This was her home, it was her place.
The mall, in it’s sparkling beauty. Material worth lining every inch of the entire place. She wanted it, she wanted it all.
“Hey honey, I’m home!” Debrah said to herself as she sauntered through the front doors of the mall, ass shaking the entire way. Heads turned as she continued through the large mall, it was surprising in such a small town.
Debrah soaked it all in as she walked through each of her favorite stores, making sure to remember what was on sale and what was new. She needed to look good to get what she wanted, and she wanted a lot of things. But looking at the things she wanted wasn’t just something for her to lust for, it gave her time to think.
It was what she did best when she was at the mall, most people would be scared at how deep into thought she could go while at the mall. It was her time to formulate, to plan. Who was she gonna screw on which night, who would she threaten, and who would she seduce.
But most of all, she thought about her. If Debrah was a devil, then she was an Angel. Perfect in every way, but she had to be perfect. It was her twin Deliah, they were supposed to be together forever. They were twins.
So as Debrah stalked the mall, she came up with ways to get closer to Deliah. Ways she could manipulate people to gain more power. Ways she could eliminate those who got too close to her perfect Angel.
But Debrah didn’t care about any of that right now, it was pure relaxation time. She casually walked up to the nearest food stand at the food court. She slapped on her best innocent look she could muster, her perfect cherubic lips spread into a somewhat sinister smile only recognized by those who had seen her in action.
“Excuse me, I seem to be out of money but I’m so thirsty!” Debrah pleaded with the pimple faced boy behind the counter. She ran her tongue along her lips after words, it seemed to have the desired effect as the boy quickly hid his lower half.
“Y-yeah...I-I’m not s-s-so sure I can d-do anything about t-that...” The boy stuttered as he stared wide eyed at the living porcelain doll infront of him. Her lips shining due to the coating of saliva now upon them, her eyes wide and staring into his, she leaned over slightly to show off her cleavage to the boy.
“Oh, but I’d do anything for just a...sip” Debrah said turning her gaze lower, his own eyes following her directions, his breathing was coming out unevenly and he was obviously not looking at her face anymore. He quickly let out a gasp and ran into the back room, pants obviously tenting.
“Oh god...” He moaned as he disappeared from sight. Debrah giggled loudly and grabbed the drink off the counter from a waiting girl.
“Hey!” The girl shouted as she made an attempt to get her drink back. She was quickly pushed away and knocked over.
“Shove it” Debrah sneered as she walked off, once again in deep thought. She took a gulp from the drink.
“Ooh, Vanilla Milkshake...My favorite...” Debrah thought to herself.
Deep Thought
Open to Anyone
-
ZigZaggerty†
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Sep 07, 2018 3:52 pm
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZigZaggerty. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Continued some time after Movie Night Fever))
Damien, on the other hand, didn't seem to want anything to do with the mall, and it is about the only thing occupying his mind.
The mall, with all its trendy teen squads flashing all kinds of gaudy colors, from the sosy bright reds, pinks, magentas and oranges to the "gangstas" in green, blue and purple to the wannabe punks and "emoes" in whatever's simply dark. Damien is currently dressed in a pitch-black short-sleeved button down shirt (eerily matching his hair) with long white sleeves poking out, above unusually loose blue jeans and sneakers, essentially looking like the bastard child of all three groups with nobody claiming fatherhood.
With these observations in mind he figures he definitely does not want anything to do with the mall, especially given that his mother was walking right beside him, pulling at his invisible leash. It's because of this lady that he's even at the mall in the first place. Though it's not that Nicole Carter-Madison doesn't personally approve of her son's sense of fashion...but couldn't he at least look a little bit less like one of those kids with too much violence in his head? Not that my sweet little boy would even fill his head with such things... (And note that she's certain she doesn't have to add that "...would he? at the end.)
Her resoluteness is having the opposite effect on Damien, who starts to walk in some sort of orbit around her as if they're two separate people. He starts turning his gaze elsewhere besides straight ahead or at his mother. The only caution he's taking is that he doesn't want to leave her field of vision, though he sometimes strays behind her.
Unfortunately, trying to give the impression that he doesn't even know the prim-and-proper woman accompanying him is causing him to wander dangerously close to passing shoppers. In particular, one disturbingly trendy-looking shopper with milkshake in hand.
(OOC: *prays he doesn't jinx this RP session @_@*)
Damien, on the other hand, didn't seem to want anything to do with the mall, and it is about the only thing occupying his mind.
The mall, with all its trendy teen squads flashing all kinds of gaudy colors, from the sosy bright reds, pinks, magentas and oranges to the "gangstas" in green, blue and purple to the wannabe punks and "emoes" in whatever's simply dark. Damien is currently dressed in a pitch-black short-sleeved button down shirt (eerily matching his hair) with long white sleeves poking out, above unusually loose blue jeans and sneakers, essentially looking like the bastard child of all three groups with nobody claiming fatherhood.
With these observations in mind he figures he definitely does not want anything to do with the mall, especially given that his mother was walking right beside him, pulling at his invisible leash. It's because of this lady that he's even at the mall in the first place. Though it's not that Nicole Carter-Madison doesn't personally approve of her son's sense of fashion...but couldn't he at least look a little bit less like one of those kids with too much violence in his head? Not that my sweet little boy would even fill his head with such things... (And note that she's certain she doesn't have to add that "...would he? at the end.)
Her resoluteness is having the opposite effect on Damien, who starts to walk in some sort of orbit around her as if they're two separate people. He starts turning his gaze elsewhere besides straight ahead or at his mother. The only caution he's taking is that he doesn't want to leave her field of vision, though he sometimes strays behind her.
Unfortunately, trying to give the impression that he doesn't even know the prim-and-proper woman accompanying him is causing him to wander dangerously close to passing shoppers. In particular, one disturbingly trendy-looking shopper with milkshake in hand.
(OOC: *prays he doesn't jinx this RP session @_@*)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
ZigZaggerty†
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Sep 07, 2018 3:52 pm
Debrah walked along, heels clacking. Deep in thought she barely saw the sight infront of her.
A old woman was walking along with a boy following quickly behind, this was way too good to pass up.
“Why excuse me there ma’am!” Debrah said as she stopped infront of the pair, it was a mother and son. This was where some of her best stuff kicked in.
“Your son is looking extremely snappy! Did you dress him yourself? You must have an incredible fashion sense!” Debrah raved. To the older people, she was merely complementing the boy’s attire, but to the boy.
It was just insulting, Debrah grinned widely at him. Venom could be seen in her eyes as she prepared her next onslaught of veiled insults.
A old woman was walking along with a boy following quickly behind, this was way too good to pass up.
“Why excuse me there ma’am!” Debrah said as she stopped infront of the pair, it was a mother and son. This was where some of her best stuff kicked in.
“Your son is looking extremely snappy! Did you dress him yourself? You must have an incredible fashion sense!” Debrah raved. To the older people, she was merely complementing the boy’s attire, but to the boy.
It was just insulting, Debrah grinned widely at him. Venom could be seen in her eyes as she prepared her next onslaught of veiled insults.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZigZaggerty. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Deep Thought
For Nicole, it was not so much this supposed display of sarcasm at her son's fashion sense as it was the fashion sense of this harlot in front of her. But as a candidate for the District Board of Education, she's starting to know better than to offend the offspring of her constituency.
"Why actually, he chose it himself. We were just headed to find a place where he can look snappier," she adds with a rehearsed smile. That would probably mean the Dockers on the 3rd floor. "You look rather stunning yourself."
In the sense of Damien the word stunning was taken quite literally.
Damien curled in his lips and looked up at the grinning bombshell, hands in his pockets. The two certainly epitomize the complete opposites of the fashionable spectrium, and most movies and TV shows would normally have them becoming quick friends. But years of facereading of the likes of Reneé Valenti quickly tell him that there are some nasty things in store for him if he can't find a way to evade the situation. With his mother dangerously close, anything this girl tries will be caught by her, which will be passed back to the girl and then doubled/tripled/god knows which exponentially passed back to him.
He doesn't say a word.
The cycle of life.
"Why actually, he chose it himself. We were just headed to find a place where he can look snappier," she adds with a rehearsed smile. That would probably mean the Dockers on the 3rd floor. "You look rather stunning yourself."
In the sense of Damien the word stunning was taken quite literally.
Damien curled in his lips and looked up at the grinning bombshell, hands in his pockets. The two certainly epitomize the complete opposites of the fashionable spectrium, and most movies and TV shows would normally have them becoming quick friends. But years of facereading of the likes of Reneé Valenti quickly tell him that there are some nasty things in store for him if he can't find a way to evade the situation. With his mother dangerously close, anything this girl tries will be caught by her, which will be passed back to the girl and then doubled/tripled/god knows which exponentially passed back to him.
He doesn't say a word.
The cycle of life.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Damien!" Franco Sebberts voice reverberated off the walls of the shopping centre like a bad joke. "What a surprise it is to see you here. And who's this fine young lady? And I don't just mean you Mrs. Madison."
Franco strolled over to Damien and Debrah. A personal assisstant followed closely behind Franco with several bags of merchandize. His hair was gelled into a 'stylish' cow-lick and his preppy outfit shifted as he walked.
All the parents loved little Franco. He was such a polite, well-spoken young gentlemen. He smiled like he knew this fact.
"I was just thinking about you, Damien," Franco had never actively bullied Damien, but he had stood by and watched, many a time. He had also put him down with a crass comment when out of the watchful eye of adults. "Mrs. Madison, if I may be so bold, I would like to cordially invite your son to a little class get together that I'll be holding at my place in Kensington Heights. It's simply an innocent bonspiel. We'll just be enjoying one anothers company under the safe supervision of the household staff, and my parents, of course."
Franco's eyes gleam with feigned innocence. "I would be delighted if he could attend. We haven't had much opportunity to bond this semester, have we, Damien?"
Franco didn't personally intend harm to Damien, but he knew for a fact that Marvin would be attending the party. Franco knew how to please his party geusts, and he knew nothing that would please Marvin and Renee more then this. As far as Franco was concerned. All this chatter would certianly get him on Mrs. Madison's good side, and Franco loved to be on the good side of influencial adults.
Franco remmebered the cute little number attending Damien, now what could she have to do with him? Franco watched the icy glares exchange between the girl and Mrs. Madison. Well, never matter, best act quickly.
"You are invited as well, young mlle.," Franco you dog. "George here can give you the adress," Franco pointed to his PA. "But for now the Madisons and I are having a conversation. We can go shopping together later, perhaps you can help me find suiting decor for the party, yes?"
Well played, Franco. You really are on your toes today.
Franco strolled over to Damien and Debrah. A personal assisstant followed closely behind Franco with several bags of merchandize. His hair was gelled into a 'stylish' cow-lick and his preppy outfit shifted as he walked.
All the parents loved little Franco. He was such a polite, well-spoken young gentlemen. He smiled like he knew this fact.
"I was just thinking about you, Damien," Franco had never actively bullied Damien, but he had stood by and watched, many a time. He had also put him down with a crass comment when out of the watchful eye of adults. "Mrs. Madison, if I may be so bold, I would like to cordially invite your son to a little class get together that I'll be holding at my place in Kensington Heights. It's simply an innocent bonspiel. We'll just be enjoying one anothers company under the safe supervision of the household staff, and my parents, of course."
Franco's eyes gleam with feigned innocence. "I would be delighted if he could attend. We haven't had much opportunity to bond this semester, have we, Damien?"
Franco didn't personally intend harm to Damien, but he knew for a fact that Marvin would be attending the party. Franco knew how to please his party geusts, and he knew nothing that would please Marvin and Renee more then this. As far as Franco was concerned. All this chatter would certianly get him on Mrs. Madison's good side, and Franco loved to be on the good side of influencial adults.
Franco remmebered the cute little number attending Damien, now what could she have to do with him? Franco watched the icy glares exchange between the girl and Mrs. Madison. Well, never matter, best act quickly.
"You are invited as well, young mlle.," Franco you dog. "George here can give you the adress," Franco pointed to his PA. "But for now the Madisons and I are having a conversation. We can go shopping together later, perhaps you can help me find suiting decor for the party, yes?"
Well played, Franco. You really are on your toes today.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Damien!" comes a snarky, familiar voice, ringing in his ears particularly loud. It's a voice he easily recognizes from his aggravatingly thorough memory and probably one of the constantly shuffling top five that he wishes he could at least get through 24 hours without.
Oh God no...
At this point in time Damien is thankful that he had already used the bathroom. Being confronted by three people that could directly or indirectly cause him some grievous bodily harm was bad enough if it were in school. Franco might not have been as responsible for as much torture as his superiors in his clique, but his habit of scouring Damien's wounds with salt hurt no less.
"Y-yeah...lots of times. Good times."
Damien's mom was, much to his displeasure, actually appreciating this kid. She had already heard of his reputation through the school as a charming, polite individual. And after all, Franco was everything she wanted Damien to be, not just on the inside. Polite, prim and proper, etc. Compared to this harlot in front of her...
At least she's not insisting that I go...
"Of course! It would be just wonderful if he could get to know people," she begins with a confident smile. "Although..."
CRAP! FUCKING CRAP!
She appreciated Franco despite being unaware that he would have that distinct advantage of Nicole actually not knowing him personally, let alone having him in her personal hitlist. However, that would not compensate any suspicions she would naturally have about having her son go out by himself at a gathering where - judging by its location - people like his tormentors could be attending. (Ironically, she happens to be on good terms with their families. Hendrick Industries is a major contributer to her association.) And Damien's rather stuttered reply seemed to add fuel to the cinders.
"I hope you don't mind if I could attend myself. I would love the opportunity to get to know your own family. And as this is one of his first...parties..." that last word she says with just that miniscule hint of suspicion, normal given the average nature of teen "gatherings" in these liberal times... "I just want to make sure he's safe." she adds, casting a brief but knowing glance at the girl that Franco has also extended an invitation to, oddly enough.
Well-said and well-gestured like an activist in a TV interview. Nicole's already on her toes, thanks to her decent business-grade high heels.
Damien starts backing off slowly, like he doesn't know - and doesn't want to know - any of the people near him at the moment. But like she has a sixth sense, Nicole snatches his wrist without looking. She can also feel his perspiration.
Please...don't invite her too...
Oh God no...
At this point in time Damien is thankful that he had already used the bathroom. Being confronted by three people that could directly or indirectly cause him some grievous bodily harm was bad enough if it were in school. Franco might not have been as responsible for as much torture as his superiors in his clique, but his habit of scouring Damien's wounds with salt hurt no less.
"Y-yeah...lots of times. Good times."
Damien's mom was, much to his displeasure, actually appreciating this kid. She had already heard of his reputation through the school as a charming, polite individual. And after all, Franco was everything she wanted Damien to be, not just on the inside. Polite, prim and proper, etc. Compared to this harlot in front of her...
At least she's not insisting that I go...
"Of course! It would be just wonderful if he could get to know people," she begins with a confident smile. "Although..."
CRAP! FUCKING CRAP!
She appreciated Franco despite being unaware that he would have that distinct advantage of Nicole actually not knowing him personally, let alone having him in her personal hitlist. However, that would not compensate any suspicions she would naturally have about having her son go out by himself at a gathering where - judging by its location - people like his tormentors could be attending. (Ironically, she happens to be on good terms with their families. Hendrick Industries is a major contributer to her association.) And Damien's rather stuttered reply seemed to add fuel to the cinders.
"I hope you don't mind if I could attend myself. I would love the opportunity to get to know your own family. And as this is one of his first...parties..." that last word she says with just that miniscule hint of suspicion, normal given the average nature of teen "gatherings" in these liberal times... "I just want to make sure he's safe." she adds, casting a brief but knowing glance at the girl that Franco has also extended an invitation to, oddly enough.
Well-said and well-gestured like an activist in a TV interview. Nicole's already on her toes, thanks to her decent business-grade high heels.
Damien starts backing off slowly, like he doesn't know - and doesn't want to know - any of the people near him at the moment. But like she has a sixth sense, Nicole snatches his wrist without looking. She can also feel his perspiration.
Please...don't invite her too...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Franco's sinister little grin remaind in it's place throughout the course of the conversation. He nodded knowingly as Franco's mother insisted on her own attendence at the party. This did not come as a surprise to Franco as Damien's mother was known to be rather protective. Franco kept his eyes level with Damien's mother. He nodded as she spoke and acknowledged her request.
"It would be my pleasure, ma'am, if you could attend as well," Damien's mother could prove an obstacle, but Franco was willing to take the risk that Damien would be embarassed enough with his mother attending. "Many other parents will be attending as well, so it would imagine it won't be a problem."
Many other parents, yeah right. Maybe a few of my fathers friend will be drinking themselves blind.
Franco glanced at Damien and gave a knowing wink. Franco had nothing against Damien personally, other then the fact that he was now hiding behind his mother. It's just that Damien had always been a stepping stone of the school hierarchy. You make fun of Damien and people like you. Important people. These people were friends that Franco could not afford to loose, and could always afford to get into better standings with.
"I can give you the adress and everything if you'd like?" Franco had his butler wrote it down and handed it to Nicole Carter-Madison. "I can't wait to see you both there. Damien and I are sure to have a great time."
Franco had a devious idea just than as he recognized Mrs. Madison's look of disapproval at the young lady.
"Why don't you come with me, young miss," Franco grinned and ran his hand through his gelled cowlick hair. He was by no means an attractive boy, but he sure thought he was. What else were expensive hair gels and cosmetics good for? "It seems that Mrs. Madison and Damien have much to do right now, and you seem to me like you might be interested in some shopping. I happen to have some spare time. George and I can see to it that all your shopping needs are met."
Franco glanced over to Mrs. Madison and smiled politely.
Well done, Franco. Get the girl and the approval of Mrs. Madison.
"It would be my pleasure, ma'am, if you could attend as well," Damien's mother could prove an obstacle, but Franco was willing to take the risk that Damien would be embarassed enough with his mother attending. "Many other parents will be attending as well, so it would imagine it won't be a problem."
Many other parents, yeah right. Maybe a few of my fathers friend will be drinking themselves blind.
Franco glanced at Damien and gave a knowing wink. Franco had nothing against Damien personally, other then the fact that he was now hiding behind his mother. It's just that Damien had always been a stepping stone of the school hierarchy. You make fun of Damien and people like you. Important people. These people were friends that Franco could not afford to loose, and could always afford to get into better standings with.
"I can give you the adress and everything if you'd like?" Franco had his butler wrote it down and handed it to Nicole Carter-Madison. "I can't wait to see you both there. Damien and I are sure to have a great time."
Franco had a devious idea just than as he recognized Mrs. Madison's look of disapproval at the young lady.
"Why don't you come with me, young miss," Franco grinned and ran his hand through his gelled cowlick hair. He was by no means an attractive boy, but he sure thought he was. What else were expensive hair gels and cosmetics good for? "It seems that Mrs. Madison and Damien have much to do right now, and you seem to me like you might be interested in some shopping. I happen to have some spare time. George and I can see to it that all your shopping needs are met."
Franco glanced over to Mrs. Madison and smiled politely.
Well done, Franco. Get the girl and the approval of Mrs. Madison.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
ZigZaggerty†
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Sep 07, 2018 3:52 pm
Debrah smiled widely, a real smile. This new guy seemed to have some power, possibly something she could use.
"Why thank you! I'd love to attend!" Debrah cooed to the boy, it was time to put on the same old routine. She slowly took a sip of her vanilla milkshake, enjoying the small moment of taste. She pouted her lips out enough and began extremely small sucking noises, and then turned her gaze upwards.
"I don't know too many people around these parts, just moved here really..." Debrah said through a fake smile. This poor sap looked rich, she could get some new clothes and maybe some money so she could bribe her way into Gilroy. She needed to get there soon, to be with her twin.
The most interesting part of what was happening was the Mother, she wanted to come? All the more to torment the son with.
"And you'll be there too! This will be a regular bash!" Debrah said excitedly, she was near close to laughing. It was all too good to be true. She through her milkshake into a nearby trashcan and turned to face the preppy boy. She laughed at these so called "Fashion Experts", they knew nothing of real style. But for now she dressed as they would to gain their trust and obedience.
"I'd love to go with you! And my name..." Debrah began as she winked at him.
"Is Debrah Dollop!" She cooed, her name must have been well known by now. Possibly only to those at her school. She was Queen Bitch, ruler of all.
"Why thank you! I'd love to attend!" Debrah cooed to the boy, it was time to put on the same old routine. She slowly took a sip of her vanilla milkshake, enjoying the small moment of taste. She pouted her lips out enough and began extremely small sucking noises, and then turned her gaze upwards.
"I don't know too many people around these parts, just moved here really..." Debrah said through a fake smile. This poor sap looked rich, she could get some new clothes and maybe some money so she could bribe her way into Gilroy. She needed to get there soon, to be with her twin.
The most interesting part of what was happening was the Mother, she wanted to come? All the more to torment the son with.
"And you'll be there too! This will be a regular bash!" Debrah said excitedly, she was near close to laughing. It was all too good to be true. She through her milkshake into a nearby trashcan and turned to face the preppy boy. She laughed at these so called "Fashion Experts", they knew nothing of real style. But for now she dressed as they would to gain their trust and obedience.
"I'd love to go with you! And my name..." Debrah began as she winked at him.
"Is Debrah Dollop!" She cooed, her name must have been well known by now. Possibly only to those at her school. She was Queen Bitch, ruler of all.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZigZaggerty. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Don't do this to me...please...this can't be happening! Damien's thoughts could not be translated into words, as he found himself hyperventilating. He was not as much intentionally hiding behind his mother as his mother was putting herself up as a shield to "protect" him, as she would often put it.
He didn't seem to realize that the other three were actually playing each other off in some twisted game of diplomacy. And even if he did, all he knew that he would really have nothing to gain (and thus his dignity to lose) from this endeavour.
Nicole, on the other hand, smiled confidently once again as she politely received the address of the party from this polite little boy. "Of course, I cannot wait to get to know the people behind the children in our fair institutions." Knowing that dealing with the likes of the Hendricks and Valentis - whom she suspected were collectively guilty for letting their children grow up like that, she positively could not wait to get deeper into the key issue of her platform. But she never let them know that, especially when they actually appeared indebted to her (Marvin's dad concentrates more on grooming Marvin's older brother to succeed him as CEO of H.I., Reneé's are busy with their Broadway careers) for effectively taking care of their kids when they get rowdy.
(OOC: Nicole's thoughts are colored purple to distinguish them from Damien's.)
Debrah Dollop, eh? I got my eye on you. Noticing that the boy was clearly inviting the girl for some shopping, she added, "You should hang out with a boy like him. It would be good for you."
Thank you...get them away-
"In fact...maybe you could get Damien to join you. He should get to know you at least, so he doesn't end up at a party with too many strangers." She didn't suspect this boy as capable of much, at least when compared to the harlot (though his flamboyance seems suspicious...). But you could tell that by the way she seemed to cast slightly-less-friendly glances at Debrah than the boy. Speaking of which... "Why, shame on me! I must've forgotten to ask your name!"
All of a sudden Damien was on the verge of falling unconscious. It wasn't that Damien himself was a VIP, rather he was essentially prone to being used of his up-and-coming-VIP mother's pawn than her son.
He didn't seem to realize that the other three were actually playing each other off in some twisted game of diplomacy. And even if he did, all he knew that he would really have nothing to gain (and thus his dignity to lose) from this endeavour.
Nicole, on the other hand, smiled confidently once again as she politely received the address of the party from this polite little boy. "Of course, I cannot wait to get to know the people behind the children in our fair institutions." Knowing that dealing with the likes of the Hendricks and Valentis - whom she suspected were collectively guilty for letting their children grow up like that, she positively could not wait to get deeper into the key issue of her platform. But she never let them know that, especially when they actually appeared indebted to her (Marvin's dad concentrates more on grooming Marvin's older brother to succeed him as CEO of H.I., Reneé's are busy with their Broadway careers) for effectively taking care of their kids when they get rowdy.
(OOC: Nicole's thoughts are colored purple to distinguish them from Damien's.)
Debrah Dollop, eh? I got my eye on you. Noticing that the boy was clearly inviting the girl for some shopping, she added, "You should hang out with a boy like him. It would be good for you."
Thank you...get them away-
"In fact...maybe you could get Damien to join you. He should get to know you at least, so he doesn't end up at a party with too many strangers." She didn't suspect this boy as capable of much, at least when compared to the harlot (though his flamboyance seems suspicious...). But you could tell that by the way she seemed to cast slightly-less-friendly glances at Debrah than the boy. Speaking of which... "Why, shame on me! I must've forgotten to ask your name!"
All of a sudden Damien was on the verge of falling unconscious. It wasn't that Damien himself was a VIP, rather he was essentially prone to being used of his up-and-coming-VIP mother's pawn than her son.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Franco Sebberts," Franco addressed Debrah. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
If this girl was an enemy of Damien then she was an ally to Franco, plus, it's never bad to have a good looking dame around.
"That sounds like an excellent plan, Mrs. Madison," this just kept getting better and better. "I'll take both of these children off your hands, ha ha. I trust that I will meet you back around here then when we're done with Damien?"
Franco offered his arm to the sultry young Debrah. He offered his hand to Damien. He cast Damien a 'concerned' glance.
A shake of diplomacy, Damien. Turn the offer down and you'll only make your mother angry.
"Shall we three be off then?" Franco applauded himself inwardly. "I still he to buy a few things for the party, and we can make a few stops along the way of course. At any places you'd like to visit."
With that last note Franco eyed Debrah.
She can be bought. I know her type. My kind of women, she knows what she wants and she takes it.
This party was going to be a huge success, but this afternoon was going to be a success in itself. Franco had already sent invitations to anyone that mattered, and virtually all of the distinguishable crowd from Gilroy would be there. Now with Damien and Debrah effectively in place, Franco could claim a little higher up the school hierarchy. And honestly, did anything else matter?
If this girl was an enemy of Damien then she was an ally to Franco, plus, it's never bad to have a good looking dame around.
"That sounds like an excellent plan, Mrs. Madison," this just kept getting better and better. "I'll take both of these children off your hands, ha ha. I trust that I will meet you back around here then when we're done with Damien?"
Franco offered his arm to the sultry young Debrah. He offered his hand to Damien. He cast Damien a 'concerned' glance.
A shake of diplomacy, Damien. Turn the offer down and you'll only make your mother angry.
"Shall we three be off then?" Franco applauded himself inwardly. "I still he to buy a few things for the party, and we can make a few stops along the way of course. At any places you'd like to visit."
With that last note Franco eyed Debrah.
She can be bought. I know her type. My kind of women, she knows what she wants and she takes it.
This party was going to be a huge success, but this afternoon was going to be a success in itself. Franco had already sent invitations to anyone that mattered, and virtually all of the distinguishable crowd from Gilroy would be there. Now with Damien and Debrah effectively in place, Franco could claim a little higher up the school hierarchy. And honestly, did anything else matter?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Oh God...why here? Why me!?
Damien wanted to collapse onto the ground and drift quickly off into darkness, hoping that he'd wake up in his PJs on his bed back at home early in the morning, realizing this was all just a bad dream. The sight of an old and new enemy joining forces (and arms) was plenty enough to send him reeling. He started to withdraw his hands behind his back,
"C'mon, sweetie! Shake hands with the nice boy!"
...before realizing that one of them was still in his mother's clutches. She ends up having to adjust it forward, his palm right into Franco's. As if against his will, Damien's hand grasped Franco's and shook it calmly, though Franco could have been able to feel the tension being transmitted through Damien's pale limbs into his own.
If he were being loosed among Marvin and Reneé, Damien would have just accepted his fate. At least he knew what those two were capable of, no matter how terrible, and he'd be executed (and later retaliated against) painfully albeit quickly. But this...was like being sold off into fucking slavery in some far-flung country. To him, Franco and Debrah were likely the embodiments of the very sick caricatures of the comparably watered down Marvin and Reneé (respectively). He didn't want to know what they'd feed into his vicious cycle of life.
Please...let this all be a dream... His legs were starting to buckle, and he was struggling to hold back tears.
"Damien! Stand up straight! And stop breathing like that! First impressions last, you know!"
Nicole's smile exposed some teeth. She'd the bait fly, and those two were taking it hook, line and two smoking barrels. By the time he got back she'd confirm everything she'd suspected about both of them (though it should be especially noted - again - that she didn't suspect Franco of much.) She turns her attention back to Franco.
"I'm sorry. He'll be all right, he's just a little shy around new faces. You'll get along so well..." she trails off as she takes one more look at Debrah. Her facial expression doesn't change but her eyes seem to give off that touch my son and I'll see you HUNG! look without actually glaring.
Hopefully your new boyfriend will teach you some manners.
Damien wanted to collapse onto the ground and drift quickly off into darkness, hoping that he'd wake up in his PJs on his bed back at home early in the morning, realizing this was all just a bad dream. The sight of an old and new enemy joining forces (and arms) was plenty enough to send him reeling. He started to withdraw his hands behind his back,
"C'mon, sweetie! Shake hands with the nice boy!"
...before realizing that one of them was still in his mother's clutches. She ends up having to adjust it forward, his palm right into Franco's. As if against his will, Damien's hand grasped Franco's and shook it calmly, though Franco could have been able to feel the tension being transmitted through Damien's pale limbs into his own.
If he were being loosed among Marvin and Reneé, Damien would have just accepted his fate. At least he knew what those two were capable of, no matter how terrible, and he'd be executed (and later retaliated against) painfully albeit quickly. But this...was like being sold off into fucking slavery in some far-flung country. To him, Franco and Debrah were likely the embodiments of the very sick caricatures of the comparably watered down Marvin and Reneé (respectively). He didn't want to know what they'd feed into his vicious cycle of life.
Please...let this all be a dream... His legs were starting to buckle, and he was struggling to hold back tears.
"Damien! Stand up straight! And stop breathing like that! First impressions last, you know!"
Nicole's smile exposed some teeth. She'd the bait fly, and those two were taking it hook, line and two smoking barrels. By the time he got back she'd confirm everything she'd suspected about both of them (though it should be especially noted - again - that she didn't suspect Franco of much.) She turns her attention back to Franco.
"I'm sorry. He'll be all right, he's just a little shy around new faces. You'll get along so well..." she trails off as she takes one more look at Debrah. Her facial expression doesn't change but her eyes seem to give off that touch my son and I'll see you HUNG! look without actually glaring.
Hopefully your new boyfriend will teach you some manners.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Franco believed that he was a safe enough distance away from the prying ears of Damien's mother. It was show time. With Debrah close in tow; Franco had a few things to say to Damien.
"Now, now little Damien," Franco's voice oozed sycophantism. "This is how this arrangement is going to work. I am not going to harm you, what-so-ever."
Franco allowed this information to sink in before he would continue. He smirked an arrogant smirk of victory. Everything always went his way, even in the worst of times. Franco had a silver tongue. He could talk his way out of prison, and if that failed, he could always bribe his way out. Nevertheless, things had never been so fortunate for Damien. Maybe everyone had consistently under-estimated the little guy. Time and time again, but maybe not. Franco held the 'maybe not' close to heart. He loved to lord himself over anyone below him. It didn't matter where, when or even who depending on there position.
"But," Franco savoured that 'but.' He enunciated clearly so that Damien could fully comprehend there was a 'but.' "Upon recollection it seems to me that Ms. Debrah here was unable to resolve a dispute with you. Tell me it isn't so Damien? Now I am going to do nothing to harm you, I may even buy you something if you co-operate really nice, but if you tell your mother one bad word about me. You will regret it, and I mean regret it. For the rest of your waking days. Besides we wouldn't want your mother to keep you from the party, would we?"
Franco eyed Damien with a pleasant aristocratic smile. He might not have the over-powering strength of Marvin, but he had words, and the will to break wills. Franco maintained his eye contact with the smallish Damien.
I'm a whole different story from Marvin and Renee, Damien. I'm six steps ahead of them. I work on a different level. A higher level.
"Are we very clear on this, Damien?"
"Now, now little Damien," Franco's voice oozed sycophantism. "This is how this arrangement is going to work. I am not going to harm you, what-so-ever."
Franco allowed this information to sink in before he would continue. He smirked an arrogant smirk of victory. Everything always went his way, even in the worst of times. Franco had a silver tongue. He could talk his way out of prison, and if that failed, he could always bribe his way out. Nevertheless, things had never been so fortunate for Damien. Maybe everyone had consistently under-estimated the little guy. Time and time again, but maybe not. Franco held the 'maybe not' close to heart. He loved to lord himself over anyone below him. It didn't matter where, when or even who depending on there position.
"But," Franco savoured that 'but.' He enunciated clearly so that Damien could fully comprehend there was a 'but.' "Upon recollection it seems to me that Ms. Debrah here was unable to resolve a dispute with you. Tell me it isn't so Damien? Now I am going to do nothing to harm you, I may even buy you something if you co-operate really nice, but if you tell your mother one bad word about me. You will regret it, and I mean regret it. For the rest of your waking days. Besides we wouldn't want your mother to keep you from the party, would we?"
Franco eyed Damien with a pleasant aristocratic smile. He might not have the over-powering strength of Marvin, but he had words, and the will to break wills. Franco maintained his eye contact with the smallish Damien.
I'm a whole different story from Marvin and Renee, Damien. I'm six steps ahead of them. I work on a different level. A higher level.
"Are we very clear on this, Damien?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(OOC: Ain't it funny that this is one of those threads whose title accurately describes the text of the post? Think about it. 
)
Nicole stoops down to her son's level and tells him softly, in a sweet, motherly, reassuring voice, "You take care of yourself, okay?" before pecking his cheek.
The kiss of doom. A word specifically chosen, as living day to day had turned out to be a fate worse than death itself. Nicole started on her way to take care of whatever she needed to take care of, but he sensed that she'd be shadowing them in spirit, if not literally. It wasn't until she was at least three stores away that Franco decided to make his move.
How fitting that this charmer would start off with a false promise. But he nodded and let Franco's smirk slide off.
Just like all the rest.
Huh?
That was...odd. Damien quickly shook his head so he could receive the rest of the monologue.
"But..." Franco goes... and somehow, through Franco's drilling stare, Damien knows what he's going to say next. It sounded like the warnings Marvin and Reneé gave him when they first laid their hands on him.
It was almost funny for Damien that Franco should warn him against telling his mother. The warning itself was an anachronism, as Damien didn't have to say anything to incur no less than a strip-to-underwear search for any signs of physical assault. Sometimes the look on Damien's face was enough to send Nicole into her characteristic quasi-evangelical frenzy. What inevitably happened afterward was all part of a vicious cycle whose end he'd since lost all hope of seeing. But reminding himself was already a redundant act.
And his mother had once told him she'd almost named him Dante, which said a lot more than it should have about the very concept of hope.
Nobody had really under-estimated the guy, because nobody really had any reason to. Not even his mother. Damien was not about to do the same with Franco, because he assumed whatever Reneé's cliquemates could do was limited only by their position AND her's and Marvin's presence.
Damned if I did, damned if I didn't..., and as such is translated into a silent, pitiful, feeble nod. A couple bangs of his hair seem to break free from its gel bondage, but that shouldn't be a problem. Yet.
Yet. I love that word.
What the...?! Stop that.
That was a familiar voice. Damien had less of an idea of what - or who - it came from, but that was not his concern at the moment.
As for Franco's new fianceé, "I...we... just...met Debrah..."
)Nicole stoops down to her son's level and tells him softly, in a sweet, motherly, reassuring voice, "You take care of yourself, okay?" before pecking his cheek.
The kiss of doom. A word specifically chosen, as living day to day had turned out to be a fate worse than death itself. Nicole started on her way to take care of whatever she needed to take care of, but he sensed that she'd be shadowing them in spirit, if not literally. It wasn't until she was at least three stores away that Franco decided to make his move.
How fitting that this charmer would start off with a false promise. But he nodded and let Franco's smirk slide off.
Just like all the rest.
Huh?
That was...odd. Damien quickly shook his head so he could receive the rest of the monologue.
"But..." Franco goes... and somehow, through Franco's drilling stare, Damien knows what he's going to say next. It sounded like the warnings Marvin and Reneé gave him when they first laid their hands on him.
It was almost funny for Damien that Franco should warn him against telling his mother. The warning itself was an anachronism, as Damien didn't have to say anything to incur no less than a strip-to-underwear search for any signs of physical assault. Sometimes the look on Damien's face was enough to send Nicole into her characteristic quasi-evangelical frenzy. What inevitably happened afterward was all part of a vicious cycle whose end he'd since lost all hope of seeing. But reminding himself was already a redundant act.
And his mother had once told him she'd almost named him Dante, which said a lot more than it should have about the very concept of hope.
Nobody had really under-estimated the guy, because nobody really had any reason to. Not even his mother. Damien was not about to do the same with Franco, because he assumed whatever Reneé's cliquemates could do was limited only by their position AND her's and Marvin's presence.
Damned if I did, damned if I didn't..., and as such is translated into a silent, pitiful, feeble nod. A couple bangs of his hair seem to break free from its gel bondage, but that shouldn't be a problem. Yet.
Yet. I love that word.
What the...?! Stop that.
That was a familiar voice. Damien had less of an idea of what - or who - it came from, but that was not his concern at the moment.
As for Franco's new fianceé, "I...we... just...met Debrah..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.