where's the summer anthem for me, specifically [OPEN]

[adamantlyardent]

WHO: Cecelia, open
WHERE: Heropa, De Chima
WHEN: July
WHAT: Continues being a teen, now with open encounter prompts
WARNINGS: marked in tags if needed


o1. Heropa, a bus stop outside a movie theater
Gods...!

[Cecelia hiccups mid-sniffle, dabbing at her eyes with a balled-up tissue to avoid smudging mascara. she's seated on the bus stop, a small pile of those tissues peeking out from her handbag. she's clearly been here a while.

in fact, the next bus rolls up, opens its doors...and closes them again when it's clear she's not going anywhere. and who cares! what does it matter! what's another twenty minutes wallowing in misery?

laser-targeted misery by the way of tragic teen romance flicks specifically designed to leave one emotionally compromised. damn them, damn them all she could see each story beat coming from a mile away, and yet! and yet!!!!

GODS she'd kill for a love like that. stupid. its so stupid!

she blows her nose with a little honk, exhaling in a frustrated, unhappy growl as she stuffs it in the purse.]



o2. De Chima, outside a coffee shop
[thank the gods the humidity in this city is at least somewhat manageable; Cecelia is liable to go mad trying to tame the mess of frizz her hair becomes down in Heropa just in an hour outside.

still, it's not all sunshine and frizz-free roses: she still has to put some care into things up here, by way of stopping in front of a cafe mirror to investigate her reflection. downtown gets a bit windy with all the traffic, so she takes a minute to comb some flyaways back behind her ear and make sure she doesn't look a total mess.

in the process, she winds up catching sight of some fair-faced fellow that interests her. look -- she's not out to be a creepy voyeur or anything? but sometimes...one can't help but stare when seeing just the right bit of handsome and think about it for a moment.

maybe you see her gawking...maybe you're being gawked at! or...some fellow with nice hair behind you. who knows.]


o3. Heropa, a mall
[help.

her expression is a hundred percent just this silent plea as the pushy salesperson at this kiosk continues their scripted spiel about the wonders of hair straighteners.

Cecelia does not want to be here. at all. like, ever at all. her only crime was brief eye contact and an inability to just be straight-up rude and ignore the pushiness! but...but she's in public. it's busy out here. lots of staring. judgment. so much judgment.

stuck in place by her own anxiety, her eyes briefly dart away from the product-pusher to whomever may be around to sense her torment while she feels her fingers start to go numb.

HELP.......PLEASE...........]



o4. Misc
ping @ whyellewhy for prompt ideas or just dunk one down, go bananas

Comments

3

[forgeabettertomorrow]

[Recently, Darin had been acquiring an interest in home electronics so naturally he was at the mall checking out all of the really cool things. They had remotes for literally everything now...televisions, blu ray players, stereos, lights and curtains...it was crazy! Were people seriously that lazy that getting up to close blinds was a hassle?]

[Darin was at a shop where he was investigating this 'automated personal household assistant,' (something called an Amazone Aleisha?) when a familiar shock of red hair catches his eye.]

[Oh gods, one of the kiosk salespeople got their mitts on Cece. Ugh, poor kid.]

[Darin puts the Aleisha-whatever down and heads on over.]

Cece! There you are! Man, I've been standing outside of the Better buy for like half an hour waiting! Come on, you gotta see some of this stuff!

[He places a hand on Cecelia's shoulder and scoots her away and moves between her and the salesperson.]

You mind? We've got shopping to do so we'll be on our way. Laaaaater~

[With that he quickly ushers Cecelia in the direction of the electronics store.]

You okay?

[adamantlyardent]

[Cece makes the tiniest squeak at being touched, but offers no resistance to being ferried far and away from the weirdo so desperate to make her hair flatter than a 2x4. she moves along rigidly, repeatedly curling and uncurling her fingers while keeping her eyes fixed so desperately forward as if doing so could eradicate everyone else in her peripheral. no such great power is hers, alas.

then again, she kind of needs to make sure it is Darin moving her along and not just desperate, wishful thinking for a rescue disguising some ne'er-do-well in her mind.

she peeks sidelong.

yes. blue. okay. safe person.]

Hi. I hate this. I forgot why I came? Where are we going.

[forgeabettertomorrow]

Food court. Gonna get you some water and maybe something to calm you down. Me? I need about two of those foot long hoagies. Been eating like a man possessed since I got back from that mission in Belgium.

But that's besides the point. I'm gonna teach you how to avoid those kiosk salespeople.

The Void ; because the Outsider is Like That

[crypdick]

[ When she meditates, or whatever she does to simulate sleep, her mind may drift off and things... change. It gets cold. It feels eerie. When she opens her eyes, while some aspects of where she is remain, it is open to the Void. There may be other things she recognizes, floating further off. If there are, they come from her mind.

She is alone for now, but she may feel like someone is there, watching her. It may even feel familiar. ]

[adamantlyardent]

Oh--oh, ew--

[without thinking, she'd gone and tried to poke at a dangling dorsal fin, but catches herself before chancing it.

gods, ugh? what is this. Cecelia's nose crinkles, expecting the place to smell rank, despite it having no particular scent at all. it just looks...ashy and stale and moldy. not at all an ideal reverie, is it? gonna be one of those evenings, is it?

great.

something about the acoustics (or...lack thereof, in a way; it's hard for her ears to really get a sense of it) leaves her feeling uneasy, has her looking about, squinting into the floaty mess around her. for how dingy and bleak it is, she feels...extremely out-of-place, all bright and red as she is.]

...Hello?

[echo? maybe?]

[crypdick]

[ Black smoke sparkling with eerie lights - far less out of place here than in the bright daylight of a city - converge, and the Outsider appears before her. Unlike in real life, the smoke lingers around him. ]

Hello, Cecelia.

WILDCARD

[khajidont]

[ Perhaps Cecelia is coming home from the mall, or the coffee shop, or the movie theatre, but either which way, she's going to have to come home eventually. She and her neighbour - well, the neighbour who happens to be Jaime - haven't been acquainted yet on account of how busy Jaime gets, but it was bound to happen. As of now, Jaime had just gotten home from work at the garage, filled with running cars and fans that are desperately attempting to cool the place down. It didn't work.

Which is why he came straight home from the garage, jumpsuit's arms tied around his waist - he's wearing a tank top underneath it all; he's not one of those fellows who has that kind of confidence to flaunt it and to show other people their tribal tattoos, probably - and is now lying flat on his back on his front lawn, right underneath his sprinkler's spray. ]

Ughhhhh. Summer should be illegal.

[ Okay, so he loves hot weather. But there's hot weather, and there's hot weather in a garage. He might die. He might already be dead. He hasn't decided yet. ]

[adamantlyardent]

[he does not get much repose for very long, because Cecelia is coming home, shoes clicking on the sidewalk loudly to suit her huffy stride. heat is fine, humidity is not -- the feeling of her hair sticking to the back of her neck is frustrating at best, and it's honestly no wonder at all why crime spikes in the heat; one more person bumps into her accidentally and she's liable to snap.

maybe those chances would lessen were she to get her nose out of the magazine she bought, but look. shut up!

in any case, this isn't going to result in her doing a comedic tumble over his prone body because Elle already used that gag this week and we're not here to be BORING. instead she's lifting her eyes to the sight of her house with a little relieved huff and a sniff...

and then another sniff.

she slows, nose crinkling in disgust, magazine lowering from her face.]

Oh...gods, what died out here, did--is that Wolfwood's disgustingggnGAH!

[mid-wonder, her eyes cross the stinky mechanic on the ground twice before she reacts with that yelp, magazine flying into the air

onto his face.]

[khajidont]

[ Jaime lifts the magazine off of his face with one finger, just barely raising it. Voice slightly muffled, he says, ] 450 looks from punk to pretty, huh?

[ He does, however, pick it up entirely off of his face to toss it onto the sidewalk and away from the sprinkler's spray. He may not be responsible for where it wound up, but at least he can be considerate. He sits up with a grunt, the heels of his hands pressing into the damp grass below. ]

I didn't think I was that scary, you know.

1

[lesterzeppelin]

[ Movies are a great way to relax, unwind, and honestly - make a guy feel like he's a pirate sailing the high seas for a couple of hours. Apollo doesn't usually watch movies alone, but Max and Will had been busy, so he had ventured in alone. As he leaves, however, he hears sniffing.

He pauses, glancing to figure the source of that sniffling and it's -

aw, hell. It's a girl. She probably got dumped right outside this building, and her jerkface of a now-ex probably didn't have the decency to take her home. May the Gods smite that stupid, stupid ex with a thousand plagues.

Apollo approaches, his steps tentative, ] Are... are you gonna be okay?

[adamantlyardent]

[the only person she's ever been dumped by is the universe, and that's a constant state of being, if you ask her. in any case, when she feels the space near her fill up and a voice follow, she squeak-hiccups, sitting up and whipping her head around with alarm, because there is no way his is anyone but some weirdo out to laugh at her and...

...be...a cute boy...

oh, gods.

she gulps.]

Wh-what? Sorry? Excuse me?

[lesterzeppelin]

[ oh man. that break-up must had been really bad, given her reaction.

Apollo gulps in turn. she's pretty. really, really pretty. ]

Um - [ words, Apollo. He pauses, taking a moment to find his inner god. Everyone loves him. Everyone thinks he's suave and cool, and he can most definitely help a cute girl get over her heartbreak. He runs a hand through his curls, giving her an apologetic smile, ] I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just - you seem upset and I wanted to make sure you'd be okay.

1

[prayercycles]

[ Fortunato has had a fairly average day. It's blazing hot in Heropa, of course, so he's feeling a bit tired, but he's spent his time at Church, and it's been fulfilling, as it always is. He's just going to get off at this bus stop, walk to the Porter, and...

Ah. Hm. It's that girl, isn't it. His vision is mostly blurry today- he's working on habit- but she's recognizable enough by sniffles at this point.

He can't just leave, can he.

After a moment, Cecelia will see a small pack of to-go tissues being handed to her. ] Here.

[adamantlyardent]

[she just has to hear feet draw near and feel the space fill up to make a despairing sound in her throat, realizing that, of course, she's still in public and she's still, of course, being ridiculous.

she barely peeks out of the corner of her eye at what's offered.]

Oh, I-- [sniff. she hesitates, then grabs it, fiddling with the packaging.] Sorry. Thank you. Sorry.

[prayercycles]

[ Cecelia may be...odd, but he can't say she hasn't been friendly and supportive. This behavior doesn't seem too off for her, but she still seems quite upset.

He's got nothing against her. Fortunato doesn't sit down, but after waiting a moment, he asks after her. ]

Did something happen?

2 to mix it up

[mycrosstobear]

[Definitely not the one being gawked at.

Wolfwood's disposing of a cigarette butt in the trash can outside the coffee shop (he can be responsible about that, sometimes) when he sees someone who's growing pretty familiar. He follows Cecelia's line of sight to a blond man a little down the street, then looks back at her. He's not sure if the expression on her face is admiration or alarm.] Someone you know?

[adamantlyardent]

[she's still in her own head, imagining the tale someone with such a fair profile would have. perhaps a bard? some sort of bard, yes. a lonely, weary traveler with the voice of an angel.

someone she knows?

dreamily:] Gods I wish...

[she IMMEDIATELY slaps her hands over her mouth, realizing she'd just said that out loud with her own, actual voice, into the real, actual air.

eyes bug-wide, she whips her head to the source of the prompt that definitely wasn't her subconscious and looks up. and turns fiercely red.

..................GODS.

does she run or...or set him on fire? hide the evidence?]

[mycrosstobear]

[Admiration, then. You know, he's not sure he's seen anyone get that red without being sunburned.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. She gets worked up really easily sometimes, doesn't she?] Blond's your type?

1

[pullsheavendown]

[What time does the next bus come? Doesn't matter, Roxas doesn't take the bus. Dark corridors are their own form of rapid transit. So he's not paying attention to the bus stop or the timetables or anything related—but he is kind of interested in one of the movies that's out right now, which prompts him to drift closer to the theater, which prompts him to notice his uhhhh acquaintance.]

Cecelia? Are you—are you crying?

[Oh no what do]

[adamantlyardent]

[she squeaks, head shooting up and eyes darting around until they fix on the intruder. familiar intruder. acquaintance?? friendly-thing? how would one categorize that strange, prickly-pear-haired boy.

unexpected, for one thing. at least just now. the last thing she wants is to be seen at all, what with her makeup running and her emotions just shot. at least on public transportation, people barely acknowledging you exist!

anyway.

she gulps.]

Uh.

Hi? Can I help you?

[pullsheavendown]

No?

[If she looks mortified, he's equally so. It's not that she's a crying girl, per se; it's that she's crying, period, and he has no idea what to do about that.

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.]

Are you okay?

1

[swordsense]

[It's not that Adora is getting on the bus or anything, she's actually just walking down the street when she spots a familiar young lady. Normally, she'd just smile and wave, but seeing Cece actually crying? Oh that's not good, and her first thought is that she's been bullied again.

So one blond jock comes meandering up and plunks down on the seat next to her.]

...Hey, you need to talk about what's bothering you?

[adamantlyardent]

[Cecelia squeaks a little mid-sniffle, startled by the sudden, confident arrival of a stranger.]

What? N-no, sorry, I--

[wait. no, not a stranger. she blinks, confused, but...realizing the familiar look. after all, Adora barely went to any trouble at all to change her look in the dream.]

Whhhhhhh...aaat...uh, what are you...doing here?

2

[plentystrong]

[ Well, well, well. If that isn't Cecelia, staring at... something. Not quite her own reflection, that much Catra can tell.

She sneaks up on Cecelia, quieter than a whisper, and leans over her shoulder with hooded eyes and a roothy grin. ]

Hey. Whatcha looking at?

[adamantlyardent]

[Cecelia jolts, letting out a sharp squeak, quickly clapping her hands over her mouth as she whirls around, eyes wide with alarm...and increasing indignation.

after a second to recover somewhat:] Y-y-you scared me half to death, Catra! Gods! Is that what you want?! Me, dead on the street!