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Samar Chopra

Every society has the criminals it deserves.

0 · 207 views · located in Scarmouth

a character in “Blinding Lights”, as played by Ivisbo

Description

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NAMExx Samar ChopraGENDERXXMale
NICKNAMESXXSamNATIONALITYXX Indian-American
AGEXX 28HEX XX #b10127
SEXUALITYXXHeterosexual/Unclear

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ImageAPPERANCE



H E I G H TXANDXB U I L D: 6′ 4″ , athletic


He’s never put any thought into his looks. Samar is handsome but in that careless sort of way that involves minimal showers, three-day-old shirts, and constantly overgrown facial hair. He bathes when he can tell he needs it and trims his ever-growing beard when he decides the mess is more difficult than the care. His dark hair is always in some sort of disarray, which he either fixes with a fast wet comb or a ball cap. He wears mostly athletic wear in various shades of black and grey- joggers, hoodies, plain t-shirts (occasionally with some very unknown bands horrible graphic gracing the front), and either boots or sneakers.

During the revolution, Samar took moderately better care of himself. He kept his hair trim and facial hair cut short, worked out routinely twice a day, and managed to keep up a healthier diet than most. Most of those habits died with the war, but he still manages to roll out of bed for a run every day. Samar’s smoking has doubled now that his mind is idle, so he usually had a pack or two tucked in a jacket pocket nearby.

He held himself differently during the revolution, like the constant stress gave his shoulders something to hold themselves up for. He was bigger, stronger, more imposing. People look one look at him and understood the choices he was willing to make. Now he's... softer looking. Not mellowed, more like a fire that's struggling to keep burning. He slumps into chairs, leans back rather than forward, and looks the other direction when people call his name.


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Samar’s personality has to be split between the two astronomical parts of his life. Revolution and Post-Revolution.

Revolution Samar was pure passion. His passionate hatred for the government and those that lay with them was borderline pathological, and obsession so intense that he had no qualms doing whatever it took to get there. To him, anyone that was associated with the government was guilty, whether they got in his way didn’t matter much to him. His morals were hazy, so hazy that he was often the one chosen for the missions no one else was willing to do. He rarely said no and rarely put himself first.

Samar’s high opinion of himself as a successful anarchist was one of the reasons he developed such a name for himself within the organization. He was confident, prideful, and never seemed to fail when he set his mind on a mission.

Despite that intensity during the Revolution, Samar’s passion made him roguishly charming, magnetic, inspiring to be around. He was generally friendly to those within the revolution and sympathetic to anyone that had their lives torn apart by the government. He clearly cared for those that were on his side and was willing to lay down his life to ensure their victory and survival.

Post-Revolution Sam is barely a blip of what he was six months ago. All his passion has turned to apathy, his intensity into boredom. He cares for watching the news on volume 80, making sure his fridge has a couple 6-packs, and that he has at least one pair of clean underwear in the house. His old charming wit has turned to extreme sarcasm, his proclivity for violence usually ending in drunken brawls. He’s always been private and independent, but it's now glaringly obvious that he isn’t very good at functioning on his own within a normal society. Samar was raised within the revolution movement, his entire life was anarchy from the moment his uncle decided a kid could toss a rock just as well as an adult. When asked about his Post-Revolution profession, he stretches the truth around the various hobbies he’s attempted and immediately dismissed. As the days go by, it's becoming more and more clear that Samar wasn’t truly a person outside of the revolution and he now has to figure out who that person is.


Q U I R K SXA N DXO D D I T I E S:
He smokes, constantly, and if he's not careful about it the smoke clings to him.
He tries new hobbies and immediately hates them. Woodworking was boring, writing was egotistical, cooking felt like a chore.

F E A R S:
Being useless, which he is currently living right now. Who needs a washed-up radical anarchist answering their boring 9-5?

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ImageHISTORY

As far back as Samar can remember, he’s always been with his uncle Aryan. His parents died before he knew how to remember them, but Aryan made sure that he filled Samar’s childhood with the love that two parents could give. He thought the world of his uncle, even if the man had to keep his face hidden from cameras in public and rarely ventured out in the middle of the day. Samar gradually became aware of his uncle's job within the earliest forms of the revolution- the gadgets that he brought him were the tinkerings of bombs, the closet he wasn’t allowed in was a gun cabinet. His uncle talked to him when he worked from home- sharing protesting stories, of why Samar should never trust the government, of Aryan’s hopes of Samar joining him one day. So like any kid with a hero to look up to, Samar chose to be Aryan.

He fell into the revolution easily and found the rest of his family there. Aryan treated him like an understudy and took Samar to all the early meetings and war-room discussions. And then one day, at a demonstration that turned violent and the two were separated, Aryan never came home. After a week of waiting by the door, Samar came to the conclusion of where his uncle probably ended up. If he wasn't dead, he probably wished he was at this point.

He threw himself into his uncle’s position and took the reins with no qualms or reservations. Aryan was known as the man that got the job done no matter what, so that was what Samar became as well. Samar was extreme, always the voice of violence, but he believed that was the only way to get them seen. Many believed him too radical, but they also knew that getting rid of someone with greyed morals would only be detrimental to the cause.

Getting himself involved with the Wrenley girl was a turning point for him and his ability to actually make an impactful attack against the politicians that fought against them. She gave him everything he needed- he didn’t trust her, but he was beyond helpful and a necessary risk. And when she gave him Senator Costa’s itinerary and address, complete with a detailed explanation of his compound… Samar had always known that Costa had been responsible for the disappearance of his uncle, so it had been no question that he would strike. After the explosion, he’d been apathetic to the deaths of the senators' family, sure that they had deserved it in some capacity for sticking around.

When the revolution ended, Samar was so focused the first week on clean up that he hadn’t had time to think about what that all meant. The revolution didn’t truly want him involved in the structural organization going forward- he was just an anarchist now, though he’d always known it would end up this way. So he’d gone home. Home meant regular dishes, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, and vacuuming. It meant waking up in the morning and sleeping at night, it meant finding a job, it meant dating, buying new sheets, magnets in your fridge, a house plant cause he was around to water it regularly. It meant all the shit he’d been fighting so hard to allow everyone to have and he hated all of it.

So instead he’d ordered a pizza, drank two six-packs, turned off the lights, and put the tv on high while news of the new world he’d helped create rang through his living room.

So begins...

Samar Chopra's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes 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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Samar Chopra Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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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.

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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".

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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.co-written by. maci-care
xxxx.featuring. ivisbo

The party had already begun to devolve from assigned seating to clusters throughout the venue, each varying degrees of a drunken stupor. Some had managed to maintain a semblance of composure, though most of the sensical sorts had already left. The stiff formality of ceremony had passed, the free flowing bar working it’s influence on those who remained.

Despite the rough start to the night, Magnolia was actually enjoying herself. She’d almost completely forgotten her crash and burn earlier, though that was probably the bourbon doing it’s thing. She was laughing a bit too much, talking a bit too loud, moving a bit too languid. In the sea of faces and figures it was easy to go unseen, her and Samar navigating along the fringes of the conversations. It was the closest she’d been to anonymity for years, making her buzz with a sort of giddy excitement as they bounced around.

They wouldn’t stay in one place for too long, something else catching Magnolia’s attention causing her to drift - Samar always making sure to gripe that he wasn’t there to babysit her as she dragged him around. Small talk was dull anyways, Magnolia would indulge as much on any other day. Always ready to put on the performance. People never knew what to talk to her about, her reputation a shadow on the conversation. She’d moved past caring .05% blood alcohol levels ago.

“If I have to have one more fake conversation about the economy, I think I’m just going to throw myself off that balcony.” She said in a hushed tone to Samar, pivoting them to exit another excruciating conversation.

Samar snorted, “I’ll just start bribing up communism and taking down our economy next time, that’ll shut them up” He grinned at her around his almost empty glass and pointed over at a be-speckled man with a severe scowl, deep in a long one sided conversation that had him gesturing wildly, “That guy would love to hear my thoughts on a radical reset of the global market right?”

He was joking, but Samar was drunk enough now that all it would take was a little push and he’d be very into making a scene. Something less extreme than Nolas balcony jump but just as socially suicidal. The free booze was great but the droning hum of repetitive conversation was ridiculously depressing. He was better off paying for his own liquor and staying out on his couch at home.

Nola looked over at the man Samar pointed out, chortling with suppressed laughter. She led them towards the bar, ordering them a refill - this time with success. A voice nearby interrupted her momentary joy, catching Camila from the corner of her eye - though she had shed the jacket from earlier, the taut black fabric of her dress left little to the imagination. She had approached Ryan and Noah with a look in her eye that Magnolia could recognize, taunting but just playful enough to feign innocence.

Magnolia watched as Camila crossed her arms, mouth agape as the wine glass conveniently spilled over onto Ryan. All of Magnolia’s frustration and anger with Camilla swelled in that instant, her cheeks reddening with heat. Her words echoed in Magnolia’s mind, that smug grin on her expression. ‘And soon enough after you return the favor by hitting them with your drink rather than splashing back, it will happen less often.’ Magnolia stood there frozen, clenching her hands as she watched - unable to look away waiting for the train wreck to derail. She couldn’t make out what Noah, though she suspected from the sense of urgency that he had gone to grab napkins. When she saw Ryan’s expression when he looked between Camilla and his now chipped award just about made Magnolia’s heartbreak - quickly then flushed with a combination of intense resent and fierce protectiveness.

Camilla snickered to herself, watching Ryan stammer and unable to get words to be formed. “Sorry, what was that?” She asked sarcastically, leaning in a bit pretending to try to hear what he said, knowing he couldn’t form any words. Honestly, it was a bit embarrassing how a ‘great journalist’ couldn’t even come up with a few words in the moment. “Or do you only say things from behind a screen and in your articles about other people?” Cam still held a grudge with the things that Ryan wrote about her and her band, without much of even asking for an interview or anything.

Before her question could be answered, she heard the medic, or doctor, or whatever he was, come back and ask if she was looking for something. “Excuse me? Do you think people who don’t have an award aren’t good enough to speak to someone who did? Thought you were a bit better than that my good doctor.” Cam barely turned her head to speak to Noah, then quickly dismissing his presence. “Anyways Ryan. Good to see your little articles are getting some sort of attention, though, you should probably start conducting a bit more research and maybe an interview or two before fabricating lies in your stories...” Cam leaned in slowly and closely to Ryan’s ear. “Wouldn’t want some false information to spread and someone end up being hurt by it.” She left a light kiss on his cheek before pulling away. “But by the look of you, I see that the award is all you have going for you, the chip actually goes will with your look.”

“I can’t listen to another second of this,” Magnolia grumbled, more to herself than Samar. She didn’t allow Samar the chance to stop her from walking over, making sure to move quickly before he saw where she was going.

“You know, I’m curious.” Magnolia entered the conversation without so much as an introduction, emboldened by the bourbon and repressed anger, speaking pointedly at Camila. “Did you come here thinking ‘I’m just going to be a bitch every opportunity I get’?”

Camilla was just about done with the conversation when a familiar voice came in her direction, and one that had some hostility behind it. Cam let out a small laugh after hearing Magnolia speak towards her. “Honestly? No. Mostly just when someone deserves it. I recall not being much of a bitch to you when you got a drink poured on you. And this was an accident… I got distracted talking to this gentleman here.” She continued her fake charade, enjoying herself with the bit of drama she had stirred up, though surprised that Magnolia of all people was coming at her. But the smell of alcohol, and the splashing of the glass gave Cam the hint of Magnolia not being completely sober. Granted, neither was she.

“Now, do you come here thinking you’re just gonna get incoherent and embarrass yourself?” Camilla asked the other woman, a bit of smugness behind the smirk she was wearing on her face. In truth, Camilla didn’t come here to cause drama, but she wasn’t one to walk away from it when presented in front of her.


||xx song xxxxx||

“God, I’m so sick of you.” Magnolia rolled her eyes, “You can keep pretending, but you know exactly what you’re doing. If you think anyone believes that was an accident, you’re kidding yourself.”

Magnolia pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stop the room from spinning around her all to aware that she wasn’t in the clearest state of mind. Camilla might have mastered dancing that line, saying just enough to maintain her innocence - but Magnolia was tired of the theatrics.

“What do you get from this, by the way? Your whole thing of trying to make others feel less than? Is that the only way you can feel superior? By putting others down?” Magnolia’s tone grew increasingly more agitated, her gestures a little more severe emphasizing each question - cutting through the distance between them as she stepped toward the pop star. It was almost humorous to Camilla the things that Magnolia was saying.

“Whether I believe it, you believe, or this so-called journalist believes it. Doesn’t matter.” She paused for a second, watching the woman pinch the bridge of her nose. “Open bar, people drink, just like you. We all get a little bit more clumsy. Accidents happen. And I get nothing from anything here, I don't need to feel superior to anyone, and I’m not putting anyone down, just making observations. My bad if two people have conflicting opinions.” Cam took a step forward, matching Nola’s offensive.

“And when it comes to pretending? I’ll let you know something, I wasn’t pretending when you got the drink thrown in your face. I actually did feel sorry for you. Left alone at the bar, just for some no-name who is less than you to try to do a cowardice power move.” There was only a foot or so between them now.

Samar stayed back for a moment, content to see a drunk Nola navigate an irritating social situation from afar. But shit, it was Cam she was dealing with and even from afar he could see her tense shoulders and discomfort radiating off her. Samar downed the last remnants of his drink, ditched it on a nearby table, and beelined it over to Nola's side.

“But hey, I’m not saying you’re alone and don’t have friends.” Camilla spoke referencing the man she noticed coming towards Nola when she started going off on her, but not taking her eyes off of Magnolia. “Though, surprised he isn’t trying to calm you down before you get hurt or embarrass yourself some more, must not be that good of a friend or not getting paid enough.”

Camilla knew the man Nola was with, didn’t need an introduction - she assumed nor did he. Samar glared at the blonde, standing behind Nola for support and restraint, "Some of us are not so easily bought."

"Honestly, Camilla - I would respect you more if you just owned your bad behavior. Instead you're trying to peddle this, 'I'm just making observations bullshit, picking on people who you think won't bite back." Magnolia spoke through a clenched jaw, pointing a finger between her and Ryan. It had been easier to let Camilla's side comments slide when they were directed at her, but Ryan didn't deserve this treatment.

Camilla rolled her eyes as Nola continued to talk, bringing up respect. She didn’t need her kindness let alone her respect. Magnolia wasn’t someone who would be in Cam’s circles going forward if she could help it. She wanted nothing more to do with the Wrenley family after the end of the revolution. “I prefer it when people bite back little Maggie. It’s more fun that way, just some people don’t wanna show their teeth.”

“I don’t even know why I bother, honestly. I wouldn’t expect a narcissist like you to be capable of taking any accountability for their actions, ever.” Magnolia huffed, turning to leave when another thought rushed to the tip of her tongue. Cam was just about done with the little argument with Magnolia, getting bored of the talk and crossed her arms as the woman turned to leave.

“Another thing -” Magnolia turned back towards Camilla, gesturing towards the pop star. The motion was a little sharper than Magnolia intended, the contents of her drink spilling out and splashing onto Camilla. For a moment Magnolia froze with apologetic shock, her free hand going over her mouth, jaw dropped. As the realization settled in, the all too satisfying delivery of instant karma made her smile. Magnolia’s face twisted in sheepish delight, unable to stop the wicked laughter from bubbling up.

Her face and upper body now covered in whatever alcohol Nola had been drinking, Camilla was furious. The combination of the alcohol in her system, the already heated argument; and seeing Magnolia laughing at her made Cam impulsively react. Her hand quickly struck out, one hard slap across Magnolia’s face leaving a hot red mark on her cheek. The sound seemed to echo through the venue.

“Bitch. You need to be careful with your daddy no longer around.” Camilla said, venom behind her words and stepping forward as the woman she just slapped took a step back. “I warned you earlier about throwing drinks at me.”

Magnolia was at a loss of words, the harsh clarity of adrenaline making her hyper aware of their situation. She instinctively went to cover her face, her hand hovering over the red mark flinching when her fingers brushed across her skin. Shrinking in her own shadow as Camila stepped forward, her eyes began to water - feeling herself finally begin to lose her grip.

Impulses still inhibited by alcohol and amplified by the rush of adrenaline, Samar stepped forward in between Nola and Cam. His shoulders tensed in a way that made him seem even taller than he already was. Any hint of amusement in his expression had extinguished, replaced by the smoldering glare of his ire. He pushed Cam backwards, shoving his palms into her shoulders to put some distance between them - underestimating his strength.

Camilla brushed her hair out of her face as she watched Magnolia cover her face. She barely had enough time to look over and see Samar coming towards her, expecting some sort of mean words and caring towards the slap on Magnolia’s cheek. But the next thing she knew she was being shoved back roughly, tripping over a chair behind her and falling to the ground hard, elbow hitting a table on the way down. Cam stayed on the floor as she cradled her elbow with her opposite hand, wincing a bit in pain.

“Ugh fuck.” Camilla mumbled to herself in pain, definitely feeling something up with her left arm now. In all honesty she didn’t expect anyone to do much more than get between them or just separate the two women, let alone be assaulted and shoved onto the floor.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Samar Chopra Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk
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he seems to feel his own worth,
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zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzand the greatness of his fall.
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Miles could handle idle conversation. Did he enjoy it? No. But it suited him for the time. He was content to share vapid thoughts and make useless comments for the sake of appearing invisible. But the night was quickly devolving, and eventually Miles felt his patience for the event growing thin. He could see the appeal of it all, but it was very clear that he didn’t belong there. Not really. So in time he decided to take his leave of Scott, citing a desire to get home. Not a lie, but maybe a little too convenient of an excuse.

He thought he might attempt to say something to Magnolia before he left; both because he enjoyed her company, and he didn’t want to hear about how she’d seen him at the event and wished he would have stopped to say hello. But she was still talking to Camilla, or talking to her again. It didn’t look friendly, but it wasn’t his business or his problem. He knew how it could be with Cam, but he tried to keep his distance. Being around Camilla Rhodes wasn’t good for him; she had this way of worming herself in just enough that he couldn’t fully get over her.

He missed what prompted it, but he didn’t miss Cam slapping Magnolia across the face. He briefly looked around; was Cam here with someone? Magnolia certainly had someone to look out for her, and it wasn’t long before he stepped in. Miles briefly considered the fact that Cam didn’t want a real relationship with him, so she didn’t need him coming to her rescue.

Then she started falling.

Well, was pushed, to be accurate. Miles started in that direction the moment the man’s hands touched Cam’s shoulders, and picked up the pace when he saw her start to go down. Whether it was intentional or not didn’t really matter to him. He shouldered his way past a few people, shot a pointed look at the man who’d pushed Cam, and crouched down beside her. “Camilla,” His voice was gentle, even. If he was worried, it didn’t show in his tone. “You hit your head?” As he asked, he put a finger under her chin, gently guiding her to look him in the eye. When she shook her head no, he helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist while she regained her balance.

Then he let go of Cam and, with all the authority of someone who wasn’t half a foot shorter than the guy, pointed at the man with Magnolia and- very eloquently- said, “What the hell?!” He glanced in Magnolia’s direction, a complicated mixture of emotions bubbling up in his chest.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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Samar had stopped caring about his image long before he’d planted his first bomb. For the most part, he’d earned the looks of distaste, disgust, and ire directed at him, the name Chopra standing for brutal and harsh. His uncle had once explained it well- that sacrificing your name and honor for the good of a cause was enough if you let it be.

But Nola had done nothing to deserve this bullshit except be born under a bad name. While Chopra stood for something others would rather not look at, Wrenley was an easy villain. A target for the smoldering hatred of thousands to be directed at, a scapegoat now that the real bad guy was dead. Samar would scream the names of all the people he’d killed if it would stop the city from looking at Nola a second more.

When Miles finally looked at her, it felt like an afterthought. Any traces of concern in his expression weren’t for her, they were for Camilla - or so said the voice in the back of her head. Magnolia dropped her hand from her face, making sure Miles would be able to see the lingering hot red mark on her face, hurt evident in her expression. Magnolia had been outright slapped, and now because Camilla drunkenly tripped over a chair when Samar pushed her back that made her the victim.

Samar should have punched Cam. He’d wanted to, whether it was the burning fire of whiskey igniting his anger or just the very real hatred he felt for those like her. Camilla was a stain, the reason Samar still had a hard time moving past the rebellion, the kind of person that made him wonder if they had really accomplished anything. He smirked down at her fallen form, brushing his hands on the new suit Nola had acquired him like Camillas grime had rubbed off on him. He turned back to Nola and gave her a once over, not one to ask stupid questions like ‘are you okay?’ even if he was worried. She could handle a slap- she could handle way more then that- but he wasn’t sure she could handle the mortification of all eyes on her.

“What the hell?!” Suddenly there was a man in his face, angry and broiling and somewhat familiar in a way that he couldn’t place. Samar turned back around and made a face at him, equally confused why he’d be defending Camilla and why he thought he stood a chance against Scarmouths number one anarchist.

“Back off. Don’t be that dude that defends the angry bitch” Samar rolled his eyes and cast a scathing look over the shorter mans shoulder towards Camilla

When Miles saw Magnolia’s face, an interesting combination of shame and embarrassment hit him square in the chest. Magnolia had become a real friend to Miles, and the fact that it looked like he’d sided with Cam- who he promised himself he’d stay away from- over her when he knew this whole thing was undoubtedly Camilla’s fault, and it clearly hurt Magnolia… Miles didn’t know how to respond to that.

Luckily he didn’t have to, as the man who’d pushed Camilla was engaging him now. A part of him wished he’d stayed home: cleaning up the messes people make when they’re drunk was something he thought he’d left back at his father’s house. Another part of him wished he’d stayed out of this mess, but whatever he felt towards Magnolia, and whatever he still felt towards Camilla meant that he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. Either way, some of the fire had died down in him. He knew two things here: this guy was a lot bigger than him, and a lot of people were staring. Preferably, he’d like to get through this without any further incident, but he’d settle for getting the attention away from Camilla- and Magnolia- if that’s what it came to.

“Listen,” Miles said, knowing he was cemented as “that dude” no matter what he did, “I get it, okay. Cam’s a bitch. You’re drunk. But you’re acting like a fucking barbarian.” He shot Magnolia a look, as if to ask “who is this asshole?”

Magnolia wanted to look anywhere but at Miles but the heat of the stared around them had her gaze fixate on him. Angling herself towards them, hoping to obstruct any camera angle trying to snap this moment. She had dragged Samar there on the promise that he’d go unnoticed then went ahead and caused a whole scene with Samar left made out to be the bad guy. The adrenaline had finally burnt through the last bit of alcohol, color flushing to her cheeks.

“Samar didn’t do anything,” Magnolia stepped forward in between them, her tone pleading. “He was just trying to defend me, Camilla tripped over the chair by accident.”

Samar glanced around at the gathered crowd, a little too aware of their eyes on him. Nola’s words were sweet, but it was clear from everyone's expression who had been painted the bad guy already.

“Nol, we should go” He grumbled slowly, reaching a hand forward for her arm. Magnolia glanced back briefly, then back to Miles. For a moment it looked like might say something, but then her eyes drifted back to Camilla over his shoulder looking all too satisfied with herself and the scene she was able to just put on. Nola sighed, doing her best not to shake her head and laugh only discernible to those in their immediate vicinity.

“I gotta…” She tapped her temple as if she’d just remembered something before gesturing over her shoulder.

Samar? Miles knew that name, and he knew it well. “Wait,” His words were half a whisper as he reached out for Magnolia, grasping at her hand. But he looked past her, studying the mountains and valleys of Samar’s face. He was taller now, but of course he was taller. It had been a long time since they’d really seen each other. “I-” What was he doing?

He dropped Magnolia’s hand. “I’m sorry, I,”

whyareyoulikethisyoualwaysdothewrongthingyouthinkyou’rehelpinganyone?you’rejustinthewayyoualwaysdothisyou’realwayslikethisyoushouldjustmindyourownbusiness
nobodyhereneedsyoutheycanhandlethingsthemselves

Miles smiled, big and bright and fake, “Right.”

Samar stared right back at the man, caught between his cocky act and confusion. As soon as Nolas hand was dropped he tugged her back, murmured a fast “We’re leaving” and spun them back into the crowd. It wasn’t dense enough that they could disappear like they wanted to, but people parted easily enough around them for Samar and Nola to make a beeline for the entrance.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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noah lawson.
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hex: #879788. outfit: here.
xxxi hear the voices when I'm dreaming
xxxi can hear them say
xxxcarry on my wayward son
xxxthere'll be peace when you are done.
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Noah had met his fair share of unpleasant people in his time. When you worked in emergency medicine, it wasn't uncommon to get screamed at because you told them that their precious darling daughter had a hangover instead of meningitis, or because you dared to leave them waiting for a few hours. It was easy to brush that kind of nastiness off. Emergency departments brought out the worst in people. People were in pain, or scared for their loved ones, or just scared in general.

But there was absolutely nothing that could excuse the unpleasant and downright nasty attitude of Camilla Rhodes. Her response to him just made him raise an eyebrow in disdain. Truth be told, there was plenty he could have said to her in that moment, but he wasn't confident he could get it out without stammering, and he would be damned if he gave her that ammunition. He glanced away awkwardly, taking a mouthful out of his drink as she leaned in to Ryan, whispering something before kissing him on the cheek; a gesture that seemed so contradictory to what she'd been saying beforehand. Noah might have commented on it to Ryan, might have tried to turn it into a joke or something. He'd only gotten as far as shooting Ryan a sympathetic look before Magnolia appeared, and things began to take a turn for the worst.

Everybody was staring at Magnolia and Camilla. Which meant, by extension, everyone was also staring at Noah and Ryan. If the tension of being that close to the argument wasn't troubling enough, the tension of having everyone staring at them was only worsening things. He was about to try and make a run for it and drag Ryan with him for fear they would be dragged into the argument as well when Camilla threw the first slap. That should have been the perfect opportunity to get away, but something made him stay. Somebody's going to end up getting hurt before tonight is out.

He'd expected the girls to start fighting, perhaps, or for the alcohol to get the better of one of them, resulting in a twisted ankle. He had not expected Samar to physically shove Camilla away from Magnolia, causing Camilla to stumble over a chair and hit the ground, her elbow colliding with something on the way down. Noah was already assessing the situation. She didn't hit her head, at least, which took urgency away from the situation. He flagged down a waiter. "First aid kit, now. And some ice," he instructed. He knew better than to try and get involved in that situation when Samar and the other man- Miles, wasn't it?- were yelling at each other. Cam was stable and could wait. If a brawl broke out between the two men, Noah knew it probably wouldn't end as cleanly. The minute Samar and Nola left, Noah knelt beside Camilla, examining her elbow as best he could without touching it.

The waiter had left the first aid kit and a bucket of ice beside him, with the forethought to leave a towel with the ice. Noah wrapped a handful of ice up in the towel and pressed it to her elbow. "Hold that there," he instructed. "I don't think you've broken anything, but I can't say for sure without an x-ray. It's probably worth checking it out, but I'm not going to force you to come to the hospital if you don't want to," he said. He glanced at Miles in the hope he might have some sway in encouraging her, but not feeling particularly optimistic.





hatch williams.
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hex: #400026. outfit: here.
xxxi wasn't born yesterday
xxxa bloodsport but I'm a saint
xxxit's time to consider
xxxthere are no winners
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Hatch had discovered that almost everyone else at the party was incredibly boring. She had, at least, convinced two council members to bring their cars in to her, but she wasn't even sure their business was worth the effort of playing nice. She was getting ready to leave when shouting from across the room caught her attention. Well, it was better than idle conversation, she told herself as she wandered over. And then she spotted who was involved. A wry smile settled on her face as she leaned against a table a short distance away, watching as things unfolded.

Camilla seemed to have met her match in Magnolia, it seemed. The two of them were equally angry and equally intoxicated, and it was amusing to watch. She knew Cam would win, of course. Cam would refuse to let anything go until she felt like she'd won, even if the other person never actually admitted defeat. But watching Magnolia put up a fight was at least worth it. At least, until Samar stepped in. Two against one seemed unfair, especially when the extra person was Samar. She wished she could have said she was disappointed when he decided to brutally shove her to the ground, but she wasn't.

She began to make her way over to Camilla, but Miles got there first. Hatch had never seen him quite so protective over anyone, and she raised an eyebrow. Something about that didn't sit quite right with her. The doctor was checking her out now, and said something about bringing Camilla to the hospital. "I can drive you, if you want. This party is boring anyway," she offered, keeping her tone light.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra
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every word has consequences.
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zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzevery silence, too.
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Ryan wasn’t stupid, of course all of this was about the articles he’d written on Camilla’s band. None of it was personal, he just didn’t think it was right to let them get away with such blatant propaganda. Maybe that was a mistake, but he wouldn’t do it any different. But when she insinuated that he would lie in his stories, he felt much more defensive. It didn’t take a genius to analyze the lyrics Sophie’s Valentine put out, and claiming he was lying about any of it was just her wounded pride trying to take him down with her.

“Wouldn’t want some false information to spread and someone end up being hurt by it.”

And after saying that, Camilla had the nerve to kiss his cheek. A mixture of the unwanted contact and her words sent a shiver down Ryan’s spine, and for the briefest of moments, a disgusted crossed his face. ”Is that a threat, Camilla, or a cry for help?” He asked flatly, softly, trying not to draw any more attention to them.

Then Magnolia Wrenly came, presumably, to his rescue, and Ryan immediately wished she hadn’t. He did, however, step back as the two women started arguing, trying to stay as far out of it as he could. Nola was kind, but Ryan only got the feeling that things weren’t going to end well from there. He glanced at Noah, almost as if to ask if they should be getting out of there when two things happened in quick succession: Nola splashed her drink on Cam, and Ryan pulled up the camera function on his PCU, which he got to start filming right as Camilla slapped Magnolia.

Ryan hadn’t really noticed Samar before he came barreling in towards Camilla, but he did know this wasn’t good for his image.

Miles Caal got involved. Ryan didn’t know him, but he knew enough about him to know that this was an interesting development. Ryan had stayed up to date with all the news that had come out about people who’d worked for the government during the revolution, and Miles had insisted the entire time that he didn’t have a choice in what he did (though much of what he’d done didn’t hit the news, just the results), and he seemed genuinely repentant. Ryan wasn’t sure if Miles looked like the kind of man who was sorry to have done the wrong thing, or the kind of man who was only sorry because he wound up on the wrong side.

At any rate, he didn’t really seem to help in the current situation, but it defused itself, nonetheless.

Nola and Samar left, probably for the better, then Noah was looking over Camilla, and Miles had (halfheartedly) turned to check back in with Cam. Ryan wasn’t about to interject on Camilla’s possibly-necessary medical care, but he did offer a sideways glance at Miles, interested in seeing how the man who’d so quickly run to her aid would react.

”You should probably go, Cam.” Ryan didn’t think Miles looked all there, ”Hatch ‘n the doctors’ll take good care of you.”

Miles seemed to notice that Ryan was staring at him, then, and turned to look at him. ”Cam do that?” He asked, referring to the wine staining Ryan’s shirt. Ryan nodded. ”Hm.” Miles nodded, himself, and without ceremony looked at Hatch, said, ”You know how to reach me if anyone needs me.” And then turned to leave.

Weird guy.

Ryan scratched his head, ”Do you have any stuff you need someone to get for you, Camilla? A coat or something?” He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of helping her, but he wasn’t heartless either, and he didn’t want to leave the woman high and dry while she was drunk and hurting.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra Character Portrait: Blake Langston
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#, as written by Caille
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Blake Langston.
#603670
Surprisingly Blake had stayed out of most conversations, or maybe that wasn't as surprising as they thought. They were however good at being in the background without really being noticed, they had received their Irish coffee and were nursing it at the bar when Magnolia had a drink spilled on her and the one and only Cam had come up to her to give her assistance. That being said the conversation was barely audible to Blake at the time because all they could do was stare at Camilla Rhodes.

Blake had not seen Cam in a long time, but some of her features were just the same as they had been before. The way she held herself was one of them because Camilla Rhodes was not someone you could walk all over, she was determined, confident, passionate, and sometimes a trouble maker. That aside who wasn't a little bit of trouble maker from time to time? Blake sure wasn't above it and had been known for it their whole life.

Just as quick as she was there, she was gone, but their eyes followed her a little until they caught themself. There was a compelling aspect that made Blake drawn into going to see her, going to say something to her just like all those times before. This had quickly settled into Blake as they reminded themselves of the countless pages they sat in front of, staring and wanting to make the words produce on paper. They had tried numerous times to say anything at all to Cam over the years. They wanted to write her all the time, but only ever produced 5 letters at various points in their life. All five being unsent.

At this time Blake was downing the Irish coffee faster than before but avoided looking up to find Cam. Last they had seen, she was with another girl and they didn't want to seem creepy if she had ended up looking their way.

As Blake turned to order another drink, this time nothing with alcohol in it, Blake noticed that Cam had taken off her jacket and placed it on the back of one of the chairs. If Blake was going to talk to Cam at any point tonight, they didn't want to be drunk and they wanted to be somewhat stable.

Blake had also noticed by this point Magnolia was back from wherever she had went and some bulky dude was next to her as he grabbed bourbon and shots. This was not going to be good. "Bottoms up," Blake mumbled to themselves while shaking their head and taking a sip back of their coffee.

It seemed slowly one by one everyone was meeting up in the same place. That may not be the best idea, as much fun as Blake was having to watch their own personal TV show, they got up from the bar to use the restroom and by the time they came out a fight was breaking out. "For fucks sake Cam." They said with a small chuckle and zero animosity. Before they could step in to knock that gorilla off his feet, Miles was there and that girl from before. Instead, Blake knew what they could do and it would be their only shot of talking to Camilla at this point.

Blake quickly went to retrieve something and they had a rough idea where it was. It took some time, but finally, Blake found it and folded it over their arm before heading over towards the group.

They would be lying if they said they weren't nervous to see Cam face to face let alone talk to her. It had been years, but they always wanted to reach out again and see how she was doing. Blake would not back down now.

They approached the doctor, the girl, the reporter, and her. There was a mention of trying to find the rest of Camilla's stuff for her, which Blake put a hand out to pause the conversation.

"I believe all she had was this jacket." They said with a small smile and looking over to Cam. "It might be chilly outside, let me know if you need help with it," Blake said extending their arm out to give the jacket to her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra Character Portrait: Blake Langston
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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
Eyes were all on Camilla, but not in the way she would have preferred, plus the pain in her shoulder was taking most of her attention away from the usual glamour of the limelight. She had her eyes mostly shut and wincing in pain, but when she opened her eyes, she was met with a smirk from Samar before he turned away to Magnolia. And when she scanned the crowd she noticed Ryan Joshi with his camera out, presumably filming what was going on.But a familiar and gentle sound voice drew her attention from the report, seeing that the voice belonged to, a former friend, Miles. When he asked if she was okay she just nodded, letting his hand touch her chin and around her body, helping her up. His gentle touch just as she last remembered it. “Thanks.” She said in a soft quiet tone, before he turned his attention to Samar.

Camilla would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised that Miles was standing up for her. Reminded her of the time where he stepped between her and a guy that was obsessed with Cam was upset she wouldn’t reply to his DM’s. But Samar was much bigger than the obsessed fan, a bit worried for him. She watched as Samar told Miles not to defend her, shooting a look in her direction, Camilla tried keeping a straight face, but the pain of her arm was still on her mind. “Hey!” She tried to interject when Miles said she was a bitch, but the two men just continued.

Magnolia spoke up again, saying Samar didn’t do anything, and that Cam had tripped. “Bullshit, he shoved me.” Cam spoke again, but it was useless as the two left, and Camilla’s felt cold pressure on her arm, seeing the doctor from earlier tending to her, giving her directions. “Okay.” She just said, holding the towel and rag against her arm. He spoke about going to the hospital, which at this point she felt too tired to deal with, but before she could reply, Hatch was next to her again. Her recent partner suggested that she could drive her, and a comment about the party being boring. This would be a good excuse for her to leave the party, without the commotion of an ambulance and being forced to go to the hospital. Plus she could spend some time with Hatch away from all the commotion, and she did always love Hatch’s ride. She heard Ryan say something about how she should go, but she just ignored him. “I like the sound of that Hatch.” She replied, turning back to the doctor asking about if she had anything.

The only thing Camilla had was her jacket, which she left over by the bar. But as that came to mind, it seemed to appear as she thought of it, and being held by another familiar person from her past. Blake Langston. “Blake?” She mumbled out loud, before realizing Blake had asked her if she would need help with it. “Yeah actually.” She turned around and let them help her put on the jacket, getting a bit of goosebumps from Blake’s touch. Her tone was a bit softer than how it usually was, not sure how to exactly react to what to say to Blake since it’s been so long. “I was just leaving, but you can walk out with me, and Hatch.” She said to Blake, before turning back towards Hatch and flashed a smile as the three of them headed outside.

Hatch went off to get her car while Blake and Camilla stayed by the curb, Camilla couldn’t remember whose idea it was, but agreed as it made sense, and she was getting a bit tired of being in her heels. “It’s been awhile Blake, years. Good to see you survived all the conflict.” Cam said, turning her head to Blake, who had their arm around her. She didn’t need help standing up, but she still allowed Blake to have their arm around her. If she wasn’t already a bit cold from the weather and red from the alcohol, she might have blushed a bit when they spoke about her band. “Yeah, it’s been a bit wild. Especially with the… rioting and such…”

As Hatch pulled up and honked to show she was ready to leave, Blake looked away from Cam and opened the car door for her. Camilla gave Blake a hug before sliding into the passenger seat. “We need to talk again Blake. It was good seeing you.” She said, holding out her manager’s card. “Just mention the Alphabet People album if they don’t put you through to me.” She said with a smile as she closed the door and Hatch drove off.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnolia Wrenley Character Portrait: Danika Orlov Character Portrait: Noah Lawson Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Hatch Williams Character Portrait: Camilla Rhodes Character Portrait: Ryan Joshi Character Portrait: Samar Chopra Character Portrait: Scott Feltikk Character Portrait: Blake Langston Character Portrait: Damien Moore
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hatch williams.
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hex: #400026. outfit: here.
xxxi wasn't born yesterday
xxxa bloodsport but I'm a saint
xxxit's time to consider
xxxthere are no winners
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Hatch drove Cam home. Cam had insisted that she didn’t want to go to the hospital, that she didn’t need to go, and Hatch got the impression that it was probably best not to argue. Hatch left Cam be, but not before telling her to call her if she needed anything. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved when her phone didn’t ring all night.

The following two weeks had been quiet. Boring, almost. Work was picking back up, but plenty still regarded her with suspicion, so it wasn’t what it once was. But it got her through. Cam brought her car in for a “service”, as she’d promised, but Hatch hadn’t seen as much of her as she usually did. She told herself she didn’t care, and she almost believed it.

Usually, she never would have bothered with these carnival type events. But she had nothing better to do with her evening, and besides, it seemed like everyone she knew was going. So she found herself wandering between obnoxiously coloured stalls and the smells of popcorn and cotton candy. It was more enjoyable than she expected, if she was being honest to herself. She heard chattering from a nearby square, and headed in that direction, cotton candy in hand. A screen had been set up, with a countdown ticking down. It was down to single digits as Hatch hovered by the edge of the square.

3.

2.

1.

The screen flickered, and then a video feed came up. The audio was crackly and uneven, but you could make out what they were saying just fine. One of the council members was talking about ambushing unarmed citizens during the revolution. Then the feed cut out, and cut to another. And another. A woman shooting a man. “Heroes” of the new state working with those who had been declared criminals in the aftermath. The clips kept coming, getting worse and worse as they went on. The crowd got more and more restless.

Eventually, the screen went black, with white text appearing in a simple, but bold font. “THESE ARE YOUR HEROES. THESE IS YOUR GOVERNMENT. THEY WILL BETRAY YOU. MORE EVIDENCE TO FOLLOW.”

The screen went black. And then, everyone’s phone beeped in sync. Hatch pulled up her PCU, opening her email. Somebody had sent a folder, containing a video file, presumably the video evidence that they had just shown, and a document. Curiosity got the better of Hatch, and she opened the file. Around her, everyone was doing the same, and there was gasps of horror and disgust as they read the contents. Everything from government officials accepting bribes, details of experiments they had allowed, to reports about those they had honoured at the awards ceremony. Hatch shut her PCU down and decided that she needed to get out of town before things turned nasty. She wasn’t the only one with that idea, and she was jostled as she headed back into the city to head back home. People were already beginning to shout at each other, the party atmosphere of the carnival gone.

Hatch wasn’t sure what happened first; if she heard the explosion or if it flung her from her feet to land a few feet away. Her ears were ringing as she turned to look behind her. Everything seemed muffled, as if through water, but she could still make out the screaming. She staggered to her feet, picking glass from her hands, as she just stared at the blaze a few yards away from her.