rather generic, but it wasn’t really his place. Plus, the head of the country club paid him. In cash. Every week. No complaints here. Regardless, each letter was addressed to ‘the head of the household,’ same as it was every year. Ten years now, the art auction had happened.

Shrugging his shoulders, the boy flashed his badge at the security gate(something given to him by the head of the club), which worked. With a simple shrug, the security guards opened the gate to him, and he rode past it. Escape! As he rolled down the road to the summit, he could feel tiredness start to overtake him--he wasn’t meant to be up this early--but, waking up had given him the opportunity to not go to work and be a busboy for the club during the party. He didn’t understand why the letters needed to be delivered the day of the gathering, but he wasn’t nearly as fancy as the people who lived in the houses behind him.

Secretly, he thought that for the best. Life in the Summit was probably stressful…
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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by AlteredTundra
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AlteredTundra

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LOCATION — DiVale Estate
INTERACTIONS — Vivian
TIME — 6:30-7:00 A.M.


Though today was the big auction that the entire town has been talking about, it did not have any different start in the DiVale residence. Gabriel woke up at the break of dawn to meet with a possible investor that he had a meeting with in San Francisco. He had to get up bright up and early for that, so he was out of the house by seven. He didn’t have the time to say goodbye to his family. He had to shower, and eat on the go. His limo was waiting for him by 6:55am, just minutes after the delivery boy came with the invitations to the Auction tonight.

As for Gabriel’s wife and daughter, one of them was still sleeping while the other had been awake for twenty minutes. Quick guess on which was up. Here’s a hint! They sleep in the same bed that Gabriel does. Give up? Okay, it was Adielle. She’s been up since about ten minutes before the invitation came. There were three of them, one for each member of the DiVale family. Only, with Gabe away until next Thursday, he will miss out on the Auction. So, either Adielle would have to find someone else to give it to, or maybe let her daughter, Vivian, have it. Perhaps her sweet daughter would like to take someone special to the auction.

“I suppose that would have to wait until later on.” Adielle shrugged, setting the invitations on the table in the foyer.

It was always like this. Whenever Gabriel had a trip he had, either to meet with potential investors, or some other reason, Adielle always felt like a queen because she had the gigantic house to herself. She wasn't complaining, though. She knew her husband was a busy man. He had a busy job, which demanded him to travel. Besides, getting the time to spend with her daughter, as well as some other people wasn’t so bad, now was it?

Adielle smiled as she strolled upstairs. She was wearing nothing but a scarlet robe that was as long as her mid-thigh was. It was tied loosely, but wasn't showing anything that would be deemed inappropriate. She hummed some cheerful hymn as she went by her daughter’s room. The door was cracked, so Adielle peeked in. She saw Vivian was just waking up. Adielle walked in. "You're already up?"

"The sun woke me up."

"Of course it did." Adielle laughed, "well, get dressed. We got a long day ahead of us."

"Did Daddy already leave?"

"Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. He'll be back next week."

"I don't like his schedule. I wish he would be home more."

Adielle looked at her daughter sweetly. She didn't want it to show that Adielle wished that was well. "Me too, sweetie. Me too." Adielle smiled, "now get dressed and shower. And in reverse order."

"Kayy."

Truthfully, the DiVale girls had a big day. Shopping in the morning, lunch at Ernesto's at noon, hair appointments at three at Hakeem’s, and then the auction at seven. Yup, they definitely had a long day full of mother-daughter bonding. And who knew? Maybe there would be a treat for both of them along the way. Only time would tell, right?
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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by PJW1998
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PJW1998 Madman of the Southwest

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Virginia Dredd



Virginia Dredd had been awake for quite some time when the letter came. She had been reading a novel when

she saw a miserable looking boy on a bicycle deliver it. She also heard her 3 German shepherds bark at him as

he breached the property line. She shrugged on a silk robe and went outside. Her house was set back quite far

away from the street, and it took a while for her to make it to the mail box. She finally made it, and grabbed

the letter from the mail box. She then trekked back to the house and went back inside. She tore it open and

read the contents. As she suspected, it was the annual charity event hosted by the country club.

Virginia was reluctant to attend any social event. In fact, she had never showed up for any of the

previous charity events. But this was an exception, as it came at a time when Virginia was exceptionally bored

with retirement.

What were you thinking, old girl? She would often tell herself. This was also said to her by her

partner at Dredd & Associates, Sinclair, her secretary and at least 5 of the rookie attorneys. It had been a

novel experience, but it was now growing very old. She was actually considering taking up old lady activities,

like knitting or jazzercise. There were only so many rare orchids she could cultivate, and only so many origami

figures she could make.

And that is when you know you’ve hit rock bottom. She would say to herself. she didn’t know how people could stand

retirement. It was disgustingly mundane. Virginia was used to the fast paced, high-stakes drama that was the

law. Just being involved with a case had often been enough for opponents to simply urge their clients to drop

it. They were convinced that Ms. Dredd couldn’t be beat. Virginia, with grim humor, thought that her rivals

were resting easy now.

Virginia decided that there was no harm in going to this charity event. $75 was chump change at this point.

She went to the kitchen and began to make breakfast. As usual, it was a spinach omelet and a cup of chai tea.

She sat out on the back porch, watching the light breeze create ripples in her Grecian themed swimming pool.

Virginia looked at the clock on her phone. It was 7:15 a.m. Virginia decided she would go for a bit of a

walk. She let her three German shepherds out in the backyard and went upstairs to her bedroom.

Virginia changed into a black track suit with a grey t-shirt. she put on a pair of large sunglasses and

exited the house. She came out upon the sidewalk and began to walk, wondering what she would do for the rest of the day.

Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by sakurasan
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sakurasan you don't know how to wash your shoes

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LOCATION: Hashinton household -> Clayton's home
INTERACTION: @Silent Observer, The new resident
TIME: Up since 4 am and out of the house at 7:30



The day had started off as a dull and uneventful one as always. No school meant no papers to grade and no students to look forward to seeing day after day. Dreams filling most of their eyes to the brim. Though that didn't mean he wasn't already preparing for the start of the school year which was creeping up on the town as fast as the summer auction was. And even with the fact that there was no school, Reiden had been up since 4 am, laying on his 800 count bedsheets with his sea deep eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Was that auction today? It was, wasn't it. The auction was well known around Lakewood Summit and though it was supposed to be such a joyful event, Reiden never actually expected much from it. Though he did make sure to spend the money since it was going to the school.

Reiden was humming along to the classical music that resounded practically the whole entire house but not too loud as to receive any complaints. He couldn't help but shut his eyes and sway with the sound of the piano before his eyes opened abruptly to the sudden pain of his foot which grew by the second. "Yee-OWCH!" Reiden flinched before he looked down to see that he had jammed his right foot straight into the corner of the shelf which held his records. With that, he turned down the sound of his vintage record player and returned the records to their orderly fashion. He shook his head and felt as if he had something to do on that specific morning.

Aftershave? Done. Shave? Done. Clothes? He looked down at his casual white collared shirt that was made of good material nonetheless and the black suit pants, lifting the peak of his hazel dress shoes for a quick second. Done. Breakfast? And at that moment his stomach growled before he had the chance to give it a thought. Oh Saturdays, so relaxing yet so nerve wrecking for one that tended to think about Mondays before they needed to. He gave a yawn and checked his mail, taking out the invitation which he already knew to be for the auction. They mentioned it 1 month in advance before actually sending out the invitations.

The invitation was set on his counter before his eyes wandered over the gift basket that was now next to the invitation. A sensation came over him as he looked at the basket, his eyes half opened and a feeling fatigue still pulling his mental state down. For what reason was that basket sitting there with two unopened bottles of Chateau Lafite 1865, lemon scented candles, a box of milk chocolates, roses sticking out of the basket with the sole wish of being the center of attention, and a mug with the word 'WELCOME' in bolded letters. It took Reiden about 15 seconds before realization suddenly hit him. “Oh yes! The housewarming gift. How could I forget?” He sighed and looked over at the clock. 7:30 am. Was that too early? Not early enough? How would I greet them? What if they did not want to be bothered with strangers?

In the end, Reiden was to bring the gift over right after he had his breakfast on this unreasonably scorching day just as the day before today had been...and the day before that. "Oh summer, so wonderfully dazzling but far too hot for my tastes." Wishing for Winter in July, that was a given.

Today's breakfast was just a plate of eggs and delicious grits, taking him about 30 minutes to make and devour. "Mmm." The man murmured, licking his lips and placing the plate in his sink, washing his hands and giving a slight tug to the bottom of his shirt for no particular reason. That was all, wasn't it? My morning ritual was done. He took the basket with one hand and his keys in the other, shoving it inside of his pocket before walking out of the house and obliviously forgetting to lock the doors, not that burglars were known to lurk the corners of Lakewood Summit even though they would get their fair share of riches if they caught Reiden walking out of his house, a smile on his face and not even a small inkling that he could get robbed.

"Where is it? Where does she live? He? She?" Reiden hadn't even heard the Lakewood Summit gossipy gigglers speaking about the new resident that had just moved in the other day. Or perhaps week. Then again, they were more interested in the sex lives of those around them, propably because their husbands weren't fulfilling their wishes in bed. Or some of their boyfriends for that matter.

His head turned left and right as he walked in the wrong direction for 15 minutes before finally realizing that someone had said that it wasn't near the golf course. But after a while of trial and error, he finally reached the house. Oh, he didn't know the person's name, did he? "Good morning!" He rehearsed before giving the door 5 precise knocks and taking a step back.

It's still 7 am, isn't it. Just the time that many awake. Hopefully their the latter and I'm not interrupting anyone's beauty sleep. How would this new resident be? Another arrogant prick? Well, egotistic is a better word for those types of people. Or maybe a sweet and kind lad or lassie that he could get along with? Either way, it didn't matter. In places like Lakewood Summit, you got along with anyone unless you wanted the unnecessary drama that could end in an exasperating mess. Though you might just end up paying someone to clean it up.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 6 yrs ago Post by McHaggis
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McHaggis

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Grimoire Gaming
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Grimoire Gaming Unseelie Faerie

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LOCATION: The Bennett Estate
INTERACTION: Reiden (short collaboration) @sakurasan, Troy (via text) @Universorum, and Margaret @Silent Observer
TIME: 6:00 AM - Midday

It was exactly six o’clock in the morning when the lively beats of Ricky Martin’s Livin’ La Vida Loca pumped out of the iPhone dock on Clayton’s end table. Clay is a morning person, and he always has been, so he sat up quickly and stretched his arms above his head immediately upon waking. Clay shimmied up from the bed and danced in time with the rhythm for a moment before silencing the musical alarm. He padded barefoot through his bedroom and to the master bathroom, avoiding boxes along the way.

Having just moved into his Lakewood estate yesterday, the sprawling four bedroom home was currently in complete and utter disarray. Perhaps ‘moved into’ is too complete of a statement, Clay is very much still moving into his new home. In fact, a truck was scheduled to arrive this morning with a second load of his belongings. Although his personal gym equipment had yet to arrive, Clayton wasn’t one to slack off, and had a morning routine of cardio planned before he would spend a grueling day unloading boxes and furniture.

Clayton took a quick rinse-off shower, mostly to shake away any remnants of sleep, as he was about to spend the whole day sweating. Once clean and dressed in a pair of black basketball shorts and a grey tank top, Clayton descended the stairs to fix up a carb and protein heavy pre-workout breakfast. On the menu this morning was whole grain toast with peanut butter, a sliced banana, and a strawberry greek yogurt. Clay set up his running playlist on his iPhone, which he then placed it in the armband holster that was snugly wrapped around his right bicep. He was in the process of pouring himself a glass of orange juice when he heard a quick succession of wraps at his front door.

Were the movers here already? Clay tapped at his Fitbit for the time. No, it was was only seven in the morning, to early for the moving company… which lead to a completely different question: Who on earth was knocking on his door at this hour? Not that it was too early for Clayton, but it was far too early for most people to be out and about on a weekend day. Regardless, Clayton made his way to the door with his glass of orange juice still in one hand. Being the social butterfly that he was, he didn’t even check the peephole before swinging the door open and warmly greeting the stranger with his signature stunner smile.

What a stranger he was too - the charming redhead with an adorable splash of freckles that stood before him. Clay’s smile widened and he held out the hand that wasn’t holding a glass of juice to shake the other man’s hand. ”Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully ”I’m Clayton Bennett, I just moved in yesterday. What can I do for you?” he asked, figuring there must be some reason for this gentleman’s unexpected visit.

Reiden was looking down at his watch for a moment before the door opened wide, revealing a tall chocolate man that was quite the looker, and most likely grabbed the attention of many when he walked by. He didn’t seem bad at all, the contrary in face. A nice man around… around the same age as him? Scenarios filled Reiden’s head, but he made sure to push them to the side, after all, he was right in front of him, and all Reiden had to do was respond.

A smile flashed before Reiden’s face as he took the man's hand and gave an enthusiastic and friendly shake before releasing his hand. “Good morning! Ah, I’m just here to give you a little housewarming gift.” He gestured to the basket before continuing to speak. “I do hope you were already up, since I know it’s pretty early in the morning to be visiting someone’s home, but the auction’s later and I didn’t want to forget later on due to preparation and…” Reiden trailed off and stopped his sentence, realizing he was talking a bit too much and forgetting to actually let the man speak. Of course, straight off the bat he was his fast talking, eccentric self. “Yes, so, anyways, welcome to the neighborhood! My name’s Reiden, and it’s nice to meet your acquaintance, Clayton.”

It is said that a man’s handshake is very much a reflection of himself. If such is true, than Reiden is one very energetic and enthusiastic man. Clayton’s eyes lit up at the gift basket presented to him. ”Wow, you’re too kind. Thank you!” he said and took the basket from Reiden, leaving Clay without any free hands. Reiden spoke in fast run-on sentences, but he was friendly enough. Clay chuckled. ”No, that’s quite alright. I’m an early bird, I was just prepping for a morning run, actually.” he said as both a fact and as an explanation for his rather fashionless outfit at the moment. ”Good to meet you, Reiden. Now, what’s this auction that you mentioned?” Clayton asked curiously, having not yet fetched the day’s mail from the box, where the auction invitation still sat.

Reiden chuckled a bit nervously and scratched the back of his head with a smile. Calm down. It’s not like you’ve never met someone new before. Just think of it as...a new student your class! Without them being a teenager and having to take lessons from you. Reiden’s smile brightened when the man thanked him, taking the gift gratefully. ”Oh, of course! It was no problem.” He said, relieved that the man wasn’t bothered with his arrival at only seven in the morning. ”Glad I didn’t wake you, then.” It wasn’t surprising to hear that he didn’t know about the auction. After all, he had just moved in. “The art auction? You’ll probably receive an invitation later today, if you haven’t already. It’s just an annual social event, really. Most, if not all of the folks from the neighborhood gather there once a year, and all of the money goes to the school, which is great. Arts program and such. A nice place to meet the people you’ll be seeing around a lot.”

”Really? An art auction? That sounds great! I’d love to meet some of the other locals, and maybe I can find a piece or two to fill this place. It’s looking rather drab and undecorated with all of these not unpacked boxes lying around.” Clayton said with a short laugh. ”And more to come in about an hour, no rest for the wicked!” there was another warm smile that teetered on the borderline between friendly and flirtatious. ”Will I see you later then, at the auction?” he was, of course, flirting in the discreet kind of way that he used to see if other men were also interested in men.

”I’m sure you will! The auction almost always has me spending past the budget I set for myself.” He gives a lighthearted laugh and looks past Clayton into the home for a second, glancing at the boxes before he met his eyes again. Clayton was obviously a charismatic man. Reiden came to the conclusion that his job must involve a lot of social interactions. His flirting that most could have recognized practically flew past Reiden. He wasn’t an extremely oblivious man that couldn’t take a hint. He was just… rusty when it came to picking up these types of cues. “Yes, in fact, you will! After all, the arts program is a good investment, and my bedroom walls were just feeling lonely with nothing to cover the hazel coat of paint. Either way, it was just great meeting you! I hope to see you later and now I’ll let you get back to your daily run.”

Reiden got out of his way, a sweet smile that showed his white teeth was apparent before he waved and walked off. Was he his type? Since when was handsome and dreamy not someone’s type? But Reiden would rather not jump to conclusions before he actually considered anyone. He seemed like a kind man that would most likely fit in right away. A nice man to look at and admire from time to time but still be good friends with. Some people claimed to have a ‘gaydar’ or whatever, and if there was such a thing, Reiden wasn’t born equipped with one. To him, Clayton seemed as straight as an arrow. But God, those eyes.

Clayton returned the wave as much as he could with the hand that held a now-empty glass before he pushed the front door closed with his hip. Clay sat the basket on the kitchen counter, grinned at it for a moment, and then began to clean up after his first breakfast. Clayton began his morning workout by stretching his muscles out in the front lawn. The California sun was already baking hot, all the more reason to run early in the morning. The jog took him meandering through the roads of Lakewood Summit. Clay saw the parks, the country club, elaborate gardens, ostentatious homes, and even a few friendly faces - the latter to which he returned a smile and quick wave in passing. It was good to start making connections early.

After about forty-five minutes of jogging, Clayton returned to his new home. He checked the mailbox and, lo and behold, in it sat the aforementioned invitation to the art auction. Clay shot a quick text message to his good friend and long time training buddy, Troy, asking if he would be attending this shindig. Whether or not he would attend made no real difference, Clay was going to make an appearance regardless, it would just be nice to see an old friend. After a few moments of not receiving a response, Clayton went about his business.

The moving company arrived at promptly eight thirty in the morning, just after Clay had finished eating his second breakfast of a vegetable packed omelette and thick cut bacon. Clayton remained in his workout clothes as he helped the crew heft boxes out of the truck. Some of the furniture and weight-lifting equipment was heavy and cumbersome, requiring extra special care to navigate through the house without damaging anything. Altogether, the process of unloading the truck took a few hours. The movers had left once the truck was empty and Clay had kindly waved them off, saying that he could take it from there.

Clay stood at the heart of a chaotic litter of boxes and rubbed the back of his shaved head. Exhaling in a long sigh, he thought about the incredible amount of work he had ahead of him. At least he had a reason to call it an early night and keep from working himself into the ground. Not long into his reorganizing of items and boxes into the appropriate rooms of the house, Clayton heard a sudden, pleasant, chiming ring throughout the house.

A… doorbell? Of course the house had a doorbell, and a really pretty sounding one that Clay had yet to hear, apparently. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm in an attempt to look somewhat presentable, Clay headed down the stairs to answer the door. Once again not bothering to peek through the peephole, Clay opened the door to reveal an older lady with chin-length cornsilk blonde hair. She looked familiar, but Clayton couldn’t place why exactly.

”Oh, hello there! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” she greeted with a well-practiced television smile, taking in the sight of the muscular black man covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. The thick, deeply southern accent, paired with the recognizable face, was all that it took for the familiarity to register in Clay’s mind. Meals With Maggie. ”I heard that we had a newcomer in The Summit, and I just love a good reason to make a sweet treat for a neighbor. I brought you a housewarming gift - a homemade sweet potato pie!” she said as she offered the dish to him.

”The Margaret Williams made me a pie, wow!” he said with more than a fair amount of enthusiasm. He wasn’t one to be starstruck, given his profession and his past experiences with celebrities, but this was a different. ”Pleased to meet you, I’m Clayton Bennett. ‘Meals With Maggie’ was my favorite show on the Food Network growing up. Man, I sure do love to eat, too, this is great! Thank you so much!” he said before happily accepting the pie dish from her.

”Oh, it’s no trouble, darlin’. My love of baking was always more than just for show. That pie you’ll be eatin’ is the very same one that took first prize in the Alabama state fair for years runnin’, long before my days on the Food Network.” the woman chuckled in that breathy way that elderly ladies with a lifetime penchant for tobacco often do. ”Now, now, I won’t be causin’ you any more trouble, you look quite busied with your move. Rightly so. I do hope you’ll find the time for the art auction tonight, though, a handsome young man like yourself is bound to be a real hit ‘round these parts. And it’s for a good cause!” Margaret chattered in closing.

”Yes, I will be there. I met Reiden earlier today, he gave me the brief rundown of the event. It sounds lovely. I’ll see you there, Mrs. Williams.” he replied.

Maggie smiled and nodded, ”Good, good. And just plain ol’ Maggie is fine, dear. You have a nice, productive day, now Clayton.” With that, the retired celebrity was headed down the street towards her own home. She was dressed in a rather flamboyant floral sundress for a woman her age, but it fit her personality well enough. Clayton looked down at the pie in his hands, and it was hard to tell what was smiling more: his face or his stomach? The irony of an old, white, southern lady making a black man a sweet potato pie did not go completely over his head. He knew very well what the deep south thought about his people, especially being brown and gay, but Maggie seemed like a different sort. There was nothing but kind southern hospitality in her words and actions.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by LovelyComplex
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LovelyComplex Retired Zone

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago





| Location | Helmsley Castle
| Interaction With | Her babies @smarty0114 and patiently waiting for daddy's return! @Universorum
| Time | Too early for this shit

Outfit | Outfit


Some pictures of the house -
Aerial Shot of Estate: 1, 2 | Front entrance of Main House: 1, 2 | Back of Main House: 1, 2, 3 | Outside the master bedroom: 1; Inside the Master Bedroom: 1; Bathroom: 1; Bianca's closet: 1, 2, 3 | Sofia's Bedroom 1; Closet: 1; Bathroom: 1 | Indoor pool: 1 | Outdoor pool: 1, 2 | Bianca's Guest House for Social gaterings: 1

Designed by one of the most influential and critically acclaimed Spanish architects of the time, Vicente Castellana (a man whose main projects are sought out by one family only), the Helmsley Castle of Iverson (Part of Vicente's royal collection: El Reino Encantado The Enchanted Kingdom) has always been known for its considerable collection of art and antiques. Their Castle, along with their other homes around the world (ie. castle in the Alpine region of Switzerland, castle on Le Mont-Saint-Michael, in Normandy, France, castle a forty minute drive away from the Iguazu Falls in Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil) is open to the world once in a blue moon. The man of the Helmsley fortune keeps their Open House days unknown until the day of, adding to the mystery of their humble abode but also keeping it exclusive and a rarity to the public eye. Invitations to enter any of the Helmsley Castles are highly coveted.

Among their guests, more often than not celebrities whose very presence would make most individuals faint (because they were beautiful, powerful, and filthy rich) came to their home once a month for a formal dinner and the first screening of a Oscar-winning potential movie in their estate's unreasonably large theater. Commercial filming requests are usually always turned down and if you're a lucky visitor, the family only allows pictures to be taken in certain areas like the outdoor and indoor pools, the gardens, and the front and back entrance. One of the first stories to travel around the estate during Open House was the sighting of the Helmsley twins, ever since they were ten years of age, hiding behind statues in the Tiamat Pool while tours passed by. The castle itself was included as one of America's "10 Breathtaking Castles" by Forbes Travel. Through great lengths (and fortune), Christopher Helmsley aimed to bring back the best of European architecture and most definitely succeeded.

Everyday, at 5 am, Christopher rose out of bed. He never failed to start his day exactly at that time. Today, he blasted Protectors of the Earth throughout the entire estate (EVERYWHERE) as he went about his business. His darling wife, completely nude, with only silk sheet to cover her skin slept like a lamb until Vivir mi Vida went off loudly and proudly, replacing her husband's tunes and marking her rise and shine time: 5:30 am. Like clock work, her maid, Adelaide, would start her bath, having kopi iuwak coffee by her bed side and a granola berry breakfast parfait. Her assistant and gay best friend, Elias, would have three outfits hanging up for her waiting for her to try on, already knowing what shades, tones, and types of outfits she would be in the mood for. She didn't even have to tell him. He just knew, having plenty of time to study her moods, patterns, and trends. Meanwhile, her agent, Julian, was most definitely in his appointed office making sure she was all set for her day or doing errands for her husband. He'd appear eventually. After sitting up, letting the sheet gently drop revealing her perky chest, she grabbed her porcelain cup and took a long, glorious sip of her coffee. Placing the expensive china down, she grabbed her iPhone 5 Black Diamond and texted her husband:

To: Meu Docinho
Forever and always. Eu amo você mais que tudo.

While Bianca enjoyed her morning snack prior to putting on her exercise attire, Sofia laid in her princess-esque bed, with her black eye mask, ear plugs, and ear muffs for extra measure. She hated mornings and it didn't help that both her parents were fucking morning people. Why couldn't she just sleep in for once? As always, she tried to get away with as much sleep as she could before...

A large bucket of freezing cold water with ice was poured onto her entire body (yes, and her bed). The now angry teenager abruptly sat up and yelled, "What the fuck?!" Taking off her sleeping pieces, incredibly drenched, she glared at her butler and growled, "My mom could have woken me up, Sebastian!"

"Pity, really. I'm actually surprised you reacted so... expressively. I thought you liked getting wet." He stood tall as ever, with his emotionless blue orbs staring down at her and looking hella' dapper.

"GET OUT." Sofia hated mornings with a fiery passion and her butler just made it TEN TIMES WORSE.

"Why don't you surprise your mother and be ready to exercise for once? If it wasn't for her, your life would be meaningless." Rather than wait for the young girl to respond to him, he dismissed himself, deciding it was time to help the chef prepare breakfast for the family, "Everything is laying out for you. Don't make your mother upset, she is planning your sweet 18, after all." He doubted Christopher would stay too long at the meal table, especially since the Matriarch of the house has been continuously begging him to make an appearance at the twin's bash in two weeks (August 8th). If it wasn't for Bianca, the twins would get nothing from their father. They were fortunate and yet they were so ungrateful. C'est la vie. One day they would learn (or not and never amount to anything).

Ten minutes tops, Sofia was ready with her yoga pants, sports bra, sneakers, and hair tied up, her butler did have a point. Her mother went out of her way for her and her brother...

Before reaching her daughter's room, Bianca stopped at her son's bedroom to make sure he was up. Poking her head in, she flashed the lights on, "Meu bebê! You have the whole day ahead of you. Tonight we will go to the auction! Isn't that excited?! Mamãe te ama." Of course, she couldn't waste much time since she was on a tight schedule and needed to make sure she got her morning exercises in or daddy would be upset!

When she reached her daughter's door, her face brightened, her striking blue orbs glistened, and a large, childish grin graced her face, "You're up! Mommy is so happy! Come, come. We can't waste anymore time." Grabbing her other baby's arm, Bianca led the way to their gym while swaying her body to her tunes. The teenager tried her best to hide how grumpy she was feeling. Her mother was too goddamn happy. Sickeningly happy... but Sofia couldn't deny she loved her. A positive ray of sunshine. Not many of those in this community.

7 AM, on the dot. Bianca sat at the end of the unreasonably long table, placing a napkin on her lap. She was adorned with a gorgeous, purple dress, while her daughter wore a chic romper. Always after they were done exercising and everyone was awake, the music would settle down. No more dance party. How sad.

Bianca made sure that Christopher had his favorite meal waiting for him (kissing ass so that she could ask again for him to go to his children's birthday party. She would not give up!). For him, he had 2 pieces of sourdough toast, two waffles, thick cut fried potatoes, two eggs, over easy (topped with cheese, fancy cheeses), four pieces of bacon (two chewy, two cripsy), and a glass of orange juice. He was a man that knew what he wanted (and what she wanted), one of the many things she adored about him! There was an assortment of fruits, cheeses, meats, pastries, drinks, and a decadent entrée for her children (usually their go to). For Bianca, she had an English breakfast: balik salmon, duck eggs, crème fraiche, Oscetra caviar, and several mini brioche. Absolutely divine! Oh, and she complimented it with Laurent Perrier champagne. Yes, Mrs. Helmsley was incredibly spoiled.

Not touching her food until her entire family was sitting down, mommy dearest scanned the dining hall and pouted. Where was her son? Daddy would be here any minute now.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by HalfOfLancelot
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HalfOfLancelot What's worse: being heartbroke or roachbit?

Member Seen 3 yrs ago
Location: Morning Jog ⤃ Jones Estate ⤃ Sidewalk in Front of a House
Interactions: His Feet, Like an Idiot



"I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself."



"Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto, Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen."


A small hum settled in the bottom of his throat, bouncing with the continued pound of his feet against the pavement. Mornings, from Sunday to Sunday, were sacred; they started the day and set the tone. And though James wavered in his ideals, teachings, thoughts, every morning was devoted to time spent in his too large backyard, on his parents' patio, quietly muttering a soft prayer. Faith fled him quite a long time ago, but routine felt more sacred than the church he'd stepped foot from.

Ironic.

If asked, he could recite a number of prayers given and taught to him by the Catholic church, yet, despite being committed to memory, their meanings fled him. And not their basic meaning, the entirety in which is etched into every prayer so blatantly in its offering to God or Mary, or some hallowed saint. What they mean to him, not when he'd speak them, but when he truly listened to the words whispered between his lips. To deaf ears, his guilt continued to remind him.

To measure a man through his faith alone seemed counterproductive. Quite simple to measure for a man devoted to doctrine in how many rules he followed that day or how many 'Hail Mary's' he didn't have to recite. Lose that perspective to gain a new one and faith seemed unimaginable - like measuring love. Usually, it's as simple as measuring sacrifice, and then countering it with a devotion to live. Tumultuous. Confusing.

James often bites his cheek after too much introspective thought. Philosophical questions of religion and faith stirring up emotions he'd rather leave bare and stripped of meaning. Leaving himself to a dull existence felt so desperately easier than succumbing to the vulnerabilities of forming opinions or attachments. Yet, reminders of better feelings pushed him back and forth between two existences.

Despite the sanctity he placed with the rising dawn and the twittering calls of birds rising with it, James almost always falls through a continuous loop of anxious thought. Noise pounded against bone and sinew, covering his mind in a blaring trill that distracted more than usual. The heaving breaths squeezing his chest and lungs burned a constant beat that ran through his veins and left in the blackened pavement he bore down on. It did nothing but add to the din, a constant thrumming that shot electricity behind the battering against his ribs. Time dilated in the pounding steps that escalated further and further into a high, piercing whine that drowned out the music sweeping through stark white earbuds. It stopped James in the midst of his run, veered him onto the sidewalk where he shook until his legs gave and he let himself fall against the cracked pavement.

His hands ripped the cords from his ears, let them drop onto his chest to hang from the clip that anchored them. Panic attack. He was - James breathed, heavy - he was having a panic attack in the middle of a soon to be busy morning. James blinked, let the sweat cool against his reddened, heated skin, and then he closed his eyes and breathed. After a moment of continuous focus, a constant, 'Inhale. 2. 3. 4. 5. Exhale. 2. 3. 4. 5,' James let his mind slowly wander. The few passages to the book he'd bought earlier - for the club - ran through his head, what he remembered and could recall. What he'd be having for breakfast. The inevitable sound of water running through a faucet, then the shower head, and the rustle of fabric - a nice sweater, maybe.

Another moment passed before James could finally stand, wipe a hand over his face and then gingerly on his shorts. His brows pinched and he took a quick glance at his surroundings until his eyes fell on a floral sundress, wrinkled in a way that matched the taught, aged skin of the woman wearing it. James coughed, gave a nervous wave of his hand, a smile, and a quick, "Hello! N-nice morning," before regaining composure and restarting his jog with a sprint - best to leave immediately.

Sweeping through the neighborhood, James took his usual turn down his parents' long driveway and went about a dull, monotonous routine, until he reemerged an hour later with floppy, still wet hair, and burnt toast crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. James swiped at them one last time before setting a slow pace toward his mailbox. The usual had been stuffed inside that morning: things he needed to take care of, something he'd rather not pay attention to, and an invitation to the art auction which he felt he should attend, yet didn't quite have the yearning to. He frowned and immediately tossed everything to the wayside the moment he stepped back into his home.

"Hmm," James hummed, staring down at the marbled counter until his eyes caught the gold corner of the card he'd tossed. A thought occurred, only momentarily before it passed. It continued that way throughout the morning, even through to gathering some of his things and making a round to the Whistle Shop for a cup of coffee and a tiny muffin to snack on while he lounged. Even if following a healthy breakfast and morning run with caffeine and pastries seemed counterproductive. At least the walk to and from would count for something. Unwittingly, though, he'd ordered two in his complete lack of attention, paid for it and walked away all in the span of a few minutes. It made no sense, but regardless of the misstep, his diet (which he often forwent) wouldn't allow the extra calories. One would have to go to waste.

"Mmm, or..." he thought aloud, his feet carrying him through the morning blazed neighborhood. A sigh interrupted, and James stopped his trek almost completely. His walk was leading him almost directly to Hadrian's home, someone he'd become... friends wasn't the right word? James scratched his head, perplexed at the thought of having practically only one friend in the entire community. He frowned at the implication, but couldn't think of anything to refute it. Of course, that wasn't bad - at least he knew and talked to somebody. But, the idea that he did it constantly made him rethink his current plans. Plans to which he had no idea about until now, stock still in the middle of the sidewalk with a brown baggie in hand, with coffee steaming in the other, and the most perplexed look of anguish twisting his expression.

James opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then promptly frowned at his feet in complete consternation.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Aewin
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Aewin Fangirl Extraordinaire

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LOCATION – Mathur Residence
INTERACTION – Each other

The deafening silence found in the Mathur residence was broken by the harsh, quick tapping of fingers against a keyboard, the keys clicking whilst light eyes stared down at the laptop screen with determination. "A little more and then..." Her voice grew quieter until...

"DONE!"

Sanaya tossed the old laptop from her lap to the seat beside her as she jumped up, her arms stretching above her as if she were grasping at something on the ceiling. The girl then groaned as something in her neck clicked, before she slouched over with her hand now rubbing along her forehead. The usually quiet girl surprised the other resident in the Mathur household, the second head peeking from the kitchen to look at the younger with tired eyes.

"I told you I didn't need the list until tomorrow, was it really necessary for you to stay up all night to complete it?" Naina leaned against the door frame, her hips pressed against the wood as her long fingers curled around the steaming cup of coffee. Sanaya peered at her sister from over her shoulder with a shrug before taking the laptop from the sofa and tucking it under her arm carefully.

"Why leave something till the last minute? I had free time so I decided to get it finished early." The shorter girl walked around the sofa, her slippers echoing in the large living room as she padded over towards her sister. "You weren't home again." It wasn't a question. Sanaya barely looked at Naina before passing by her into the kitchen.

"Work." The answer was quick, and something Sanaya expected. It was the same answer she'd get every time she'd probe at her older sister's whereabouts the previous night. At first, Sanaya believed it. But that was before she started helping Naina with the bookstore. Now? She wasn't quite sure anymore. Sanaya poured herself some coffee before turning around to face Naina, her back leaning against the counter.

"What sort of work?" There was a moment of hesitation from Naina, the younger noticed, before Naina let out an airy laugh.

"Isn't it too early for this many questions?" Naina countered, but Sanaya shrugged again. "I need to pay the bills for this gigantic house somehow. Is it really that hard to believe that I'll work a little extra?"

"It's... you... so yeah." Naina clicked her tongue, one hand letting go of the cup as she waved it in Sanaya's direction.

"It's like you don't trust me. It hurts yakno',"

"Oh, really?" Sanaya raised her eyebrows before taking a sip. "Good, gives me more to work with."

"You're cruel. Remind me to never introduce you to Rohit." Sanaya's lips quirked up at the mention of the old man's name. He was the first to cast Naina as the lead in his movie, known to be very... quirky... with his demands in his quest for perfection. He would accept nothing less than the very best, aiming to best even his own blockbusters with newer releases. From what Sanaya had heard of the old man, he was cranky and rarely complimented Naina – though the latter knew that Mr Sharma meant no harm with his words, only to motivate with tough love. Naina gave an exaggerated eye-roll before laughing, Sanaya joining moments later. It was the same routine; each time Sanaya would question Naina, she would doge until she'd dissipate the tension with a joke or ridiculous statement.

"What's your plan for the evening?" Once the laughter had died down to silence once more, Naina asked the question. Though there wasn't really much to ask; Naina knew her sister very well – well enough to know that Sanaya had no plans to leave the house.

"Nothing, why?"

Knew it.

"Oh come on, I don't see you hanging around with anyone other than our neighbour's girl sometimes. Shouldn't I be lecturing you about being more responsible instead of the other way around?" Sunaina picked up the invitation that had slid in through the mailbox barely an hour ago and offered it to Sanaya.

"I'm fine with having just one friend. Too many people... bring me anxiety." Sanaya set the mug on the counter beside the laptop she'd placed upon arrival before reaching out to grab the invite. Inside was a fancy sheet filled with details about the auction coming up that night. Her light eyes scanned the letters before looking up at her sister. "Are you really thinking about shelling out $75 each to view some art we probably can't afford?"

"We're not that poor, plus it won't harm us to attend. C'mon, it's for a good cause." Naina sang that last part, as if it was going to convince the younger girl.

"You can go if you want, I don't think I'd be up for it."

"What if I make it your homework?"

"I'm not a child, why can't you just go on your own?"

Sanaya's response made Naina pout, the older woman leaning on her elbows on the counter in front of Sanaya. "I don't wanna deal with everyone on my own. Please? Just for one night." Sanaya sighed as Naina pouted once more, her sister's hands clasping together (after setting her own mug on the counter) to plead her. It was a pitiful sight, but Sanaya groaned before setting down the invitation beside her. "Alright fine, just- just stop doing that. Begging doesn't suit you."

Naina's face lit up before she grinned and pointed at her sister. "This is why you're the best sister. Thanks, I owe you!" With that, Naina moved from the counter, tiredly stretching her arms over her head before letting out a yawn, mumbling something about a nap as she disappeared from the kitchen.

Sanaya didn't bother to point out that she was her only sister, instead huffing. How bad could it really be?
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by smarty0114
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smarty0114 Human

Member Seen 2 mos ago


Location: Helmsley Palace
Interacting With: | Mom and Sis | Logan Graham (NPC) |
Outfit


The heads of the Helmsley household may have awoken before 6 AM, but Caleb hadn't even gone to sleep. There were two reasons for this. One of them was a story for the Gazette that needed to be finished that night. And the other reason involved a chiseled jawline and a flawless six pack. What could he say? Caleb really, really, really loved both of those things. And boy, did Logan Graham have both of those things.

If Caleb had a weakness, Logan Graham was it. Tall, built, and charming as hell, Logan Graham was the heir to GTech, one of the leading computer companies, a giant corporation that kept Logan well dressed and well fed. He was also the star of Lakewood Academy's football team, and so began the tumultuous affair that was Caleb and Logan's relationship.

Caleb had simply been trying to get an interview with Logan about the football team, and how he felt going into the upcoming season. He ended up with both a stellar interview, and an affair that spanned from janitorial closets at Lakewood Academy to the comfort of Caleb's room. Basically, they did it everywhere. And normally, this wouldn't be too much of a problem. Except Logan Graham was not out of the closet yet. And to make matters worse, he had a girlfriend. Caleb Helmsley, in a stellar show of hypocrisy, talked trash about homewreckers on the Lakewood Scandalmonger, and then shut his laptop and became one himself. Sure, there wasn't an actual home to be wrecked, but someone was going to end up burned.

With that background out of the way, we can discuss the events of the morning of July 25th. With his article done by 12:30, Logan was sneaking onto the giant estate by 1:00, and the two neglected to even sleep. They were so wrapped up in each other that Caleb was shocked when he heard his parents' music blasting through the house, although he was counting on the fact that neither of them would check up on him. He was very wrong, and luckily he had well trained ears from years of his mother barging into his room, or else he would have had a lot of explaining to do. The minute he heard the dull thud of his mother's footsteps coming towards his door, he shoved a naked Logan into his closet, chuckling at the irony, before covering himself up and pretending to be asleep.

His eyes fluttered open at his mom's voice, and he smiled his innocent smile, and proceeded to shoo Logan out of his room the moment she'd shut his door. "Okay, get out of here, now," Caleb hissed, shoving Logan's clothes into his arms. The other boy simply smirked and went to nibble at the youngest Helmsley's neck. Caleb smirked in response before shoving his lover away, and shaking his head. "I'll see you at the auction tonight. Now get out of here before someone catches you," he said, laughing.

Caleb wasn't necessarily worried about his family learning about his sexuality. He was more or less out to most people, though he'd never really talked to his parents about it. But people at school knew and his sister as well, obviously. His sister even knew about Logan, but he still wasn't sure how to approach the subject with his mom and father, and so he would prefer to keep Logan a secret from them.

Once his lover was gone, he got dressed and began an article for the Scandalmonger, before heading down to the spacious dining room for breakfast, smiling at his mother and sister as he took a seat. "Morning. Breakfast looks good Mom, thanks!" Caleb grinned as he heaped food onto his plate, not bothering to wait for his father. If he wanted them to eat with him, he should've been there on time.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by MiddleEarthRoze
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MiddleEarthRoze The Ultimate Pupper

Member Seen 5 yrs ago
A collaboration with @Roosan








Location: Home sweet home.



"...Ton visage ne sera jamais entier, comme tu regardes au-dehors, J'emporte un portrait dévoré, douleur destin bord à bord..." Renè sang along rather quietly to the music; more muttering the words as opposed to actually matching the tune. His painting needed only a few finishing touches; and he needed what attention he had mainly focused on it. It was - yet another - portrait, using oil paints; his currently favourite medium. Renè had taken to getting random pictures from books in his home or from the internet, and using them as models. Some were famous; some were unknown to him - it didn't really matter. It was just a way to keep him in practice when real inspiration hit him.

Which... hadn't happened in a while, but he was hardly one to complain.

In no time at all, the portrait was finished, his music had stopped playing, and his stomach was rather empty - and making it's emptiness know to him.

Rather than cleaning up and making his stomach wait even longer for food, Renè simply made do with replacing his paint-spattered vest with a clean sweatshirt. The smears of colour dotted around his face and arms could wait; eggs and bacon were a calling.
It was no surprise to find at least one of his parents awake, particularly his Father; although officially retired, the man was restless without work; Renè wouldn't be surprised - nor annoyed - if he returned to his once daily routine in the world of fashion.

"Bonjour." To a stranger, it could be seen as a blunt greeting - but it was just the way Renè worked. No point adding more words than that.

"Good morning" replied Aron, without looking round. He had been carefully mulling over an important problem as he shuffled the bacon around in the pan. It involved lace, leather and the problems involved with making the two fashionable at the same time. He internally debated ignoring René in favour of further consideration but had to admit that that sort of attitude was exactly what had gotten them to this state.

Instead, he stubbed out his cigarette and turned around to smile at René. With one hand he snatched up a mug and with the other he poured a steaming mug of coffee, before sliding it over to the younger man. "Did you sleep well?"

Returning a half-smile to Aron, Renè decided it was shaping up to an alright morning; coffee, bacon, and his Dad was being amicable. Not that the man was rude to him very often, but he did sometimes appear to be stuck in his own world - one thing they had in common.
"Pretty well - the bed's here are nicer than the ones back in New York." Sipping his coffee, Renè glanced around the kitchen before back to his father. Although having lived in the place for a few months, Renè was still getting used to the house; let alone the community. "Yourself?"

Aron shrugged. "Not too badly. I must admit that without work, I never feel tired any more, so sleep sometimes eludes me. Still, all the more reason to find something else to properly occupy my time, no?" He seemed to look into the middle distance for a moment before hearing the bacon sizzle. Spinning back to it, he expertly whipped it from the pan and dropped it onto some presliced bread with some meagre strips of lettuce.

With this bounty, he returned to the table and took a seat next to his own mug. After covering his BLT with copious amounts of the third ingredient, he looked again to René. "Do you have a plan for the day?"

"Nothing set in stone." Setting his mug down and heading towards the fridge, Renè removed some eggs, more bacon, and mustard; who needed lettuce and tomato when you have the good old spicy spread?

"I've just finished my painting - can't start another one so soon, so that's out." He paused in his speech as he threw some cracked eggs and bacon into the already hot pan, prodding the eggs slightly as they popped on the oil. "What about you? Thought of anything to... occupy your time?" He did ask for a reason - his father had retired to spend more time with the family. Renè figured perhaps it was time they did... something together. While he'd had more than a few activities with his mother, any shared time was rarely on entertainment when it came to his father.

"I've a few matters I really must attend to, little favours called in from the office, you know how it is, but that shouldn't take too long. I thought I would take Shutzy for a walk after that and then perhaps to the stables?" Aron cocked an eyebrow gently. He knew that there were few things that caught René's interest like horses.

The office - there was the work. Again, Renè could hardly complain for Aron's love of work. He'd come from a hard-working background himself; understood the new for it. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the mention of Shutzy - of all the dogs he personally would like, a poodle wasn't at the top of said list; but Shutzy was a sweetheart. No burmese python, but definitely a sweetheart.

"Hm... the stables?" Ooh, now there was a fun concept. Renè had a deep love of horses, perhaps even moreso than snakes - but he'd rarely had such a chance to spend time with them. A few riding lessons for a rare treat as a young child, but nothing beyond that. However, if he was wanting to go with Aron, it would seem he would have to make that first step - for any other adopted teenage boy, it could be a hard thing to ask.

"If you go, could I join you? I haven't seen the stables just yet." Well, he hadn't even been inside the country club yet - he wasn't the type to go to such places, despite the money of his family.

With a smile, Aron inclined his head. "But of course. They have quite an array of mounts there, very impressive specimens. I've been learning to ride for formal examinations and presentations of skill, it's very interesting." There followed a few moments of silence as the eggs sizzled in the pan and Aron sipped his coffee. Then he looked up and swore quietly in Polish.

"I'd almost forgotten, a young man delivered an invitation this morning to a Charity Art Exhibition. I don't suppose you'd be prepared to tag along? I don't want to suffer through the dreary conversation of the neighbours alone."

Fishing the eggs out of the pan while the yolk remained runny, Renè paused again. Although he did enjoy art, he rarely admired modern art. To him, it was one of the worst things to come of pretension and too much money; seeing a dot upon a blank canvas and purchasing it for millions. Silly. Still, there was the potential of decent art work at this exhibition, and he was never one to shy away from charity. Additionally, there was the "dreary conversation". Aron seemed to detest it in an odd amount for a famous fashion guru.

"Suppose so. Just don't leave me alone with a cougar, all right?" He agreed with a light joke - although he wasn't wrong. There were plenty of them prowling around town, after all.

Aron chuckled, wagging a finger at René and grinning. "Oh, I'm sure there'll be someone more your own age, many cougars have had cubs at some point in their life." The smile stayed on his face for a few seconds and then dropped and turned to a frown, as his thoughts turned to an exception; Estella.

"That's settled then." he said, a little brusquely. "I'll finish the day's business, walk the dog then we'll go and see a man about a horse. And in exchange, you'll accompany me to the exhibition. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take your mother some breakfast." So saying, he gathered up a plate with bacon, eggs and some toast, along with a mug of coffee, and walked off up the stairs.

Renè nodded in agreement, wondering vaguely as to whether his Mother would be joining them or not - usually, they were happy (Or, perhaps not happy, but willing) to leave him while the pair went to these often extravagant events. Deciding he'd just have to wait and see, Renè finished constructing his own breakfast before heading off upstairs - popping into one of the spare rooms to check on his snakes. They were getting big now; particularly Toulouse, the burmese python. Clearly aroused by the smell coming from his own breakfast, Renè dropped a few dead mice into each of the separate terrariums before retreating back to his own room to eat. Looked like he had a bigger day ahead of him than he first anticipated.
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 6 yrs ago Post by Undine
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Undine

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Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by HalfOfLancelot
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HalfOfLancelot What's worse: being heartbroke or roachbit?

Member Seen 3 yrs ago
Location: Home
Interactions: His Sister; Mother (through the phone)



“I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!”



Warmth wrapped him in the dust specked glow of the morning sun. The stubble of his chin rubbed against a pale chest, shaking with the rumble of morning wakeness. A hefty arm tightened its grip around his ribs, poking the dips between them to rouse the bubbling laughter - his wheezing breathes trailed into a groan, hand coming down to swat away. A few more minutes. Another probing finger found their way along his jaw, rubbing the stubble, then gliding through dark, heavy waves of hair. Lightness lifted his chest and Errol smiled, burying his cheek into the warmth beneath him.

"We have eternity to sleep," the man beneath and above him all at once enveloped him in his arms and breathed, a deep rumbling from his chest that vibrated against each word. "There's only so much time to live."

"This is what I get for dating a hipster with a Ph.D in liberal arts," Errol groaned, and buried his face into the man's neck to hide the fondness in his smile.

A chuckle erupted, heavy in Errol's ears, and surrounding him in light. "Errol," he said, quiet with amusement lifting his tone.

"Errol," he repeated again, his tone dulling and distance, "Errol?"

"Wha...?" Errol griped the sheets beneath him, a sudden shift in temperature driving a cold shiver down his spine - digging in like hooks ripping across his flesh. He convulsed, cried out in a deafened whimper. "W-why?" he questioned, asked the room around him and the shivering in his bones that ache through muscle and sinew. It gnawed at him, griped at his mind and shredded his vision to pieces, replacing the thumping of his heart with a shrill, piercing tone. An ichor, black as night, pounded against his ribs, turning his veins coal and it shrieked and begged and demanded. Insurmountable pain leaves way to an insatiable thirst that ran his throat dry, replaced it with the blackness, a sticky tar that choked and pulled.

A scream jolted him awake, the sound so close to his ears that Errol immediately thrust himself into the headboard of his bed breathing heavy gasps of air. Touch awoke first to the sensation of wetness engulfing him, spreading against his sheets and Errol turned his head downward to see sweat slick against him, already freezing his skin as it evaporated to the intense wind of the fan. He breathed again, eyes darting around the room and upon finding nothing his brain almost shut down, lets him sink back into the dampness of his bed. It jolted with new information almost immediately, watering Errol's eyes as his hands reached his face and his hair to grip tight. He rolled over, tangling in the sheets to avoid the clammy, moist feeling seeping into his skin. The bed creaked against his heavy weight, heavier still with thoughts bearing down on him so early in the morning. Errol burrowed beneath his comforter, let out a sob and curled into a ball for the remainder of his morning, letting out hard gasps and squeezing his eyes shut harder each time. Numbness gripped him tight, letting go of his limbs one by one until the sensation of his arms and legs finally return - feeling, touch, every sense that quickly shut down, reemerged subsequently.

His sister sat numerous feet from his doorway once he stepped out, caught between wanting to barge in or making a break for it. Errol caught the minute shift of expressions in her face, the onset of fear that got quickly dragged away by shock and surprise. Cara practically broke a record in flitting between emotions, surprise making way to relief and then utter conflict that forced her into a flighty panic. A sigh broke watching her go, nearly spraining her ankle paddling down the steps. Too much at once before a shower and a cup of coffee.

The shower screamed cold water, seizing his muscles until they bunched into tight coils. After a moment, Errol dialed the temperature up, letting the heat raise in increments until the hot spray pounded against the taught muscles. The sensation ran through him, a deep, searing pain that dulled into an ache. Every thought released in a hum against Errol's throat. The day started, a slow acceleration after his damp feat hit the tile floor. Routine set in quickly after.

His phone beeped on the island table in the kitchen as he passes it, shirt still damp and his hair bouts of dripping tendrils smacking against his neck and cheeks. He answered after swiping it, pressing the phone against his ear with a curt, "Mother."

"You sound like shit-"

"Thank you, so much,"

"-have you been doping up?"

"Good morning to you too."

"That was a serious question."

"It always is," Errol sighed, feeling his haunches relax and any will to defend seeping out of him. Routine. "I've been sober for years; I'm fine, how are you?"

"There's an art gallery," his mother, as usual, doesn't miss a beat and before he could ask, she answered, "Your sister told me while you were busy beating it off in the shower."

"I don't-"

"You're gay, it's okay, I understand."

"That's not-"

"I'm heading down right now to spend quality time with my kids. Clean the house I paid for, act presentable for once in your life, and keep your sister's panic attacks down to one, today, I can only take so much," she prattled off and Errol listened, knowing how to read between each caustic, sour word she spat - Don't forget to eat, take care of yourself, take care of your sister - I'm sorry, "I love you."

Errol blinked, tapping his fingers against the marble counter. "Drive safe?"

"Driving," she guffawed, her voice crackling against the phone, "Priceless." The phone clicked and the line dropped dead to Errol's rolling eyes.

He moved from kitchen to sun room with an ache in his stomach not attributed to hunger - or, at least, hunger couldn't fix this. His sweats rustled against the wood of his grand, white piano and his fingers slid against the pearl of each key. A figure caught against his peripheral the moment he sat, though Errol paid her no mind. Mornings often went like this and he enjoyed Cara's company the best when she felt comfortable; thinking he didn't know of her presence often gave her the most comfort.

Soft, lazy notes crooned, a vibrato with every keystroke Errol's thumb made. An almost lullaby, a song that glided through the air, smooth and gentle. A cloud note of words parting from Errol's lips, eyes closed in memory - muscles knowing the sluggish tempo in ever beat of his finger. The vibrato melds into Errol's own, whispering in a heavy-lidded tenor from. On his perch, Errol could see the listless expression of his sister rocking to the melody. He sang, like a blanket over her shoulders, somber against the piano, barely moving but in inches to the near satin of the music. The interlude fell into the ending bars until the words slipped away into a quiet echo.

"Who was that?" Cara piped, fed up with the ringing silence hanging between them. Errol didn't turn, merely let his fingers hover against the keys as he stared down.

He gave his answer a beat of a pause before turning toward her. "Frank Sinatra."

Laughter bubbled up at the mixed expression of anguish wrinkling her nose and cheeks. "What's wrong with Sinatra?" Errol asked, mock shock twisting his features.

"Old, fedora, and overrated," she listed off as she stood, "either you're a hipster or a neckbeard; no inbetween."

"Mobsters wore fedoras back then, too," Errol retorted.

"Yes, and they've learned from their past mistakes."

Finally turning, Errol watched his sister's retreating form quickly scuttling into the living room. He gave into a sigh before standing, letting his toes curl against the wooden planks and the blood rush back into his legs. "That's life," he whispered, hard and course to the stale air around him; his foot kicked out, stomping against the floor, heavy, "That's what all the people say." He watched the back of Cara's head slide into the cushions of the sofa while he spread his arms to his own words, the TV droning the news as she, once again, cut off communication completely. His eyes turned toward the kitchen, his feet taking him to the fridge, while his hands began the meticulous task of breakfast.

"Riding high in April," he hummed, a deep frown creasing the jowls of his face, "shot down in May."
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