compensated

[Melusine]

[Willow O'Neal's Before Prom]

YOull get the rest after bitch

Her finger flew across the screen, she didn't care about the typos. The only thing that mattered was the message, he would get the other part after he spend the night with her. The whole thing amused her, she enjoyed toying with him. She toyed with the idea of keeping the money, there wouldn't be anyone to defend him really. Could he really walk up to someone and go "Yeah, I got scammed and I had to spent the night with Willow." She smirked while typing her next response.

She just wanted to taunt him, and also coordinate her own outfit.

Whats the color of your Socks?

Her mom continued peering over her shoulders as her daughter sent messages to her friends. Tamara knew of the whole plot, and even if she disapproved of it, she couldn't stop her daughter from prying her way through prom. Tamara didn't know that Willow wanted to go to prom that badly, possibly because of the whole social things. The things she knew about her daughter were limited despite raising her. Socially, she might had friends. Romantically, there was a boy once. Academically, could be better, could be worse. Mentally, Tamara no idea how her daughter worked.

If she had to describe her daughter with a color, she'd pick gray. Not because it's a sad color, but because it was mild and mellow. Soft in a way that could turn harsh, quiet but with the potential of becoming loud. Her hue depended on the environment, and she would always taint it. She surprised herself, thinking like that of her child. Was gray really the only color fit to compare her child? Most people would think as a negative comparaison but it was true. Colors were never her forté, she should perhaps focus on her work instead.

Tamara was an outsider of her daughter's world. She could only help with Willow's hair.

[Frozen Smoke]

((Parker Green - OPEN prom.tiff█))

Parker's immediate response to this all had been pretty simple.

Is this a prank?

It had come out of the blue, and with so many strings attached it might as well have been a web. The sort of thing that seemed like it straddled the line between mistake and trap. So he'd danced around the issue, and tried to figure out just what Willow wanted, a question to which a direct answer had proved elusive. Surprisingly so, for someone who didn't exactly value subtlety in her communication. There was a common need amongst it all though, one which became more and more apparent, as the suggestion crystallised into an agreement. The need to control, without the desire to be responsible.

He didn't like it. It put him on edge. But it made the payment make sense.

He'd reflected on what the outcomes would be. A distraction. Not for him, of course, he'd probably need a distraction when it actually came to being in a party, listening to the most mediocre hits of the past 3 years as people who'd never danced in their lives tried to pretend they knew what they were doing - Himself included.

No, the distraction was for his parents. Mum and Dad could use a few days of sharing pictures with the family. It was the most painfully normal thing, he could already see a parade of distant relatives telling him that he looked all grown up, simply because he was wearing a suit. But, that normalcy was precious. It would give them a break from thinking about other things, and whilst it wasn't the least he could do for them, he could stomach some discomfort for that.

So, misgivings aside, here he was, preparing for prom.

Black.
No logo.

He typed back. There was a little pause, before he added to it.

You gonna ask what colour my pants are too?

He smirked at his screen, enjoying mocking her back just as much.

[Melusine]

"Mom, it's going to be the black ribbon."

Tamara hummed as an answer as she curled Willow's hair. She never understood why her daughter was always panicking about her hair, it looked just fine. Yes, it wasn't perfect and there were split ends, but she wasn't balding. She wondered why her daughter thought she was going bald, her scalp was healthy and she was getting a healthy diet and used multivitamins as a way to cope with her shortage in nutrients. If anything, Willow took more care of her hair than most people. When the hair curler was brought up in the conversation, she saw Willow flinched, probably because of the heat damage possibility.

She methodically removed the hair curler and set it aside on the bathroom table. She brought up the beauty mirror to her daughter's face and she saw an expression of serenity. There was a slight smile across her child's lips as she admired herself, her eyes seeked her mother's in the reflection as she thanked her. She had a polite child. She said "thank you" and "welcome" and held the door for people. She wondered if she was always like that.

Peering over her shoulder, she saw her daughter send another message to the boy. Willow typed slowly this time, her eyes lighting up with a smirk. There was something mischievous in her mind, and it was seeping through her fingers. She caught a glimpse of it before reaching the black ribbon to tie her hair. Her daughter had bought it somewhere for cheap. It came in a pack of multiple colors. She could probably use the leftovers as a Christmas decoration.

When she turned back, she saw Willow's message to the boy.

If it's not black, you are going to jail.

[Frozen Smoke]

He smirked at that response, and translated that smirk into an appropriate digital approximation.

lol

Figuring out how to answer that was an interesting exercise. Truth be told he had no idea what colour they actually were, that wasn’t the sort of thing he consciously considered, and he wasn’t going to ruin his neatly tucked shirt to check. The chances of it actually mattering if she was looking at his underwear were minimal, but saying that would be unlikely to go over well, and as much as a reassured ‘Of course’ might have worked, he got the feeling she wanted him to be a little more playful than that.

Didnt realise you were part of the Fashion NKVD

It was a shot in the dark.

Trying to figure out what Willow liked had been like searching for patterns in static. She seemed to observe social conventions out of a lack of the effort required to break them, drifting in and out of conversation and classes, being conspicuously inconspicuous. This whole thing seemed all the more out of place for that, so he’d tried to figure out what she was expecting, and it had been like grasping at smoke.

It was frustrating.

It was challenging.

It wasn’t even like she was unattractive either. The rumours he’d been able to pick up didn’t paint a pretty picture of how she’d come to be in her current shape, but she seemed like she was dealing with it better.

So, what made him the choice?

What had he been doing right?

[Melusine]

Originally, Tamara wanted to braid Willow's hair. Make two braids, connect them at the back of Willow's head, right at the base, then tie them together using the ribbon. Willow, however, refused the idea, stating that she "hated the tension it made on scalp" but she appreciated the idea. She voiced her desire for two strands of hair to replace the braids. Tamara accepted the idea and she quickly got to work. Time wasn't running out, but she wanted to get something to eat before driving her to the boy's home.

Her fingers weaved the strands, softly twisting them as she pulled them backward. She managed to gather about two inches of hair on each side of Willow's hair then proceded to delicately tie them together with the black ribbon. Willow stared blankly at the egg-white wall, blinkling slowly. Tamara wondered what was inside of her head, what were the images she was creating to pass time. Willow's breathing became synchronized with her mother's as she tugged and pulled on the rim of her dress.

That dress wasn't a prom dress. Willow had categorically refused to buy one, claiming it was too expensive. It was a black dress with see-through sleeves, something strange for Willow, with flower patterns. The dress reached her knees, forming a cone starting by her waist. The dress had an opening at her top of her chest which was surrounded also by flowers. She had done a black choker and black leggings. Her shoes were the only thing they bought from the store, it was the expensive piece of her outfit. They were open, heeled black shoes. They were simple in the design but still cost a hefty amount. Tamara was surprised that Willow managed to walk in them. Tamara broke the silence, she started to find it heavy.

"Do you like the boy?"

"I don't."

That's that. That was their conversation for the night. Willow didn't even bother to turn around, she kept staring at the wall blankly. She caught a glimpse of the message she started to type as she finished her hair. Later, she would do her makeup but not now. They'd get something to eat first. For now, Willow was back to texting that boy.

i got more files than the KGB

[Frozen Smoke]

Parker appreciated the Paper Planes reference, it being an undeniably great song, and decided to give her enough of a nod that she'd know he knew what she was talking about. There were no smiles and head nods of recognition to show that you were both on the same wavelength online, so the appropriate continuation was a snarky injoke of a reference.

Shouldn't that mean that you'd be taking my money?

He typed back, the words flowing from his fingertips as easily as from his mouth.

He rested back in his chair as he waited for her to continue to conversation, looking around for something to occupy the digital lead time that communication like this forced upon him. Normally he'd be talking like this whilst playing a game, or something similar that would keep him occupied between brief exchanges of dialogue, but this felt like something he should pay attention to. Messing things up now would be the worst of both worlds, after all. He could sacrifice an afternoon of pleasure to make sure this whole thing went smoothly, and - he furrowed his brow a little - there was a not-insignificant chance it would end him getting laid.

There was a tinge of wrongness that came with admitting that, even to himself. It felt dirty, crass, transactional. As if sex held something romantic to it, as if it was supposed to be something more important than a good time, as much as he told himself it wasn't. He couldn't deny that that opportunity hadn't played into his decision, but for some reason that didn't feel right. Perhaps right wasn't even the right term, it wasn't like this wasn't a barrier he'd breached before, in many different fashions. But there was something odd about it influencing his decision making that made him feel worried, like it was something he couldn't truly control, even when he knew he could.

He sighed, and looked down at the blunt on his desk, looking mightily tempting as he tried to pull his mind out from this tailspin of pointless introspection.

He'd talked to Camila about getting high for prom, and eventually settled on leaving her with a non-commital response that implied he might. That way, she wouldn't be surprised if he turned out with eyes as red as the Devil himself, but neither would she be surprised if he spent the night calmly and soberly not-dancing. That way, whatever he chose, she'd be fine with.

He pulled his eyes away after a moment's more consideration on the idea. If he was going to take this seriously, then that meant seriously seriously. Not stoned seriously.

The phone in his hands beeped insistently as a new text popped up drew his attention back to the conversation they were having.

[Melusine]

Willow and Tamara sat in the car front of Parker's house. Willow was fishing for onion rings. She never understood why they were so good. Perhaps because they were onions, and onions that were caramelized, or maybe it was because they were fried, she never really captured the reason why she loved them. She did enjoyed the crunching sound it made under her teeth. It felt like she was eating celery, but fat and greasy. She wondered if she could deep-fry celery sticks.

"I'm sending him the message now."

She wiped her fingers on her seat before opening her messaging application. She didn't want grease on her phone.

I'm in front of your place with onion rings.

She reassured herself it was going to be okay. The date would be okay, the prom would be okay, and she was going to be okay. Willow wasn't sure why she was doing it. The money was in her purse and her mother was right beside her.

Tamara had her eyes locked on the road, avoiding to look at her daughter. She felt shame. She couldn't understand it, but looking at her made her feel old, decrepit. Her own mortality was right beside her and she couldn't look at it. Tamara's feelings were sipped through her soda, staring at the sunset and at the colors in the sky. She wanted to go home.

((Continued here.))

[Frozen Smoke]

He glanced out the window to confirm what she'd said, noting the new arrival in the cul-de-sac, before making his way down the stairs, keys in hand. It took an awkwardly long amount of time to lock the door behind him, the handle jamming a little and forcing him to re-open and close it, which he tried to completely ignore as he walked up to the car and opened the back door. It was an interesting signal that she'd sit in the front, with him in the back. He wasn't entirely sure it was intentional, but those kinds of decisions were the sorts of things you wanted to keep track of.

"Hey." he greeted, with a smile, as he awkwardly folded himself inside the vehicle. He took care not to act quickly, worried about tearing the suit. He would have made the mandatory compliments, but he hadn't really had a chance to look at her yet, so that seemed like a foolish decision.

The ride from here to Prom would be short, he didn't feel like striking up a conversation that would almost immediately be interrupted as they hit stride.

((Parker Green - GOTO thread/Prom█))