Festive

Another website for the books!

Welcome to the guild!

BHHS: Limitless

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.

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

I am looking for a small group of people who may be interested in a Vietnam War era RPG. To preface, it will be an anthology-based RPG. Instead of one linear story following a set cast of characters, there will be several lightly connected stories with a rotating cast of characters. This means we will explore different events, battles, and operations that occurred during the Vietnam War or were created by the group, from the eyes of different characters in each new plotline. The story will hopefully span from 65' to 75', allowing us an ample timeframe to explore whatever we may wish, I do not have a tentative first storyline planned, although I will set something in stone if there is traction, and if you have any ideas I'll be happy to have them thrown at me. I am not a master in the subject of the Vietnam War, and while I may find its history very interesting I am bound to make a few mistakes here or there, if you notice this please feel free to educate me on where I have gone wrong so I can course correct.

If you have any ideas or are interested in having your own run through the jungle, please let me know! And remember, mind the agent orange.

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: After school around 4PM
FT: Luce & Helen
Small FT: The Sinclair Twins
@Festive & @LovelyComplex}

____________________________________________________________________

How is she gonna ask me to hang out, and be late?

The unfortunate sound of air passing through his straw in a vain attempt to get the rest of the milkshake he had paid an ungodly amount of money for rang through the boy's ears. Helen wasn’t late, it was more of the fact that Lucian was early. Another habit he had picked up during his younger years, the boy couldn’t stand to be late. He watched the clock tick past the meeting time she had thrust upon the boy without leaving him another moment to respond or even register within his thoughts. Lucian didn’t even know what the girl had invited him for, their brief interaction earlier in the day had culminated in Lucian sitting alone in a bougie ice cream parlor where he had felt like a fish out of water, but what was new in Beverly Hills for the rag-tag boy from Harlem?

Lucian’s mind hung on the unusuality of the hangout spot she chose, it was a far cry from the usual setting of his uncle’s shed, which was outfitted with everything one would need to rock out, but here he was sitting in a place for serving ice cream of all possible locations. Lucian tossed the remnants of a drink he would never buy again into the pastel-colored trashcan that neighbored his waiting spot. If Helen had prefaced what she had wanted from Lucian his life would have been nirvana instead of drowning in the stress of anticipation. Whatever it was Lucian knew it had to be something too special to tell him within the confines of his own home or school, he’d just have to wait and see.

The worn-looking pair of black headphones laid upon Lucian’s ears as a result of his boredom with the noise that poured from the parlor’s speakers, if he was going to continue to wait alone he might as well get the most out of it. Music had always been one of Lucian’s passions, he listened, he played, but he never created music; it lay just beyond his purview. Lucian never had the need to, music-wise, for the majority of his life it had always been him and his sticks against the world–Helen had changed that, she was the first person he had played with in a long while since even before he had left Harlem; she had an amazing voice, and he shredded any piece of sheet music presented to him on the drums.

As the jazz drumline reverberated throughout his brain it took his mind off the waiting, he could feel the soul poured into a rhythm, it melded with its fellow instruments like a lake flowing into a larger body of water, the syncopations in the beat were a pleasant disruption in his mind as they were throughout the rhythm which played; he would have to learn to play this rhythm himself, yet another song he would have to add to the backburner.

As the drummer boy waited in anticipation, Helen was taking her sweet time. She marched to the beat of her own drum. She wasn’t one for predictability and if there was anyone that chased a feeling, a whim, and did literally what they wanted, it was Helen Wells. Strange and unusual was Helen’s whole vibe. There was a big difference between those who got what they wanted and those who did what they wanted. Sure, Helen had aspirations and dreams. That just meant she wasn’t stagnant, always thinking about optimizing her potential, but that didn’t mean she was limited to wanting singular things. Materialistic things, like her cosplays and makeup, weren't needed. If she had to wear rags she would be okay. She knew how to be a person beyond her privileges. If she was stripped of everything, including her voice, which was her gift, she would be okay. Her fathers taught her how to overcome adversities, and that meant if she had to give up on her dreams, to walk a path less taken, she would be okay.

Yes, she wanted a band. She was young, energetic and hot. She knew she’d be a fucking phenomanal, heartstopping face for a band, just how her grandpa was for Deciduous Dreams. If it didn’t happen though? She’d be okay and try something new. That was just how Helen was. She didn’t want something so badly it completely consumed her. She never did. This made her dangerous to deal with because she was one of the people who didn’t have anything to lose, which made her fucks to give at ground zero. She had her family but she was at the age where she could rebel and test her parents’ patience. She was going to ride it until it became a problem. She had her friends, who she was passionate about, loving them for who they were as people and not liking the bad they had to face, especially what happened to Amy last year. Just another whim she was chasing. She knew Amy wouldn’t care if she chased leads or not to find out who ruined her. At this point? Amy ran with the story and gave the people what they wanted. If Amy told Helen to stop, she would, but she didn’t. So of course, Helen was going to do what she could to find out who was the little bitch that decided to be a coward and cause a fire with information they knew nothing about.

As much as Helen Wells wanted to believe she was invincible, no fucks to give, and full of rage, those who were in her inner circle knew she wasn’t bulletproof and this bad bitch vibe was a persona she picked up herself. A persona entangled with the little girl inside of her. The bitch she became was necessary. Her sword and shield. She couldn’t say that it wasn’t who she was, since now it’s simply second nature to act the way she does. There was a time she was less guarded and that was before the Winter formal freshmen year. The only person who knows what happened to Helen, who she found herself trusting and being vulnerable with, was Gavriel. Her little twink. Not even the cheerleaders and her best friends know what happened to her freshman year, and she’d like to keep it that way. She was a slut, just like Amy and just like Toury. Her story was hers to tell, when she was ready. For now? People can believe what they want to believe. They were going to, anyway.

Setting up a date at Creamistry was not as complicated as Luce was thinking it to be. This arrangement was a childish whim where Helen wanted the Halloween/October special. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Ask Luce to join her band AND eat good ice cream. When Helen arrived, there was no way she’d go unseen. She was still in her Katerine cosplay from The Vampire Diaries. The bell rang, announcing her arrival, and with her almost supernatural entrance, as if she glided on the smooth, colorful tiled floor, Helen clocked Luce, who was surrounded by the symphony of his soul. She smiled, taking notice.

A smile only meant she acknowledged his presence. There was a matter of business she needed to attend to and that was to: buy ice cream. With no one in line holding her up, she went to the counter, only for the two girls there to gawk at her. Or well one was animatedly goggling at her and the other was looking at her with more subtle admiration and curiosity. She knew these girls. They were junior cheerleaders. Niles Sinclair’s little sisters, Autumn and Summer.

The bubbly one began first, “Oh my goooooodness! You look so good. You’re Katherine right? I love Vampires! You know I’m trying to convince my boyfriend to binge watch all the vampire stuff ever, including the Twilight series.” Summer was bouncing around in place, completely marking out at the appearance of her goth senior.

Autumn, the more down to earth one, even if a bit bitchy and sassy, rolled her eyes, “Our boyfriend.”

Helen raised an eyebrow at that comment. Niles had polyamorous sisters and they both were dating the same boy. Interesting. She wouldn’t have expected polyamory from the Sinclair family, who were rather influential in the medical industry, seeing how their father was the head of the surgical department at the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. On the surface, they seemed traditional and more focused on their studies. Then again, they were the cousins of AJ Tyler and AJ was caught in the most entertaining, toxic love story of her year. Unfortunately, Rye was caught in the Gearhead’s mess, being used as a distraction, which Helen didn’t like but that was neither here nor there. She continued to listen, keeping her thoughts to herself, curious where these girls would take the conversation.

“Would it be cool if we took a picture of you, over there by our selfie wall?” Autumn asked, upfront with their intentions. “I think it would be good marketing since ‘tis the season to be spooky.”

Helen smirked. Of course they wanted a picture of her. Who wouldn’t? Still, aside from exposure, she wanted something more. The offer wasn’t intriguing enough. “Hm, I could but what’s in it for me?”

“We’ll tag you!” Summer offered, already with her phone out and searching for Helen’s socials.

Helen helped her since she wasn’t under her name. “Immortal.Hellcat.”

“There we go! We’re following you now and when we get the picture, we’ll post and tag you. People will get to see your hot fit.” Summer beamed, hoping this would get her senior to agree.

Helen crossed her arms, pretending to not be convinced. Honestly loving the attention. “I don’t know. I could easily post a picture of myself. A girl dressed in black surrounded by rainbow? That’s not hard of a prompt.”

“And free ice cream,” Autumn countered, bringing up the incentive. She only did this job because it helped build character, as her dad told her. This parlor made enough money to expand if they truly wanted to so it wasn’t like they would be hurting if she gave a customer a freebie. “I’m going to assume you’re here for our Boolicious Fright Night Sundae.”

“That’s so big! Can you eat it all by yourself?!” Summer gasped, surveying Helen’s figure and the obvious corset she was wearing.

Helen laughed.

Free stuff was always something she was up for. She might have money but if she didn’t need to spend it, why should she? “You got yourself a deal. Don’t worry about whether I can finish it or not. That’s a battle between me and Satan. Now, before more customers come in…” Helen directed the twins to follow her. Summer did so quickly, with her phone camera out, while Autumn began making the trick-or-treat special of the month with skilled precision and speed, having worked at this place for a little over a year. Once Helen was settled on the swing, Summer took a few photos without ice cream at hand. A natural and extremely photogenic, Helen didn’t need any direction, already knowing how to pose and what facial expressions to use. Helen knew her body. She knew her body better than anyone. In a matter of minutes, Autumn had joined her sister and the vampiress, handing her the halloween special. The photo op continued. When the Sinclair twins were satisfied with their selection, it didn’t take long, Helen was scarily good at this, they thanked her and went back to behind the counter. Summer proceeded to update the parlor’s socials and Autumn returned to work, assisting a family of four. The children, a little blonde boy and a dark haired girl, who reminded Helen of her and her brother, kept making glances at her. Playfully, Helen winked at them and revealed her fangs. The girl blushed and the boy buried his face on his mom’s leg.

Cute.

Pridefully, Helen sauntered to where Luce was and finally took a seat. It was twenty five minutes after her arrival. “Heyyyyyy, want some?” She offered a spoon to her peer. “This shit is good. It’s basically cookie dough dyed black.”

“Hmm?” The music which held control of Lucian’s brain lost it's grip with the advent of Helen’s arrival. His eyes peered up from the phone he held in his hand to the woman that sat before him. “Oh, look who finally arrived.” Lucian flashed a smile at Helen, shifting his headphones down to around his neck. Helen, who paraded around with her princess of darkness personality, was one of the few people Lucian had befriended during his short time within the halls of Beverly Hills High. A friendship spurred from a single, chance encounter from their junior year due to a locker mix-up of all possible catalysts; it took the two of them quite a bit to remove the ink from the surface of his locker in the aftermath. From that statistical improbability in the statistical world they lived to the present they have been friends ever since. Despite her outward demeanor to some, she was a person he could talk her ear off about music with, and one who would listen and empathize with him whenever something slipped through the wall he erected around his past. He didn't care for the reputation she held, or the way people saw her, Lucian saw it was a dumb preconception on a person of whom they truly knew anything about. He understood the implications of a bad stigma, he himself had been held to one in the past. At heart, Helen was a good person, and that is what he saw her for, and nothing less. Past the layers of black clothing and lipstick, that's what she was. His brother, Rocky, had always always told him he had a strange ability to really understand a person.

Lucian waved his hand at the offer of the spoon. “I think I've had enough bougie Beverly Hills ice cream for today, God knows much you paid for that monstrosity. I'm scared to even ask.” He sighed thinking about much money he begrudgingly paid for the milkshake he had earlier. His fingers softly tap on the glossy surface of the table to the rhyme of the low track that still secretly pervaded his ears. “So, are you gonna tell me whatcha called me here of all places for? My uncle’s gardenin’ facts finally get you?” His uncle was truly a great guy, he would give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it. He could still be a bit overwhelming at times, but he always meant well. Lucian wondered how Uncle Jason and his father could even be related at times. “Still confused on why ice cream, first time I even been of this place now that I think ‘bout it.”

Amused, noting how into his own world he had been to not realize the interaction she held with the ice cream girls, Helen scooped some of her black cookie dough and leisurely placed the spoon upside down in her mouth, sucking the sweet goodness right off. Childishly, she grinned and swayed in her seat, loving her monstrosity. When she went for another scoop, she chuckled, “I’m not that deep. I wanted ice cream and to prolong the wait even more, I got this for freeeeeeee. All you gotta’ do is offer your body and you’ll get what you want.” Helen crudely joked. “But seriously, I didn’t want to get the halloween special and eat it by myself. I also wanted to talk to you and here we are, achieving both.”

She allowed herself to devour more of the ice cream and add ons in it, bobbing her head, completely animated and showing her glee in the moment. If it wasn’t for their connection in music, and their fateful first encounter, Helen wondered if they would’ve ever crossed paths. Personality wise? They were two different people but because of their love for music and the stories around them that inspired songs, they found an unlikely bond. They weren’t polar opposites like her and her cousin Hope, but they still were from two different planets and it showed. That didn’t matter though. What mattered was their universal language: music. “You really think I’d go out of my way for gardening tips? Luce, the last time I tried to grow something with my dad — the sex therapist one — it died. It was helluva poetic. I kill the things I touch. So edgy. I’ll mark that as a success.”

Luce would have to try harder than that to get Helen “the killer of plants” Wells to focus and not distract herself, or him, from the point of this meeting. She continued to dance to the song in her soul, the music in her mind, and the beat in her heart, all the while indulging in the large sundae meant for four people. Not holding back on the lack of grace, Helen truly became a frenzied vampire sucking the life of its victim. She wasn’t trying to be a lady. Not in front of her friend. Having skipped lunch, solely to have ice cream, she gorged herself and it showed. Helen was starving and she had prepared for this moment all day. She truly was a child but that in itself was endearing and she was unashamed of who she was. Not many people of their year could say the same thing. At least Luce wasn’t one of those lost kids. He was just like her. He knew who he was and he wasn’t trying to be anyone other than himself. That’s what truly connected them. Their sense of self. That’s what made them friends.

“Blow works as a nice alternative too but I ain’t got no contacts for that anymore.” Lucian joked back at the black-haired girl before him, it was always nice to have someone around who you could chat to freely without the judgment that would accost him in a conversation with anyone else. “And, well, at least you got somethin’ out of the experience, gardenin’ isn’t that hard when you get into it.” Lucian cut his words short, he couldn’t allow himself to get too distracted by Helen’s child-like glee of their meeting. He watched Helen sway around in her seat as if the dark mess of ice cream in front of her was her next fix. He couldn’t help but smile. Helen was herself through and through, he admired her unchanging presentation to everyone she encountered. In a way, Helen was like his friend Rocky; utterly herself, and unnecessarily difficult to make pay attention to the topic at hand.

Distraction, like all weeds, must be snipped from the root. Having raised his sister for almost her entire life, Lucian knew this like the back of his hand. He reached his hand out across the table as if he was reaching for the spoon she had previously offered like he was relenting to her request to share. In a swift motion, Lucian treacherously swiped the bowl to his side of the table. He didn’t desire to violate the bliss Helen received from the free sweet treat she was devouring but it was an action that needed to be done. “Helen, this hurts me more than it hurts you, but you have to focus.” Lucian held the bowl before him, just out of Helen’s black thumb reach, it was the only way. “Your ice cream will be returned when you tell me why I am here.”

An audible gasp escaped Helen’s lips. Did he? He totally did just take her ice cream away from her. All to what? To get her to FOCUS? There was absolute shock written all over the gothic beauty’s face. How could she let this happen? He stole her treasure right from under her, using a ploy that he would have some of the sweet spooktacular goodness and she believed it. How foolish of her. The TREACHERY! The BETRAYAL! The SIN! This was a trick but there was no treat. Not anymore. How devastating. Her life was ruined and it was all because Lucian took her ice cream away from her like they were preschool kids. She wanted to cry.

Kidding.

She wasn’t actually upset but she enjoyed playing along, it wasn’t often she could be the baby in the dynamic and with Luce she didn’t have to be strong all the time. She could relax and enjoy his company. Once she placed her spoon on a napkin, she crossed her arms, leaning back in faux defeat. She pouted, wanting to protest. Helen knew that her friend waited long enough and yielded. If she kept prolonging the inevitable his patience would be tested and we couldn’t have that. She did this more to get her ice cream back than anything. “You’re tying my hands but fine.” She unlatched her arms and raised her hands up, surrendering and ready to reveal the truth of why she needed him to meet her, at Creamistry. Why meeting each other was more important out of school than in. Why of all times she chose 4:20 PM on the dot and how necessary it was for him to be there, on time, like she asked. This would be the moment of truth. The moment he had been waiting for. The moment he was so badly anticipating, that put him on the edge of his seat.

But first, she took out her phone and prefaced, “So you know my grandpa is kind of tight with the Greens’ grandmother right? Not the scary blonde one. The dark goddess that rocks black and purple. Same though.” Helen had tabs already open in her phone browser, to showcase exactly who she was talking about and switching over to different tabs as fast as lightning, whenever she mentioned someone new. She had full faith Luce knew all these names, he knew his shit, but she wanted to be extra and act like she was giving a presentation. “She was the lead vocalist of East of Eden. Huge symphonic metal band. Legends. Just how my grandpa, Jareth, was, and still is, the frontman of the big time emo revival band, Deciduous Dreams. He’s an old man now but he can still rock out with his cock out. They don’t perform as much, since he’s enjoying eating his husband’s goooooood food but if he has the urge, he sure as hell will give into it.” She was way off track from her point but it was fine. Luce was going to get what he wanted sooner or later, he just needed to let her cook and toy with his feelings for a little while longer. “Well her best friend, Bex Crosby, co-leader of the band who rocked the guitars with Shepard Fraiser? Yeah, well she’s the owner of Poison Apple Recording Studio.”

Was that unnecessary information? Right now, maybe, but down the road? Absolutely not. This was her way of showing Luce that she was connected and that meant if they really wanted to succeed, she knew the people they could show their musical talent off to. Helen was purposely being long winded because she could. It wasn’t like either of them had somewhere to be. If Luce did? Oops. This was far more important. Plus, he took her ice cream. She could be petty too.

“So check it,” Helen placed her phone face down on the table. “On Monday I decided you know what, we have so many fucking talented people at our school, why haven’t we all worked together, you know? I hit up Yani first because they're genius and having them on a project means less work for me. I considered all my other options and you, of course, were next on my list. I have other people in mind but I only have one drummer I want.”

Was he getting it now?

Yeah, so Helen did bring Luce here for ice cream not only because she wanted ice cream but because she needed to ask a simple question she could’ve written in text or asked at school. Helen, however, was not a predictable girl. She did what she wanted. A girl and her whims. “What I’m saying is why don’t you, me, and Yani start a band? They’d manage and produce, you’d drum, I’d sing and do the keys, all we’d really need is strings and then bam. We got ourselves a band and we can head on over to Poison Apple to record and jam.” Leaning forward, her arms on the table and her hands clasped, Helen smirked. Finally, the business proposal was out in the open.

“Pretty cool, huh? I thought long and hard about this.” Helen said rather proudly before pressing on, “All that music we talk about, since last year, we can finally put it in motion. Find people like us and leave this school on a badass note. I know how much you want to put your drums to work and I mean TO WORK. Not just in a room alone rocking your socks off. With some of our peers, with me, we could do just that because Luce, I think you’re cool and I like you a lot. In the most platonic of ways. So,” the songstress paused, catching his eyes. She grabbed her spoon off the napkin and glanced down at her ice cream, before going back to meet his sharp yet kind gaze, “Whaddya say?” She offered one last time,“Wanna be in a band together?”

Lucian was blindsided, well, he was most times by the desultory whims of one Helen Wells, but this occasion was different. The concept of a band had been foreign to Lucian’s ears for as long as he could remember. Helen has only been the only true person who he had rocked with in a long while. It had always been him and her, locked away in the fortress of solitude that was his uncle’s shed for hours on end after school playing whatever random song they had desired in the moment. Although within these sessions of being the bane of Uncle Jason’s neighbors, the idea of grouping up with others and forming a band had only been mentioned a single transient time from Lucian’s mouth; a short, cursory lamentation of never having played in a band. Helen was right about Lucian wanting to put his drums to work, it was his passion, it was his escape. An escape from the struggles of the day, an escape from the unwanted thoughts, it was the home he never had, it took him away from this plane if only for a few fleeting hours. It made him feel as normal as normal could be, removed from everything. The pain from his batter and bloodied hands at the end was yet but a sacrifice for the salvation he obtained. He poured his love, his hate, his anger, his regret, his sorrow, his everything into each and every beat upon the surface of his drum; no matter if it was the bucket drums he played in the Harlem subway with the homeless, or the DW set he played in the shed to an audience of few, he put his passion into every strike. He longed to put his music into the world for ears beyond simply those whom he kept in his circle to hear, to understand. The means to had finally been placed just within his reach, a tale that if told to Lucian not even two years prior he would believe to be naught but a fallacy, like the tales he and Rocky spun to each other on the street corner of foretold fame and fortune that would be promised to the two in their fantastical view of the future, but to which they knew was a lie as good as any.

“First off, that was one helluva presentation, props where they’re due, but I been knew most of these cats for a while. I get it though, exposition or whatever” Lucian’s hands gripped the side of ice cream bowl once more “Now, I mean it all sounds good on paper, but it aint gonna be easy y’know…”

Lucian slid the black, cold mess of ice cream back over to Helen’s side of the table to end the childish encounter.

“But, count me the fuck in.”

BHHS: Limitless

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

____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________


____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
_{@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)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

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.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

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."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

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."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

► 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.