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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Between Coffee and Pancakes
    #1
    When she asks if he wants another refill, he just nods.

    He's sitting in the corner, staring at his laptop, back against the wall to prevent others from looking over his shoulder. Most of the pictures he's already sorted through, sent to the usual magazines, and of course the more sophisticated ones from earlier last evening had also already been selected, made to look slightly better with the help of Photoshop (blurring backgrounds, adjusting the lighting, highlighting the whites to make teeth and eyes look better and skin look less tanned, because God knows tans are the worst - all those lines just weren't good).

    No, what left his coffee cup drained and his leftover pancakes to go cold, were the more embarrassing pictures.

    Half a pancake isn't much of a breakfast, but after a night so short and an infinite amount of black coffee refills, he can't really be blamed. To his knowledge, he had by far not been the last to leave, but, after taking several dives into a pool with your clothes still on, at some point that just meant he had to go home to change. And, being one of the few with that had not completely overloaded himself with alcohol and/or drugs, he had not felt like going back again after that.

    Instead, he was staring at a picture that the object of said picture would likely never want to see ever again. Indecisive if it would make a good article, or if he had sent enough material around already.

    To kill or not to kill, that's this morning's question.



    @[Breckin] So.
    It's only that everybody else thought he'd be a redhead, so now I'm going somewhere like this fella https://nl.pinterest.com/pin/694258098778718742/ but then change eye colour to look like https://nl.pinterest.com/pin/364862007292091409/ because, that combination is more unique anyway.
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #2
    The objective was simple today: keep moving.

    The moment she stopped, she knew a pounding headache and an all-consuming fatigue would bring her mood down.  The night before hadn't quite been what she had initially imagined, choosing to go simply in support of her demanding friend.  But the tables had turned again (really this was nothing new, she should know this by now) and she'd dove head first into a night saturated with poor decisions that she didn't regret in the slightest.  She had been drunk of course, though not to blackout level, so the memories are easy to recount, eliciting the breach of a subtle smirk as she effortlessly dodges the passersby on the warming sidewalk.  Wearing a light hoodie, cutoff jean shorts, and low rise tennis shoes, she'd dressed for practicality today, the most precious piece of attire being the reflective aviator shades she donned to cover her lightly bloodshot eyes.  Breckin hadn't really bothered to rid her face completely of last nights makeup either, opting instead to correct the obvious smudges that were out of place; what was last night's cat eye flare is today's perfect smokey eye.

    Before anything else however, she desperately needed to find some coffee.  Rounding the corner of a building, she hones in on a restaurant that has clearly drawn the attention of the breakfast crowd.  Picking up her pace, the shift in momentum causes the loose waves of her hair to fall entirely behind her back; at least the locks were out of her way as she got down to business placing the order of a large black coffee to go at the hostess counter.  While she waited impatiently (seriously how long does it take to pour coffee in a cup?) her dark eyes rove the patrons of the facility, studying the different types of people scattered about.  One in particular stands out amongst them and she watches him for longer than the rest, waiting to see if anyone else joined him at the table.  

    When at last simple contentment warms her hands in the form of steaming coffee, she thanks her barista savior graciously before refocusing her attention on him.  Pursing her lips slightly, she debates moving on or approaching him.  Curiosity wins out always, and her fluid strides quickly close the distance between them.  Not waiting for him to offer her the opposite seat, she plops herself down easily, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on top of her dark hair.  For an agonizing minute she remains quiet, eyes narrowed in steady assessment of the fellow across from her.  She offers him a placating, one-sided smile at the interruption she's surely caused him; sorry not sorry.

    "Hi."



    @[Leilan]
    Reply
    #3
    Weighing his options, he clicks from the one photo to the next. Both are poor quality; at least poor for magazine-standards but for things like these they usually use the small quadrants next to one bigger picture - the question is should the be in there at all. He knows what his mentor would say: they're your photos as long as nobody else has seen them. So go by the golden rules of paparazzi-pictures.

    They're pretty simple, all in all: Does the picture in itself affect you negatively? - no, he's taken more of those - Does the picture affect the subject's reputation negatively? - he supposes so - forever? - not Karat, she already has the reputation, but the mysterious other girl he is less sure of - do they deserve it? - well that's the point. He doesn't know who she is, only saw her in passing, last night was a first. He doesn't know what she does for a living, who she came with, who she hangs out with. Doesn't know, doesn't know - "Wow." a surprise escapes his lips.

    A pair of (pretty, slim) legs and cut-off jeans has appeared in the corner of his eye, right before that same girl takes the seat opposite him. He leans back slightly too fast, and enters a few keys on his notepad to lock it, then shuts the notebook instead of having to look over the screen. Hoping his face isn't adjusting to the colour of his hair, he looks her up and down as she pushes back the glasses. Yep, it's her. Seeing her reddish eyes and the way she holds her coffee cup as if it's a lifeline, his embarrassment at almost being caught with the picture on his screen is quickly over - he grins at her with a low chuckle coming from his throat. "Aren't you the early bird," he notes with one eye on the clock - 10:25. Not early for anyone else but those having attended a party lasting till - well, longer than he stayed, and since that was about 3 am - it would probably have been 6 this very morning.

    She might need more than coffee to get over the alcohol though, looking like this and saying hi in an almost croaking voice. Glancing at his barely-touched breakfast, he shrugs and motions at the plate. "Have some if you like. You look like you could use them." Sure, they're not very hot any more, but, probably still warm. That is if she doesn't mind blueberry-pecan. Apparently some people don't like a sweet-and-savoury. Or do anything other than butter - boring people.

    OOC: @[Breckin] so he has no normal conversation skills apparently
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #4
    "So you were at the party last night then? I thought I recognized you.  Even drunk it's hard for me to forget a handsome face," her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears after he comments on her being an early bird, to which she adds with a shrug, "I've got stuff to take care of today.  I hadn't really planned on staying as long as I had, but things changed obviously."

    She'd noticed how quickly he had moved to close up whatever was on screen, and immediately her interest had been piqued.  Only someone caught off guard and possibly with something to hide move that rapidly.  What had he been doing last night when she saw him?  Filtering through the entire night, she recalls the moment she'd laid eyes on him, vaguely remembering the camera he'd used so fluidly, gracefully even.  Breckin wonders if it was his profession or his hobby, either way he had seemed completely in his comfort zone.  He'd possibly even captured her last night, but the thought doesn't really bother her.  There was nothing she regretted from last night, and she was a nobody to the public eye.

    Daring a sip of her coffee, she doesn't know whether to be pleased that it didn't burn her tongue, or be put off that the the barista had given her a portion of a cooling pot.  It didn't matter really, it tasted too good for her to even bother caring for long.  She spares him a glance as he motions towards his half-eaten pancakes, dark eyes meeting his inquisitively with a brow raised in mock offense, "Do I really look that bad?"  Running on lack of sleep and having severely deficient caffeine levels in her system was no easy feat, thank you very much.  Truth be told, she understood he meant no offense, but what good was she if she couldn't find some light humor in making things awkward.  It was simply a test of the boundaries is all.

    Regardless, she quickly replaces her mock offense with a genuine smile that easily met with the light in her eyes.  "Thanks,"she offers quickly after dragging the plate closer to her and taking a small bite.  Sure, she didn't know the guy, and the pancakes were cold, but he was nice enough and both him and the pancakes looked too good to pass up right now.

    "I'm Breckin," she says after meeting his gaze again, "And you are?"

    @[Leilan]
    Reply
    #5
    She talks more than her voice seems capable of handling, but he's pretty sure he doesn't care about that little problem. It's kind of cute, even. So, instead of calling her out for it, like he definitely would have done with about 99% of people - other people - he just smiles at the cracked sound of her voice. He sees her eyes glance at the laptop when she concludes he was there, and nods to her, but doesn't comment. Good thing it's got fingerprint protection. Although, she immediately adds that she never forgets a handsome face, to which he looks at her a little intenser, wondering if she means it or is just trying to mess with him.

    He still muses over that, but at the next sentence she outs, he lifts one copper brow. "Stuff?" In that outfit? "I hope you don't have to meet with someone for that," he notes casually. A dual note if she was paying attention, one - the obvious one - for feeling sorry for her that she has to do it hungover, and two, he's not done staring at her yet and really would not like to see her leave so early on.

    His offering of his half-eaten breakfast pulled a mock-offended question from her (at least he hoped it was mockery, but then, if it wasn't she would show more anger afterwards). He shakes his head in earnest though. "Tired, yes. Bad, no. I doubt you ever would." With an eye for the artistic, he finds something to admire in everybody, but truth be told, yes, to him she is above-average attractive. Compare that with the fact that he's been running around rich people a lot of the time, including fashion models and whatnot, for him that says something. Although, rich people can buy fake beauty, of course. He knows that like no other.

    He pats the notebook. "I'm sure I caught a better picture of you yesterday." he grins, then leans his head on his right hand and rests his left on his right arm to look at her as she carefully takes a bite. "You know I didn't poison those." He points out and smiles. Breckin, it suits her. "I'm Leilan. Hey, but if those are too cold I'll get you new ones." he says more earnestly. "Don't want to offer something that's no good. Lousy gift that makes."

    Speaking of the picture he meant - the good one - he remembers where he'd seen her first. Following Merrik's pointing gaze with the camera lens, naming the people he'd snapped photos of - stopping with her, the girl in the corner who'd brought a book to a pool party, whom he had no name to apply to yet. He hadn't missed much of what she did, until Rey finally had claimed his full attention - something that had ultimately ended with wet cloths and a silent thank-you to the gods of the waterproof cameras.

    He waits a little to let her eat, but, ultimately he just has to ask. "So did your book survive the evening?"

    @[Breckin]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #6
    Her being tired was definitely an accurate assessment on his part, she knew she'd have to struggle to make it to the end of the day completely awake even with some added help of a constant supply of ibuprofen and water and probably more coffee later on also.  But his mentioned doubt of her ever looking bad brings her thoughts to pause, causing her dark eyes to narrow in subtle scrutiny, attemping to gauge the level of how sincerely he had meant what he had said.  She knew she wasn't hard to look at, but she was nowhere near model pretty - she was the kind of pretty that you notice if you take an extra moment longer to look at her, not the kind that catches someone's eye immediately (at least in her personal opinion).  And really she was okay with it; it allowed her to go unnoticed whenever she chose to be, something that had proven to be an immense advantage in the field.  But he gives no indication his is lying; he appeared relaxed and genuine enough.

    The conversation presses on before she can think further into it however, and she's taking another bite of the pancakes while he repostions himself and mentions having possibly taken a better picture of her.  Internally she applauds herself for remembering correctly, during her drunken state of mind, that he had been the photographer. Leilan she repeats internally, committing his name to memory; like she said it was hard for her to forget a handsome face, especially when she had a name on hand now.  

    "No, they're perfect," she says maybe a little to quickly, politely declining his offer, "I'm not picky when it comes to food."  His offer to buy her something fresh had made her slightly uncomfortable, not because of the kindness of the act itself, but because someone acting like an actual gentleman towards her was something she wasn't quite accustomed to.  Her gaze breaks away from his own chocolate toned eyes, feeling the slightest rise of heat in her face at the sudden shift in her demeanor.  Of course men had offered to buy her dinner and drinks before, but she'd always been painfully aware of what their intentions had been.  There were times when she bought into their whims on purpose of course, fed into them even, but it was all over in the course of an evening or two.  But to have someone look at her so sincerely and offer something so small yet so not small, put her on some kind of edge mixed with unease and gratefulness at the same time.  This was unchartered territory as far as she knew.

    Breckin pratically jumps at the lifeline he tosses at her, eager to change the subject to one she's more comfortable with.  Turning her line of vision back to him, leaning back in the seat somewhat and drawing the corner of her lips back into a small grin.  "Caught that did you?  I like to have a plan B when it comes to parties, you never know when one may prove to be a dud."  It was true, she'd been infatuated with her latest novel until she'd been intercepted by Bane in her solitary corner on the pool deck last night, and she'd quickly cast the book aside out of the interest in other subjects.  She briefly looks to the phone that she had placed on the table.  "In my opinion, no technology can replace the feel of pages between your fingers.  But, it's nice to be able to carry reading material around on me in an app when I have nowhere to carry an actual book,"  she says, gesturing at the snug, but not entirely revealing outfit she was wearing currently,  pointint out the lack of pockets large enough to carry anything larger then her phone and keys.

    Leaning back towards her then, her curiosity piqueing to a new degree, since he had obviously noticed her at the beginning of the party when she'd been sober, "Exactly how long did you watch me for last night, Leilan?"

    @[Leilan]
    Reply
    #7
    She doesn't seem willing to elaborate on the fact that he'd just called her pretty to her face but in a different way, but at any rate, he has the time to watch as she needs to focus on her coffee and the slightly-gone-cold pancakes. Normally, had he been eating with someone slower than him, he'd stare out the window or check out the people waiting in the line that's formed from the entrance to the bar, where more and more beverages were being made and poured and commented negatively on to be returned by the soy-girls and the doppio-guys. He does that often enough, here, but he can't find himself caring right now. Instead, there's freckles to count - not the kind he has, spread all over like a paint explosion, but just a few cute little dots on her nose that on party evenings and official days she might just have covered up for a smooth olive complexion - a shame really.

    She talks, however. Quickly he looks into her dark doe eyes, then nods. "If you're sure." he offers, absentmindedly rushing his fingers through his own hair as he studies how her falls smoothly by her face. Way smoother than his, anyway, since it tends to curl just a little - it's been tamed, however, so now it's just wavy. Wavy's still not smooth though, but then if it was maybe his head would look weird. Maybe. Maybe he already was weird and she was only still sitting here because of the food.

    When he can't reign himself in any longer and has to ask about the book, she seems to open up some more. She gestures to her large phone - not his own size standard, since unlike most people he doesn't use it for photos - and mentions it as if it's a lifeline. Like going through life without a book in her hand is only bearable because of the backup plan. He looks at the phone, to her, and grins as she gestures at her outfit. "I thought that's what bags and clutches are for." he points out jokingly. But he understands, he wouldn't want to carry a bag around all day either. He has one now, for the laptop of course, but wouldn't be walking around with it for long distances. Just about the one block it took him from rooftop apartment-studio to here, really.

    He does not fully understand why she brings a book to a party still - plan B for him is to go home or find a better party, but that's just him. The only books he reads lie on his bedside table, because reading at night makes him drowsy. And, maybe, because he's just too regular. She on the other hand, is much more unique, and just does what she wants and takes that book anywhere.

    He catches himself when she leans back, trying to pretend he wasn't staring at her thinking what else was hidden inside her pretty head. She asks a rather sharp question, his time to feel maybe a tad bit uncomfortable. He'd watched her longer than the people he already knew, because she was new to him and, fair enough, really pretty looking, in the natural way that models these days failed to do. He tries to sum it up quickly in hopes of not getting off as a grade-A stalker. "Uhm, there was a book, a guy, and some girl-kissing I think." Whoops. Smooth talking, Leilan. He already knew by now that he liked her enough not to send those pictures around, but it was still a dangerous topic as long as he hadn't actually deleted them yet. He is quick, but not quick enough, to follow up with the rest; "Then I got distracted by the pool, as you might say." When he'd tried to take Rey's picture, he'd ended up in the water with the rest of the bodies, and with the fascinating underwater lights, he'd stayed there a while until he got cold and decided to leave the party for what it was, in favour of having time to edit in the morning and send in the pictures before someone else brought in the gossip-magazine cover photos.

    @[Breckin]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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