covered in the colors

(victoria justice, she/they + demi-girl, 25) | well of course you’ve heard of (bianca navarro), right? they are a  (first year grad student) year student living in (town) taking (visual arts) at rye university, and as per the blinds, they are like (the first glimpse of sunlight in the dawn, a cherubic smile, doodles along a page margin), but that may just be because they know (redacted). 

And another one.

Name: Bianca Wren Navarro

Nickname: Bee

Pseudonym: Lake Falcon (A nature based name and her mother’s maiden name make up her pen name)

Age: 25

Hometown: Ojai, California

Height: 5’3

Sexuality: Fluid

Class Year: 1st year graduate student 

Major: Visual Arts

Positive Traits: Optimistic, creative, friendly, resourceful, patient, whimsical

Negative Traits: Flighty, naive, bashful, clumsy, immature

 TLDR:  Growing up surrounded by art, Bianca’s heart was always in a fantasy world. Daydreamer extraordiannarie, she ran to hide in the imaginary while the real world wasn’t so kind. Art was her escape... until it wasn’t. She feared not being able to survive off of art, and kept her passion alive through street murals and graffiti. After going to school for Communications, it dawned on her that wasn’t the world she wanted to be in. While working at an art gallery, she was encouraged to go back to school to pursue her passion. That led her to Rye where she’s a first year grad student (on a scholarship), rediscovering her love for art. TW bullying, slight gender dysphoria

“yeah, thankfully, sebastian got me home safe so no worries there.” she reaffirms with a nod of her head, smiling at bee. teddy was nevertheless appreciative of bee’s similar concern for her friends to get home safe, knowing that had she not been as drunk as she was, she would’ve done the same. “yeah, it’s nice to not be sore. although i’m not sure ‘getting in a fight with my step-sister’ classifies as a cool story.” smiles, not allowing herself to think about how she’d openly called louisa her step-sister. “i’ve never thought about it like that, but i like that. and you’re right.”

He expects her words to bring an abrupt flashback, one that shows him in full motion what he said or did but nothing happened. His memories of that night, especially that late night remained a mystery. Remorse settles in his stomach and spreads all over him, even if he’s not entirely sure what is that he feels guilty for. “I’m sorry.” The apology feels empty for he doesn’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for but he’s ready to admit whatever crime Bee is imposing on him. “I don’t really remember much of that night and…” His chest feels so tight as if someone was sitting on it. “I didn’t mean it.” Or maybe he did. After all, he has no idea what he said that was so bad. 

“I understand.” His tone drips with nothing but defeat. Eyes follow her as she sits on the bed and he’s about to take the jacket and leave when he notices the canvas. “Is that… Meadow?” he asks, looking back at Bee. Probably not. Not everything revolved about him. “I’ll just take my jacket and leave.”

.

Did that make them feel better or feel worse? Hearing that he didn’t really want to mean what he said? Because Bee didn’t know what they wanted. To know those words were real or to hear that it was all part of a twisted dream? It’d be nice to be told that they were beautiful, words that they didn’t hear often... but from her friend? That was a territory that felt dangerous, unknown, and one they wanted to run from. Especially with people like Elyse teasing her over a crush that didn’t exist. “It wasn’t... Bad. It was unexpected.” There. “We needed some space after that. Uh. People talk.”

A SCOFF ALMOST ESCAPES PAST HER LIPS as bianca tried to deny what was obvious to the world. “we’re all friends here, bee,” the nickname falls from her lips with the sweetness of spoilt milk. there’s no motivation behind her current actions, other than maybe she just like to put people in this situation, maybe like louisa had said she did find some sort of joy in hurting others. whatever it was, she couldn’t take it back now even if later on she might regret it. “you don’t?” she asks, feigning some surprise as she takes another look at the post on her screen, “hmmm… maybe it’s another BN then.” she puts the phone away, leaning against the chair as she crosses her arms over her chest. “though, it’s okay if you do. i could help you with him, if you want.” 

“oh my god, no. you’re not starting again”, a determined shake of her head. “i’m sure I’ll love it” she says, and she means it. a little piece of their brilliant head, maybe they could manage to transfer a bit of that joy and life into her soul– once glance at the painting at a time. how she hates entitlement shoved into places that barely even question it, food complaints transformed into three different plates until they’ve met impossible standards, this famous ‘perfect’ concept. she gives a shrug, in her experience the things that seemed perfect, the ones that shone the brightest hid this inescapable hollowness. “do you want the freedom or me breathing down your neck over this?” she questions with a bit of a chuckle.

“If I’m being honest I don’t even remember how I got here.” Did she walk? That seems unlikely but she also doesn’t trust uber drivers so she is sure even if she was high, she wouldn’t have taken that decision. “Then I’ll stop, blushing would just make of us uncomfortable and I don’t want that this morning,” she adds before she takes another bite, every single one bringing her back to life. “I think I was fine, but every memory of the night seems so slooow. I did eat a whole package of Oreos but I will get us more today, so fret not.” Had she ever seen Bianca not sober? Probably not, so she can’t even form an imagine of how that would have looked like. “Hostage? What are you planning to get in return? Did he make you pay for the Uber?” Ava asks, shaking her head because truly even while intoxicated men had nothing but audacity. “Are you sure? We could burn it along with his photo and then curse him until he pays you back.”

“oh yeah, i got home perfectly fine,” the most confident answer she’s managed to give about the night, almost surprising herself. though waking up beside sebastian made her sure of her response. “i think so. the swelling’s gone down quite a bit and thankfully the headaches are gone. although those were definitely partially because of the drinking. but you know, you’re right. i mean, i don’t love having a black eye, but the bruising colours are nice.”

“overrated” a quick ruling, though the tug at his lip gives away the tease. alive. a reminder of her liveliness, of the sun and wild wind she brings to his life with sometimes only written words over an otherwise mind-numbing platform. miles away. at that he smiles, a genuine one without the teasing or the bleakness in it– hand quickly shutting the book (though with a disappointed sigh): “i’m never looking books for you ever again” a promise with little truth in it because he would, for bianca he would. “probably” danilo nods towards a door by the apartment’s entrance, a closet full of coats and jackets and his own helmet, perhaps a lying spare too, “should be there”.

     “I’ve noticed.” Mai was often out and about at this hour, even if she loved sleeping in. But sleeping while skipping class felt like a waste of time, so instead she’d be somewhere admiring the world, as long as she had a coffee in hand. It wasn’t something she’d necessarily point out to someone else though, and so she couldn’t help but arch her brows as she stared at Bee for a moment. “Though I prefer not to think too much this early in the morning.” A lie, but a fluent one. “I prefer to enjoy coffee and pastries”, she added, holding up her cup. “Don’t tell me you’ve already been out and about this early?”

“It’s special, it makes everything feel ethereal. Sometimes if you hit it just right, there’s that light mist over the world.” Bee let out a sigh, wistful at the very thought, “It’s like we’re living inside of a cloud.” Nature really could do some wonderous things. “Looking at the world isn’t thinking, it’s absorbing it.” Swirling her cup of coffee, the other gave a small smile, “Pastries are one of the best things. What did you get today?” Shrugging, “I couldn’t sleep.”

There was not a lot to pride about the way he was raised but if his junkie parents had taught him something was how to deal with conflict and how to work it out. The problem here was that he wasn’t entirely what was the conflict so he couldn’t even begin to form a way to solve it.

But maybe he was being paranoid, some extra long lasting effects of that tab he had taken at the party. The thought of him helped him release some of the anxiety he had been carried but it was cut short when Bee came out and his suspicions were confirmed by the way she struggled with her words. It didn’t take to be a bloody mind reader to know that something was off. “I totally get that, you don’t need to give me an explanation,” he assured her with a nervous smile. He follows her lead as he mentally tries to come up with a way to bring up the topic of the party, hoping he can find some clues as to what had happened. He leans against the door’s frame and while he had a plan to carefully approach all this, he throws it overboard. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something that night that upset you?” 

Talking things through wasn’t hard for Bee, once she got to yapping, everything poured out. It was figuring out the actual words were that were her challenge. How did she tell her best friend that she was upset because he complimented her? It probably didn’t mean anything. Right? Maybe she was paranoid. “No... Not really. Just. You said uh. You said things, I didn’t expect and I think it was better for us to have some space.” To still have space? Bee sat down on her bed, the canvas across the way of Meadow. “That party was a lot and I think the like, the whole week was needed for me to recharge my social battery.” Not a lie.”

“I liked it when I was a kid.” It was the truth, when she was innocent in the sandbox and her & bambi were friends, nothing such as social class or money could separate them. then she grew in a crooked way, poor in a rich town. she grew hungry and bitter, wanting to escape the feeling of being less than because she had more holes in her clothes. a scruffier way of being. A chuckle breezes from her lips, she can’t help it she constantly wants to pull more art out of Bee and this was a communal canvas. “Two years ago. I was first year.”

“Hmm?” Léon looks up from where he’s sitting, eyes drifting away from the page to find Bianca bent down next to his cat, who seems eager to accept any offered pets. “Sage usually watches her when I can’t.” Josephine is rather fond of the other woman, happy chirps when she sees her walking through the door. But Josephine leans towards liking most people, Léon has learnt. So long as they offer adequate attention. “She seems to like you, though. Maybe when Sage isn’t available.” It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that the cat’s wellbeing is deeply tied to Léon’s own — half the time Josephine is the sole reason he drags himself back home at the end of the night. The thought makes him shake his head. “I’m fine. Same as always.” Gossip is gossip, it doesn’t really matter much to Léon, though admittedly the I KNOW WHAT YOU DID had him a bit spooked at first. “What about you?”