>> Ivy Langley continued from Bring It On 3: Misery Olympics
"ID, please."
The smiling woman at the reception desk didn't blink as Ivy groaned and rolled her eyes theatrically, because the woman in question had been working here for three years now, and Ivy Langley had been doing that exact thing the entire time. For her part Ivy was mostly doing it out of established tradition at this point. She had been mildly annoyed at being asked when she was, say, 13, but it was whatever now. Policy and all that. Her father had to show ID when he came through, and he probably could just buy the whole club if he was in that sort of mood. Probably the receptionist whose name started with R or something Ivy didn't care enough to remember thought she was kind of a bitch, but literally who cared what receptionists anywhere thought?
It was a blazing hot day, the sort where it was difficult to remember that it wasn't yet summer. It would be soon enough, at least in the technical sense of what George Hunter counted as summer; three weeks and junior year would be over. There were finals to worry about, she supposed, but she wasn't planning on doing much worrying. Tests were easy. You drill a couple dozen flash cards the night before and then you just fill in the answers. Frankly she could never comprehended how people did badly on tests, though that was perhaps just a burden she had to bear by virtue of being smarter than most. Even if she did feel compelled to study in advance for some strange reason, today was hardly the time, and the Chattanooga Golf and Country Club was hardly the place.
She sauntered past the receptionist as she waved her though, idly taking in the scenery as she stepped outside. She could compare the club unfavorably to most of the vacation spots she'd been to elsewhere, both on the coasts and in Europe, but for Tennessee she wasn't going to do much better, and besides, having been here regularly since she was a child, it had a nostalgic vibe to her. This heat was begging for a beach trip, but the pool here was the next best thing; it was a gorgeous pool by any standard, and perhaps more importantly was flanked by a number of pool chairs perfect for people-watching. Or getting a tan. Ivy had designs on both.
She was rather grateful for the lack of a serious dress code, as needing to dress all the way up when she intended on remaining clothed for as little time as possible would have been irritating at the least. As it were she'd turned up in a flowery pink sundress, oversized sunglasses, and spectacularly overpriced flipflops; she pulled off the former the moment she reached poolside, revealing the pink, ruffly bandeau bikini she was wearing underneath. It was on the risque side, both in terms of the top clinging to her for dear life without straps to hold it up and in terms of the minimal coverage of the bottom, but what was it her father had always said? "The country club is where you go to see and be seen." She was fairly certain this wasn't what he meant, but she'd take her preferred way of being seen over his for the time being. It was quite a bit more fun.
And it was always possible one of the Carters would turn up. Or both. A girl had to be prepared.
It was still quite early, so she wasn't all that surprised to find the pool area basically abandoned. This time of year seemed to be when a lot of rich people without kids went on vacations, and that described much of the country club's membership. She didn't mind the quiet, particularly, though she didn't expect it to stay that way for too long. Hopefully the silence would be broken by someone interesting and not some 50-year-old dude hitting on her. Which had happened. More than once.
She laid out on the beach chair and relaxed. It was hard to worry about that kind of thing when it was so gorgeous out. And she'd be perfectly justified in kicking someone in the nose if it happened again. Right? She was going to go with right.
just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be
5/06/2017 @ the country club: open 2 fellow children of privilege
just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
((Another Forrest Memory))
Virgin cocktails for her virgin ass but since they were actually in a public place that was in the possession of an actual alcohol license Forrest couldn't actually have an alcoholic beverage to herself. Although, she had snuck a few sips of her dads when he went to the toilet because she was a rebel and the law couldn't contain her. But even still, it was a nice sunny day and although she had been dragged out of bed early and was nursing a wicked hangover it was a good time. But when in Rome, you drank virgin mary's and sat by a pool. Her dads had gone off to go the sauna so that had left her outside with music and her drink. Not a bad situation and honestly, somewhat relaxing. Since Forrest was at the pool to get a tan, in fact, she was planning on actually swimming she had just thrown on and simple shark-themed swim-suit which a large patch missing on one side to simulate a shark's mouth. So the right-hand side of her stomach was going to get a great tan.
As Forrest was sat on the sunbed, drink in hand and headphones on her head she spied someone from George Hunter enter the pool area. She recognized them because how could you not. Her body was small but her personality was large and that was how Ivy Langley rolled. For her part, Forrest hadn't been exposed to Ivy that much. They'd been at the same parties and Ivy also did the drinking but Forrest was normally busy doing Zootopia things which meant decks, drinks and drugs. So she was distracted quite a lot of the time.
It meant that she didn't really remember if she had ever been in a real conversation with Ivy. She scanned her memory...and......came up.........empty. Her fingers idly scratched at the part of her head that was supposed to be shaved and found it covered with more hair than it should have been. Forrest made a note that she would need to get it shaved down again and neatened up. Still, there was nothing else to do so Forrest stood up and wrapped her towel around her waist before pulling her headphones down and heading over to the sunbed next to Ivy.
WIth a fancy spin, she pulled the towel off of her body and set it down and followed it in a somewhat elegant and graceful movement. None of her cocktail was spilt so it passed her bar for success.
"What up?"
Virgin cocktails for her virgin ass but since they were actually in a public place that was in the possession of an actual alcohol license Forrest couldn't actually have an alcoholic beverage to herself. Although, she had snuck a few sips of her dads when he went to the toilet because she was a rebel and the law couldn't contain her. But even still, it was a nice sunny day and although she had been dragged out of bed early and was nursing a wicked hangover it was a good time. But when in Rome, you drank virgin mary's and sat by a pool. Her dads had gone off to go the sauna so that had left her outside with music and her drink. Not a bad situation and honestly, somewhat relaxing. Since Forrest was at the pool to get a tan, in fact, she was planning on actually swimming she had just thrown on and simple shark-themed swim-suit which a large patch missing on one side to simulate a shark's mouth. So the right-hand side of her stomach was going to get a great tan.
As Forrest was sat on the sunbed, drink in hand and headphones on her head she spied someone from George Hunter enter the pool area. She recognized them because how could you not. Her body was small but her personality was large and that was how Ivy Langley rolled. For her part, Forrest hadn't been exposed to Ivy that much. They'd been at the same parties and Ivy also did the drinking but Forrest was normally busy doing Zootopia things which meant decks, drinks and drugs. So she was distracted quite a lot of the time.
It meant that she didn't really remember if she had ever been in a real conversation with Ivy. She scanned her memory...and......came up.........empty. Her fingers idly scratched at the part of her head that was supposed to be shaved and found it covered with more hair than it should have been. Forrest made a note that she would need to get it shaved down again and neatened up. Still, there was nothing else to do so Forrest stood up and wrapped her towel around her waist before pulling her headphones down and heading over to the sunbed next to Ivy.
WIth a fancy spin, she pulled the towel off of her body and set it down and followed it in a somewhat elegant and graceful movement. None of her cocktail was spilt so it passed her bar for success.
"What up?"
V8
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
“Not a bad day’s work kid, I gotta say, you should be proud.”
I fuckin’ hate rich people, goddamn.
“Thanks sir,” Ace said as he rubbed his hand through his hair, “I tried.”
Mr. Quintana had known Ace since he was a toddler, a friend of his father, he did something like real estate or was in insurance, Ace didn’t know. He did know that earlier in the year when he and his father had done some work on Mr. Quintana’s A/C that the older man had offered Ace an opportunity to make some extra duckets come summer. He knew Mr. Q had money based on his house and the two A/C’s he had running during the summer...he said yes to helping him without really knowing what that meant.
Ace didn’t think it would involve getting up at 6AM and spending the whole early part of the day diving for golf balls at the beck and call of a few rich dudes...but 50 bucks was 50 bucks.
The crisp Grant felt cool in his hand, crispy and exceptionally dry compared to the wetness of his palms. His blue board shorts were weighed down with water and his adidas slides did little to protect his feet from the prickly golf course grass. He felt under dressed being in a bathing suit on the golf course and he felt like he didn’t belong due to the fact that...well he was at a goddamn Country Club. It was still early, the sun was still shining, he didn’t really have much else to do today.
“I have another game next week,” Mr. Q said easily, “I’ll tell the receptionist to let you in next time, just flash your ID and mention my name and you’ll be fine. You’re going home?”
“Uh...I think so, I dunno…”
“Kinda hard leaving this place, huh?”
That wasn’t it at all.
“No doubt, it’s uh…”, he looked for words and settled on the most basic, “Real nice.”
The man pulled out another twenty and patted Ace on the shoulder…
“A tip,” he grinned, “Go relax poolside or get some lunch while you’re here, you deserve it kid.”
And maybe he did? He wasn’t gonna complain.
“Thanks sir, I’ll tell my old man you said hi as well.”
His shorts were too wet to hold his phone and since his surroundings were unfamiliar he kinda wanted to go sans headphones until he had a place to relax. When he had gotten back to the golf clubhouse he simply slung his trusty Jansport on his back and went forward throughout the country club.
You a cat that got into the tuna Beats…
You def don’t belong here.
But he enjoyed taking in the sights, he stuck out like a sore thumb--from his posture to his attire, to that stupid grin and starstruck wonder permanently plastered to his face. He didn’t know where to go eat and while his phone and headphones remained in his bag, his money was burning a hole through his duct tape wallet that rested in his front pocket.
He didn’t know where he was going but in following a general path through the country club he found himself being lead towards a centralized location: the pool.
“Yoooooooooooo,” he hissed and whispered to himself, “This pool is fuckin’ nuts.”
He shook his head and took in the sights before noticing two familiar faces and figures--Forrest and Ivy, classmates no less.
Rich girls in bathing suits no less…
Don’t be the dude who blows a days work tryin’ to impress girls who get what you get in a month for lunch money.
Still, Ivy was a cheerleader, they hung in the same circles and Forrest was a musician and Ace liked to think himself as kinda, sorta maybe a little bit a musician...he had to say hi, didn’t he? I mean it was only polite, right?
Oh yeah, you’re not fooling anyone--now you’ve left the tuna and gone straight to the canary!
Tired of the metaphors his mind was spewing at him he decided to take a deep breath and head over to the sunbathing junior girls--he was born at night not last night.
“Uh, hey guys,” he said as he approached from Forrest’s side and quickly became tongue tied, “I’m uh, lost and shit.”
What the fuck was that?
I fuckin’ hate rich people, goddamn.
“Thanks sir,” Ace said as he rubbed his hand through his hair, “I tried.”
Mr. Quintana had known Ace since he was a toddler, a friend of his father, he did something like real estate or was in insurance, Ace didn’t know. He did know that earlier in the year when he and his father had done some work on Mr. Quintana’s A/C that the older man had offered Ace an opportunity to make some extra duckets come summer. He knew Mr. Q had money based on his house and the two A/C’s he had running during the summer...he said yes to helping him without really knowing what that meant.
Ace didn’t think it would involve getting up at 6AM and spending the whole early part of the day diving for golf balls at the beck and call of a few rich dudes...but 50 bucks was 50 bucks.
The crisp Grant felt cool in his hand, crispy and exceptionally dry compared to the wetness of his palms. His blue board shorts were weighed down with water and his adidas slides did little to protect his feet from the prickly golf course grass. He felt under dressed being in a bathing suit on the golf course and he felt like he didn’t belong due to the fact that...well he was at a goddamn Country Club. It was still early, the sun was still shining, he didn’t really have much else to do today.
“I have another game next week,” Mr. Q said easily, “I’ll tell the receptionist to let you in next time, just flash your ID and mention my name and you’ll be fine. You’re going home?”
“Uh...I think so, I dunno…”
“Kinda hard leaving this place, huh?”
That wasn’t it at all.
“No doubt, it’s uh…”, he looked for words and settled on the most basic, “Real nice.”
The man pulled out another twenty and patted Ace on the shoulder…
“A tip,” he grinned, “Go relax poolside or get some lunch while you’re here, you deserve it kid.”
And maybe he did? He wasn’t gonna complain.
“Thanks sir, I’ll tell my old man you said hi as well.”
His shorts were too wet to hold his phone and since his surroundings were unfamiliar he kinda wanted to go sans headphones until he had a place to relax. When he had gotten back to the golf clubhouse he simply slung his trusty Jansport on his back and went forward throughout the country club.
You a cat that got into the tuna Beats…
You def don’t belong here.
But he enjoyed taking in the sights, he stuck out like a sore thumb--from his posture to his attire, to that stupid grin and starstruck wonder permanently plastered to his face. He didn’t know where to go eat and while his phone and headphones remained in his bag, his money was burning a hole through his duct tape wallet that rested in his front pocket.
He didn’t know where he was going but in following a general path through the country club he found himself being lead towards a centralized location: the pool.
“Yoooooooooooo,” he hissed and whispered to himself, “This pool is fuckin’ nuts.”
He shook his head and took in the sights before noticing two familiar faces and figures--Forrest and Ivy, classmates no less.
Rich girls in bathing suits no less…
Don’t be the dude who blows a days work tryin’ to impress girls who get what you get in a month for lunch money.
Still, Ivy was a cheerleader, they hung in the same circles and Forrest was a musician and Ace liked to think himself as kinda, sorta maybe a little bit a musician...he had to say hi, didn’t he? I mean it was only polite, right?
Oh yeah, you’re not fooling anyone--now you’ve left the tuna and gone straight to the canary!
Tired of the metaphors his mind was spewing at him he decided to take a deep breath and head over to the sunbathing junior girls--he was born at night not last night.
“Uh, hey guys,” he said as he approached from Forrest’s side and quickly became tongue tied, “I’m uh, lost and shit.”
What the fuck was that?
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
'The Country Club.' Simple words, weren't they?
And people, they see the words country club, they're normally figuring it has to do with something like golf and nothing else. Naturally golf was a big part of it and all: the club had a driving range, a set of holes, a shop and all sorts of big fancy amenities. But it was also a place the rich people hung out to do little more than stand around and... who knows, talk about how rich they were? You had Forrest's family, and you got the Lorenzens what with all their power and wealth... possibly the richest in town. But then you get into the upper-crust type social folks, the ones who might not have the most money but they sure as spit acted like it, like the Langleys. Oh, right, and the Carters. They were a... different kind of rich.
A place like the country club just wasn't the kind of place that was for everybody, and not just because of some fake exclusiveness caused by having enough money to get in. It also seemed... well, why go there when you could just go to the local pool or park for a much cheaper cost, or even free? But hey, if you want to waste the money, go for it.
Justin followed his father through the main lobby of one of the buildings. His father was talking somebody... probably not the owner of the whole property; knowing this place, whoever the owner was had to feel so important that they weren't going to be handling ground-level stuff themselves. That's what property managers were for. So this was probably just the guy that ran this section of the property or even just this one building. The power seemed fine right now but there was a suspected short somewhere that was causing the electrical bill to be off or... something? Justin was trying to follow the conversation, but the view out the big glass doors distracted him. There were kids his age out there, people he probably went to school with. Two girls, one with bright pink hair and the other with rainbow hair... from a mile away and through a crowd, you could always tell who THEY were.
Also they weren't wearing much.
"Hey! Boy!" His dad called, shaking Justin from his thoughts. 'Boy' was reserved for serious matters, like 'Get your ass over here.' If Dad wasn't being so serious, and for instance was in less polite company, he would have said something like 'hey numbnuts' or 'doofus', so he knew right away that he needed to hurry up.
Oh well. He didn't feel like swimming anyway.
((Justin Greene, concluding first pregame appearance))
And people, they see the words country club, they're normally figuring it has to do with something like golf and nothing else. Naturally golf was a big part of it and all: the club had a driving range, a set of holes, a shop and all sorts of big fancy amenities. But it was also a place the rich people hung out to do little more than stand around and... who knows, talk about how rich they were? You had Forrest's family, and you got the Lorenzens what with all their power and wealth... possibly the richest in town. But then you get into the upper-crust type social folks, the ones who might not have the most money but they sure as spit acted like it, like the Langleys. Oh, right, and the Carters. They were a... different kind of rich.
A place like the country club just wasn't the kind of place that was for everybody, and not just because of some fake exclusiveness caused by having enough money to get in. It also seemed... well, why go there when you could just go to the local pool or park for a much cheaper cost, or even free? But hey, if you want to waste the money, go for it.
Justin followed his father through the main lobby of one of the buildings. His father was talking somebody... probably not the owner of the whole property; knowing this place, whoever the owner was had to feel so important that they weren't going to be handling ground-level stuff themselves. That's what property managers were for. So this was probably just the guy that ran this section of the property or even just this one building. The power seemed fine right now but there was a suspected short somewhere that was causing the electrical bill to be off or... something? Justin was trying to follow the conversation, but the view out the big glass doors distracted him. There were kids his age out there, people he probably went to school with. Two girls, one with bright pink hair and the other with rainbow hair... from a mile away and through a crowd, you could always tell who THEY were.
Also they weren't wearing much.
"Hey! Boy!" His dad called, shaking Justin from his thoughts. 'Boy' was reserved for serious matters, like 'Get your ass over here.' If Dad wasn't being so serious, and for instance was in less polite company, he would have said something like 'hey numbnuts' or 'doofus', so he knew right away that he needed to hurry up.
Oh well. He didn't feel like swimming anyway.
((Justin Greene, concluding first pregame appearance))
It didn't take too long. Ivy would be lying if she said she thought her time approximations in this particular situation would even approach accurate, but if forced she'd estimate maybe half an hour had passed with naught but the breeze for company. It was a nice breeze, though. The temperature was in the mid-80s, and the heat threatened to anesthetize her, but in that pleasant sort of way where she wouldn't be unhappy if she fell asleep and woke up a few hours later. Well, yes, she would be, because at that point she'd be waking up with a nasty sunburn. But in theory it would be a pleasant way to spend the day.
But half an hour had passed, and she hadn't fallen asleep, and she heard a voice. Not one she instantly recognized, but not one she didn't recognize, either, if that made any sense. It was the voice of someone who existed on the periphery of her memory but not entirely outside of it. She glanced at the source of it, and then peeked over her sunglasses to get a better luck.
Forrest Quin. Conveniently a difficult person to mistake. She'd seen her here a few times, so her presence wasn't a shock, but they hadn't really spoken... ever, come to think of it, though not for any real antipathy, at least on Ivy's part. Their houses weren't far apart, which was convenient proximity considering the parties hosted at Forrest's; she was a musician, though quite far from the type Ivy was herself, which was still enough to impart some level of respect. Also the whole rainbow thing she was doing with her hair at the moment was really cute? As was the swimsuit? So that was worth a few style points.
"Hey."
She made the effort to sit up so as to hold a conversation properly, though she was immediately struck by the problem of how little there was to talk about. They didn't exactly have much in common, outside of being rich enough to be here and the very basics of "goes to the same school" and "goes to parties sometimes". She could ask about her whole music thing, but that would imply a level of interest that wasn't actually present. She respected Forrest, yes, but that didn't mean she cared.
"Not much. Working on my tan. Waiting for something more interesting to present itself." She shrugged, lightly skipping over the implication that Forrest herself didn't qualify as interesting, and glanced at the drink in her hand. "Is that a virgin, or—oh."
Oh, indeed; her eyes slipped past Forrest and focused on the figure rapidly approaching them, someone who she was significantly more surprised to find here. Ace Ortega. Ivy knew the football team back to front, of course, though maybe not in as many senses as she would have liked. And while she very much had her eye on the Carters Ace was his own brand of eye candy. The sort of tragic innocent that may or may not be worth the effort to teach, certainly, hence her lack of specific interest, but that wasn't about to stop her from appreciating the view. He must have been here early; had he been swimming before she'd arrived? Wait, the bigger question was how had he gotten here at all? She was quite sure he wasn't a member. Had someone invited him? Did he have a girlfriend she didn't know about? She resisted the urge to ask; it would likely come off has ill-intentioned, and frankly even if he had snuck in she had no interest in him being anywhere but here.
"Morning, Ace," Ivy said, her voice turning sweet as honey in an instant. "Lost or no, I think you've come to the right place."
But half an hour had passed, and she hadn't fallen asleep, and she heard a voice. Not one she instantly recognized, but not one she didn't recognize, either, if that made any sense. It was the voice of someone who existed on the periphery of her memory but not entirely outside of it. She glanced at the source of it, and then peeked over her sunglasses to get a better luck.
Forrest Quin. Conveniently a difficult person to mistake. She'd seen her here a few times, so her presence wasn't a shock, but they hadn't really spoken... ever, come to think of it, though not for any real antipathy, at least on Ivy's part. Their houses weren't far apart, which was convenient proximity considering the parties hosted at Forrest's; she was a musician, though quite far from the type Ivy was herself, which was still enough to impart some level of respect. Also the whole rainbow thing she was doing with her hair at the moment was really cute? As was the swimsuit? So that was worth a few style points.
"Hey."
She made the effort to sit up so as to hold a conversation properly, though she was immediately struck by the problem of how little there was to talk about. They didn't exactly have much in common, outside of being rich enough to be here and the very basics of "goes to the same school" and "goes to parties sometimes". She could ask about her whole music thing, but that would imply a level of interest that wasn't actually present. She respected Forrest, yes, but that didn't mean she cared.
"Not much. Working on my tan. Waiting for something more interesting to present itself." She shrugged, lightly skipping over the implication that Forrest herself didn't qualify as interesting, and glanced at the drink in her hand. "Is that a virgin, or—oh."
Oh, indeed; her eyes slipped past Forrest and focused on the figure rapidly approaching them, someone who she was significantly more surprised to find here. Ace Ortega. Ivy knew the football team back to front, of course, though maybe not in as many senses as she would have liked. And while she very much had her eye on the Carters Ace was his own brand of eye candy. The sort of tragic innocent that may or may not be worth the effort to teach, certainly, hence her lack of specific interest, but that wasn't about to stop her from appreciating the view. He must have been here early; had he been swimming before she'd arrived? Wait, the bigger question was how had he gotten here at all? She was quite sure he wasn't a member. Had someone invited him? Did he have a girlfriend she didn't know about? She resisted the urge to ask; it would likely come off has ill-intentioned, and frankly even if he had snuck in she had no interest in him being anywhere but here.
"Morning, Ace," Ivy said, her voice turning sweet as honey in an instant. "Lost or no, I think you've come to the right place."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
-
Yugikun
- Posts: 950
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:48 am
- Location: in a place where this joke is funny
- Contact:
There was a girl laid out on a beach chair, roughly the other side of the pool from where the other three were. She was… tall-ish — taller than the two girls, at the very least — with mostly pale skin, although her arms had long been semi-darkened by the sun. Her hair was black, bushy, uncared for, while her eyes were lily-green, relaxed, focused on a hardcover book without any name on the cover. She was dressed… far less modestly than she really would’ve liked to be, in a plain navy blue bikini which was okay now but made the weather fucking freezing when her parents had dragged her out here back during March. Regardless, though, it seemed as if she hadn’t gone for a swim. It seemed as if that wasn’t something she was interested in.
The girl heard voices and she looked up, saw three of her classmates in the beginning of a conversation with one another. Her hands tightened, slightly. She drew her book closer towards herself.
Because Anna Herbert now had a conundrum on her hands.
The problem was were that all those three there were people that she could talk to. People she wanted to talk to, maybe. Ivy was someone she was vaguely friends with from the school ensembles and who she could hold a conversation with, Forrest was someone who… seemed cool, from what her friends had told her (even if the music she created was hit-or-miss at best) and Ace was… someone she didn’t know well but one she could maybe hold a conversation with, given he was apparently into music. Joining the conversation over there seemed like an easy, maybe a fun thing to do. She wasn’t really expecting the chance to be herself when she came here in the car with her family, but the idea that she could was a pleasant surprise, might make being here worth it.
The only problem was that she didn’t know where her parents were. If they came in on her while she was doing something with the people here, then… it was a stupid idea because the whole reason she’d been dragged here in the first place was for her to have an opportunity to relax before finals, but…
She didn’t know. What they would actually do. Whether doing this was a risk actually worth taking or not. She thought about it for a second, tried to determine whether this was a good idea or not, and…
Returned to her book. Took her gaze away from the people over on the other end. It wasn’t like she’d actually expected anything fun out of coming here, so at the very least her expectations hadn’t been betrayed, or anything.
Focusing on her book now, however, seemed somewhat harder than before, now that she knew they were there.
The girl heard voices and she looked up, saw three of her classmates in the beginning of a conversation with one another. Her hands tightened, slightly. She drew her book closer towards herself.
Because Anna Herbert now had a conundrum on her hands.
The problem was were that all those three there were people that she could talk to. People she wanted to talk to, maybe. Ivy was someone she was vaguely friends with from the school ensembles and who she could hold a conversation with, Forrest was someone who… seemed cool, from what her friends had told her (even if the music she created was hit-or-miss at best) and Ace was… someone she didn’t know well but one she could maybe hold a conversation with, given he was apparently into music. Joining the conversation over there seemed like an easy, maybe a fun thing to do. She wasn’t really expecting the chance to be herself when she came here in the car with her family, but the idea that she could was a pleasant surprise, might make being here worth it.
The only problem was that she didn’t know where her parents were. If they came in on her while she was doing something with the people here, then… it was a stupid idea because the whole reason she’d been dragged here in the first place was for her to have an opportunity to relax before finals, but…
She didn’t know. What they would actually do. Whether doing this was a risk actually worth taking or not. She thought about it for a second, tried to determine whether this was a good idea or not, and…
Returned to her book. Took her gaze away from the people over on the other end. It wasn’t like she’d actually expected anything fun out of coming here, so at the very least her expectations hadn’t been betrayed, or anything.
Focusing on her book now, however, seemed somewhat harder than before, now that she knew they were there.
Now, the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, so with barely calculated logic Beryl strode all of two steps before noiselessly throwing herself into the pool that was between herself and the others. Pretty good form on that one, crisp torpedo (she was the torpedo, it was her) shot straight into the depths- it'd been a while. She would have given herself points scribbled on a held-up placard envisioned in her mind because those definitely counted for something. She hadn't particularly accompanied Grandpa to the club intent on swimming so she had no outfit to the effect, but the hydrophilic properties of various fabrics rarely had weight in her mind in terms of decision making. In the blitz amount of time after where she plastered herself by now sopping wet arms to the lip of the pooling, ethereally smiling at the others through the drip of her bangs, the white of her tee sleeves now clung incessantly to her physique.
She'd been fondly regarding the sculpt of her body by the nickname Rushmore nowadays, because like Grandpa she strove for a Jungian archetype's worth of physical excellence. All contraindications of her condition aside she was fairly satisfied with how much she benched.
"Hey, everyone." She was a bit hushed- more so than usual. They already seemed to be somewhere along in the conversation between beginning and end, which meant Beryl was only marginally relevant, though she was quite used to that. She kept herself somewhat sparse and didn't demand too much in the way of eye contact. Well, maybe she shouldn't have dived into the pool then? Weird how regret worked retroactively like that.
".. Forrest, I adore the aesthetic... And your tanlines will be absolutely avant-garde."
Where was 'that one girl who comes over sometimes- part of your band', anyways? Grandpa had mentioned this nameless she was also around somewhere. Roxy? Marcy?
Actually Beryl also supposed that, reflexive property postulating that Beryl was indeed Beryl, Beryl also matched the definition of being a member of her own band and being in the pool area.
She'd been fondly regarding the sculpt of her body by the nickname Rushmore nowadays, because like Grandpa she strove for a Jungian archetype's worth of physical excellence. All contraindications of her condition aside she was fairly satisfied with how much she benched.
"Hey, everyone." She was a bit hushed- more so than usual. They already seemed to be somewhere along in the conversation between beginning and end, which meant Beryl was only marginally relevant, though she was quite used to that. She kept herself somewhat sparse and didn't demand too much in the way of eye contact. Well, maybe she shouldn't have dived into the pool then? Weird how regret worked retroactively like that.
".. Forrest, I adore the aesthetic... And your tanlines will be absolutely avant-garde."
Where was 'that one girl who comes over sometimes- part of your band', anyways? Grandpa had mentioned this nameless she was also around somewhere. Roxy? Marcy?
Actually Beryl also supposed that, reflexive property postulating that Beryl was indeed Beryl, Beryl also matched the definition of being a member of her own band and being in the pool area.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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LeslieFranc
- Posts: 188
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 11:22 pm
((Cecil Salazar-Loveless continued from flashover))
After the whole fiasco that happened at his grandparents’ house, Cecil’s moms had been pushing him to get out of the house more persistently than they had ever done before. He tried to decline over and over again, because our finals are coming up, and if anyone needs a break from their workloads, it’s definitely you two. For some reason, that just made them angrier, although not at him, he realized. Either way, Cecil doesn’t want them to get mad for any reason at all. So he agreed to accompany them to the country club, despite feeling like he’s intruding on something that he thinks is supposed to be a private relaxing time between his parents.
And yet, they kept focusing on him. He could feel the worry and concern rolling off in waves from them until he couldn’t take it.
When Ma suggested that they have a meal first, Cecil took a chance and said that he’d rather take a swim. They didn’t seem to mind up until he insisted that they eat without him. It was pretty agonizing to witness their hesitance before they gave him permission.
And here he thought he did enough to be trusted. What’s happening in his life right now?
He privately sulked throughout changing and on his way to the pool area. The sun hitting his bare pale skin and then a sudden splash made him blink as he snapped out of his daze, having arrived at his destination.
He’s gotta admit, the place has a really majestic swimming pool. Not much people as of the moment, from what he could gather. The three people gathered by the chairs caught his eye immediately, if the two colorful heads among them hadn’t already. He recognizes Myles’ pink little friend Ivy, but besides the both of them being in the school band and now in the country club, there’s nothing else much that— oh, there’s Beryl. Out from the pool. With clothes on. That are not for swimming.
Cecil’s not sure if that’s allowed but he hasn’t seen anything saying it’s prohibited either. Hm. He disapproves either way, but it was nothing too troublesome, just baffling, and arguably, a bit amusing to see.
He also sees another girl he vaguely recognizes sitting all by herself with a book on her hands, and now he’s left wishing he could do the same right now, but he didn’t bring a book and he did say he would swim.
Diving into the pool, he enjoyed the brief almost noiseless lull while he’s submerged underwater before his head quickly rises to the surface. He practices a few strokes afterwards, simply getting a feel of the water until he’s just floating on his back. With his ears in the water, outside noises are muffled and with his eyes closed, everything else felt almost peaceful.
After the whole fiasco that happened at his grandparents’ house, Cecil’s moms had been pushing him to get out of the house more persistently than they had ever done before. He tried to decline over and over again, because our finals are coming up, and if anyone needs a break from their workloads, it’s definitely you two. For some reason, that just made them angrier, although not at him, he realized. Either way, Cecil doesn’t want them to get mad for any reason at all. So he agreed to accompany them to the country club, despite feeling like he’s intruding on something that he thinks is supposed to be a private relaxing time between his parents.
And yet, they kept focusing on him. He could feel the worry and concern rolling off in waves from them until he couldn’t take it.
When Ma suggested that they have a meal first, Cecil took a chance and said that he’d rather take a swim. They didn’t seem to mind up until he insisted that they eat without him. It was pretty agonizing to witness their hesitance before they gave him permission.
And here he thought he did enough to be trusted. What’s happening in his life right now?
He privately sulked throughout changing and on his way to the pool area. The sun hitting his bare pale skin and then a sudden splash made him blink as he snapped out of his daze, having arrived at his destination.
He’s gotta admit, the place has a really majestic swimming pool. Not much people as of the moment, from what he could gather. The three people gathered by the chairs caught his eye immediately, if the two colorful heads among them hadn’t already. He recognizes Myles’ pink little friend Ivy, but besides the both of them being in the school band and now in the country club, there’s nothing else much that— oh, there’s Beryl. Out from the pool. With clothes on. That are not for swimming.
Cecil’s not sure if that’s allowed but he hasn’t seen anything saying it’s prohibited either. Hm. He disapproves either way, but it was nothing too troublesome, just baffling, and arguably, a bit amusing to see.
He also sees another girl he vaguely recognizes sitting all by herself with a book on her hands, and now he’s left wishing he could do the same right now, but he didn’t bring a book and he did say he would swim.
Diving into the pool, he enjoyed the brief almost noiseless lull while he’s submerged underwater before his head quickly rises to the surface. He practices a few strokes afterwards, simply getting a feel of the water until he’s just floating on his back. With his ears in the water, outside noises are muffled and with his eyes closed, everything else felt almost peaceful.
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1231
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: Here And There Along The Echo
- Contact:
Peaceful?
Peace, while Rome burned?
[Max Rudolph tangentially continued from To Be A Brilliant Light.]
If Max had his way, then he would be the only one he recognized in the vicinity. Having arrived early to exercise using the finest equipment the Country Club had in its state-of-the-art fitness and recreation center, and then to plunge into the pool for several laps, he had counted on his early arrival to distance himself from the oncoming wave of the affluent and aloof that were sure to crowd the corridors of this establishment. The end of his penultimate year in High School was steadily, swiftly approaching, but that meant naught for his own personal growth. If anything, being shackled to mandatory attendance at GHHS severely handicapped his mental prowess. The amount of knowledge he knew that he could gain while studying and working independently—let alone at a proper academy befitting of his aptitude—taunted him, every single day. On one of his off-days, now, he got a tantalizing taste of that lifestyle, an early morning taste of athletics followed by what Max planned to be an entire afternoon of independent study into Immaneul Kant's The Only Possible Argument in Support of a Demonstration of the Existence of God and several responses to it by other philosophers.
Of course, things never went Max's way. As he stood flip-flop-clad in his red swimming trunks and white T-Shirt, towel over one shoulder and exercise bag slung over the other, he surveyed the pool's patrons on this balmy May morning.
Here at the pool were several of his classmates, idly whittling away the fruitfulness of their youth, their Pax Puera that only came once and was being uselessly squandered here, jib-jabbering like distinctly Huxleyan caricatures. Occupying part of the pool was one person who had chosen to swim before him—something which Max could not fault, if not for his idle posture—with identity obscured by his submergence in water. Sitting alone and to the side was one Anna Herbert, a musical child, falling to the common folly of reading outdoors in a semi-public place. Either she was self-absorbed and wanted to flaunt her choice in literature, or naively thought the day beautiful enough to sit in and ignore. The judgement Max would pass on the former was that it was fair enough. If posturing was one's aim, then that was the least obnoxious way to do so, if also the least effective. The latter, though, was irredeemable. At the risk of standing in the doorway fuming for any length of time, Max danced on the precipice of the abyssal Lutheran rant perpetually kept at bay in his brain that he would only refer to as "The Socratic Discourse on Disgust With Those Who Merely Dabble," and leave things at that.
More eye-catching, however, were those clustered at the opposite end of the pool. The loud and boisterous clustered themselves there—a tall black man easily identifiable as Ace Ortega, a respectable athlete and agreeable human being, was the easiest to make out. Flanking a girl in a bikini at the center of the group were two other of the less tolerable sort, Beryl and Forrest. The sort of company that burnouts kept, the eternally distracted and perpetually energized. Such boundless enthusiasm, if correctly applied, could be useful. Helpful, towards society. The former came closer in deeds, but was the least focused to the point of being given to slumber at any moment, a fact that most readily proved itself by virtue of her attempting to carry on a conversation from within the pool. The latter had the less agreeable lifestyle, but was capable of accomplishing something.
And in the center of it all, Max saw as he approached the group, was Ivy Langley.
Something in his chest softened considerably. Of all the people he could have run into today, Ivy was the one to which he was perhaps the least diametrically opposed. If he had not seriously blocked today off to be productive, then he would be downright pleased to see her here. Though frigid in school—an understandable stance to take, given the name Max was making for himself and the stature that Ivy took socially—Ivy remained one of Max's dearest friends off-campus. And here she was, dressed in practically nothing, surrounded by people who at this moment may as well have been fanning her with large palm leaves. The posture she assumed was absolutely and unapologetically regal, at this moment.
He gritted his teeth. Ivy could be one of the more bright and talented people he knew, when she wasn't swayed to Aristippian acts. Max much preferred her company when there were not others around. Not others, and certainly not whatever was in that glass Forrest was holding.
"I sincerely hope," Max said, as he entered the conversational foray, "that drink is non-alcoholic."
He took care to aim his gaze there, at the drink, and not at Ivy's scantily clad body.
Peace, while Rome burned?
[Max Rudolph tangentially continued from To Be A Brilliant Light.]
If Max had his way, then he would be the only one he recognized in the vicinity. Having arrived early to exercise using the finest equipment the Country Club had in its state-of-the-art fitness and recreation center, and then to plunge into the pool for several laps, he had counted on his early arrival to distance himself from the oncoming wave of the affluent and aloof that were sure to crowd the corridors of this establishment. The end of his penultimate year in High School was steadily, swiftly approaching, but that meant naught for his own personal growth. If anything, being shackled to mandatory attendance at GHHS severely handicapped his mental prowess. The amount of knowledge he knew that he could gain while studying and working independently—let alone at a proper academy befitting of his aptitude—taunted him, every single day. On one of his off-days, now, he got a tantalizing taste of that lifestyle, an early morning taste of athletics followed by what Max planned to be an entire afternoon of independent study into Immaneul Kant's The Only Possible Argument in Support of a Demonstration of the Existence of God and several responses to it by other philosophers.
Of course, things never went Max's way. As he stood flip-flop-clad in his red swimming trunks and white T-Shirt, towel over one shoulder and exercise bag slung over the other, he surveyed the pool's patrons on this balmy May morning.
Here at the pool were several of his classmates, idly whittling away the fruitfulness of their youth, their Pax Puera that only came once and was being uselessly squandered here, jib-jabbering like distinctly Huxleyan caricatures. Occupying part of the pool was one person who had chosen to swim before him—something which Max could not fault, if not for his idle posture—with identity obscured by his submergence in water. Sitting alone and to the side was one Anna Herbert, a musical child, falling to the common folly of reading outdoors in a semi-public place. Either she was self-absorbed and wanted to flaunt her choice in literature, or naively thought the day beautiful enough to sit in and ignore. The judgement Max would pass on the former was that it was fair enough. If posturing was one's aim, then that was the least obnoxious way to do so, if also the least effective. The latter, though, was irredeemable. At the risk of standing in the doorway fuming for any length of time, Max danced on the precipice of the abyssal Lutheran rant perpetually kept at bay in his brain that he would only refer to as "The Socratic Discourse on Disgust With Those Who Merely Dabble," and leave things at that.
More eye-catching, however, were those clustered at the opposite end of the pool. The loud and boisterous clustered themselves there—a tall black man easily identifiable as Ace Ortega, a respectable athlete and agreeable human being, was the easiest to make out. Flanking a girl in a bikini at the center of the group were two other of the less tolerable sort, Beryl and Forrest. The sort of company that burnouts kept, the eternally distracted and perpetually energized. Such boundless enthusiasm, if correctly applied, could be useful. Helpful, towards society. The former came closer in deeds, but was the least focused to the point of being given to slumber at any moment, a fact that most readily proved itself by virtue of her attempting to carry on a conversation from within the pool. The latter had the less agreeable lifestyle, but was capable of accomplishing something.
And in the center of it all, Max saw as he approached the group, was Ivy Langley.
Something in his chest softened considerably. Of all the people he could have run into today, Ivy was the one to which he was perhaps the least diametrically opposed. If he had not seriously blocked today off to be productive, then he would be downright pleased to see her here. Though frigid in school—an understandable stance to take, given the name Max was making for himself and the stature that Ivy took socially—Ivy remained one of Max's dearest friends off-campus. And here she was, dressed in practically nothing, surrounded by people who at this moment may as well have been fanning her with large palm leaves. The posture she assumed was absolutely and unapologetically regal, at this moment.
He gritted his teeth. Ivy could be one of the more bright and talented people he knew, when she wasn't swayed to Aristippian acts. Max much preferred her company when there were not others around. Not others, and certainly not whatever was in that glass Forrest was holding.
"I sincerely hope," Max said, as he entered the conversational foray, "that drink is non-alcoholic."
He took care to aim his gaze there, at the drink, and not at Ivy's scantily clad body.
/ 
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/ 
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- “Unfortunately,” Forrest said with a heartbroken look. “It is and thank you.” The end part of the sentence was aimed at Beryl. The sudden arrival of a host of people hadn’t put Forrest off much. The environment she knew best involved people appearing and disappearing in a haze of activity. But man, it was a sudden influx, she was the bell of the ball.
Or Ivy was.
But still it was all of that fun stuff that required interacting with people who knew of her rather than knew her. But then who could truly know each other when so much of who you were was tied to social media accounts, broadcasting the image you wanted rather than what you were.
But hey, it’d be fun and she had a non-alcoholic cocktail to enjoy along with the socialisation. So it was a win in her book. A book made up mostly of pictures but a book nonetheless.
“Lost or not you’ve found an oasis my man. We have water, ladies, dudes and virgin bloody mary’s. All you could ever need.”
Forrest took another sip of her drink and grinned.
“Also I’m a shark rawr.”
Or Ivy was.
But still it was all of that fun stuff that required interacting with people who knew of her rather than knew her. But then who could truly know each other when so much of who you were was tied to social media accounts, broadcasting the image you wanted rather than what you were.
But hey, it’d be fun and she had a non-alcoholic cocktail to enjoy along with the socialisation. So it was a win in her book. A book made up mostly of pictures but a book nonetheless.
“Lost or not you’ve found an oasis my man. We have water, ladies, dudes and virgin bloody mary’s. All you could ever need.”
Forrest took another sip of her drink and grinned.
“Also I’m a shark rawr.”
V8
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Ace couldn’t hide his grin not even a little bit but he still attempted to be humble in the eyes and in his posture, almost shrugging sheepishly at Forrest and Ivy--that worked out well didn’t it?
What had he expected when he had greeted those two girls in particular? They were known for many things but being alone for long wasn’t one of them. Where they went a gaggle tended to follow, some familiar faces and some not. Ace was down to be one of many, he relished in that supporting role and the soon gathering crowd seemed to ensure he would occupy it. Well, crowd by three’s company standards--the point was that there was more than a few classmates at the pool now.
That was fine, it left room for others to talk and for him to sort of dance in and out of conversation. He was quite aware of his surroundings and more than a little uncomfortable with how ignorant he was to the pure opulence of the country club and the pool in particular. His parents made decent money put together and he was an only child so he didn’t go without--but that didn’t mean he went with if you got his drift.
If he felt like he didn’t belong--what did he look like?
There was more benefits than just the obvious in being one of many in this situation. Nearly everyone here was more upfront in their personalities than Ace was and that made laying low at 6’3” and with his complexion easier. He wasn’t really there to be seen or to make sure people weren’t drinking spiked drinks at the Club or whatever. He didn’t even intend to drink alcohol himself if offered, he was an athlete and summer camp (his last year of 7 on 7) was right around the corner. People could act a fool or keep it clean, it didn’t matter to Beats either way. He had no agenda but the obvious.
He was just down to have fun and make the most of an afternoon.
He laughed at Forrest’s joke, her swimsuit really did look good and so did she--you could tell she put effort in her appearance or paid someone to do it for her. It wasn’t easy doing your hair like that. Ace struggled to maintain his fade month to month, well, that was a lie--but he recognized diligence because of his own! Look good feel good, right? Though she was probably on an off week looking at her line up, he wasn't hating though. Life was a performance and they gave out awards for costume for a reason. Forrest knew her role and she played it well--her role just happened to be that of a walking good time. It was a DJ thing, he was certain.
“I’m more of a Pina Colada gettin’ lost in the rain type dude Forrest, also whaddup Max, good to see you bro! And, uh, Beryl, right?” he said as he made his way around and found his way to Ivy’s side, placing his book bag down and then sitting next to the cheerleader, “But fo’real, Jabberjaw, how do I get one of those?”
Sitting next to Ivy was just as much social strategy as anything else--he was a football player after all. He had doubted someone like Ivy would’ve given him a second look before this past football season but Ace had done exceptionally well on offense and had certainly made a name for himself on the field. There were certain lessons he had learned on the football field that he no doubt applied to social situations however ill advised…
Always keep moving, why he went from Forrest’s side to Ivy’s side. Stay in one place for too long and folks get to look at you for too long. They start picking up on all the weird ticks and shit you do that you don’t really like ‘em noticing. It ain’t worth it. Stick and move. Keep ‘em guessing.
The other lesson was a simple one and it’s one that a lot of football players, at least at George Hunter, learnt early…
Can’t go wrong following the cheerleaders. They'll take care of you.
It was just using the tools given and he wasn’t above taking advantage of his fall labor on a spring Saturday. Just good clean fun poolside with his classmates. Nothing to see here. Keep it moving.
What had he expected when he had greeted those two girls in particular? They were known for many things but being alone for long wasn’t one of them. Where they went a gaggle tended to follow, some familiar faces and some not. Ace was down to be one of many, he relished in that supporting role and the soon gathering crowd seemed to ensure he would occupy it. Well, crowd by three’s company standards--the point was that there was more than a few classmates at the pool now.
That was fine, it left room for others to talk and for him to sort of dance in and out of conversation. He was quite aware of his surroundings and more than a little uncomfortable with how ignorant he was to the pure opulence of the country club and the pool in particular. His parents made decent money put together and he was an only child so he didn’t go without--but that didn’t mean he went with if you got his drift.
If he felt like he didn’t belong--what did he look like?
There was more benefits than just the obvious in being one of many in this situation. Nearly everyone here was more upfront in their personalities than Ace was and that made laying low at 6’3” and with his complexion easier. He wasn’t really there to be seen or to make sure people weren’t drinking spiked drinks at the Club or whatever. He didn’t even intend to drink alcohol himself if offered, he was an athlete and summer camp (his last year of 7 on 7) was right around the corner. People could act a fool or keep it clean, it didn’t matter to Beats either way. He had no agenda but the obvious.
He was just down to have fun and make the most of an afternoon.
He laughed at Forrest’s joke, her swimsuit really did look good and so did she--you could tell she put effort in her appearance or paid someone to do it for her. It wasn’t easy doing your hair like that. Ace struggled to maintain his fade month to month, well, that was a lie--but he recognized diligence because of his own! Look good feel good, right? Though she was probably on an off week looking at her line up, he wasn't hating though. Life was a performance and they gave out awards for costume for a reason. Forrest knew her role and she played it well--her role just happened to be that of a walking good time. It was a DJ thing, he was certain.
“I’m more of a Pina Colada gettin’ lost in the rain type dude Forrest, also whaddup Max, good to see you bro! And, uh, Beryl, right?” he said as he made his way around and found his way to Ivy’s side, placing his book bag down and then sitting next to the cheerleader, “But fo’real, Jabberjaw, how do I get one of those?”
Sitting next to Ivy was just as much social strategy as anything else--he was a football player after all. He had doubted someone like Ivy would’ve given him a second look before this past football season but Ace had done exceptionally well on offense and had certainly made a name for himself on the field. There were certain lessons he had learned on the football field that he no doubt applied to social situations however ill advised…
Always keep moving, why he went from Forrest’s side to Ivy’s side. Stay in one place for too long and folks get to look at you for too long. They start picking up on all the weird ticks and shit you do that you don’t really like ‘em noticing. It ain’t worth it. Stick and move. Keep ‘em guessing.
The other lesson was a simple one and it’s one that a lot of football players, at least at George Hunter, learnt early…
Can’t go wrong following the cheerleaders. They'll take care of you.
It was just using the tools given and he wasn’t above taking advantage of his fall labor on a spring Saturday. Just good clean fun poolside with his classmates. Nothing to see here. Keep it moving.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Tirzah Foss memories start))
Tirzah walked past the receptionist and kind of loosely waved an ID like a fan at her without bothering to stop. The pool looked like it was bumpin' today. Tirzah approached a cluster of both people and lounge chairs. She was wearing a red "one-piece" if it could be called that. The middle of the bathing suit was entirely cut out with two thin red straps going across her stomach and just below her rib cage. The top of the bathing suit was a square-necked halter top with the fabric stopping not quite where her breasts began, resulting in some under-boob. She had on red, heart shaped sunglasses that looked somewhat cheap, red lipstick and a red ring pop that she was casually licking. On her arm was a wicker beach tote.
She walked up to the group and bumped Ace in the shoulder where he sat with her thighs. Tirzah ruffled his hair a bit smiled at Forrest and Ivy.
"Max, Beryl," she said as greetings, Beryl's towards the pool.
"Left shark," she said, nodding at Forrest and smiling. "Right shark," she said, tilting her head towards Ivy and smiling wider.
Tirzah leaned down and took a drink of Forrest's drink before sitting on a free chair near Forrest and rustling inside of her bag, sometimes licking her ring pop.
Tirzah walked past the receptionist and kind of loosely waved an ID like a fan at her without bothering to stop. The pool looked like it was bumpin' today. Tirzah approached a cluster of both people and lounge chairs. She was wearing a red "one-piece" if it could be called that. The middle of the bathing suit was entirely cut out with two thin red straps going across her stomach and just below her rib cage. The top of the bathing suit was a square-necked halter top with the fabric stopping not quite where her breasts began, resulting in some under-boob. She had on red, heart shaped sunglasses that looked somewhat cheap, red lipstick and a red ring pop that she was casually licking. On her arm was a wicker beach tote.
She walked up to the group and bumped Ace in the shoulder where he sat with her thighs. Tirzah ruffled his hair a bit smiled at Forrest and Ivy.
"Max, Beryl," she said as greetings, Beryl's towards the pool.
"Left shark," she said, nodding at Forrest and smiling. "Right shark," she said, tilting her head towards Ivy and smiling wider.
Tirzah leaned down and took a drink of Forrest's drink before sitting on a free chair near Forrest and rustling inside of her bag, sometimes licking her ring pop.
And then their little get-together turned into a party. One tragically lacking in alcohol, if Forrest were to be trusted, and she was the type to be all too happy to share the good news if she had it. Sad.
She was faintly aware of the distance presence of a few others, but the most obvious players, observed in order of importance, at least to her, whose opinion was the only one that mattered:
Tirzah, whose presence was neither surprising nor entirely welcome. Their relationship could be charitably described as strained, but it was a relationship, as opposed to none at all, which was something. She was forever predictable in her unpredictability, as well as in her wardrobe and makeup choices carefully selected to make her look less like a 12-year-old and more like an oddly retro-styled prostitute. That qualified as a style, perhaps. Her bathing suit could not possibly have been more of an obvious cry for attention, though to say anything about that might look a little hypocritical considering her own wardrobe choices for the morning, so her general aura of judgment was contained to the way she wrinkled her nose as their gazes caught and Tirzah made a comment that was only funny to her.
The easy way she ruffled Ace's hair annoyed her, too. He'd sat next to her, after all. Ivy took the opportunity to remove the couple of inches of respectful distance he'd left between them and, taking her shot with minimal resistance, linking her arm with his. He wasn't who she'd expected to play this game with today, exactly, and she didn't expect it to go much further than this, but it was fun, regardless. She wondered how much he'd squirm. It was bound to be pretty cute if he did. Or maybe he'd surprise her.
Anyway.
Beryl's arrival was more pleasant, and slightly more surprising; not that Beryl was an unusual sight, here, but she was a sporatic one. Ivy would call her a "dear friend" with some mild reservations and qualifications; she was a relatively new friend, and new friends were dangerous. But it was hard to feel any danger in Beryl, or any ulterior motives at all, frankly, and so it was difficult not to believe in her despite her usual feelings on matters of trust. Her entrance was very in-character, as was her total lack of awareness of how transparent her t-shirt was when she rose from the water. Ivy chose not to be the bearer of that bit of news, mostly because she assumed Beryl wouldn't care, and instead greeted her friend with a proper smile and a "hey to you too". They were on the same wavelength on Forrest's swimsuit, apparently. Being on Beryl's wavelength on anything seemed like maybe not the best sign.
Finally, and his name came to mind with semi-sarcastic aplomb: the esteemed Max Rudolph. For whom she didn't have to qualify the phrase "dear friend" in the least, despite her internal chiding. Because yes, the boy was sanctimonious to the point of parody at times, but what did she care about that? Years of his disapproval, both unvoiced and loudly spoken, hadn't chased him from her side, and she loved him for it. Here, at least, or otherwise outside of George Hunter, where the rules of high school held some sway over who she spent her time around. But, still. Even so. He had a terminal case of a gigantic stick permanently up his ass, but that was just his way. A terrible killjoy, sometimes, but when she made fun of him for it he knew it was affectionate, or at least she assumed he did. Among her dearest and most unlikely ambitions was to get him terribly, terribly drunk.
Which wasn't happening today, apparently. Ivy had brought in her own drinks before, and had gotten summarily caught every single time. She would keep trying, but the possibility of that bit of news making it back to her father was absolutely not worth the risk.
She stuck her tongue out at Max playfully (as Tirzah moved past to her own seat, and Ivy slid in closer to Ace). "Honestly, if Forrest had somehow discovered the password to getting Jepson at the bar to devirginize the drinks and you stopped her from telling me, I would never forgive you." She probably didn't mean that. It was hard to tell. She was very serious about alcohol.
"Apparently you're safe from the theoretical teenage debauchery. Well. I'm certain we can manage it without the alcohol if we try." Her grin would be too familiar to Max in particular, taunting in a very playground sort of way. She glanced up at Ace, already caught on her arm, with innocently fluttering lashes. "I can get you that drink in a moment, darling, but maybe come swim with me first?"
She was faintly aware of the distance presence of a few others, but the most obvious players, observed in order of importance, at least to her, whose opinion was the only one that mattered:
Tirzah, whose presence was neither surprising nor entirely welcome. Their relationship could be charitably described as strained, but it was a relationship, as opposed to none at all, which was something. She was forever predictable in her unpredictability, as well as in her wardrobe and makeup choices carefully selected to make her look less like a 12-year-old and more like an oddly retro-styled prostitute. That qualified as a style, perhaps. Her bathing suit could not possibly have been more of an obvious cry for attention, though to say anything about that might look a little hypocritical considering her own wardrobe choices for the morning, so her general aura of judgment was contained to the way she wrinkled her nose as their gazes caught and Tirzah made a comment that was only funny to her.
The easy way she ruffled Ace's hair annoyed her, too. He'd sat next to her, after all. Ivy took the opportunity to remove the couple of inches of respectful distance he'd left between them and, taking her shot with minimal resistance, linking her arm with his. He wasn't who she'd expected to play this game with today, exactly, and she didn't expect it to go much further than this, but it was fun, regardless. She wondered how much he'd squirm. It was bound to be pretty cute if he did. Or maybe he'd surprise her.
Anyway.
Beryl's arrival was more pleasant, and slightly more surprising; not that Beryl was an unusual sight, here, but she was a sporatic one. Ivy would call her a "dear friend" with some mild reservations and qualifications; she was a relatively new friend, and new friends were dangerous. But it was hard to feel any danger in Beryl, or any ulterior motives at all, frankly, and so it was difficult not to believe in her despite her usual feelings on matters of trust. Her entrance was very in-character, as was her total lack of awareness of how transparent her t-shirt was when she rose from the water. Ivy chose not to be the bearer of that bit of news, mostly because she assumed Beryl wouldn't care, and instead greeted her friend with a proper smile and a "hey to you too". They were on the same wavelength on Forrest's swimsuit, apparently. Being on Beryl's wavelength on anything seemed like maybe not the best sign.
Finally, and his name came to mind with semi-sarcastic aplomb: the esteemed Max Rudolph. For whom she didn't have to qualify the phrase "dear friend" in the least, despite her internal chiding. Because yes, the boy was sanctimonious to the point of parody at times, but what did she care about that? Years of his disapproval, both unvoiced and loudly spoken, hadn't chased him from her side, and she loved him for it. Here, at least, or otherwise outside of George Hunter, where the rules of high school held some sway over who she spent her time around. But, still. Even so. He had a terminal case of a gigantic stick permanently up his ass, but that was just his way. A terrible killjoy, sometimes, but when she made fun of him for it he knew it was affectionate, or at least she assumed he did. Among her dearest and most unlikely ambitions was to get him terribly, terribly drunk.
Which wasn't happening today, apparently. Ivy had brought in her own drinks before, and had gotten summarily caught every single time. She would keep trying, but the possibility of that bit of news making it back to her father was absolutely not worth the risk.
She stuck her tongue out at Max playfully (as Tirzah moved past to her own seat, and Ivy slid in closer to Ace). "Honestly, if Forrest had somehow discovered the password to getting Jepson at the bar to devirginize the drinks and you stopped her from telling me, I would never forgive you." She probably didn't mean that. It was hard to tell. She was very serious about alcohol.
"Apparently you're safe from the theoretical teenage debauchery. Well. I'm certain we can manage it without the alcohol if we try." Her grin would be too familiar to Max in particular, taunting in a very playground sort of way. She glanced up at Ace, already caught on her arm, with innocently fluttering lashes. "I can get you that drink in a moment, darling, but maybe come swim with me first?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
It was very, variably important- marginally, tangentially- that Beryl allowed her focus to suffuse in situations like this, where the quiet corners of the Earth would suddenly become particularly loud. And not in deference to the general white noise of life and it's ambiance, but in specific terms of voices with timbres she could remember much like her guitar: they were all universally pleasing, but she was wasn't especially sure what order or melody was supposed to be implied.
Everyone there, who she did know even if she wasn't aware she knew because familiarity was present if nebulous as the diffuseness of the interstellar medium, formed some manner of cluster of statistical possibilities and probabilities. The chances that the men that had arrived were pointedly observing the women present in detail were high, et cetera, given the creative amounts of skin being shown, teased, so on. Many possibilities, such that Beryl was distracted for a long moment idly computing. Her assumptions were proven true and false in the few seconds that others spoke and made themselves known- given, she had no assumptions in the first place because she wasn't particularly sure what to think or who to think aloud at.
Beryl smiled- her version of such, involving more of her arms and hands than her actual mouth- and watched a conversation occur. It seemed adjunct to conflict- one of those bundles of wording and diction that could have been friendly on the surface but were possibly tumult when read between the lines. Interesting? She supposed, but on her own whim she would have preferred to not be involved unless Ivy's mentioned 'teenage debauchery' was strictly clean and consensual fun.
Well she wasn't too sure how she was supposed to define clean. Morally? Medically? Contraceptives, so on and so forth.
Come to think of it, continuing her train of thought as it lazily floated much as she did, she'd only swum this way to compliment Forrest's thematic congruence. Though, she did want to encourage more folks in the pool, if that was where their gathering could be safely oriented.
"Waters great guys. Just the right amount of wet."
Then she vanished under the surface and didn't pop up until she had even more hair stuck in her eyes than the prior time. She'd figured it out- that was where her bandmate at-large was. There had been another boy in the pool- she'd deftly avoided him in a whorl of fluttering feet, idly contemplating his form and physique as she'd passed. As all of Gaia's spawn of evolution, he had his merits.
"Roxy," she concluded her mental odyssey in the vicinity of hanging on to the lip of the pool at the far end, right under the odd one out's nose.
- the rest of the scene did not play out -
Everyone there, who she did know even if she wasn't aware she knew because familiarity was present if nebulous as the diffuseness of the interstellar medium, formed some manner of cluster of statistical possibilities and probabilities. The chances that the men that had arrived were pointedly observing the women present in detail were high, et cetera, given the creative amounts of skin being shown, teased, so on. Many possibilities, such that Beryl was distracted for a long moment idly computing. Her assumptions were proven true and false in the few seconds that others spoke and made themselves known- given, she had no assumptions in the first place because she wasn't particularly sure what to think or who to think aloud at.
Beryl smiled- her version of such, involving more of her arms and hands than her actual mouth- and watched a conversation occur. It seemed adjunct to conflict- one of those bundles of wording and diction that could have been friendly on the surface but were possibly tumult when read between the lines. Interesting? She supposed, but on her own whim she would have preferred to not be involved unless Ivy's mentioned 'teenage debauchery' was strictly clean and consensual fun.
Well she wasn't too sure how she was supposed to define clean. Morally? Medically? Contraceptives, so on and so forth.
Come to think of it, continuing her train of thought as it lazily floated much as she did, she'd only swum this way to compliment Forrest's thematic congruence. Though, she did want to encourage more folks in the pool, if that was where their gathering could be safely oriented.
"Waters great guys. Just the right amount of wet."
Then she vanished under the surface and didn't pop up until she had even more hair stuck in her eyes than the prior time. She'd figured it out- that was where her bandmate at-large was. There had been another boy in the pool- she'd deftly avoided him in a whorl of fluttering feet, idly contemplating his form and physique as she'd passed. As all of Gaia's spawn of evolution, he had his merits.
"Roxy," she concluded her mental odyssey in the vicinity of hanging on to the lip of the pool at the far end, right under the odd one out's nose.
- the rest of the scene did not play out -
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Yugikun
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Everyone had come out of their woodworks, and suddenly her book had become weightless, insignificant. She’d placed it down on the part of her stomach that was exposed, and while she could feel its cold — like a knife just about to cut the skin — it had been compartmentalized, placed in an entirely different universe from where she was now because there were oh so many people in front of her and now she was even less sure of what to do. Like, some of them (well, one of them) were people she considered dear and if she decided to stay here and not talk she’d look colder than she wanted to be but she didn’t know how much of a risk it would be if her parents saw her talking with her friends, if she was caught being the person they didn’t want her to be. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but either way it wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.
But she could still see them. Talking with one another. Having fun with the pool. Maybe if someone noticed her, came to where she was to talk the risk could be circumvented? The blame for if her parents found her like this could be placed on them? It seemed like a stupid line of thought and maybe not a good thing to do, but…
She hoped someone noticed her.
So she looked out. Saw the group on the other side of the pool, talking to one another. Hoped that at least one of them would turn their head around this way, see the girl with the book in the distance. Hoped that they would recognize her, wave at her, invite her to join the conversation. Hoped that-
She heard her name. Felt the little internal tingle when her mind connected the dots and realized that someone was talking to her. Looked down at the pool. Saw Beryl. Smiled.
“Hey,” An- Roxanne? Roxanne said. “Didn’t know you hung out here.”
But she could still see them. Talking with one another. Having fun with the pool. Maybe if someone noticed her, came to where she was to talk the risk could be circumvented? The blame for if her parents found her like this could be placed on them? It seemed like a stupid line of thought and maybe not a good thing to do, but…
She hoped someone noticed her.
So she looked out. Saw the group on the other side of the pool, talking to one another. Hoped that at least one of them would turn their head around this way, see the girl with the book in the distance. Hoped that they would recognize her, wave at her, invite her to join the conversation. Hoped that-
She heard her name. Felt the little internal tingle when her mind connected the dots and realized that someone was talking to her. Looked down at the pool. Saw Beryl. Smiled.
“Hey,” An- Roxanne? Roxanne said. “Didn’t know you hung out here.”