Festive

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: Start of the Game
Introducing: Celeste Green}

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_{@Festive & @LovelyComplex}

My name is Celeste Green and I am the Queen of Beverly Hills and the Princess that is destined to take over the Green Company because I’m the best option there is.
A lot of nobodies talk smack about how my world, and school, is exclusive and there is a clear class system.

Guess what, losers!

LIFE is a class system.

If you can’t handle it, you’re not fit to be standing next to me. Periodt. Now move along and play pretend. You’ll never know how it feels to be amazing and true royalty like me. It’s like mommy always says, if you want something done right, pay someone to do it for you. Money is no object to me. I understand it better than anyone. I am gross-rich, pretty, and better than you. That’s all that matters and you can’t really challenge me if you don’t put your money where your mouth is. And you know what? I always get what I want.

Welcome to my world, bitches, you’re lucky to even step foot on it.

With her legs crossed, her lithe form upright, and her electric orange eyes covered by her Balmain sunglasses, Celeste sat rather impatiently on a towel that her Butler laid out for her, on the bleachers in her own reserved section. Her peers knew better than to sit right next to her. It was common courtesy to keep all seats around her open so that a square was created around her and no one’s obnoxious breathing would get on her nerves. Plus, the seats right next to her were reserved for her best friends. This wasn’t the first time the only child of Cyndi and Justin Green did this and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Celeste’s entire existence commanded her wants and needs and most people either obeyed or got out of her face, not wanting to deal with her. She’d take either option so long as the end result made her happy. Her happiness mattered above everything else.

Butler stood at the end of the bleachers, keeping an eye on his charge from a distance since he knew at events like this Celeste needed her space. She hated feeling claustrophobic and she didn’t like people that she saw as dog poop sitting right next to her. She had standards, okay? And most of this school didn’t reach them. It was so hard to find anyone worth her time anymore. But that’s okay. Celeste didn’t need many people in her life. As long as she had Piper and Athena, Celeste was happy. They were all she needed.

And yet they weren’t here. Happiness was fleeting and she could feel irritation festering inside of her. What was taking them so long? She had been waiting for five minutes and she was already ready to leave. The only reason why she came to this dreadful game is because Athena wanted to but if she had it her way she would’ve done some retail therapy, because she deserved it, and ended her night with a nice bath, while watching rom-com movies. She couldn’t believe she came to this game because her friend asked. Why was she such a good person?

Looking around, still not seeing the two girls that meant the world to her, especially annoyed that Piper kept her waiting, Celeste changed positions. Uncrossing her legs and pressing her knees together, she patted down her skirt, making sure she was presentable and lady-like. Her mom didn’t raise a slob. Her heels didn’t touch the ground. Instead her toes connected to the floor. She moved them up and down, causing her legs to join the casual and leisure motion. It was something Celeste did absentmindedly when she didn’t know how to keep herself busy.

Nothing was of interest to her so she decided to focus on daydreaming. Her mind went from LA to Fiji. She closed her eyes and imagined herself sunbathing, drinking fresh sugarcane juice and listening to the waves of the ocean, the surrounding nature, and her own breathing. God, she wished she was there today. Why did she have to go to school and waste her life away surrounded by idiots? Life was rough for someone who knew what she deserved. It was okay though. Celeste Green was a survivor and would carry on. The world needed her too much for her to give up on her studies but that was neither here nor there. Fiji. All she wanted to think about was Fiji. That was where she was as she waited for her soul sisters. Beautiful Fiji.

Although, why seek the waves of the Pacific when the Mediterranean would treat you much, much better? Among the sea of scarlet and noir coated commoners he was forced to share the same oxygen with, Álvaro looked down at his watch once again hoping that the tiny metal hands within the intricate timepiece would be in a drastically different place than they were the past ten times he had checked it. To his avail, the only hand that seemed to work in the entirety of the piece was the seconds hand, which was too slow for his liking. He didn’t quite understand the concept of American football, despite the time he had spent in the States, and his friends' numerous explanations to him it was simply a bastardization of Rugby that stole the name of a better sport where you actually have to use your feet the majority of the time. And the only reason he was even cooped up in the bleachers with the boys was that he had an obligation to support his fellow members of the Elite, so that meant sitting through every dreadful second of this game.

The dullness of the game before Álvaro wasn’t the only factor of his inescapable miasma of boredom. The conversation among the boys beside him was centered around the sport at hand; a foreign cacophony of voices detailing a topic that held no interest nor use to the man, which grated away at his already short patience as he had to fain interest at times. His ears were filled with the frivolity of those lesser than himself from all angles, his foot tapped repeatedly concrete below, his mind lamenting the fact that gone were his days of using Naomi’s name as a “Get Out Of Jail Free” card to sit away from the boys or even skip the game in its entirety. His newfound bachelor life sure had its perks although the downsides reared their heads like a pack of hyenas, but his father taught him how to hunt for a fucking reason.

There wasn't much he couldn't see from the little slice of hell he occupied upon this fortress of concrete and metal. His eyes scoured the waves of students searching for something or someone who would be more worthy of his time. The poverty-stricken majority neighboring Álvaro and the rows beyond cursed his brown-eyed view, and his time would not be wasted on a charity case. His eyes finally fell upon the blond-haired girl that sat a few rows away from himself, like Moses she parted the red sea but not with the power of God but by the power of her own status. The cousin of his dear friend Ethan Green, Celeste Green wasn't unfamiliar to Álvaro’s purview. He had learned about the girl from the Greens he knew, and even interacted with her in the past, although she had never caught his attention until today. Observation is one of the most valuable skills to a hunter; you have to watch your prey, every move they make, and every breath they take has to be accounted for. As if he was scoping at a buck down range, Álvaro watched. She was away from the pack of three that usually accompanied her, separated from the general populace, and her formal stance faltered into one of less obvious impatience.

When the boys were too busy focusing on whatever they were doing, Álvaro snuck away from the group. He maneuvered through the sea of rowdy voices and school pride to Celeste’s own bubble of claimed regality. From the sidelines, he could see her idiosyncrasies more clearly than from afar. Her legs moved together in a rhythmic pattern, a possible distraction from the drag of the game and her isolation. There was no time better than now to strike; in the world of human psychology his rifle was his words, and he was a goddamn marksman. Álvaro inched his way closer to the edge of her bubble, he couldn't invade the sanctity of her space with her permission, lest her bodyguard disguised as a butler come manhandle him. “Hey, Celeste, any room for company?” Álvaro shot a warm smile across the gap to her, tilting his head slightly in the process. At this point, he was passing himself between so-called “queens” like a royal whore.

“No Naomi to stroke your ego? Or my idiot cousin to rub chests with? Or whatever you sweaty boys do,” Celeste dully asked, uninterested as ever. Truth be told, the Green who was the least informed about her classmates unless it was disclosed to her by her best friends was the princess basking in the sun, in front of the royal highness himself. She didn’t need to keep tabs on the nobodies of the Hills. She wasn’t Trixie or Jamie, who loved to stick their noses in everybody’s business, nor was everybody worth her time. If they were, she would know of them. She wasn’t Naomi and her bitchboy cousin, Levi, that pretended to care nor was she her cowardly cousin, Diana, who had her own reign over a make believe Candyland, choosing to force ‘love’ down other’s throats.

Gag me with a chainsaw, please.

Álvaro was one of the few people she did know plenty about because Ethan did not shut up about his boys and it was hard not to notice someone of Álvaro’s stature. He carried himself pompous, vainglorious, and cocksure, like most of the Elite did. They were disgusting and she would compare them to peacocks. Very unlike her other cousin, Andy, who lived in the shadow of his twin. He was more an ant, which was quite tragic for a Green. She supposed if she had to choose, her preference would lean toward peacocks over ants. Ants were easy to crush. Peacocks were pretty to look at. Some people were born to shine and others were born to be part of the backdrop. Álvaro clearly chose to be the sun since he was blocking it with his vexing, yet eye-catching smile.

Looking over her sunglasses, peering up at the prince-of-nothing-to-her, Celeste snapped her gum. She had been chewing it quietly, thinking of her dream escape, when he decided to rain on her parade. He might have descended from the old world of kings and peasants, but here, at this school, having a legacy was one thing but being able to put your money where your mouth is was an entirely different thing. All that mattered here was he was handsome, he had money, and he knew how to navigate the social scene, beyond that? She could care less. Rather than wait for a response, she simply pointed to the outskirts of her beach towel, two spots reserved next to her for Piper and Athena. “There and not an inch closer.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Álvaro shifted himself into Celeste's perimeter of purity, savoring for a moment the disconnect from himself and the lesser of the school’s ecosystem. Some say the first move a person makes is the hardest, but to Álvaro the whole process couldn’t be easier. Humans are predictable, every single one chalked full of their own uniquely eccentric mannerisms no matter how subtle or suppressed they may be. “To answer your first question, we both just outgrew each other.” Álvaro didn’t hang on the topic for too long, he could tell Celeste wasn’t the one to fain fake emotions to for sympathy. The indifference of her voice cut the air loud and clear, he was going to love to make her crack. The wall she erected around herself had already been breached, it was only a matter of time until he plundered his way to her heart.

“And I really couldn't tell you where Ethan is.” Unlike the other Greens Álvaro has fraternized with, Celeste seemed to stay solely within her own world. And from what he’s seen, sticking to the same two friends who were thankfully, but curiously absent. “Besides that, this game is utterly insufferable. It’s an undignified mess of people jumping on top of each other. If it weren’t for Theo and Benji, I would’ve never even came.” His eyes stayed locked on what he believed to be hers beneath the tinted glass of her sunglasses, he made his words flow through the air like a dove as soft as silk. Álvaro intensified the cadence of his accent ever so slightly to catch the attention of the small blonde to his side. “Truly a waste, Santa Monica Beach is always beautiful, the light from the pier, the sky, the water; everything. My father owns an island down the coast of Barcelona, it’s almost a replica; minus the pier of course. Honestly, they both remind me of you in a way.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow at his last comment. He was comparing her to a great escape. A tropical paradise. The beach. Cute. Such smooth words didn’t impress her. He needed to do better than that. Ignoring his mentions of his private island, not feeling the need to go on about her family’s assets, the pompous, petite and pretty blonde was certain he was in the same vein as her. The only difference was he had a title. Even so none of that mattered to her. That didn’t make him special. It was adorable that he thought it did. That just made him worthy enough to breathe the same air as her.

Choosing to disregard his clear attempts to make a move on her, brushing it away like she did when a waiter dared to serve her asparagus, Celeste acknowledged and agreed on his sentiments on the sport at hand, “Tell me about it. My father, Justin Quentin, or well Green since he took my mother’s name,” Celeste casually disclosed, pausing for a moment to relax her shoulders. Enjoying the temporary distraction as she waited for her friends, she snapped her gum once more and mused, “When he was in his prime, he was the best Quarterback the LA Rams ever had. Now he coaches at USC. It’s always been boring to me, though. No matter how much he wants me to love it, I just see idiot boys rough housing. American football in itself is focused way more on entertainment than the actual sporting contest. I hate the superbowl because of him…” She sighed to herself, taking a moment to glance over at her acquaintance as she reminisced over all the times her dad threw the biggest extravaganzas over a stupid game, “There is much more skill needed in Tennis, which is my preferred sport.”

For once, Celeste wasn’t being a merciless cunt. That was how people perceived her to be. She was being welcoming and reasonable, actually more informed in sports than most of her peers would realize. Her mother was a retired ballerina and her father was a retired football player; it came with the territory. She was a mythic bitch, don’t get her wrong, but she had no reason to grow defensive and fight her cousin’s friend. It wasn’t like Álvaro would get much out of this interaction. They were simply making idle chatter to kill time until her best friends appeared. Plus, he respected her boundaries and as a reward, she would give him some of her time.

Odd, Celeste was odd. Such sultry words spoken from a mouth as regal as his ought to be regarded with more than a simple perceptive gesture. There was vastitude of women meandering the halls of their school B.H.H.S. who would do anything to even receive a shred of Álvaro’s attention, to have it outright ignored was new, certainly unpleasant, but new. If she wanted to play hard to get, he was up to the challenge; they always capitulated in the end. “I would much rather watch a Tennis match than this any day. This is just… horrid. My mother taught me how to play a long time ago, I actually used to play for my little Spanish prep school before coming here. Ultimately, the real football was my calling.” Years of it having been forced unto him, Álvaro kept his posture straight. His hands lay idly within the pockets of the jacket he wore, in his peripheral view noticed the slight dip of her shoulders; a lowering of her guard, a growing comfortability. The cracks in her wall were growing, it was only a matter of time before they fell, crumbled into gravel at his feet. This comfortability came with news, a familial connection to the sporting industry, perhaps she will be more useful than a tool to upend his unending boredom after all, at least he wouldn't be challenged for only a few moments of fleeting entertainment. “It’s been more than a few years since I've played though, so I am destined to be out of practice.” A light laugh escaped Álvaro's lips in a pause between his speech. The little lies he spread only worked to benefit the teller, himself; there was no escape of the sport for the grandson of a former Olympian; especially for one who was still in good shape. “How about you, do you play?”

Álvaro had to pivot, his prior talk of wealth and status swayed the small girl less than a windless day swayed a wind chime. Álvaro looked solely for the sweet symphony of success, and his previous chatter led him nowhere but to lose the time he valued more than money itself. Álvaro swept his hand through his hair as he looked away from the blonde beside him for a moment. The scene of red and blue clashing in the vastness of the field was probably the only thing enjoyable about the game, a fleeting thrill of excitement that made the crowd go wild for some incoherent reason Álvaro didn't pick up on.

“I do, yes,” Celeste curtly answered, glancing past him to see if there were any familiar faces walking through the crowd and to the bleachers. Two girls, a blonde and brunette, searching for her. Alas, they were nowhere to be seen. How dreadful. “But you don’t care about that, now do you?” Taking off her sunglasses, the proud, classy and elegant Green revealed her striking, electric orange eyes and firmly grabbed his attention, with a commanding glare. Out of all the Elite boys, she knew Álvaro wasn’t an idiot, especially if he dated someone like Naomi Davis. He was educated and without a doubt, more informed than his ‘brothers’. There was no way he did not know that she was on the tennis team and that because of her, their school team was the G.O.A.T.

If it wasn’t for her parents being completely and utterly selfish, Celeste could’ve gone to a Tennis Academy but instead they bought a private coach and allowed her to join tournaments so long as it didn’t interfere with her ‘teen’ experience. She could’ve gone pro if it wasn’t for her parents being so absentminded, only caring about their own pursuits: ballet and American football. The Crown Jewel didn’t expect him to know any of that but she did expect him to know something as common as who was doing what sports in this school. She knew he was in the soccer team, or the ‘real football’ as he called it, she wasn’t that oblivious, but clearly she wasn’t interesting enough for him to know that she was in the tennis club, or there was another avenue. He was playing dumb to get her to react.

Either way, she wasn’t a fan of someone playing pretend. Silky, smooth words were nice when they weren’t so shallow. She would know; she was full of empty words. “What do you want? Aside from avoiding the general populace, why are you talking to me?” Mockingly, she leaned backward and dramatically pouted like she was some innocent, little lamb, “Is it because I’m not with my girls and you thought I could be your rebound? Or is it because you’re so lonely and desperate that you resorted to going to Ethan’s cousin for company?”

Christ, almighty. What. The. Fuck. Nobody was impossible to read, Álvaro held this true; even he begrudgingly acknowledged to himself that this applied to him as well. Álvaro kept it to a minimum, he buried his ques, managed his body language, censored his speech–he knew damn well that this woman, who didn’t even reach the height of his shoulders, was not reading him like a goddamn picture book; Celeste was either extremely lucky or a fucking telepath. Although he held the thought in the forefront of his mind it did not impede the rampant increase of his heart rate as the words were flung out of her mouth with the ferocity of a volatile hail storm. Álvaro’s heart beat out of his chest with a new invigoration. It had been a long while since Álvaro had felt the feeling of anxiety from some person other than his own father. His interest in the small blonde so obviously faking it beside him grew more in the small, fleeting moment, than it did throughout the rest of their conversation. But the problem at hand grew more precarious the longer he allowed it to simmer, Álvaro had been in more stressful situations than the one at hand. He was going to be the pied piper, leading her away with his orchestra of lies wherein only he was the wiser.

“Celeste, if I was ‘desperate and lonely’ or wanted a ‘rebound’ don’t you think I would’ve sat with any of the several other women who accost me on a daily basis? I am here, sitting with you, to get to know you better, this has nothing to do with anything else.” Álvaro’s tone remained calm, his voice never rising; the man was master at holding his composure, a stark contrast to the battlefield within his chest. His eyes fell back onto her now uncovered face, her eyes were a much better sight to look at than chaos on the field, although, it seemed the same energy had pervaded her bubble. His hands sat at his side now, body almost twisted completely to face Celeste with his full and utter glory. “And, yeah, I am sorry. I know you are on the tennis team, I’m not dumb; admittedly it wasn’t the best question to ask at all. You play amazingly. I am just trying to learn you, Celeste Green, and the best way to do that is to get you talking about yourself.” He couldn’t believe he would be as absentminded as he was when he asked her if she played, of course she fucking played, he knew this. It is in times like these where Álvaro truly thanked his father for how he has taught him; pressure makes diamonds and he shone the brightest of them all.

Diamonds were hard, but not unbreakable, and Álvaro chose the wrong person to try to understand. As he talked, Celeste didn’t hide her disgust, even adding emphasis on her eye roll so he knew exactly how she was feeling. Regardless if she was right or wrong with her blind accusations, there was a clear reaction. Hooking her glasses on her Hermès purse, his words falling on deaf ears, Celeste blew a small bubble with her gum. Sucking it in, she snapped it loudly. Chewing slowly, ever so slowly, she glowered at the pretty boy. She wasn’t buying any of his crap, not for one second. “Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?”

The princess was not backing down. His voice may be modulated, like gentle waves, but the words coming out of his mouth were not worth Celeste’s time. “I’m so glad I’m finally on your radar, as if you couldn’t have gotten to know me while you were in a relationship, or just in class. You can go to hell, Álvaro. I am NOT a second choice. I am NOT a second thought. I am NOT second ANYTHING! I am Celeste-fucking-Green and until you understand that, you can leave me alone.” She shooed him away with her hands, categorizing him in the ‘ick’ section of her brain. Looks were not what Celeste was after in a friendship or relationship and it seemed like his majesty thought that could be what carries him through this interaction. Hilarious. Laughable really.

“Now, my friends should be here soon and I’m getting awfully bored with this.” She gestured to him, her and the space between them. “You can leave now.” Celeste not so kindly demanded. To add extra measure, to protect her space, the blonde terror looked over her shoulder, smiled and waved at her Butler. Her Butler returned the smile with a smirk, enjoying the show, and nodded at his charge, understanding her instructions without her having to say a word. Ignoring Álvaro, Celeste rummaged through her purse to pull out her phone. Once her text thread was open with her two best friends, she started spamming them. Snap went her gum. How dare he act like he knew nothing about her.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object; an impossibility, a paradox. Álvaro was the one who could not be stopped, enveloped in his never ending crusade for anything he wanted; Celeste was now one of the objectives of this battle. He didn't mind being hated, or disliked, or whatever Celeste thought of him in that moment as long as he was in her head. The conclusion may have not gone as he intended but he achieved his goal one way or another. And despite his efforts, the blind rage ever so reminiscent of a Chihuahua continued to spew forth, serving as Álvaro's que for a strategic retreat. “I’d gladly go to hell if you're there with me.” Álvaro stood up from the bleacher, until her eyes as beautiful as citrines gems viewed only his own he wouldn't relent. “But, you are right, I ought to make my exit. It was fun while it lasted.” If Celeste foolishly believed she had warded off the likes of Álvaro, she had another thing coming. He never accepted defeat, he never surrendered, and he never gave up. It was only a matter of time before he owned the rights to her heart alone, and there was nothing she could do to stop the impending storm about to rock her world.

“Toodles,” Celeste dismissed her unwanted companion, looking appalled at his audacity. The nerve of some people. He would take her to hell? Please. She was hell. The next time he came up to her, she wouldn’t be as nice. Álvaro had no idea who he was dealing with and she was adamant to never back down.

How dare he.

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: 6:00 AM on October 18, 2024
LOCATION(s): Santa Monica Beach →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
SONG: Cuando Calienta el Sol
INCULUDING: Alejandro De Borbón y Prusia (#110006)
& Clara von Pruessen (#999999) (Alvaro's parents)}

Álvaro needed to jumpstart his morning.

It was like his routine, the cream-colored Plymouth Fury rolled to a stop in the same spot it had sat the day prior. He exited his trusted vehicle, Álvaro's eyes were held at the horizon as he unfastened the surfboard from atop the roof of his car, and as if it were clockwork the first rays of sunlight shone down on Santa Monica beach. While he hated routine, the view he was afforded made up for it. The distance from the pier allowed for him, his board, and the open ocean to be the only ones around; at this moment, isolation was bliss to him. His gaze shifted instinctually to the beach, as waves crashed against it with an air of elegance, rarely rising too high as they rolled into flat water. It was cold to the touch; the water wrapped around Álvaro’s legs when he entered the sea, it was almost like he was right back home in Barcelona. Álvaro’s mother was the one who taught him how to surf, she would take him out on their private beach on mornings just like this, she showed him the ropes, taught him the motions to go through to catch a wave, the exact same methods he uses till this day. The sound of his mother's slight German-accented voice going through the motions reverberated in his brain, he knew what to do, it was practically muscle memory at this point, but he still heard it.

“You have to take it slow, Álvaro” His bare chest lay pressed against the surface of his board as he paddled out; his mind was clear, it usually was during his morning escapades, the only thing that lingered was his mother’s voice. The truth was Álvaro seldom saw his mother, even during the breaks when he would return home to Spain, his father would keep him busy. One month he’ll take Álvaro to work with him in France, the next in Turkey, continuing until it was time for Alvaro to return to the States. His father had even stopped Álvaro from surfing with his mother when he was young as there were “Much better ways for my son to be spending his time.” Álvaro never complained though, anything to make his father happy, right? A father always knows what’s best for his son, right? “Watch how I do it, Álvaro. You have to stand up as you meet the wave.” Álvaro’s eyes were locked on the encroaching wave, it was the biggest he had seen this morning, maybe even the whole week. He was supped, the thrill of catching the wave was as puissant as always, although Álvaro only caught this thrill when he was successful. Success was like his drug and the thrill was his high, it was like a bullet train he could not get off, to Álvaro there was no stopping until he achieved that success, hell, he wouldn’t even stop after. The speed of his paddling increased with the closer the wave got, and the path of his paddling arched into a semi-circle with his back now facing the wave. He took a deep breath and held it, pushing his body up off the board in a quick, fluid motion as he felt the wave hit his board.“You caught it, Álvaro! Try to keep steady.” Álvaro rode the wave like it would be the last he ever rode, he swerved back and forth making quick turns as he skated across the open ocean. Water splashed about from his cutting of rushing water, soaking his body even more than the paddling had, stopping only when his wave had fizzled out.

That thrill had been achieved.

Álvaro laid back on the board, flipping his wet hair away from his eyes before he began to paddle back. He was disappointed, that was the best wave he was going to get this morning and Alavro never wasted his time on anything lesser; something he picked up from his father, never settle for anything but the best. In no time he had made it back to his car, Álvaro propped the board up on the side of the vehicle, grabbing his phone and a towel off the driver's seat. “Maldita sea, se me ha olvidado…” _{(“Shit, I forgot”)} Two missed calls and one new message from Padre.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Álvaro wasn’t a man frightened easily but, man, did that strike the fear of God into him. The fact that it was Friday had slipped his mind, it was 6:42 in L.A., but 15:42 (3:30 PM) in Barcelona, this was ten minutes after the time once a week his father would call to check-in. He had never missed these calls, goosebumps covered his the moment he clicked the notification.

FROM: Padre
Llámame
_{(Call me)}

Álvaro called his father immediately, his heart beat harder the longer the ringing continued. He had failed his father, not only had he neglected one of the few things his father asked from him, he did it while engaging in an action his father had forbade him from doing. Álvaro strove to live up to his father’s expectations, he was born into the shadow of a giant who demanded Álvaro grow bigger than himself. He constantly tries to please his father but nothing has seemed to work, the only thing he does seem to make his father is angry; he has a short fuse and this has definitely lit it. When the ringing stopped his heart sunk into his stomach, the noise from the other end was silent say for the few times he heard his father breathing, the words flew out our Álvaro almost automatically,

“Hola padre, lo siento por haber perdido la llamada de usted, yo estaba conduciendo y no vi el teléfono mío sonando.”
_{(Hello father, I am sorry to have missed your call, I was driving and I did not see my phone ring.)}

He was lying through his teeth, but it was much better than the alternative; that would’ve just made him more mad.

“Álvaro, buenos días. A tu madre le hubiera encantado hablar con usted esta mañana. Es una pena que tu propia incompetencia haya evitado eso. Nunca dejas de decepcionarme, Álvaro.”
_{(Álvaro, good morning. Your mother would have loved to speak to you this morning, it’s a shame your own incompetence has prevented that. You never fail to disappoint me, Álvaro)}

Now that stung. It really struck deep.

“Lo siento, padre, eso no fue mi intención.”
_{(I am sorry, father, it was not my intention.)}

Álvaro leaned against the car beside his board, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he held back the hurt.

“Independientemente de la intención, nos has decepcionado a mí y a la madre de usted también. Ahora, te ha ido bien en la escuela,¿si?”
_{(Regardless of intention, you have let me, and your mother down. Now, you have been doing well in school, yes?)}

“Si, padre.”
_{(Yes, father.)}

“Muy bien, recuerda, llegaré a Los Angeles para asistir a la conferencia en diciembre, usted asistirá conmigo, ¿entendido?”
_{(Alright. Remember, I will be arriving in Los Angeles to attend the conference in December, you will attend with me, understood?)}

“Si, padre.”
_{(Yes, father.)}

“Muy bien, adiós Álvaro.”
_{(Alright, goodbye Álvaro.)}

“Adiós padre, yo te amo.”
_{(Goodbye father, I love you.)}

Nothing could be heard on the other side.

The line clicked.

“Ojalá, probablemente no me escuchó.” _{(He probably didn’t hear me.)} Álvaro muttered under his breath, slipping his phone into his pocket and propping his board right back onto the roof of his car. He needed to do better, he needed to be better. Hell, he missed out on speaking to his mother today because he wanted to continue this frivolous activity he considered a hobby. His father was right, there were much better ways Álvaro could’ve spent his time, but because he didn’t listen he missed the opportunity to talk to his sick mother, and Álvaro was one who never missed an opportunity. If there was one thing Álvaro learned was that his father was never wrong; he was cold, and his lessons were tough, but he always learned that. Although, deep down, Álvaro wished his father would treat him the same way he treated him under the public’s eye, he radiated a warmth to his son that turned cold when they got home. But! Álvaro knew it was only for his benefit, no pain, no gain, he knew his father loved him like he did in public deep down, he had to…

Álvaro grabbed his bookbag from the front seat, changing out of the soaked pair of shorts he was wearing into his outfit for the rest of the day; a black jacket upon a plain crimson shirt, and a pair of black chinos. It was a black and red day, probably the only time he would be seen in this color pairing, it was too vibrant for his liking. Álvaro’s hands lay idly on the wheel as he sat in the driver's seat, still reeling from the phone call. “Fuck!” Álvaro hit the steering wheel in frustration, nothing he ever did was good enough, he needed no more slip-ups, this year had to be his best and that meant by any means necessary. Álvaro turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear, and then sped off from the beach.

His arrival at school was no less spectacular than any other day, dapping up and giving quick hellos to the scores of people he passed in the hallway was exhausting, none of these people were truly his friends, only serfs he kept around for what they brought to the table. That was the one thing his father taught him, people were only to be blessed by your company if they supplied something you needed, and that was what Álvaro lived by. Álvaro managed to make homeroom around the time he always had, taking his seat at his desk right as the morning show started rolling, he had the whole day ready to take all for himself.

BHHS: Limitless

In all his glory, Alvaro

_{Alvaro Belén Enrique Andrés De Borbón y Prusia}

17 • Male • Heterosexual • He/Him • Single

(FC: Blake Michael; Dialogue: #AB0042)

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Ｉｎｔｒｏ

► Reputation

Alvaro is a prominent presence in almost every social circle around B.H.H.S., known by most, and universally well-liked it is rare to not have heard his name once given any amount of time within the school. Although surrounded by children of families worth billions, his last name stands out from the rest; one of the last remaining vestiges of the old world order of kings and commoners, nobility and serfs, leaves him recognizable with but a simple Google search of the name. As the grandson of the former King of Spain, and son of a corporate magnate, Alvaro had his own page on Wikipedia before most could even walk.

Behind the well-manicured, and media-shaped view of Alvaro, he is a near replica of his father; a vindictive, manipulative, and quite frankly a rampant opportunist of a young man. He views most as below himself, caring not for the actual person but for the useability of their assets: connections, wealth, and popularity. Every person can be used, but the extent of how long determines his attitude towards them, ever notice how he swaps friend groups each year? He is ruthless, Alvaro only cares for himself and those closest to him, everyone else is like a dollar in his bank account, one among millions, and very easily replaceable.

► Current Dilemma

A young man striving for the praise of a father who sees him as but a tool to carry on his legacy, and rampantly departing from his mother's love to embrace the ideals of his father, trapped in a juxtaposition between his mother's love and father's praise.

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Ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ

► Social Media Handles

"My private Instagram and TikTok handles are @el_internacional, although my public Instagram and Facebook accounts are Alvaro.borbon and Alvaro De Borbón y Prusia respectively"

► Style

In following the trend of most old money, Alvaro's everyday outfits encompass an air of simplicity; plain colored clothes crafted from the finest materials and constructed in his home of Barcelona adorn the majority of his wardrobe. Jackets, blazers, and button-ups from brands unknown to most are laden throughout his closet as well, a combination of professional and casual defines his style. One of his jackets atop a light-colored shirt is the precedent for his outfit structure.

► Ride & Everyday Items

"My 1957 Plymouth Fury has been with me since I could drive, and the only items I carry are my bookbag, wallet, and smartphone."

► occupation

"I work with mi padre most summers."

► Extracurricular Activities

"I play striker on the fútbol team in the fall, run for track and field, and play shooting guard on the basketball team in the winter, besides those, I'm in a few random clubs."

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Ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｎａｉｒｅ

Friends would describe me as _______.

"El hombre, the man; anything you could want or need, everything is in my reach, all you need to do is ask. Although, nothing ever comes free."

In my free time I like to _______.

"Surf, work out, kick a ball around; trifecta of my free time."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"I already know more than most ever will."

This is how I define success and failure:

"Control equals power equals success, seize to the limits of your means. Failure only results from a lack of drive, simple as that."

I'm inspired by _______.

"Mi padre, the world is at his fingertips."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Mariposa Traicionera by Maná
La Flaca by Jarabe De Palo
Nunca Te Olvidaré by Enrique Iglesias
Colgando en tus manos by Carlos Baute
Amor Eterno by Rocío Dúrcal
¡Corre! by Jesse y Joy"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"Trips around Europe with mi madre y padre, not a lot else besides that."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"You won't learn in the absence of pain, nuestro Padre knows best."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Spending time with my oma and opa, they try to preach the 'kind and caring' rhetoric but put simply the majority do not possess such respect from me. Watching the look on my cousin's face as I top her in any activity is a joy too, as the heiress to the Spanish throne one would believe that she would be the best, but alas she is not."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"El mundo está listo para ser tomado y yo soy quien lo tomará todo."

"The world is ripe for the taking and I am the one who will take it."

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► Extra Information

► Fluent in Spanish, German, and English. Spanish was his first language with English being his last.
► Speaks with a light Spanish accent.

LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN

I'll advance the story over the weekend @JewelSerket @Meri

LOAD SEQ: TRAV PROGRAM: VER ONE: ...... BEGIN

Sorry, too much has come up IRL so I'm going to have to back out.

@Sylvan

Aww, it's fine. Thank you for letting us know though!

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: 5:17 AM on October 18, 2024
LOCATION(s): Bower's home, Santa Monica →
Beverly Hills High School, Beverly Hills
TITLE: Carvan #1.0}

The Californian morning sun had yet to rise over the city of Santa Monica but Lucian Bowers was wide awake. The thunderous sound of the metal meeting wood was cut short by the thick layer of acoustic foam that lined the walls of his Uncle's shed. It was a music room, piles of vinyls sat neatly laid up against the record player stand Lucian had set up in the corner, and in the center, behind a semi-circle of drum parts, sat Lucian.

He was too in the moment

His hands almost moved fluidly as if there was a disconnect from his brain. In a flash, the splintering sticks moved from one part of the drum to the next. From the tom drum to the snare, from the snare to the cymbal. His pattern continued switching from one to another, incorporating bass as his foot laid down on the petal every so often. This was becoming a new part of Lucian's morning, the nightmares hit hard but the panic attacks hit harder. God, Lucian couldn't handle a lot of loud noises but there was something about the drums that calmed him from even the worst of attacks

Lucian had been at it for hours, only stopping to catch his breath. It was the sudden snap of Lucian's drumstick that had brought him back to the present. "Oh fuck!.. that's the third pair this week." Lucian sighed, the sticks were brand new. He had opened the pack 3 hours earlier and it already needed to be replaced. The rate at which he was going through packs wasn't exactly low either, maybe he would have to invest in a pair of metal ones...

Lucian pushed back from the drum set, dropping the remnants of the sticks on top of the other ones that lay in the trash. His hands shook as he fully opened them; why did he only start to feel the pain now? It was comparable to sticking your hand into an open flame, it burned; blisters now neighbored the calluses that adorned his rough hands. His grip was too tight, that's the problem. Most times he didn't even notice, when Lucian got into a rhythm his concentration was hard to break. Now standing, focus broken, the phone alarm blaring from atop the futon that lay opposed to him became apparent. The clock on his screen read [6:03 AM] as Lucian swiped the alarm away; scratch the three hours, he's been at it for four.

The first rays of sunlight began to peak their head above the horizon, Lucian wrapped his hands up with a yawn, soon swinging his bookbag around his shoulder, he had a bit of a trip in front of him. Bowers's home itself was certainly nothing flashy, his Uncle may have been wealthy but he didn't flaunt it as much as others. The yards, although, were the parts that truly shined.

It was a truly immaculate sight.

The path that lay in front of Lucian was paved with brick. Pansies, snapdragons, fuchsia, honeysuckle, hibiscus, and many more were planted all about the backyard, the place was an orderly explosion of colors; dutifully managed every morning by Uncle Jason. Speaking of Uncle Jason, Lucian wondered where he was. The man would usually be up and about, masochistically watering each flower arrangement with his 'trusty ol' watering can' as he called it. Lucian would have to see him when he got home, shutting the gate to the yard as he walked his way down to the metro station.

The LA metro system was a part of the city he had yet to master, it all still felt so new. Despite having lived in the city for about over a year now, Lucian never lost that feeling. He missed New York, the borough, his friends, his sister, and goddamn it, even the food, but never Harlem. The neighborhood stood to Lucian like a paradox, the place represented most of his life; the bad, the good, the worse, the great, it was a testament to what lived in his shadow. He missed the days of walking the streets with Rocky, laughter came from those two as if it were a comedy night at a big-name club. Lucian missed spending time with his sister, he was the one who practically raised the girl. The best of days were only a front for the worst of nights, although he had a house in Harlem he never had a home. The train rolled to a stop, and the window in front of Lucian peered into the all-too-familiar platform he got off of every day; it took him quite a bit to get used to this route.

"Why do I always do this to myself..." The cool early morning air moved around Lucian's body as he messaged the center of his palm. The bus stop he sat at allowed for a soft breeze to penetrate its walls, one thing Lucian picked up was that no matter how far into the year Los Angeles County never turned truly cold. That's one thing you could add to Lucian's list of things he didn't miss about New York; he hated the cold. Lucian had forgone his typical sweater for the day, sporting a red and black Harley-Davidson bomber; he was the antithesis of a gearhead, but hell did they have a good style.

Even a transfer student has to show school pride, right?

The 6:45 bus arrived just on time, but like always, it was empty. A barren wasteland with a population of two, rows upon rows of empty seats sat ripe for the taking. Not many people rode the buses that traveled in Beverly Hills, but that just meant a more silent ride for Lucian. It was the same driver every morning, a friendly face to see. Always with a smile, Lucian and he had grown accustomed to each other, but Lucian never learned his name. These two men both held a mutual respect for the tranquility of the morning silence.

With a nod to the driver and a swipe of his TAP card, Lucian took a seat at the front of the bus. Lucian laid his head against the same window he had the day prior, the vibrations from the bus were the only thing that kept his eyes open. Beverly Hill was a gorgeous city, definitely better than Santa Monica, and holding a candle to Manhattan itself, though Lucian would never admit that publicly. The sun was now much higher in the sky and the bus came to Lucian's final stop. He got out of his chair with a yawn, giving one last nod to the driver as he stepped onto the pavement; Lucian was right around the corner from the school. This path had become his new normal; train, bus, walk- how his mornings went.

Rounding the corner Lucian was met with the manicured exterior of Beverly Hills High School, a school of opulence, greed, and whatever else you could imagine. As he passed the student parking lot Lucian never saw the necessity of a car; he never had the option to have one until now in the first place. LA County had a perfect fine transportation system, he saw it as a waste to not use it. He watched as people lingered in the lot, passing by cars from brands he had never even heard of in his life. He had got used to it. The shining examples of wealth may have been a shock to him last year but now they were simply faces he saw in the halls. As they say: money doesn't make the man.

Stragglers traveled the halls like nomads, quietly shuffling themselves into their respective homerooms; Lucian was one of them. Room 210 was quite the room, to say the least. Out of the class of people, Lucian only knew two people personally; one of which was the teacher. The volume of the room was low, quiet chatter was spread across the moderately sized room. Desks sat empty and still awaiting their informal owners as the populace slowly filled in. Lucian passed by Mr. Phoenix as he took his seat at his usual desk, finally laying his head down on something. He could barely keep his eyes open, his jacket felt cool on his skin as his face lay on the leather. Maybe he should've tried to fall back asleep instead of playing the drums all morning.

God, he had a long day ahead of him.

BHHS: Limitless

Lucian Bowers (TW: mentions of close friend and neglect.)

18• Male • Heterosexual • He/Him • Single

(FC: Rome Flynn; Dialogue: eedca5)

Ｉｎｔｒｏ

► reputation

"I wouldn't say I am the most well-known person. I transferred to BHHS on a scholarship the summer of my junior year. By the time I got there the major friend groups had already been formed, it was just a mess. I only really made a few friends that year so to most people I'm like a background character, although, last year I did join a bunch of clubs so I'm known in that aspect. To be fair to myself I wasn't in the best frame of mind, so many things happened; no wonder I was so closed off and jaded."

► current dilemma

"Well, I've been in LA for what? like a year now, still trying to adapt to that. It's quite a big change to go from running the streets and sleeping in a crack house every night to going to one of the wealthiest schools in the country... Probably one of the few kids C.P.S. actually helped. I... I've never been able to overcome my best friend's death. The thought of why did he have to die has never left my mind. Why did... I survive and he die? Rocky was.. he was my rock; he saw something in me that most didn't see at the time. I- I'm going off-topic, my primary goals for the year are just to graduate and get into UCLA; hey, maybe I'll even shoot for valedictorian."

Ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ

► social media handles

"@luce.bw is probably the only username I have ever used. It's boring admittedly but, I don't know, I've just never been a big social media fan. I do use the handle Lucians_Theorem on my Xbox, that was a great one I can't even lie."

► style

Lucian is often fitted in a mid to late 90s style of clothing. The loose-fitting jeans with patches of color sewn in throughout, and an ornately designed vintage sweater encompass his almost daily outfit. On the off days the LA heat gets to him he possesses a large supply of slightly oversized shirts at his disposal; ranging from shirts of old bands to your simple graphic tee. These shirts paired with a set of overalls or a pair of shorts cover Lucian's overall outfit selection.

► ride & everyday items

"Not much has changed from New York to here, just another subway system I had to memorize. Unfortunately, the LA metro is limited compared to the New York one. I've always walked or ridden the subway to get where I had to go, It was really the only option I had, I guess I just never dropped the habit. My daily carry is usually light: of course my backpack with school stuff, my phone, wallet, keys, and that's really it now that I think about it."

► occupation

"My uncle owns a landscaping company and takes contracts all around the city, whenever I have free time I'll join him for a job or two. He pays me decently well too, I owe the man a lot after all he has done for me."

► extracurricular activities

"The BHHS science olympiad team, Science National Honors Society, math club, and my UCLA biology research are basically the academic-related things I do. Let me tell you, man, getting research opportunities is WAYYY hard. I think I've cold emailed over a hundred profs looking for a spot and I only got a single reply. I adore the spot I am in now thankfully, love the people I work with; truly a great group."

Ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｎａｉｒｅ

Friends would describe me as _______.

"A hard worker, I think. Although, that changes quickly as soon as I leave the building. Probably a funny dude? Might be a bit of a stretch though, not gonna lie."

In my free time I like to _______.

"Play the drums; banging on stuff with sticks has been a big part of my life. Never in any meaningful context though, I've never played in a band or with anyone else I've always just played because I love it. Music, in general, is simply something I have a passion for, my vinyl collection has been growing pretty big. Other than that you could likely catch me in the garden, there are a lot of things you can learn from a gardener, that's for sure."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"More about gardening; the basics can only take me so far. I guess on a more serious note I need to learn how to deal with my own problems."

This is how I define success and failure:

"Success, to me, is the ability to completely reach the end of something despite the setbacks. Failure is succumbing to defeat because of temporary problems."

I'm inspired by _______.

"Kinda a hard-hitting question for me y'know?.. Well, probably not but I'm sure you get it. My best fri- No, brother, Rocky. He pushed me to be much better than the place we lived in would usually allow... I miss him a lot."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Oo, that's a tough one, man. But! because I have to choose, a few would be:
Rose In Harlem by Teyana Taylor
Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi
Love by Kid Cudi
The World Is Yours by Nas
These Four Walls by Khamari
Years Gone By by Avantdale Bowling Club
12 Stout Street by Rx Papi, Gud
No Role Modelz by J. Cole"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"Ah man, I wasn't the most well-behaved child, to say the least. Probably sneaking out of our crappy little NYC public school to hit up a bodega with my boy Rocky is my fondest memory. We would always scrounge up whatever money we had on hand to split a sub. And by God, I'm telling you it was the best sub place in the city! Never tasted anything on the West Coast like it sadly."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"Keep it going, brother. You got this... I was never really too good at these questions."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Getting those Facetime calls from my little sister always plasters the biggest grin across my face. She's like this infectious little ball of joy you can't not love, it must be magic. Oh yeah, there is also this little record store called 'Revolution Record' that is nestled on the corner of this side street that just has everything! Shame it doesn't get much attention, finding that one obscure vinyl is also just an explosion of euphoria. Dogs too! Lord knows I love dogs, I used to be "friends" with this back alley mut back home in Harlem. He would always get so happy when I tossed him a piece of lunch meat I couldn't help but smile."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"Akin to the movie "Straight out of Compton" but instead of Compton make it Harlem and instead of hip-hop make it academics."

► extra information

• After the removal of Lucian and his sister, Elizabeth, for his parent's care, Elizabeth was sent upstate to live with an aunt while Lucian was sent across the country to live with his uncle, Jason Bowers
• Lucian sufferers from a severe case of P.T.S.D., with his main triggers are sudden and loud noises.
• Jason Bowers (FC: Obba Babatunde/COLOR: b8d8be) owns the largest landscaping business in the state of California, he helped Lucian to get a scholarship at BHHS.

In all his glory, Alvaro

_{Alvaro Belén Enrique Andrés De Borbón y Prusia}

17 • Male • Heterosexual • He/Him • Single

(FC: Blake Michael; Dialogue: #AB0042)

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Ｉｎｔｒｏ

► Reputation

Alvaro is a prominent presence in almost every social circle around B.H.H.S., known by most, and universally well-liked it is rare to not have heard his name once given any amount of time within the school. Although surrounded by children of families worth billions, his last name stands out from the rest; one of the last remaining vestiges of the old world order of kings and commoners, nobility and serfs, leaves him recognizable with but a simple Google search of the name. As the grandson of the former King of Spain, and son of a corporate magnate, Alvaro had his own page on Wikipedia before most could even walk.

Behind the well-manicured, and media-shaped view of Alvaro, he is a near replica of his father; a vindictive, manipulative, and quite frankly a rampant opportunist of a young man. He views most as below himself, caring not for the actual person but for the useability of their assets: connections, wealth, and popularity. Every person can be used, but the extent of how long determines his attitude towards them, ever notice how he swaps friend groups each year? He is ruthless, Alvaro only cares for himself and those closest to him, everyone else is like a dollar in his bank account, one among millions, and very easily replaceable.

► Current Dilemma

A young man striving for the praise of a father who sees him as but a tool to carry on his legacy, and rampantly departing from his mother's love to embrace the ideals of his father, trapped in a juxtaposition between his mother's love and father's praise.

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Ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ

► Social Media Handles

"My private Instagram and TikTok handles are @el_internacional, although my public Instagram and Facebook accounts are Alvaro.borbon and Alvaro De Borbón y Prusia respectively"

► Style

In following the trend of most old money, Alvaro's everyday outfits encompass an air of simplicity; plain colored clothes crafted from the finest materials and constructed in his home of Barcelona adorn the majority of his wardrobe. Jackets, blazers, and button-ups from brands unknown to most are laden throughout his closet as well, a combination of professional and casual defines his style. One of his jackets atop a light-colored shirt is the precedent for his outfit structure.

► Ride & Everyday Items

"My 1957 Plymouth Fury has been with me since I could drive, and the only items I carry are my bookbag, wallet, and smartphone."

► occupation

"I work with mi padre most summers."

► Extracurricular Activities

"I play striker on the fútbol team in the fall, run for track and field, and play shooting guard on the basketball team in the winter, besides those, I'm in a few random clubs."

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Ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｎａｉｒｅ

Friends would describe me as _______.

"El hombre, the man; anything you could want or need, everything is in my reach, all you need to do is ask. Although, nothing ever comes free."

In my free time I like to _______.

"Surf, work out, kick a ball around; trifecta of my free time."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"I already know more than most ever will."

This is how I define success and failure:

"Control equals power equals success, seize to the limits of your means. Failure only results from a lack of drive, simple as that."

I'm inspired by _______.

"Mi padre, the world is at his fingertips."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Mariposa Traicionera by Maná
La Flaca by Jarabe De Palo
Nunca Te Olvidaré by Enrique Iglesias
Colgando en tus manos by Carlos Baute
Amor Eterno by Rocío Dúrcal
¡Corre! by Jesse y Joy"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"Trips around Europe with mi madre y padre, not a lot else besides that."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"You won't learn in the absence of pain, nuestro Padre knows best."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Spending time with my oma and opa, they try to preach the 'kind and caring' rhetoric but put simply the majority do not possess such respect from me. Watching the look on my cousin's face as I top her in any activity is a joy too, as the heiress to the Spanish throne one would believe that she would be the best, but alas she is not."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"El mundo está listo para ser tomado y yo soy quien lo tomará todo."

"The world is ripe for the taking and I am the one who will take it."

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► Extra Information

► Fluent in Spanish, German, and English. Spanish was his first language with English being his last.
► Speaks with a light Spanish accent.

Kelsey M. Devon

17 • Female • Bisexual • She/Her • "Maybe one day!"

(FC: Beatrice Kristi Ilejay Laus; Dialogue: #98A38E)

► reputation

"I am known by most as the girl who works at the record store." Kelsey isn't one of the most well-known students at BHHS, but recognized by most for being the main face working the register at her grandparent's store. Although some may know her face, her name is remembered most by the students who regularly visit the store. She floats around groups, never in a set place per usual.

► current dilemma

"I know it's been a few years, I've been getting through it, but I still miss my father. A lot. He was always there, as busy as a man as he was with managing my grandparent's label, but no matter what my mother and I were always his top priority. To go from seeing him every day to never again still hurts even years after. The store too. I love it, practically my second home, but it's got its own problems. Lack of new customers, even regular faces fading away, we've been falling to bigger and better competition that's popped up in the city. I know my grandparents will be fine without the store, they have enough money, but to see their passion, their labor of love just fall slowly into obscurity like it has been really weighs on the soul."

► social media handles

"Well, my own social media have the same user, the.greenest.note, after one of my favorite jazz rap albums, The Bluest Note, and because I LOVE green. I also run the social media for my grandparent's shop, The Revolution Record, which unsurprisingly just uses its name as the handle."

► style

"My style isn't anything set. I just go with how the day feels, wear a lot of green though, even if it's a minor part of the outfit. Best color in the world."

► ride & everyday items

"I drive my grandpa's old '82 Pontiac Firebird like the fuckin' Knight Rider, it's so sick! Doesn't look exactly like the K.I.T.T. but it will one day, trust me. As for my carry, the classic stuff really. My backpack, phone, wallet, and the other odds and ends in my bag."

► occupation

"Jeez, y'know, I've been working in some part at Revolution Record since my mother and I moved back to L.A. in my 7th-grade year. That has to be illegal right? Unpaid child labor, I can't believe my mom allowed this to happen, and to make it worse my grandparents only started paying me LAST YEAR. All those hours spent behind the counter and stocking FOR FREE. I am only joking though, I love this store so much."

► extracurricular activities

"I spend most of my hours outside of the school building in my grandparent's shop, sat behind the counter or out on the floor. Nowadays business hasn't been... very active. I guess. Really just the regular folks, not many new faces anymore. Besides that I also curate the playlists that you hear in the store, it's very cathartic to do not going to lie."

Friends would describe me as _______.

"I don't know, hopefully they would say I am a bright person. Funny too. I know Lucian would say some bs like I am prideful, but we don't listen to him."

In my free time I like to _______.

"When not in the store? I just like to drive. No direction in mind, no location, just me, the road, and my music. At certain times of day, there are some really scenic places to drive around in L.A."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"I don't even really know how to answer, to be honest. I guess how to take things so, I seem to be in the fast lane most times."

This is how I define success and failure:

"If you feel satisfied with where you are in life, you are successful. It doesn't matter what you have or what you don't, as long as you feel satisfied. And for failure? Probably when you just give up. You don't keep fighting, keep on going, you just give up."

I'm inspired by _______.

"My grandparents. They built their life up from the ground, and really got everything they wanted in their life. I am so glad I get to see them more. My mother too, she... she's such a strong woman. I wish I could handle everything that happened with Dad like she is able to. T- To keep going on with how she has, I have no idea."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Oh God, to ask this to someone who works at a record store. I don't want to drop the whole thing on you so I'll just give you five. For the first one, I'd have to say "My Old Man" by Mac DeMarco." This song is a part of one of, if not, the best albums Mac has in his discography, definitely not the best song on the album but it's the one I mesh with a lot. "A Hundred And Sixty Acres" by Marty Robbins too, I don't get a lot of the hate around country music, if you actually took the time to listen to some of it, you'd realize its not all that bad. Third is "Whales Tails" by Cocteau Twins, straight from Victorialand, my favorite, and what I think is their best album. All their music just sounds so ethereal, and the gibberish spoken in the back like a choir of singing angles, perfect. Can't forget "Back On My Feet Again" by The Foundations as well. I LOVE the Foundations, and to have someone like in the song? I'm dreaming. Lastly, my dad's favorite song, "Don't Push" by Sublime. The story I was told behind it was that my father knew Bradley Nowell back when he was younger in L.A., and he was one of the first people who Nowell showed the 89 Vision EP. I've got the CD up in my room, signed and everything. Dad had some great taste in music.

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"A lot of the times we came to visit my grandparents here in L.A. are definitely on that list, although if I had to choose just one it would be the day my father took me to see the Statue of Liberty. I know, a common outing for a child in New York, but it was a moment I couldn't ever replace. It was the fourth of July, which, fun fact, is also my birthday. My father took me and my mother out onto the harbor on the yacht he had bought the year prior, and we had a dinner reservation at night right, so we would miss the fireworks show later in the evening. Apparently, he worked something out with the city to put on a show on himself earlier, without me knowing of course. Under the idea that we were just having a fun time out on the harbor, and slightly disappointed to miss the show, it's safe to say ecstatic when I saw the rockets fly. It was... It was perfect. The sunset sky, the explosion of color behind the statue, like wow. I balled in my father's arms for a good ten minutes after that moment. He really did a lot for us..."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"Value your time with him. Every single fucking moment with him."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Watching people find as much joy in the store as I do. Watching the light just appear on my grandpa's face when anyone asks him about the story behind something in the store. Taking the plastic off a fresh vinyl, and seeing the production of the music in progress. A lot of things can put a smile on my face really, I'm not too hard of a person to make happy."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"Blasting music from coast to coast."

► extra information

► Granddaughter of Laura Devon (née Orquia) and Grant Devon, and Daughter of Maria Devon (née Villamor) and Morgan Devon.

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Waves in nerd

Hey folks, going to start putting together my first post but don't think it'll be quite ready tonight. Thanks for having me!

@Sylvan

Welcome to the team, happy to have you join us!

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@Festive OK I actually really like the sound of that, I'm in if you'll have me! Engineer sounds like a lot of fun to write.

EDIT: Is there a link to the OOC somewhere that I missed?

@Sylvan

I added it to the top of the first page.

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@meri@JewelSerket@Sylvan
One piece of information my dumb-self forgot to include in the synopsis is this:

Messengers are a vital part of the story, they serve as temporary hosts for the Director for the quick delivery of messages outside of the deep web. Adults cannot be used as messengers in the story; a fully developed adult brain is not able to withstand the shock of having a consciousness temporarily embedded into it, ultimately ending in the death of the messenger. The Director will typically use children as messengers, as their brains are malleable enough to be able to withstand the shock.