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Konnie Kon cups a hand on her ear. "Huh? Sorry? I can't hear you from all the way up in your tower, princess."
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Jul 26, 2014 17:26
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Sherry Sherry wafts her free hand dismissively, ignoring the tit-for-tat going on right behind her. "Put on a little black dress, some heels, draw your hair back and practice looking bored. You'll fit right in."
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Jul 30, 2014 05:41
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A low squeal rises from Eliza's corner of the room. She bounces up and down, the lightness created when she flutters her wings causing a great deal of slowdown and hang-time at the apex of her springy jumps. "Art gallery! Art Gallery! Art gallery!" She claps her hands together, "I once saw an installation piece that involved a mosaic bar counter /and/ a life-sized bartender statue made from shards of broken beer bottles picked out of the floors of pubs and dives all over New York City!" "There was a sculpture of Spinosaurus constructed out of the cases and guts of eight and sixteen bit video game consoles!" "And one guy made this painting, like that progression you always see of Evolution of Man, but you know, if Man evolved from Sea Bass. The Creature from the Black Lagoon was like the Cro-Magnon Man!" She poings, pounces, and hangs off Sherry's arm, giving her big soulful crimson eyes, "Please can we go to the Art Gallery?"
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Jul 30, 2014 06:45
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Konnie Rolling her eyes and muttering something that might have sounded like 'freezes ducking lice', Konnie starts trudging towards The Frogger.
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Jul 30, 2014 06:49
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Meg "Like I packed any of that stuff," Meg tells Konnie. "poo poo, I did," she mutters to herself. She might deride her mother now, but the old battleaxe did teach her a few things. 'Megan', she'd say, never calling Meg Meg, 'A simple black dress fills the most important space in any young woman's wardrobe.'. Ugh. Mom. Meg rolls her eyes at the woman current hundreds of miles away. "Shotgun!" Meg declares, and takes off for the Frogger at super speed.
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Jul 31, 2014 04:21
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The McNeil gallery sat incongruously, one row-house in from the corner of an otherwise inconspicuous tree-lined residential block, far enough away from the concert that you couldn't hear the music or see any traces of the concert-goers. The gallery was also a row-house, gut renovated and with a new facade of floor to roof glass. Inside the gallery the finishes were modern, the space was little more than two stacked white cubes on top of each other, connected by a staircase. Standing outside were various groups of fashionably dressed attendees. Ages varied from questionably underage models drinking from red plastic cups to silver-haired connoisseurs in boxy blue suits with expensive ties. The gallery was two levels. The first level devoted a wall to each of four photographers. All the photos were the same size, probably 18x24, and they all were black and white. One wall held portraits of blue collar workers, another held blown up and doctored vintage photos, the third held images of Philadelphia at night, and the last was focused on images of hedonistic youth, likely all taken late at night and under the influence of *something.* A DJ played forgettable downtempo electronic music that sounded like it belonged in the lobby of a tropical hotel and an ad-hoc bartender was pouring wine and beer into dixie cups. Downstairs was not packed, and there was enough room to move around and take in the art. Upstairs was packed. Conversation drowned out the music and once off the stairs it feels like the temperature in the room has gone up 30 degrees. There's a Robert Raushenberg print on the stairwell wall, collage art at the end of the stairs, then various different artist's pieces grouped along the walls. There are some impressionist oil paintings and a grouping of mixed-media pieces that look like they were very heavily influenced by Basquiat. There's also a piece that sits alone, an all white square with the words "hard work" etched into it. On a dais in the middle of the room are three containers stopped with corks. Labeled with a generic label maker the decanter filled with red liquid says "virgin blood," a smaller vial filled with yellow liquid says 'rockstar piss,' the last is empty and has 'supermodel farts' printed on it. The upstairs exhibit is so much more popular than the downstairs that it's hard to move through, and though it's generally packed, there are three concentrations of people. The first is in front of a series of large, striking, bright, vaguely fractal abstract color paintings that you overhear someone explaining "...the artist's ties water balloons filled with paint to explosives..." Standing next to the explosion pieces is a guy in his early thirties wearing cowboy boots, black jeans, black t-shirt, and an unbuttoned silk cheetah-print blouse over the t-shirt. The artist. The second concentration is in front of a large yarn sculpture / installation that takes over nearly a third of the ceiling and one corner. Yarn balls hang suspended in a pattern that's something between a constellation map, spiderwebs, and kudzu. The yarn creeps down thew all and at the ground level, the string 'spiderweb' has 'caught' other things: a brick, a pallet of wood, a shovel. The third concentration is around two strikingly attractive twin girls in their early 20s who are holding court near the bar. One wears tight cut-offs and a torn t-shirt, the other a little black dress. Both have waist length curly brown hair. They look bored. You all get the tell-tale sensations that give away the existence of at least one more supernatural being around the gallery, but it's currently too packed to discern where that might be coming from. If you want to stop somewhere and get changed / refreshed before the gallery, that's cool too! xian fucked around with this message at 06:39 on Aug 2, 2014 |
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Aug 2, 2014 01:23
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Sherry Having spent the set out from under the hot stage lights, the worst Sherry has to worry about post-concert is the faint and fading scent of fake fog. That and getting something nice on for the after-party she's (ahem) invited herself and the group to. It's not that late, so finding a burger shop with a clean bathroom to change in isn't a huge problem. It doesn't hurt that she gets a sammich to go, a sacrifice to the glovebox god. Or Jules, whoever's hungrier. Now, while Konnie has made a lot of loud statements about making absolutely certain that Meg hasn't packed one of her mirror dresses, going so far as to threaten to destroy it and to hell with bad luck, nobody's thought to check Sherry's trunks. Someone might get an impression that something unusual is up if they caught the way the dry-cleaning bag she carries into the joint jingles faintly as she walks. The contents are much quieter when she's wearing them.  ...auditorily speaking, at least.
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Aug 2, 2014 05:43
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Jules Jules purses his lips at the sights of the gallery. Sherry's surprise sandwich was good, though, and he polished that off on the car ride over. He doesn't comment on the mirror-scale dress, really, because he's fairly sure that way lies disaster. He's dressed himself up in some nice denim jeans, black leather jacket and a fairly stylish button down shirt. At this party, he could just be anyone. He sticks with the group, however, and continues looking around at the models of dubious age, the flat out bizarre art, that blouse that looks like something Ferris Bueller would wear, the yarn sculpture and the two twins by the bar who might have powers that allow them to influence people but they also might not because Jules is keeping his telepathy fairly controlled. There's only a vague mental background susurrus of art appreciation. All in all, he's already bored. He shrugs and turns to look at Meg. "Want to go make out and see if people think it's art?" Milkfred E. Moore fucked around with this message at 07:57 on Aug 2, 2014 |
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Aug 2, 2014 07:53
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Meg Luggage, luggage. Meg winds up climbing into the back to root around her luggage, smacking Jules and anybody else away when they try to peek. Somehow Meg managed to insinuate herself into the gallery before the others, and is already staring at the three jars as the others arrive. She appears to be deep in thought as she eyes it. She's got a new dress on too, a black thing that looks like the offspring of a tutu and a motorcycle vest...because that's what it is. Meg's paired it with a set of lace up boots and all in all, it's one of Meg's most toned down dress-up looks of late.   "Wha?" Meg asks as Jules says something to her, and then Sherry arrives, presaged with jingles. The fakeish redhead gapes and she makes a little squeak. Her hand squeezes Jules', nearly digging in. "SO JELLY," she hisses, watching all the sparkles.
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Aug 2, 2014 14:05
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Konnie Being the only one of the band who was truly Rock, Konnie doesn't change out of her sweat stained stage clothes. Sure, some may argue that an off-white tank top and slightly torn black jeans weren't the kind of things to wear to a fancy art gallery, but then Konnie would quite rightly argue that she doesn't give a flying gently caress. But she did manage to, while the Frogger stopped in front of a burger joint, sneak out to the liquor store next door and get herself a couple half-pint bottles of vodka. One way or another, this art gallery was going to be an after party. With a bottle in each pocket, Konnie was ready for whatever this gallery had to give. But even before she stepped in the door, there was a massive problem. "Oh god drat it, not you too." She groans as Sherry walks out in a mirror dress. "What the hell is it with mirror dresses! Where the hell do you even get so many of them? Did they start selling them at Gap when I wasn't looking?" Shaking her head at the entire situation, Konnie just barges her way through the gathered crowd of old farts and schoolgirls. "You're a bad influence." She makes sure to tell Meg on the way in. All in all, art wasn't her thing. Or this art wasn't. There was other art that she liked. Mostly the kind you have done on yourself with ink, granted, but that was just as much art as anything else. In her mind her arm looked miles better than every single portrait, statue, and jar of blood and piss the gallery had to offer. Not just bored but aggressively bored, Konnie looked for any excuse to not stand around with Meg and Sherry and look all cultured and poo poo. "Bar!" She exclaims as she finally sees a few bottles behind a crush of people. "Okay, I'm getting drinks. Want a drink?" She asks, pointing at Sherry. "Want a drink?" She asks Meg+Jules. "Want a drink?" She asks Eliza. "I'll get us all some drinks." This is hard for the rest of the band to hear, because Kon was already halfway to the bar when she tells them. The crowd was just dense here, nobody was moving for nothing. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Ex- Hey! Move it! Ugh, loving get out of the way!!" Eventually, with liberal use of stray elbows and stomping heels, Konnie reaches the bar. "Okay dude, I need like seven drinks here. What'd you got?" So focused was she on the free booze, she hadn't really noticed the twins who were causing the massive crowd around her.
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Aug 2, 2014 15:34
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Eliza Of course a clothing fetishist like Eliza must need a new outfit for an event like this, and who's really surprised she has just the right costume? Currently, her costume work of art is a stylized representation of an artist herself, rendered primarily in black and white, with a dash of red. It features a short black hoopskirt, barely coming down to the bottom of her thighs, with a lacy fringe. The front of her black dress resembles a white, sewn on, faux apron with a few paint blotches artfully dyed into the fabric. Naturally, the outfit has big, poofy, black shoulders, because of course it does, though the sleeves barely come to mid-bicep. No stereotypical artist disguise rendered with a goth sensibility would be without a poofy black beret, jauntily set off kilter by her elaborately bunched up hairstyle. For accessories, she carries an cane-sized immitation painbrush as a substitute for the Goth Lolita umbrella she usually bears, and a purse designed to resemble an artist's pallete. White stockings up to mid-thigh and black buckled shoes complete the clothing aspect of her design, while acknowledging she's going to be on her feet most of the night by avoiding heels. Perhaps because at least some aspect of her ensemble has to be subtle, her face benefits from a standard pale-making goth make-up, but the precision to which black has been applied to her eyelashes, lids, and lips has a painterly quality. She is clearly in far greater awe from Sherry's outfit than her own, gaping openly and cheering her on, "Are you sure you're not a glorious golden dragon instead of a princess?" she reaches forward to carress Sherry's glittering 'hide,' "Your scales are magnificent, Madam Drakaina." Her reaction to Konnie's offer of alcohol is unsurprising, "Yes, please! Something fruity and girly, please! Preferably with a stupid name!" Her reaction to the actual art itself is varied and reflects the short attention span of a bored imp looking for distraction. She pays almost no heed to the blank canvas or the jars. There's just nothing engaging about them after you've reached the (arguable) punchline. The black and white photos catch her attenion long enough to determine whether or not they could all be assembled together in the right order to form an animated flip-book or few. Once she figures that out (and assembles the flipbook(s) in her head if they work that way,) she's ready to move on, though she's obviously more impressed if it does form into a flipbook or more. The web of yarn intrigues her, but it reminds her a bit of something she's seen in Hell. Accordingly, she needs a few more drinks in her before she looks at that. So that leaves... people. Her gaze scans the packed room, and fall upon the Twins. Her eyes glitter, "Oooh, pretty!" Eliza ducks and weaves, taking advantage of her small size (despite the wide hem of her skirt) and the literal lightness of her feet. She also makes use of her paintbrush cane, which serves admirably as a lever. Presently, and taking advantage of the fact luck is usually on her side, she pretty swiftly scoots up to the fetching twins, smiling brightly, "Hello!" Drakli fucked around with this message at 20:27 on Aug 6, 2014 |
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Aug 6, 2014 15:25
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Meg Konnie, the only member of the band without a sense of hygiene. "Lookin' super monochrome, Eliza," Meg calls with a thumbs up. Yeah, people are gawking at Sherry, and jelly as Meg may be (and she is!), drat, Sherry earned it. Doesn't mean Eliza doesn't get props too. "Hey, Bar," Meg points out to Jules. It takes her closer to Konnie, until she's right up next to her. "Way to rock the homeless look, Kon!" Meg says with a grin. "So what're we drinking. Beers? Yeah, beers," she concludes, "Gimme your darkest, thickets, breadiest beer, please," she tells the bartender. "Eli...oh, cool, yeah, that'll work," she says. Konnie's got it. "Sher!" Meg calls loudly. "What're you drinkin'!?" While she waits for her beer, Meg asks, "You guys see those creepy twins?" she asks. "We should check that out. I mean c'mon. Creepy twins," she concludes, self-evidently. Meg nudges a bit. "I'm getting a feeling," she adds in a whisper. "Like a space thiny thingy," she adds, just in case Jules isn't clear. Eliza, however, has totally lapsed Meg. "I hope they don't fry her brains," Meg says, sipping her beer.
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Aug 8, 2014 02:28
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Konnie "S'called 'not selling out'." Konnie promptly corrects Meg. "I think it's between beer and wine. So totally beer." She agrees. Meg points out the twins, which finally brought them to Kon's notice. "Oh. Huh. How about that." Is pretty much all she thinks of it. "Just because they're twins doesn't make them magic, Meg!" She sighs. "How many times have I FrogEyed twins because you have a 'space thingy feeling' about twins before?" She asks. "Like, ten times!" She answers. "Twins are normal people!"
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Aug 8, 2014 02:57
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Meg "Nuh-uh," Meg says. "They don't have souls. Or is that only the blonde ones?" Meg says. "And screw that, Konnie, sometimes I just wanted you to tell me how they'd look naked."
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Aug 8, 2014 03:01
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Konnie She could really do with that drink right now. "Twins also have souls, Meg." She sighs. Again. "If you really want to see them naked, ask Jules. I'm sure he'll be fine with a foursome. Besides, this place is way too crowded. I couldn't FrogEye them even if I wanted to."
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Aug 8, 2014 03:27
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Meg "Whatevs," Meg says, dipping her beer further. "Looks like Eliza's gonna find out. We should be ready to rescuer her. Just in case."
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Aug 8, 2014 03:41
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Sherry After holding it in until Konnie's out of earshot, Sherry lets herself have a quiet laugh under the cover of a hand over her mouth. "I couldn't resist, when she started going, 'No mirrors, no mirrors! Raah!' Friend Karen had this thing sitting around, drawing dust like nothing else, and she let me borrow it. Mission accomplished." Sherry's body language is demure, refined even, despite her brazen garb, the quietly murmured suggestion not to pay her any mind that doesn't often get heeded. It's easier in these sorts of environments, she's found: everyone's already up someone else's butt, or has clinical amounts of something up their nose. She drifts around the first floor, looking at the photos, but they say little to her. She's attended galleries before, usually on the arm of someone with a colourful epithet, but has never had much of a chance to develop a strong understanding of art. Of course, part of that carefully cultured placidity is thanks to the telltale tickle of another supernatural in the vicinity. Meeting the Sheriffs had been a stroke of luck. Not knowing how things are arranged here, she's inclined to be on the cautious side. Meanwhile, the others are doing their own far less cautious things upstairs. After shaking her head at the collection of purported bodily secretions, she follows them up.
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Aug 8, 2014 04:38
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Jules "What? It probably would've worked." And it wouldn't have been hard to nudge a few minds in that direction if they were already going 'hmm, yes' over a painting a few meters over to the left. Jules shrugs, following Konnie and Meg over to the bar. Meg goes next to Konnie, he goes next to Meg. There's an order to things. "Just a beer, thanks," Jules says, and then looks from the bartender to Meg at the mention of space thingy. And then it's because she saw twins and Jules just nods and accepts it because that's Meg. He resists the urge to reach out and telepathically poke them while Konnie and Meg hold a brief philosophical talk on the nature of twins. "I'm not sure about a foursome," Jules says, idly, "I mean, we barely know them... Anyways, I could give 'em a bit of a telepathic once-over. But they're probably just twins, babe." Eliza's taking care of it anyways. Jules leans back and takes a drink. Life is good.
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Aug 9, 2014 12:22
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Konnie "Foursome is out of the question, but I'll give 'em telepathic once-over!" Konnie says in her best Jules voice. It was a pretty good impression if you were deaf. "At least you ask about a foursome first…"
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Aug 9, 2014 12:39
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Jules "It's just reading emotions and surface thoughts. Stuff you can already tell if you know body language and whatever," Jules replies. "But using my Frog Eyes on other people is tooootalllly different," Jules counters, with a Konnie impression that is only marginally better than the one she did of him.
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Aug 9, 2014 12:46
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Konnie "That's exactly what a wrass like you would say." Konnie rolls her eyes and sips her drink.
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Aug 9, 2014 12:55
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Jules Jules looks at Konnie over the top of his glass of beer. "I know that a wrass is a fish. Just so we're clear on that."
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Aug 9, 2014 12:58
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Konnie "Looked it up since last time, huh?" Konnie counters, using the more advanced technique of looking at Jules through the bottom of her glass.
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Aug 9, 2014 13:01
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Jules "Well, yeah. I thought it might've been some sort of foreign swear word," Jules says.
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Aug 9, 2014 13:04
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Konnie Konnie can't help but laugh. "Oh man, that's right!" She puts her glass down. "Remember when I got you thinking kiełbasa meant pig fucker?" She giggles. "Fuckin' hilarious."
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Aug 9, 2014 13:23
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Meg "It doesn't?" Meg asks, confused. Such ethnic food was never allowed in the Harrison household. "C'mon, stop treating me like I'm a space cadet," Meg says, a phrase she's actually used while in her space cadet costume. "Look, you rely on me for the doing, I rely on you for the knowing, so just check it out and prove me wrong and then we can get back to drinking," she says, taking a gulp from her beer. "'Liza, can you check them for demoniness?"
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Aug 10, 2014 14:03
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Konnie Kon stares at Meg for a few moments. "No, Meg, it's Polish sausage. You've had it before." The odds of Meg remembering were slim, but Konnie still had to try. "Okay, okay!" She sighs. "If it'll make you happy, I'll give them the frog eyes." She shakes her head, eyes going big and black. Like a frog's. let us kick things up in here with Origin: The Wodnik to active frog eyes with the power approach on the twins! Robodog: !r 4df+3 Krysmbot: Robodog, ----+3 = -1 Robodog: oh for gently caress sake
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Aug 10, 2014 14:36
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Eliza Without taking her eyes off the twins, and without turning down the wattage on her gleaming white grin, (with tiny fangs,) Eliza reverses the grip on her paintbrush staff and reaches out behind to 'nudge' Meg in the ribs with the cane as if to say, What, are you, crazy? I'm trying to be charming here! Grant you, she doesn't actually say that, but it's kind of the universal language for when someone's being the reverse of a wingman. Drakli fucked around with this message at 15:01 on Aug 10, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 14:53
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On the lower level, everything is more staid, but as Sherry gets up to the upper floor, she realizes that this dress could be nicknamed Moses for the way it parted the sea--if 'Moses' weren't a pretty bad nickname for a dress. A mirror dress in a well lit gallery tends to have 'sea-parting' effect, and light prisms off Sherry in a way that's impossible not to notice. The explosion painting artist dressed in the leopard print shirt is one of the people who takes notice. Whether she wants to admit it or not, Konnie isn't the only grungey person at the opening. A lot of people in the crowd around the girls are dressed like her, but she doesn't pay attention to them. Unless they had a foot stepped on or caught an elbow, they weren't paying much attention to her, either. She slips through the crowd to the bar easily, and “We’ve got beer, we’ve got wine, we’ve got soda,” A tired looking girl who is probably an art intern says, standing behind a fold-out table with the previously mentioned drinks on it. When she looks at the twins in Frogeyes, they are two brightly colored dolphins somewhere between aqua and turquoise, with the colors contrasting each other. She gets drinks for everyone, and an empty cup and ice for herself. "Uh, hi," The twin in the cut-offs, t-shirt, and boots says to Eliza, perking up from looking bored when she sees the striking figure in front of her. "Did you make this?" She reaches out and touches some of the detail work on Eliza's dress, " The palette bag is amazing. What's your name?" And with even these simple words, Eliza feels so, so happy. Euphoria wells up from her core. There was nothing demonic going on, but, wow, oh boy, there was something. Jules accedes to Meg's wishes and gives the twins a telepathic once over. There was something swirling around them, but it's not until he's standing next to them that he realizes roughly what's going on. The twins names are Luna and Lyra (he always finds it awkward to know people's names before he's introduced), the one that Eliza is talking to is Luna and if Jules' telepathy has the potential to be a scalpel or a magnifying glass, precise and accurate and discerning, hers is like a down feather comforter thrown across her half of the room, making anyone who interacts with her directly (or those standing in her proximity, he guesses), feel very, very good. Except for one person--her sister Luna is a blank slate, a cipher. Whether that's a guard of her power, or she just isn't exercising it, or that is her power, or something else entirely, Jules has no way to know. The artist in the leopard print gets to Sherry as she makes her way throughout the gallery, "Holy...I don't know, some pickup line involving your dress, lasers, and smoke machines." He smiles and laughs easily at himself. He is handsome, tall and thin with black hair slicked back, just a few whispers of grey at the edges, soft, round features, and some well-maintained stubble. Sherry notices some silver bracelets on one wrist, a pocket-chain hanging from a belt loop, and some very well-worn black cowboy boots. "I'm Paul. How's your night going?" Standing in front of him, Sherry feels that 'telltale tickle' of the supernatural up close. Jules rolls +/++. xian fucked around with this message at 17:02 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 12, 2014 05:44
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Konnie … god drat it. "Look," Konnie says, turning her rapidly returning to normal eyes back to Meg. "Just because these twins are weird doesn't mean all twins are." She starts off with, saying it like she just lost a bet. "They're technicolor dolphins. Bright blues, but contrasting colours with each other. So I don't know, maybe a ying/yang sort of deal?" She shrugs, handing out the beers she got for everybody. "That's usually what that poo poo means." With it established that those twins were indeed weird and possibly evil, Konnie leaves it in Eliza's capable hands. And maybe Meg's slightly less capable ones. She had much more important business to attend to. "Yeah. Figured." She replies to the bar girl, looking at one of the beer bottles. "Lite crap, too." Sneaking a hand into her pocket, she comes out with a trusty bottle of Wódka vodka. "Ta-da!" She holds it like it was a prize she won at a raffle, cracking the cap and pouring it into her cup with ice. "Like I'm going to stand around listening to a bunch of assholes without an actual drink in my hands." At this point about half of the bottle was in her cup, before Konnie realised her manners. "Want some?" She offers the bottle to the bar girl. "Looks like you could do with it."
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Aug 12, 2014 06:17
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"They're not so bad. It's just, you know, the," she waves her arm at the packed gallery behind her, "all of it together." The girl says, putting some ice in a dixie cup and pouring a heavy shot. She hands back the bottle, then holds the dixie cup up to Konnie, "Cheers!," then downs it.
xian fucked around with this message at 06:35 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 12, 2014 06:32
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Konnie She takes her bottle back, taking note of how much she had poured herself. "Na zdrowie." Konnie holds her cup up the bar girl's, but doesn't quite down hers. Even for Konnie, a quarter-pint shot was a bit much. For one go. When she was pacing herself. There maybe just be a fight with the dolphins yet. "Yeah. A lot of these guys seem super overbearing." Kon looks around a little bit. "And I've only been here for like, twenty minutes but…" She chooses her words carefully. Delicately. With finesse. "…if some of the arm candy was any younger, half the room would be put up on charges." Tactful for Konnie was a different metric than most other people used. "Some after party, right? I need to fire our manager." She shakes her head, drinking more of her Vodka Vodka. "Here." Konnie digs out the other bottle, and hands it to the barwoman. "I think you're going to need it more than me, girl."
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Aug 12, 2014 07:10
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Jules "Huh," Jules says.
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Aug 12, 2014 11:10
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Meg Horray for badgering! Meg gulps at her beer as she lingers with Jules and her not-Frog-Eyes or Telepathy. At least she has beers. Except not anymore, because she drains the beer as Eliza gets engage and... "Woah," Meg says, nudging Jules and Konnie and looking to Sherry with a huge grin on her face. Meg, that is. "So like a trapper keeper?" Me asks, "Weird, could but. I dunno, I...oh, thanks," Meg says as she grabs the new beer. Really, it's dumped in her hand so Konnie can take off and...Meg's shoulders slump a little. "What?" Meg asks Jules, in a quieter tone. "Don't be pissed with Konnie," she says. "The whole fire thing hit her harder than she lets on and then Nat decided to be a raging 'I can't deal with slightly abnormal poo poo' bitch and she's entitled to score if she wants to." Meg gulps her beer. "Oh!" Meg declares. "You mean you found something!"
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Aug 12, 2014 20:05
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Eliza Eliza is almost taken aback for a moment, she really is. The euphoric sensation of sheer delight is unlike anything the devil realms offer (if the girl was a succubus, Eliza is sure it would be a hungrier euphoria,) and it nearly stuns the imp with the wonder of it. Instead, she beams brightly in return, her cheeks rosy with unexpected bashfulness. "Y yes," she fidgets her hips like a teenager with a crush, but rallies, her shamelessly broad grin helping her regain her footing, "I make all of my outfits, myself!" She gives her palette satchel a look, proudly adding, "I've considered trying to sell copies of it as a line of accessories, but I've been so busy with the band lately. Should probably be working on band swag or something, but..." Nothing keeps an emancipated imp down. She offers the lovely cut-offs-wearing twin (Luna?) a hand to shake, "I'm Eliza! Of the Gypsy Widows! What's your name!"
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Aug 13, 2014 11:12
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Jules Jules just nods at Meg. "Yeah," he says, skipping past her talk about Konnie, "I did. The one Eliza is talking to has some sort of mental power - like a happiness aura. Might be emotional control on a wider level, might not be - always hard to tell. Anyways, her name is Luna. I'm getting nothing from the other except her name - Lyra." He shrugs a bit, takes a drink from his beer. "Not sure how it relates to Konnie's dolphin talk."
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Aug 14, 2014 00:24
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"You have my word," The bartender says mock-solemnly, "That I will put it to good use." She refills her cup from the unopened bottle and then stashes it behind the bar. "You definitely should." Luna says, "I want one. Love to see the other stuff you've made. I'm Luna. I haven't heard of your band, what kind of music?"
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Aug 14, 2014 01:36
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Konnie "Rock on, girl!" Konnie smiles, tipping her cup to the now confirmed awesome bartender. And drinking some more because, hell, things were going that way. But then she turns around to the rest of the half of the band. "Well, that's my one good deed for the day." She proudly announces to Meg and Jules.
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Aug 14, 2014 04:01
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Sherry As the crowd parts around her like courtiers for a Cinderella, Sherry begins to remember why friends don't let friends dress alone. Or was it that fashion is no laughing matter? Either way, it's probably a faux pas to attract more attention than the art in a gallery, and what was intended as a private joke is shining right in the public eye. Not even a tarp to veil herself with again! There's always-- no. You grin (or smile demurely) and bear it, and if Karen ever hears a hint that you thought about sneaking back to the van to change into something else you'll never hear the end of it. Unfortunately for Sherry, the 'you' in question, there isn't time to think far beyond that before encountering someone who isn't merely content to murmur and keep at arm's length from the art. Sherry isn't in much of a position to criticize the artist's fashion choices, though one might wonder how many leopards died of embarrassment for that shirt. She assesses him quickly as he approaches, feeling for a moment like she might have in times before, a bit of arm-candy turned football, waiting to be picked up by another player. Good shape, touch of grey. Possibly older than he looks, but confident enough that he hasn't dyed it. Dressed as he is, and with his profession, he probably isn't interested in the supposed gravitas a stripe of steel offers. The staticky buzz of the supernatural helps keep her from startling when he immediately makes reference to stage lights and smoke, and while she tries not to think about the events of earlier, anyone can tell you how hard it is to specifically not think of something. She tries not to, anyway: Foursquare, Burger Shack, here. Doubtless he can sense her too; hopefully this won't be some kind of fencing match. Outwardly, Sherry laughs and smiles lightly, tilting her head down, lifting her shoulders slightly. "This is the only thing I could find that wasn't beginning to rust, but I think I should have given it a coat or two of dulling spray now that I'm here," she jokes. "Sherry, and I'm having a lovely evening now that I'm here." She gestures around. "Are all of these your pieces?"
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Aug 16, 2014 20:31
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 02:38 |
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Meg Meg had lost sight of Eliza for a few minutes. "Is she in trouble?" Meg asks Jules, her inner 'OH NO WEIRD poo poo' reflex twitching. "Hey Kon," Meg says, gulping her beer as her bestie returns. "Land a number?" she asks. "Jules thinks Eliza's getting mind-seduced," she suggests. "And where'd Sherry get away to?" she wonders, turning her head, then adjusting and then turning further, winding up spinning in place. "Is she getting brain-whammied too!?"
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Aug 18, 2014 20:06
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