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Blinding Lights

Blinding Lights

56 INK

The revolution is over. Now, it's time to pick up the pieces.

1,419 readers have visited Blinding Lights since partially-stars created it.

Introduction

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If there’s one thing humanity does well, it’s destruction. Many stories have been told of this destruction, of the wars and the disasters and the rebellions and of all of the effects. But not many stories explore what happens after, and what happens to the people who were not the soldiers on the front line.

This story takes place some time in the future. The exact year isn’t important, but it’s both close enough that it is somewhat familiar, but far enough away that there are things we do not understand. The exact location isn’t important either, but the story takes place in a city called Scarmouth. Six months ago, Scarmouth was torn apart by a brutal revolution. The exact details still aren’t important, but let’s just say the good guys won and Scarmouth is slowly and steadily becoming a better place.

Across the city, there are people who find themselves picking up the pieces. In this story, there are no great, grand heroes who single-handedly changed the path of the whole war and who were the face of the revolution. Here, there are only ordinary people who saved lives or who took them. There are only ordinary people who just wanted to live their lives and who found themselves caught up in the middle of it. And all around them, the world keeps changing. There are people pointing fingers and calling them traitors or heroes and sometimes people call them both. They have to come to terms with the new world and their place in it.



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first things first, a reminder that god-modding is forbidden. god-modding typically means controlling a character without their player's permission. so when in doubt, ask. communication is key. if i don't hear from you in a while and have made one or more attempts to contact you with no reply, i will assume you have had to leave for whatever reason and will proceed as such. i promise i don't bite, so if you're busy or have bad writer's block or anything like that, please do let me know! romance and violence are pretty much a given for a drama-driven rp like this, but keep it within site rules. most importantly, if things get steamy, either fade to black or bring it off site. there will be adult themes within the rp. if the content veers into uncomfortable or distressing, please PM me and we can work around it or i can ask other players to alter as necessary. please keep the drama to the ic. i want plenty of drama between our characters and as little drama between players as possible! any issues arising among members of the rp should be dealt with over pm. you have 72 hours to submit a WIP. that WIP can be a blank sheet, i just want something in to know you're still on board. you will then have 5 days after submitting your WIP to finish your character. i will grant extensions as long as you pm me. any further questions or issues, please pm me!

please let me know if you have any questions or if you want me to clarify anything! if you're not sure yet, feel free to join our discord server, get to know us and our characters a little better, and discuss any potential character ideas!

when reserving, i'd love to see
  • a 250x250 gif of your character, and if possible, an image of the same size that's aesthetic. see below for examples.
  • the character's name, age, hex code, and face claim.
  • and a short paragraph description

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Noah Lawson | 25 | Matthew Grey Gubler | #879788 | partially-stars
Noah knew that a residency in Emergency Medicine was likely to be intense, but he had no idea how intense it would be. On a number of occasions, he was sent onto the streets to treat the wounded who weren't stable enough to make it to hospital in time. He had guns pointed at him for treating a person from the wrong side, he was threatened with violence, and was physically attacked on a number of occasions when people either didn't see his medic vest or just didn't care who he was. Now, he's one of those people that people call a hero, but he doesn't feel much like a hero. He's scarred from what he saw and terrified.


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Hatch Williams | 24 | Kristen Stewart | #400026 | partially-stars
It wasn't that Hatch had no interest in the revolution. It was more that her interests were entirely self centred, and she was more concerned about how she could benefit from it. She worked as a mechanic for both sides during the revolution, but when this was discovered, it backfired as neither side trusted her. She's now regarded with a significant amount of weariness as nobody knows who she truly stood with. But Hatch only ever stood for her own interests, for her own welfare, thanks to a rough upbringing, and she tells herself she doesn't care what people think or if they trust her. She repeats it to herself and almost has herself fooled into believing it.


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Camilla Rhodes | 25 | Brie Larson | #A38E8E | Maci-Care

Before the Revolution Camilla was, and still is, the front woman for the popular band, Sophie's Valentine. They were a hit nationally and were about to begin a more international tour when everything changed, strictly limiting their plans for the future. In the beginning, Camilla understood the revolution and why it was happening, but her and her band were quickly approached by the government and "persuaded" to limit their songs and lyrics to ones that would promote their agenda while downplaying the revolution's, typical propaganda. As the Revolution ended, and the "good side" won, Camilla and Sophie's Valentine still came out intact, but were seen as traitors since they supported the government and took their bribes. Even though they don't know the whole story...


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Scott Feltikk | 27 | El-p of RTJ | #000000 | Ulfhednar902

Scott Feltikk is a bold, unforgiving gangster living in the slums of Scarmouth. His participation in the revolution was huge, with him and his crew taking to the streets and storming several large government buildings. Now that it's done, Scott's torn between going back to his old life, and taking his rightful place among the new republic.


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Ashleigh Barnes | 25 | Normani Kordei | #DA70D6 | Sunflower

Before the revolution and destruction happened, she was on the verge of becoming a mega pop star. She sold many albums, collaborated with various artists, and had more than her fifteen minutes of fame. She was gearing for a tour that had sold out within a matter of minutes. She was ecstatic to be doing a worldwide tour, which would've launched her career entirely to the next level. She honestly hates what the world has currently become and just wants everything to go back to normal. But that probably won't happen anytime soon or ever.


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Ryan Joshi | 26 | Avan Jogia | #3B5998 | phosphene

Ryan was a photographer for a local news channel, and at first he was happy to help cover the revolution, but then he realized that the things he'd seen and what was on the news didn't always fully line up. He didn't intend for it to become a whole thing, really, but before he knew it he was out taking pictures and filming as much as he could, talking to anyone who would speak to him, and posting everything online where the whole world could see it. He doesn't know what to do with his life now: he's not a reporter, and he doesn't really want to be, he just thought people deserved to know what was really happening.


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Magnolia "Nola" Wrenley | 26 | Laura Harrier | #F08080 | leisurelyatwar

Born into the lap of luxury, Magnolia was raised wanting for nothing. She was in the dark about her father's dealings most of her life. He was a business man turned politician, for a long time he was her hero. Then she learned who he really was. When the revolution began he showed his true colors. He was a monster, and Magnolia just had to watch as he tore the world apart. Desperate from perpetual helplessness, she reached out to a journalistic photographer who she thought could get information to the right people. Through the underground network she was able to provide intel and make connections. She began helping those who wished to defect, swearing them to secrecy about her identity. Scarmouth knew her as the dutiful daughter to a fascist, in order for her to serve the revolution it had to stay that way. When the revolution finally reached them in their ivory towers, it was Nola who let them in. Few people knew the extent of her contribution to the revolution, many still saw her as the dutiful daughter to a fascist. She lost everything for other's freedom, and while it was worth it the sacrifice still weighs heavily on her.


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Danika "Nika" Gayle Orlov | 25 | Bake Lively | #3ffef0 | Caille

Danika Orlov comes from some of the richest families, which is not a huge surprise when you find out she used to train for figure skating in the Olympics. Most of her family members were well established athletes, influencers, and entrepreneurs. Coming from a line of wealth and the 'social society' Danika got talented at talking with people and even getting herself out of danger or toxic publicity. Danika is calm, cool and collected with a public relations job in the city. The only reason why she ended up in her hometown was due to the fact her mother was getting ill and needed someone to watch after her business. As the revolution hit Danika knew she was going to use her wealth and power to use. Danika began to help people hide and get out to safer places. She would harbor individuals in her crawl spaces, attic, and even cellar. It was in these times that she would get out of her house being searched due to her silver tongue, money, or even blackmail. Being in the community for so long, Danika was good at gaining people's secrets.


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Miles Caal | 31 | Oscar Isaac | #CC0063 | phosphene

Miles was born amidst opulence; his grandfather had created Caal Industries, an incredibly successful medical technology manufacturer. They fell from grace under his father’s management, when rushed development led to a release of very faulty products. They faced no real legal ramifications, thanks to an ability to throw money at the problem, but they lost their good reputation, and soon were forced to sell the company to recoup their losses. Miles was only a toddler when this happened, and he doesn't remember life before his father's "mistake" ruined them. Legitimate tech companies are hesitant to hire Miles, so he works on his own. It's not always... Legal, but so long as he doesn't get caught he has a lot of freedom to experiment, but word gets around. The government blackmailed Miles to do some less than ethical things to avoid punishment, and now that the revolutionaries have won he's between a rock and a hard place.

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Blake Langston | 27 | Ruby Rose | #603670 | Caille

Blake grew up without a mom and eventually was taking away from their father. After that is was group homes to foster homes while they happened to party and get into the wrong crowd until eventually Blake was being recruited by the army, and after a bit of a debate, they took the chance to do something more with their life. This involved extensive training before they decided to enlist. At the age of 18 Blake had become a member of the army. As the revolution began to be a rumor that spread like wild fire until it was manifesting, Blake decided to pull out when it came time to decide where they wanted their next placement. That was when Blake began to gather around revolutionaries and offered to train them so that they could stand a better chance and predict some of their moves. Blake lost a lot of comrades on the front lines of the revolution and ever since they just haven't been the same and suffers from survivors guilt and PTSD.

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Damien Moore | 28 | #4737AE | Chance Perdomo | leisurelyatwar

Damien had lived a mostly unremarkable life until recent years. He worked to survive, also having to provide for his mother and siblings as the oldest. His mother had always put her faith, and her checkbook in the church. Of course the church always gave just enough charity to keep her donating money. When the government began cutting off benefits and his siblings went hungry, the church gave them crumbs. They weren't the only ones either. Damien knew that the church had been exploiting people's charity for years. He began speaking to others, exchanging ideas and hosting parlors where they'd come together and discuss. It all sort of snowballed on it's own with the momentum of the revolution, taking a life of it's own. When the church turned their backs on the people, the people turned to Damien. He had his reach in several pockets all over the city, creating sanctuaries for people. Damien did not seek violence, but some of them were forced to become soldiers in order to protect their people. Many have began to refer to Damien as "Father Damien", and while he initially rejected the title - he knew that many of them needed that construct to help them cope so he began to allow it. He'd deliver sermons once a week to every cluster, though he preached values and ideals not about metaphysical beings. After the revolution he remained a community leader, only expanding his reach and influence.

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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 7 authors

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Danika Orlov Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Ashleigh Barnes Character Portrait: Damien Moore Character Portrait: Blake Langston
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4.00 INK

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noah lawson
the medic - #879788 - outfit

i hear the voices when I'm dreaming
i can hear them say
carry on my wayward son
there'll be peace when you are done

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The last thing Noah wanted to do after yet another long shift was go to some awards ceremony for “significant figures in the revolution.” He’d seen enough of the revolution in person and he didn’t particularly want to be reminded of it. But Gabriel had said that they’d invited representatives from the Emergency Department after their role in things, and so Noah had agreed to go. Apparently there was going to be free alcohol and free canapes, which was at least something.

It had been six months since the revolution ended, and things were being rebuilt. They had a new government that was already implementing sweeping changes. It wasn’t official yet, but word around the hospital was that in the next few weeks, the healthcare system was going to move over to publicly funded. Public housing had already been implemented and the number of homeless people on the streets was dropping rapidly by the day. The damage caused in the rioting and fighting was long gone, just a memory.

But it was a memory that was sticking in Noah’s head. The nightmares weren’t as intense as they had been in the initial aftermath, but they were still very much there. The scar on his stomach was healed, but there were mornings he awoke and for a few seconds, the pain was still there. When he walked down the street, he was waiting for an ambush, for an explosion, for anything. The entire group of emergency med residents had stopped going to bars after work because every time a glass shattered, they all flinched and almost launched back into action.

Thankfully, the awards ceremony didn’t seem to dwell on the actual fighting too much. It seemed to be more government focused, awarding and recognising those who had protected their communities throughout the fighting. Someone who had helped smuggle people out of the fighting, someone who had created safe spaces for their community... They were in what appeared to be the last few awards when they began describing a scenario that was uncomfortably familiar.

“The next award we’d like to present is to someone who was selfless and brave on the front lines. We are deeply grateful to all of the staff of Scarmouth’s Emergency Departments who put themselves in harm’s way to save lives and minimise loss of life. But this man drew attention for his actions after he was photographed treating the wounded, even as a government soldier had a gun pointed at his head. Stories from those who served on the front lines tell us this was not the first or only such of these incidents, and that this doctor fearlessly and selflessly treated the wounded indiscriminately. Tonight, we would like to recognise Dr. Noah Lawson of SUH for his bravery and thank him for his service with the Medic’s Hero award.”

Noah glanced over at Gabriel, and the man’s small smile gave away where all this had come from. All around him, people were applauding, some even getting to their feet. Noah just wanted to climb under the table and wait until the moment passed, but he couldn’t. He managed a smile as he stood up and made his way up to the stage, taking the statuette and shaking the presenter’s hand. And then one of them smiled and said, “Would you like to say a few words, Doctor?”

Noah could feel the blood drain from his face. He instinctively looked back towards Gabriel, whose smile had slipped slightly but who nodded, somewhat encouragingly. Noah swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he felt what had to be hundreds of eyes on him. He wanted to shake his head and run back to his seat or possibly just straight out of the room, but everyone was watching, waiting, waiting to see if he lived up to what they expected. He knew he wouldn’t, but he cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for this aw- w- w- for this recognition.” He started. He tried remembering every single bit of advice he’d been given on how to minimise it, but his head was blank. And anyway, the rising discomfort and anxiety in his chest as he saw people glance at each other at his stammering was going to completely counteract anything he tried. He kept it as brief, knowing it was probably too short, but he couldn’t get off the stage quickly enough. And then they moved on to some other award, and eyes were finally off him.

“Noah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise there would be a speech-” Gabriel said as Noah made it back to the table.
“It’s f-fine,” Noah said, sitting back down. The statuette was clutched so tightly in his hand it was starting to dig in, and he released it, stretching his hand a few times. He could feel Gabriel watching him for a few seconds, but his attention eventually turned back to the stage. As they announced the final few awards, Noah was restless, unable to concentrate or focus on anything around them. As the awards wrapped up, the hosts invited everyone to mingle and have a few drinks and canapes in the adjoining bar. As everyone moved, rushing to the bar at the promise of free food and alcohol, Noah slipped away, saying something about the bathroom to Gabriel. The bathroom was quiet and calm, exactly what Noah wanted and needed. He wet his hands and ran them down his face. For the half a moment his eyes were closed, he saw the barrel of the gun pointed at his face, saw his hands coated in blood- was it his own or someone else’s? He shook himself out of it, almost physically. He dug in his pockets, fishing out the pills he knew he had. There was one almost heart-stopping moment where he couldn’t feel them- and then his hand closed around the bottle. He tipped two out and swallowed them dry, taking a deep breath. And then he stashed them back in his pocket and headed back out towards the bar.


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hatch williams
the mechanic- #400026 - outfit

i wasn't born yesterday
a bloodsport but I'm a saint
it's time to consider
there are no winners

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Hatch hadn’t specifically received an invite to the awards ceremony, but an open invitation had been publicly issued for people to celebrate those who had been nominated and recognised. And the promise of free booze had been enough to lure Hatch into attending. And besides, she was curious to see the types of people who were getting recognised.

Choosing an outfit had taken her a while. She didn’t tend to get dressed up all that much and finding something she could actually stand wearing for a while was difficult. She’d contemplated a dress for a while, but nothing seemed right. And then she found the suit and everything fell into place. Roger looked confused for just a second as she stepped out of her room in heels and makeup. And then he jumped off the couch and ran towards the door.

“Not this evening, buddy.” He whined a little. “Trust me, buddy, I’d love to bring you, but don’t want to draw attention to myself. Not this evening. You look after the house for me, okay?”

By the time Hatch reached the hotel, she was fashionably late. She thought that she might have been out of luck with regards to getting a seat, but apparently the organisers had anticipated the demand as she was shown to a seat at the very back of the room. Her view of the stage was somewhat obscured, but that didn’t overly trouble her. She sat, her legs crossed, and watched the awards with some level of scepticism and interest.

They had an interesting range of awards for sure, and one thing that she noted was that the range of people that were being recognised was significantly broader than the old government would have recognised. There were people of all ages, all areas of the revolution, from all areas of the city. The focus seemed to be on bravery and loyalty, and things took a turn into the overly patriotic for Hatch. The speeches were at least kept brief and non-preachy. There were a few figures that she had heard mention of somewhere along the way, but none of them seemed to match what she imagined. One thing that struck her was the fact that none of them stood out. She'd walk past half of them in the street.

Eventually, the awards wrapped up, and Hatch followed the surge of people towards the bar. Her first priority was to get her hands on a glass of champagne, and then she turned to scan the room, seeing if there was anyone of interest to talk to. She new there had to be plenty, but scanning the room, nobody particularly stood out to her. She took a long sip of her champagne and stayed watching the room.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Danika Orlov Character Portrait: Damien Moore
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2.50 INK

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Damien had never worn such fine clothes. He could tell they hadn’t been worn much by how little give the fabric had when he moved. When they called his name to present the award he’d gone on stage just to say he wished to refuse the award, certain he was eliciting several inward groans from the crowd. He understood that people wanted to be celebrated, but he did not want applause for himself for doing the bare minimum - caring for others.

He’d planned to leave promptly after but then decided he’d hang around until after the event to see if they’d donate the leftovers to his Congregation. Not that they ever went hungry but it was rare for them to have a feast such as this event. Unable to refuse from a lifetime of food scarcity, every time a platter was offered with another tasty finger food he’d pop another into his mouth until he felt he might burst. Self-moderation had never been his strong suit no matter how hard he tried.
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Magnolia stared into her champagne flute, echoes of memories reflecting back at her. How many boxes of champagne had been spent to fuel frivolity while others hungered and here she was still engaging with frivolity. Of course she knew these people deserved celebration, hence her largely funding the awards. She had wanted to stay home, but of course the visual of one of the board members behind the awards being absent was unfavorable.

It had felt strange to sort through her closet. She hadn’t touched anything on the hangers in months, still zipped away in a joint garment bag stuffed out of sight. Everything she had seemed too extravagant, yet it didn’t seem appropriate to buy something new for the event. The heather silk lines of the bodice elongated her figure, dazzling golden embroidered flowers twinkling under the light. Once upon a time she would have scheduled an entire day at the salon before an event, complete with a bit self-pampering. After several failed attempts to style her hair, she’d thrown it all into a hair tie clipping a weave around the hair gathered atop her head and called it a day.

Since she’d arrived she’d hardly said a word, doing her best to be seen yet unnoticed. The others at her table had gone to mingle by the bar, Magnolia lingering behind nursing the shame glass of champagne she had been for the last half hour. It had always been a favorite of hers, but all she could remember was how the last time she’d had champagne she’d been toasting her father.

“Fuck this,” She finally mumbled under her breath, sliding the glass back onto the table and walking over to the bartender. “Do you have bourbon? Double, neat please.”

“Hard night?” Damien looked over at the slender woman beside him, eyebrow quirked.

“Aren’t they all?” Magnolia said more to herself than Damien. She hadn’t realized it was him until she looked over, though she supposed should have recognized his voice given he was on stage less than an hour ago. “Ahh, Father Damien...don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before.”

“We all know each other at this point,” Damien teased, taking Magnolia’s hand as she offered it. He knew who she was, had seen her in the news more than once. Why pretend to be strangers when the world has already made an introduction for them?

“I suppose so,” Magnolia offered a weak smile in return.

“Have a great night.” He didn’t have a drink, instead tipping his bottled water her way and giving a knowing grin. Damien knew when he made people uncomfortable. There were people who were drawn to him, and people who were skeptic. He could tell by the way the corner of her lips twitched downward that she was ill at ease around him. There was no sense in sticking around where you weren’t welcomed wholly.

“You too,” Magnolia said to the back of his head, watching as he walked out onto the balcony. She wasn’t surprised when Damien had denied his award. She hadn’t expected it but she wasn’t surprised. He was a radical guy by nature, she’d read his literature before. People like that had a hard time leaving the revolution behind, she could relate.

Damien found Danika looking out over the ruins of the city. Many buildings were still destroyed, some streets still blocked by rubble or barricades. Still when the sun set over it, the sky was painted in every shade imaginable.

“Never thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Damien said as he stepped beside her. He knew Danika had grown up going to events such as this. Damien wouldn’t have been able to even score a job serving drinks. He looked over to her, searching her expression to try to place where her mind was.

“Wanted to ask you if you like my speech?” Damien gave Danika a familiar smirk. She had always been the one to call him out when he transcended to a new level of pretentiousness, something he’d grown to appreciate. He had a feeling she’d have a few choice words about it.

The bartender still hadn’t come with Magnolia’s drink. She looked over to see them polishing glasses without a care in the world. Sighing heavily, she leaned over the bar trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Admittedly she’d grown used to people ignoring her, their own punishment in this strange world. After an incident at a cafe where a barista spat in her coffee before sliding it across the counter, Magnolia has mostly given up on ordering for things in person. Of course it was always in a moment of weakness she’d try again - always left in the same position.

“Magnolia Wrenley?” Said a voice from behind her. Enough people knew her at this event that she didn’t think twice when she turned around. Before she could even see the person, the contents of their drink splashing in her face. Bits of ice hit her skin with an cold slap, the sweet alcohol getting into her eyes before falling down onto the front of her dress.

She stood there in shock for a moment, security descending on the drink-thrower and dragging them off before Magnolia had a chance to wipe her eyes. Droplets were still clinging to her lashes but she didn’t need to see to know people were staring. Her mouth opened to speak, catching her words before they passed her lips, her tongue pushing along the corner of her lips. She could taste the makings of a cosmo, they didn’t even have the decency to throw a good drink at her.

“Here,” The bartender offered a towel, reaching across the bar to hand it to her. She took the towel, nodding with appreciation. Before they walked away they poured her bourbon, sliding it across the bar with a sheepish expression. Magnolia detested pity but in that moment was just thankful for a drink.

“Thanks.” Magnolia took a long drink, patting herself down with the towel. Thankfully she had no idea how to do make up like they used to do in the salon, and what make up she did wear had been waterproof. She supposed she should have gone to the bathroom to wash herself off but right now she just wanted to finish her bourbon.


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley
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5.00 INK

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I'm bad, as bad can be
So bad that it's hard to believe
Oh, what they say about me

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xxxxxxxxxOutfit ║ Hex: #A38E8E

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<3
The six months since the revolution had ended wasn’t as grand and glorious as people thought it would be. When the government finally fell and the rebels stood “victorious,” the struggle was far from over; people were still starving, still barely clinging onto life. Their motivation and faith from taking down the big bad guys had gone away, and now they had to focus on surviving and rebuilding. People called for executions and imprisonments for anyone that wasn’t on the rebels side, which included most officials and any of their cohorts; anyone who could be labeled as a traitor to the rebels. Camilla and her band were also under spotlight, but came to an agreement with the few people who stepped up to form a new council. After telling their story about being forced and threatened to do what the government said, which was the case for many people, Sophie’s Valentine was left off the hook, but once again under watchful eyes. Removing all propaganda from previous songs, and vowing to help support them going forward. The stage had changed, but the setlist was the same; Camilla and her band being told what to do and what not to do.

Camilla heard about the award ceremony happening, it was hard not to since it was the current thing being talked to by everyone. She didn’t want to go, but her bandmates and manager talked about how it could make them look for going. Cam didn’t care about the rebels and who they declared a hero and martyr but she knew it made sense to go, even if it was just to show face. Plus she had heard there would be some familiar faces and names would be going and Camilla would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least curious to see what was going on. There was also that most of these rarely went smoothly, and she was always up to see drama unfold, even sometimes getting caught up into it herself.

It didn’t take long for Cam to show up, deciding to go on her own instead of with the rest of the band. They would still be going, but she wanted some time to mingle a bit on her own and be a bit independent for the time being. She of course got dirty looks from some of the rebels, whispers of her actions, as if their actions were any more moral than hers. Everyone did what they had to do to survive, war wasn’t pretty or fair. Camilla met up with one of the council members when she arrived, well more so quickly approached and greeted by. They spoke of thanks for her coming and assurance that she and her band would be treated fairly. Cam just nodded and smiled to his face, but then rolled her eyes when he turned his back, quickly finding a place to lean up against as awards started.

Cam didn’t give much attention to what was going on on stage, but she was curious about hearing about the doctor she always heard infamously about back when she was being held captive. Dr. Noah Lawson. And what she saw was nothing of what he expected. She wondered how the government fell when him and some of the others here were the heroes “that brought down the government and led them into a new light.” Camilla was glad when they announced food and drinks would be served and quickly found her table, meeting up with her bandmates and the few people she knew didn’t want to see her executed. She mingled a bit before getting up to get a drink from the bar.

After flagging down the bartender to get a drink, she glanced across the room and quickly a face caught her eyes, and a bit surprised as well. Magnolia Wrenly. When the Revolution ended, she expected the whole Wrenly family to be imprisoned, but Magnolia came out mostly unscathed. It was told that she’s been a huge help to the council and even assisting in procuring resources from her family others couldn’t find. But Camilla wasn’t completely convinced, but she had no way of finding out, nor did she care too much. If more people were questioning why Magnolia, the daughter of Mo Wrenly, was still free, it meant less people questioning Camilla and Sophie’s Valentine. One of the only times when being in the spotlight wasn’t as good as being in the background.

Camilla turned her attention back to her martini and was taking a sip she heard a commotion to her side, and quickly catching the tail end of someone throwing their drink in Magnolia’s face. She let out a light chuckle, not because it was funny, but because she had been there multiple times, hence why she doesn’t dress in her best during these things anymore. Though watching the other patron get thrown out was a little humorous.

“What a waste of a drink.” Camilla said as she stepped up next to Magnolia. “Though you’ll get used to it. And soon enough after you return the favor by hitting them with your drink rather than splashing back, it will happen less often.” She continued, before taking another sip of her drink, turning back to the stage that was now empty with only a podium left on it. “And to think, you wouldn’t have gotten a drink splashed in your face if your father was alive and our-, his side had won. This ceremony would still be happening, Sophie’s Valentine would be on stage playing music, but instead of awards for saving people the awards would be for putting down the rebellion.” Cam turned back to Magnolia staring at her and pausing for a second. She then reached into her pocket and grabbed a handkerchief. Red with the name Sophie embroidered. “Should help a bit more than that trashy towel.” Camilla said, still no smile on her face as she left the cloth with Magnolia and walked away, swirling her drink in her hand. Another patron caught her eye, but instead of one that would make her smile, it just caused a devious curl of her lip.

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(EL-P: Deep Space 9mm) Hex #000000 Outfit

Scott pulled up to the awards ceremony in a fairly run of the mill Lincoln Towncar, looked to be a 2070, a year before they dropped the roof height and shrank the rims by an inch. He did his best to keep his affinity for ancient items hidden. He hopped out and gave the valet a nod before tossing his keys over to the well dressed attendant. "Thanks cuz" Scott spoke softly on the way towards the oversized doors of the building hosting the awards ceremony. Scott wasn't nominated, or a party member, but the words open bar had stuck in his head as he read the invitation just a few hours earlier.


"'Sup Reg" Scott greeted the bouncer on his way into the building. It didn't take long to find the bar, and even less time for the bartender to turn his head towards Scott. "What can I get cha there buddy?" The bartender sounded almost cartoonish.
"Triple of Bushmills Black, one ice cube" Scott spoke distinctly, so as to impose the seriousness of the specificity of the drink. All too often, careless bartenders wouldn't listen, and put two or three ice cubes, destroying the integrity of the liquor, and that was not what Scott needed tonight, free booze was the only reason he came, sitting in a room with these suits wasn't his ideal evening. As Scott turned his head down towards the rest of the hall, he saw a few others who caught his eye. Doubtful they knew him, but he knew who they were. Camilla Rhodes and a Wrenley, he looked over for a split second, hoping they wouldn't recognize him. He ordered a second drink, and approached the stage, taking a seat at an open seat, next to the engineer, Miles. Best cover is being busy.

"Miles the machinist." Scott paused for several seconds, before continuing his sentence. "Wouldn't have expected to see you here. Thought you'd be uptown, back at the lab. You been alright?"

Scott knew Miles wouldn't have survived if he had've turned the Facists down. Then again, dying for what you believe is what made the revolution stronger than the oppressor's. Either way, this wasn't the place for conflicts, so Scott spoke to Miles with respect, albeit Scott wasn't sure he could be trusted, so best to keep it light, small talk, and do everything he can to avoid the gaze of the Wrenley Daughter, as well as avoiding Camilla's eye. Scott was unsure of what they knew entirely, but they knew enough about Scott's involvement on both sides of the coin to have a distaste.

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Character Portrait: Danika Orlov Character Portrait: Damien Moore Character Portrait: Blake Langston
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ImageBlake had absolutely zero care for social events and even more so when they were getting something. The revolution had been bad enough, but now they wanted to remind everyone of it by having a big party where people could get a piece of paper or metal to boast around in their house, but all it would be would be the sad reminder that people had lost their lives, people were suffering mentally and yet people like them still had no home.

Despite Blake’s obvious hostility towards the event they figured they would go. It was best to present yourself in a social situation and at least play nice, but that wasn’t a skill set that they had, Blake was incredibly blunt and to a point.

Yet they had still managed to get a dress that was just above the knees. It was black and sleek while it hugged their body a little, but also left a comfortable room. Buttons went down the entire thing, similar buttons to what you’d find on a suit jacket. Blake would dress up, but they were not changing out their black Balenciaga sneakers for any other kind of shoe.

They had been seated with a glass of champagne in hand as the awards were being handed out. There were a lot of them and various people were getting them. Blake couldn’t help, but notice that Magnolia was among the people here tonight, which was a bit of a piss off.

ImageDanika sat next to Blake Langston and noticed they seemed mildly perturbed. “Penny for your thoughts?" She inquired as Blake Langston had been quite intriguing and a big name in the revolution.

“I am over it. Don’t want to be here.” Blake said as they began to swish around the liquid in their tall glass as the stem sat nestled between their fingers.

“You are welcome here, but if you really hate it return home?" She suggested to the short haired individual.

“Perhaps, but not much to return home to. Might as well dress up like Barbie and accept my stupid award.” With that the contents of champagne went down their throat smoothly.

“You do not have to accept it. It is your choice on what you do.” With that Danika got up from her seat as they began bringing out the other awards.

Danika did not particularly care to sit and watch people be tormented with awards. That poor doctor that ended up stuttering. Instead she sipped on her scotch as she made it out to the balcony for fresh air. She could hear more awards being announced, but the end did not seem in sight for some time.

She did keep the door open so she could continue listening at the least. She heard a few people give actual speeches, but she wasn’t prepared for the one she heard from Blake.

“I would like to say thank you for this award tonight, but to be perfectly honest I don’t even want this stupid thing. Is this supposed to mend things after everything that happened? Is this an ‘I’m sorry I spent money that should have gone to you on these flashy awards instead.’ It is utter bullshit. This will not magically make my night terrors go away, this will not make those lives lost be found again. Maybe instead of a fancy awards show you guys should be doing more work to better this shit hole. “ With that Blake chucked the award into the audience somewhere, not really caring for much else as they walked off the stage and headed towards the bar.

As Blake was ordering an Irish coffee, they noticed Damien makin his way over to the balcony where Danika was

“And here you are.” Danika said to Damien as he stepped next to her. Her entire life was filled with events like these and it sucked, but it taught her to be social with people. “These things are not usually so outrageous and dramatic, but the aftermath of a revolution I would presume.”

Danika was comfortable in Damien’s presence. She knew any opinions she had she didn’t have to keep them so under lock and key.

“Your speech? It was simply divine.” She said with a bit of a chuckle as she pressed her lips to the rim of her glass and tilted it back so the contents could hit her taste buds. “It would appear that many people were not a fan of the awards this evening, but I am not surprised.” She said, shaking her head slightly.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night? I cannot imagine you would actually want to stay.” Danika said with a bit of a laugh.

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Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Miles Caal
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Ryan had been to a few events like this: he used to cover them. You show up, take a couple pictures, do a little eavesdropping, write a piece about how good the speeches were and how happy you were for all the award recipients, and that was it. He learned pretty early on not to dress a certain way, or else you might be mistaken for the event staff, which was a hassle that he’d once preferred to avoid.

The past six months hadn’t been easy; Ryan wanted his life to go back to normal, but it had become increasingly obvious that wasn’t going to happen. Either no one wanted to deal with him at all, or they wanted more out of him than he wanted to give. So far he’d survived by selling some of his unused shots from the revolution- some of his shots had turned out to be a bit too artistic for rogue news websites. He would have preferred to go back to being unknown by everyone besides the sorts of people that actually cared about the sports and entertainment pieces published to the media streams.

He’d been invited to this event. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be there, or that he even deserved to be there. In his mind, he hadn’t done anything extraordinary; he’d done what anyone who had the nerve to call themself a journalist should have done, he told the truth. Apparently his work had helped catch the attention of the governments who’d sent aid to the revolution. The seemingly endless work he’d done in those long months had accomplished something, at least.

Ryan knew many of the people who were receiving awards: he’d taken their pictures, heard their stories, in one case his pictures had brought major attention to them in the first place. Ryan genuinely felt bad for Noah; while he couldn’t begin to understand what it was like, he did know how uncomfortable being put on the spot could be. How you never forgot the way the other children mocked you when your ears turned red, your eyes welled with tears, and you couldn’t spit out the words no matter how badly you wanted to. Some people refused their awards, and Ryan could understand their reasonings. He felt very much the same, in some ways. When called up to receive his own award, Ryan looked visibly uncomfortable. All those eyes on him made him wish he could run and hide; he stared wistfully at a fire escape, wondering if he could make it out before someone stopped him to ask if he was okay. He also considered using the moment as a platform to speak up about how disappointed he’d been in journalism in Scarmouth, how so many people should be ashamed, and how little faith he truly had in the new leadership.

Instead, he graciously accepted the award. “This is very nice... I’ll try to make sure my cat doesn’t break it.” Someone chuckled. Ryan hadn’t meant to make a joke. He grew a little more uncomfortable, and it struck him that this was the first award he’d ever received for his work. He wasn’t sure this was what he wanted to be known for. He wasn’t sure he ever really wanted to make a name for himself in the first place. He also knew he probably needed to say something else, “I, uh…” Why was it so hot? Was he speaking too quickly? He was speaking too quickly. “I did nothing more than what I felt I had to do, but thank you.”

Once all the awards were finally distributed, Ryan, like everyone else, made a beeline for the bar. Being the homebody he was, he never got out much, and he didn’t really know what to ask for. He wound up with some fruity monstrosity- tasted pretty good, though. He wasn’t really sure what to do with himself, but he saw Noah and made his way over. “Hello,” He said, and after a beat, “It's nice to see you again.” Ryan had never just attended an event like this, and Noah was the person in the room he felt most comfortable with at that moment. Whether this was a good or bad thing had yet to be seen.


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When you’re given a chance to integrate back into society- especially after a particularly bloody (and successful!) uprising- you take it. Attending a stuffy awards ceremony for the very people you’d once actively worked against seemed like a strange decision, but Miles knew he wasn’t that important. Not really. So he went to the award ceremony. These were the heroes of the revolution, and ultimately they weren’t all that impressive. (Well, aside from Damien. Sure, he turned down the award, but good for him.) Nobody seemed larger than life, several seemed like they would rather be anywhere else. Something about seeing it all laid out in front of him like that made him feel like perhaps he hadn’t done enough.

He thought about just leaving after the awards were given out, but there was something about fancy party food that was impossible to pass up. The free booze wasn’t really his thing, but Miles had never let himself feel ashamed for sipping a diet coke at a party before, and he wasn’t about to start now. As it were, he was pretty content to sit back for a time. There was plenty to take in, after all. Sad as it may have been, Miles knew that if life had played out how it was “supposed” to, he’d be very used to events like these. And probably in prison. Sometimes things really do work out, in the end.

Two things happened: first, Miles spotted Magnolia, and considered walking over to say hello. Then Camilla Rhodes approached Magnolia. An interesting mixture of dread and anxiety filled Miles’ stomach, and he immediately knew that there was no way he was going to go anywhere near that if he could help it. Cam was likely to be on her best behavior, but Miles was sure nothing good would come of it.

Second, someone came and took the empty seat next to his. Now, in years past, this wouldn’t have bothered Miles in the slightest. Now? He was in a room full of people, and though he knew he could leave whenever he wanted, he was beginning to feel a little trapped. He didn’t know if this would pass, if he would ever get used to being free again. He shot Scott a look that pretty accurately communicated his thoughts: ‘what do you want?’

Pretty quickly, though, Miles thought he understood: Scott wanted to sit down with someone nobody here would be looking for. If you look busy enough, people will leave you alone. It’s true at work, parties, the grocery store. So he smiled; bright, brilliant, and genuine enough that most people wouldn’t question it. “I think I would rather be at the lab right now, but you know how I live to disappoint.” He leaned over so he could speak lower and still be heard, “We’re all adjusting, aren’t we?” Other than that, he mostly dodged the question of how he’d been: the past year of his life had been a nightmare followed by some kind of listless twilight. Things were starting to look up for him now, but it wasn’t hard to guess that Miles had had a rough go at life, lately.

He shrugged, settling back into his seat, “But enough about me,” He said, as if he had actually said anything personal or noteworthy, ”What about yourself?”

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Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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When Magnolia heard the pop star’s voice, her chest clenched with anticipation of her wrath. Though the heiress was no stranger to being disliked just for who she was - she wasn’t sure how much more she would be able to politely endure. Kindness had never been Camilla’s agenda, though maybe she’d just wanted to get close enough to see if Magnolia was crying. She made no attempt of smiling at Camilla’s joke that Magnolia would one day be able to stop the attacks on her by retaliating herself - as if Magnolia ever had the option of self-defense.

“And to think, you wouldn’t have gotten a drink splashed in your face if your father was alive and our-, his side had won. This ceremony would still be happening, Sophie’s Valentine….” Camilla’s words faded out after that, Magnolia repeating those same five words over and over to herself.

If your father was alive.

Her glass threatened to give under her tightened grip. It was like Camilla had triggered sleep mode, only the core functions left running but nothing really processing. It was the only way to keep the image of her father gurgling his last breath out of her thoughts. Taking the embroidered handkerchief with a look of confusion, she could see Camilla’s lips move but her mind was already elsewhere - her psyche going into survival mode.

As fast as she had come, she left - leaving behind a path of destruction and an embroidered piece of fine linen. Magnolia left seething in Camilla’s wake. She clenched the cloth before throwing it aside in anger. Her thoughts came rushing in all at once, all the things she wished she could have said - processing Camilla’s words belatedly. Wincing, she raised a hand to her temples feeling the oncoming signs of a stress headache.

‘If you only knew why he’s not alive anymore.’ She thought to herself, wishing she could ever say the words aloud. Accidentally slamming down her now empty glass harder than she intended, Magnolia offered the bartender an apologetic expression - but they were too preoccupied making drinks to even notice.

A half empty bottle of wine left on the other end of Magnolia’s eye. It was an open bar but she was well past the time of waiting between each drink. She went to walk around to grab the bottle discretely and detour to the bathroom - a familiar profile causing her to pause.

Of course Magnolia had known there was a possibility that Miles would show but she was surprised all the same to see him. She almost smiled, forgetting for a moment the disaster that was the last seven minutes. Obscured by the crowd, she couldn’t see who he was talking to - if he’d come with someone, maybe. He gave them a big smile before leaning in, Magnolia inching along the edge of the crowd trying to peek through the windows between the people to make out who was holding Miles’ attention.

‘What are you doing?’ Magnolia shook her head at herself, huffing under her breath. Insecurity was a new emotion for her, quickly thrown from the veil of adoration into being one of the most detested free people of the State. It was enough to give anyone a bit whiplash.

Plan A it was then.

Magnolia made sure no one was looking when she snuck an arm around to grab the wine. She scuttled into the bathroom making sure to hold the bottle low to obscure it along the length of her leg. There were a couple people washing their hands and adjusting their makeup in the mirror when she walked in, quickly locking herself in one of the stalls. The cork had been haphazardly pushed back into the bottle, Magnolia ripping it out and throwing it at the ground before drinking straight from the bottle. Groaning in frustration because she couldn’t scream, she angrily tapped at her PCU dialing Samar’s number. When it went to voicemail, she turned on holo so that he’d get the full visual of her misery sitting on the toilet drinking wine straight from the bottle.

“Hey, Samar.” Magnolia sighed heavily, then taking a long drink. She could hear the two who’d been at the mirror leave, emboldening her to fully submit to her self-pity. “So, in case you are thinking about bailing on me - I have locked myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine. I am not coming out either until you arrive, or until I need more alcohol.”

She considered telling him about someone throwing a drink at her, but decided instead she’d rather save it to guilt him with later in case he did end up bailing. “No one will even know you were ever here, it’s so crowded and people are drinking it’ll be like a frat house within the hour. Message me when you’re here, please - okay? Byee.”

Taking another long drink as she signed off, Magnolia slumped against the wall behind her. She had spent plenty of events just getting drunk in the bathroom before, those nights had rarely ended with grace. Maybe if she just stayed here for a while, she could make one last round in the room and just head home. No one would blame her, though the press would be sure to spin it into something if she was caught by them on the way out.

Admittedly, sneaking in an exiled radical to be her drinking buddy wasn’t the best plan. She and Samar both had their crosses to bear but both of them were worthy of praise, of celebration. Besides, most of these people knew their debts to Samar - what they owed him. He deserved his moment in the light, even if it was stolen.

Magnolia sat there for what felt like a while, or rather until the wine was finished. She used the toilet paper to dab at what remained of the drink on her dress, frowning when the residue of the drink left a shadow. As materialistic as it made her feel, she didn’t have much left from her life before. Not that she wanted to cling to those things, but she wasn’t quite ready to let go. She peeped out of the stall to double check she was alone, then quickly tossing out the now empty bottle. Using a combination of soap, water, paper towels and a hand dryer - she managed to wash out the stain. Wiping herself down with the moistened towelettes, she could still feel a bit of the residue of the drink on her skin but at least she was no longer sticky.

“Alright now, little dove.” She said to herself in the mirror, mimicking her mother’s tone and intonation. “You are a Wrenley. You will carry your head high, never let them see you falter.”

Repeating the words back to herself, they sounded wrong. It was the same speech her mother gave her every time Magnolia dared to express self-doubt. What pride was there anymore in a name so befouled? She gripped the sink as she leaned in closer to the mirror, examining her eyes intently - checking for weaknesses in her expression. Caught in her own reflection, she nearly jumped out her skin when she heard the creak of the door open. Shrinking into her own shadow, she blended into the wall behind her. The two stumbling into the bathroom didn’t even notice her, giggling as they followed one another into one of the stalls. Magnolia sighed with relief, leaning back against the wall.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

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Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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Samar stared at his watch, the device lit up with the ‘replay’ command and a still of Nola’s unsmiling face. She looked truly miserable- and maybe she deserved it for thinking that going to that party was anywhere near the realm of good ideas.

He wasn’t going.

He’d told her that already- when she’d asked him in her office, when she’d ‘dropped by’ with dinner and a request for him to join, when she’d called him yesterday and slyly asked what he was wearing. He’d told her sweatpants and a beer-stained shirt and hung up. Samar wasn’t surprised she was trying to guilt-trip him now with her sad bathroom pity party. He had half a mind to call, tell her to fuck off, and get belligerent drunk here on his own.

Pulling himself up, he looked around the semi-clean living room with contempt and boredom. The tv was off- it was all coverage of the award ceremony and he couldn’t stand to see the stupid speeches and close-up shots of the cities new celebrities. Samar had watched two seconds of Noah’s awkward speech and cringed so badly he’d slammed the off button and decided the ceiling was far more interesting. Until Nola had called- which he’d ignored- and then left him the most tragic looking holo-mail he’d ever received.

“If you get alcohol poisoning in the bathroom it’ll end up on the news”, He messaged her, standing up with the audible cracking of his spine as he stretched and shuffled towards the staircase.

“Stop being so difficult - you know you’re going to be drinking yourself into a stupor either way. There is unlimited food and booze here. Just put on the suit in your closet, get your ass down here and I promise I will never ask you for a favor ever again.” Samar glared down at Nola’s message, then up at the suit bag hanging in his bedroom closet like it had been there the whole time. Which meant she’d snuck past him while sleeping (or passed out) and drug this thing up his stairs and safely in his closet without him noticing.

“You piss me the fuck off”, He replied back to her, then unzipped the bag and pulled out a modern black suit with satin lapels and a skinny tie. Of course Nola would pick him something out that looked so irritatingly perfect just on a hanger. She probably somehow knew his measurements and everything.

-----

Samar hated that he was here.

The awards were over by the time he arrived, so the majority of the guests were bustling near the hors d’oeuvres, trying to steal the attention of the overworked bartender, or mingling in groups scattered across the large room. He eyed the room with a single-minded aversion that made him want to turn around immediately and recluse back to his dark living room.

A few people might recognize him here, but he was hoping the majority were too wrapped up in the event to pay another man in a dark suit any mind. He’d seen Noah on the tv earlier, so the doctor was probably present and very much unhappy with all the attention. He was happy to see Scott tucked away in the corner, he hadn't seen him since the last day of the revolution and hadn’t been sure if he’d made it out okay. Samar avoided being noticed though, preferring to steer clear of the prescribed small talk of these gatherings in favor of tracking down the annoying little devil in his life.

“Where the fuck are you?” He whispered a message to Nola into his watch, shuffling uncomfortably and continuing to run his gaze over the crowd without making eye contact.

Samar’s phone instantly pinged back a photo of Nola standing at the bar pouting with the bartender clearly ignoring her in the background. He glanced over at the crowded bar on the far side of the room, sighed the disgruntled anger of a 70-year-old man, and made his way over.

Nola was loosely perched on a barstool, very much within the eye line of the bartender but very clearly being overlooked in favor of other guests. Samar squeezed up next to her, ignoring the irritation of the man next to him, and spun Nola’s chair towards him.

“Did you finish that entire bottle yourself?”

“Samar!” Nola said a bit louder than she intended, a look of relief washing over her expression. “Look at you! You’re so cute in your little suit!” She poked at the buttons of his jacket, her lips upturned into a smile that answered Samar’s question very clearly.

“I am not cu- no listen fuck. This is why I drink in private, this whole shit is being televised Nol” He pushed her finger away from his button and pointed over at a camera interviewing some of the guests, “You're a goddamn mess, that's my role”

Nola looked over to the camera then back to Samar before shrugging, waving off his concerns. That little voice in the back of her head repeated his words back to her, reminding herself of her obligation to her business to maintain some sort of decorum. Unfortunately, that voice was deafened by the reminder that no matter how hard she tried, their perception of her would never change. Every day was spent distracting herself from this fact by trying to help others - but she was tired. She just wanted to stop caring, even if just for a little bit.

“No one’s looking at us, loosen up. I’m just here for the optics. No one’s interviewing me - I’m not one of the good guys, remember?” Her tone was upbeat but her words hollow. Propping herself up on the bar and looking back to Samar with a mischievous expression, she gestured over her shoulder. “Now...how about you stop being a grump and go on and order us a couple drinks.”

They glared at each other for an exaggerated amount of time before he obviously caved first and leaned forward to signal for the bartender. Nola was right- the cameras were here for people like Noah and all the others that had ‘contributed their lives to the cause’. He might as well drink their alcohol, eat their food, and get what he could before he went back to doing nothing.

He ordered them two bourbons neat and a shot each, not even trying to pretend like he wasn’t ordering just to get drunk. Nola was already swaying on her stool and although he’d started the day with a beer, he’d need a lot more than that to catch up. Once their drinks were in hand, they finished off the shots quickly and he pushed her out of her seat in favor of one of the unoccupied standing tables.

“Wait - where are we going?” Nola asked while he led her from the bar, though she didn’t resist his direction she did look back at the bar with big doe eyes. Now in the thick of the crowd it was easier to blend in, but Nola still preferred the comfort of the bar. Admittedly, she felt a lot less isolated knowing Samar was there to have her back - even if it was begrudgingly.

“You clean up nice, you know.” She said with an all-knowing smirk. “You should try it more often.”

He forcibly put her drink in her hand, cheersed it, and drank almost half of his, “I have literally never worn a suit and I will not be doing it again” His eyes danced across the crowd, avoiding catching anyone's gaze but also making sure no one he knew had noticed him yet, “So are you gonna explain why you were drinking an entire bottle of wine in the bathroom by yourself at the party that you basically funded?”

Magnolia’s expression wilted, rolling her eyes dramatically as she sighed. “Do we really have to go into it?”

His glare told her that it was indeed necessary, especially given the lengths she’d just made him go through to come here with no context. She pursed her lips, already annoyed with what his response would be. "First of all, it was not an ’entire’ bottle of wine. As for the why… I mean it’s honestly a bit comical in retrospect. Someone threw their drink at me. Like I’ve only seen that in movies. It was this whole scene and they were kicked out." Magnolia looked down, biting the inside of her lip to keep the image of her father out of her mind before continuing. "Then Camilla Rhodes, you know from Sophie's Valentine? She made some comment about my dad, it was so stupid - but..."

Her sentence trailed off, Nola staring into the crowd directionless for a moment before snapping back to Samar. “But, then I drank a lot of wine and I’ve got to say - I think I need to be doing this more often.”

He hated that he wasn’t more surprised. No one was ever going to throw a drink at him, but he hated the idea of whispers behind his back and uncomfortable looks. Samar never wanted to be somewhere he wasn’t wanted. But Nola…. she’s been doing that exact thing since he’d met her. Hell, he’d even hated her, until he realized how much work she did to right her family's wrongs. But even after the revolution was over and their city was finally peaceful, Magnolia was still trying to right her name.

“Rhodes being a bitch is the thing that finally gets you to drink? Shit. You get pissed at me when I drink like that, remember that next time you're trying to take the whiskey away”, He glared into the crowd like he was glaring at the fake idol musician herself, “Out of anyone, Camilla Rhodes is the one person that should not be at an award ceremony for war heroes. I still don’t get how she didn’t end up in a cell”

Magnolia gestured to interject, grasping for the millions of intangibilities that led to her quick spiral, but the words were too hard to string together in this state. It wasn’t just Camilla, it was everything that led up to that moment that pushed her to the edge - Camilla just happily pushed her over. She shook her head, looking into her drink then back at Samar.

“Plenty of people say the same about me,” and you. Magnolia let the implication sit between them, shrugging her shoulders. She knew all too well the dirty details that bound Sophie’s Valentine to the elite. As much as the pop star was a thorn in her side, Magnolia still felt the guilt of her father's action forcing her to just take it. She finally took a drink of her bourbon, suddenly aware of the tipping scale of her blood alcohol level.

“Oo - yeah, you need to take some of this.” Magnolia poured some of her bourbon into Samar’s glass, spilling some onto both of them. She winced, mocking an apologetic expression before taking another baby sip from her drink.

He really didn’t care much for the spilled bourbon on his cuff, ignoring it in favor of his partially refilled glass. Samar was tempted to down it, toss aside tonight's issues with a few more drinks, shit-talk the guests into Nola’s ear, and then end it with a bleary cab ride home. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was second-guessing his usual charade- possibly because of the drunk sad girl in front of him, possibly because of the particular crowd he was surrounded by.

Samar had never expected to win any trophies. He’d known what he was getting himself into when he’d chosen this role, his uncle had helped him understand there was no parade for their breed of revolutionary. But standing here in the corner with Magnolia Wrenley- someone who did deserve the utmost praise- Samar felt the slight sting of jealousy. Not for some stupid piece of metal he’d throw in a box and forget, but for the comradery amongst the winners. Six months ago he’d been present at the cease-fire and tonight he’d had to sneak his way in after the main show.

"Alright", Samar finished off his drink and set down his glass harshly, "Fuck this. If I'm going to be here, I'm not sitting in the corner like some sad asshole. Come on".

View All »Arcs

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Scarmouth

Scarmouth by partially-stars

A city slowly rebuilding itself.

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View All » Add Character » 14 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Noah Lawson
Character Portrait: Hatch Williams
Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi
Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes
Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley
Character Portrait: Danika Orlov
Character Portrait: Miles Caal
Character Portrait: Damien Moore
Character Portrait: Blake Langston
Character Portrait: Samar Chopra

Newest

Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
Samar Chopra

Every society has the criminals it deserves.

Character Portrait: Damien Moore
Damien Moore

"I'm just looking out for my people."

Character Portrait: Miles Caal
Miles Caal

are you happy with the choice you made?

Character Portrait: Danika Orlov
Danika Orlov

"Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.|"

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley
Magnolia Wrenley

Are we what we do? What we say? What we want? Who even knows...

Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes
Camilla Rhodes

"People think they know all the facts, in reality, they know nothing"

Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi
Ryan Joshi

It has to be done, and somebody's got to do it.

Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
Scott Feltikk

don't pick the right side, pick the profitable side.

Character Portrait: Hatch Williams
Hatch Williams

"pretty like a car crash."

Trending

Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi
Ryan Joshi

It has to be done, and somebody's got to do it.

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley
Magnolia Wrenley

Are we what we do? What we say? What we want? Who even knows...

Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
Scott Feltikk

don't pick the right side, pick the profitable side.

Character Portrait: Miles Caal
Miles Caal

are you happy with the choice you made?

Character Portrait: Noah Lawson
Noah Lawson

"Some things, you just can't speak about."

Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes
Camilla Rhodes

"People think they know all the facts, in reality, they know nothing"

Character Portrait: Hatch Williams
Hatch Williams

"pretty like a car crash."

Character Portrait: Damien Moore
Damien Moore

"I'm just looking out for my people."

Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
Samar Chopra

Every society has the criminals it deserves.

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Hatch Williams
Hatch Williams

"pretty like a car crash."

Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
Scott Feltikk

don't pick the right side, pick the profitable side.

Character Portrait: Miles Caal
Miles Caal

are you happy with the choice you made?

Character Portrait: Damien Moore
Damien Moore

"I'm just looking out for my people."

Character Portrait: Danika Orlov
Danika Orlov

"Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.|"

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley
Magnolia Wrenley

Are we what we do? What we say? What we want? Who even knows...

Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi
Ryan Joshi

It has to be done, and somebody's got to do it.

Character Portrait: Noah Lawson
Noah Lawson

"Some things, you just can't speak about."

Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes
Camilla Rhodes

"People think they know all the facts, in reality, they know nothing"


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Scarmouth

Scarmouth by partially-stars

A city slowly rebuilding itself.

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