vita winslet. 31. broadcast journalist.

location:  somewhere not too distant from the stage.

event:  parton music fest

the  life  and  times  of  a  working  woman.  had  anyone  asked,  vita  would  have  dispelled  any  rumors  of  DISSATISFACTION  but  truthfully,  work  was  gauche.  she  loved  the  title  &  the  accolades  that  accompanied  such,  but  it  was  but  a  slower  progressing  week  than  most.  in  saying such,  every  atom  of  her  itched  for  movement.  and  though  it  certainly  was  worlds  away  from  her  usual  RITZY  weekend  brunches  and  day  trips  to  the  big  apple,  the  music  festival  had  proved  itself  a  keen  option.  for  the  day  prior,  the  blonde  had  been  MOUNTED  to  the  pale  linens  and  feathered  pillows  of  her  bedroom  like  some  sort  of  pompeiian  relic—worn  by  time  long  passed  and  reclaimed  by  ever-evolving  surroundings.  and  though  vita  certainly  could  have  using  being  laid  to  a  weekend’s  REST,  it  seems  her  nature  eclipsed  the  fact.  the  nature  to  delight  &  to  be  delighted.

DELIGHT  takes  the  form  of  an  afternoon  spent  indulging  in  cheap  food,  water  bottle  booze  &  decent  music.  a  throng  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  those  otherwise  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  hotel room that had most certainly reached it's utmost capacity.  a  HAPPY  sort  of  melody  is  carried  on  the  the  current  band  &  victoria  doesn’t  bother  to  distinguish  the  lyrics—all  she  can  make  out  is  the  thrashing  of  the  bass  resonating  in  her  chest.  perhaps  the  blonde  could  have  benefitted  from  onceing  over  the  setlist  before  she  came.  ❝  you don’t happen to know the name of this song—or the band for that matter do you  ?  ❞  the  londoner  inquired  from  the  stranger  closest  to  her,  ❝  i’m  at  a  real  LOSS  here.  ❞  there’s  an  attempt  at  a  jest  lingering  in  her  usual,  flat  tone,  but  vita  truly  had  to  admit  she  hadn’t  the  slightest  clue  who  was  currently  onstage.

vita  replied  with  but  a  nodding  of  her  head,  only  a  strand  or  two  of  her  POMADE-SLICKED  hair  flicking  out  of  place.  ❝  no,  i’ve  just  blown  in  from  new  york  —  london  before  that,  of  course.  i  moved  here  a  little  over  a  year  ago,  so  i  missed  last  year’s  festival.  ❞  for  a  moment,  that  steely  blue  gaze  of  hers  flits  over  to  the  stage,  watching  as  they  readied  the  equipment  between  sets.  finally  the  woman  looks  back  over  to  the  other,  neck  CRANING  just  a  bit  to  meet  her  lower  gaze.  ❝  i  think  this  years  festivities  certainly  make  up  for  anything  i  could  have  missed,  though.  ❞  though  it  was  the  furthest  thing  from  her  usual  scene,  victoria  had  found  herself  pleasingly  surprised  by  the  festival.   ❝  where  are  you  from  ?  ❞  vita  considered  her  opposing  accent  &  couldn’t  help  but  to  wonder.  the  inquiry  sliced  through  her  casual  tone  with  a  slight  upbeat.  victoria  had  always  been  curious  of  people  —  of  language  and  how  it  DEFINED  others.  language  told  the  stories  of  the  lives  people  lived  without  them  having  to  do  so  and  she  found  something  about  that  to  be  desperately  romantic.  ❝  if  you  don’t  mind  me  asking,  of  course.  ❞  as  if  the  addition  could  ease  her  blatant  prying. 

location:  somewhere not too distant from the stage.

event:  parton music fest

the  life  and  times  of  a  working  woman.  had  anyone  asked,  vita  would  have  dispelled  any  rumors  of  DISSATISFACTION  but  truthfully,  work  was  gauche.  she  loved  the  title  &  the  accolades  that  accompanied  such,  but  it  was  but  a  slower  progressing  week  than  most.  in  saying such,  every  atom  of  her  itched  for  movement.  and  though  it  certainly  was  worlds  away  from  her  usual  RITZY  weekend  brunches  and  day  trips  to  the  big  apple,  the  music  festival  had  proved  itself  a  keen  option.  for  the  day  prior,  the  blonde  had  been  MOUNTED  to  the  pale  linens  and  feathered  pillows  of  her  bedroom  like  some  sort  of  pompeiian  relic—worn  by  time  long  passed  and  reclaimed  by  ever-evolving  surroundings.  and  though  vita  certainly  could  have  using  being  laid  to  a  weekend’s  REST,  it  seems  her  nature  eclipsed  the  fact.  the  nature  to  delight  &  to  be  delighted.

DELIGHT  takes  the  form  of  an  afternoon  spent  indulging  in  cheap  food,  water  bottle  booze  &  decent  music.  a  throng  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  those  otherwise  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  hotel room that had most certainly reached it’s utmost capacity.  a  HAPPY  sort  of  melody  is  carried  on  the  the  current  band  &  victoria  doesn’t  bother  to  distinguish  the  lyrics—all  she  can  make  out  is  the  thrashing  of  the  bass  resonating  in  her  chest.  perhaps  the  blonde  could  have  benefitted  from  onceing  over  the  setlist  before  she  came.  ❝  you don’t happen to know the name of this song—or the band for that matter do you  ?  ❞  the  londoner  inquired  from  the  stranger  closest  to  her,  ❝  i’m  at  a  real  LOSS  here.  ❞  there’s  an  attempt  at  a  jest  lingering  in  her  usual,  flat  tone,  but  vita  truly  had  to  admit  she  hadn’t  the  slightest  clue  who  was  currently  onstage.

After spending most of the day treating patients in the medical tent, Jake stepped away for a moment to get some well-deserved fresh air. He had every intention to return to the tent and resume his duties, but for now he’d found himself not too distant from the stage, trying to enjoy the music even though it was not necessarily his cup of tea. 

When the other spoke up, the physician just raised his brow and shrugged. “I’m afraid I have no idea. This is definitely not my genre of preference, so I’m kind of at a loss too.” 

the  blonde  DROPPED  her  head  with  a  chuckle.  admittedly,  it  was  a  pleasing  realization  to  be  in  the  accompaniment  of  a  fellow  nescient.  though  knowledgeable  regarding  a  span  of  other  topics,  pop  music  that  wasn’t  relative  to  that  of  which  she  enjoyed  as a  teen  had  been  lost  on  her.  these  days,  victoria  had  an  inclination  for  jazz  &  folk  music.  steely  sights  spare  the  man  a  glance  over  a  squared  shoulder,  taking  note  of  his  designated  medical  personnel  garb.  ❝  i  can’t  imagine  working  an  event  like  this  —  CERTAINLY  you  aren’t  being  paid  enough  to  do  it.  ❞  she  added,  lidded  cup  wavering  in  her  palm  as  she  spoke.  no  matter  his  salary,  there  wasn’t  enough  money  currently  circulated  to  appease  the  sheer  increase  of  cases  the  stranger  likely  witnessed within  the  last  half  hour  rather  than  in  a  classical  medical  setting.

for:  anyone  /  @voicenotesstarters

location:  somewhere not too distant from the stage.

event:  parton music fest

the  life  and  times  of  a  working  woman.  had  anyone  asked,  vita  would  have  dispelled  any  rumors  of  DISSATISFACTION  but  truthfully,  work  was  gauche.  she  loved  the  title  &  the  accolades  that  accompanied  such,  but  it  was  but  a  slower  progressing  week  than  most.  in  saying such,  every  atom  of  her  itched  for  movement.  and  though  it  certainly  was  worlds  away  from  her  usual  RITZY  weekend  brunches  and  day  trips  to  the  big  apple,  the  music  festival  had  proved  itself  a  keen  option.  for  the  day  prior,  the  blonde  had  been  MOUNTED  to  the  pale  linens  and  feathered  pillows  of  her  bedroom  like  some  sort  of  pompeiian  relic—worn  by  time  long  passed  and  reclaimed  by  ever-evolving  surroundings.  and  though  vita  certainly  could  have  using  being  laid  to  a  weekend’s  REST,  it  seems  her  nature  eclipsed  the  fact.  the  nature  to  delight  &  to  be  delighted.

DELIGHT  takes  the  form  of  an  afternoon  spent  indulging  in  cheap  food,  water  bottle  booze  &  decent  music.  a  throng  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  those  otherwise  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  hotel room that had most certainly reached it’s utmost capacity.  a  HAPPY  sort  of  melody  is  carried  on  the  the  current  band  &  victoria  doesn’t  bother  to  distinguish  the  lyrics—all  she  can  make  out  is  the  thrashing  of  the  bass  resonating  in  her  chest.  perhaps  the  blonde  could  have  benefitted  from  onceing  over  the  setlist  before  she  came.  ❝  you don’t happen to know the name of this song—or the band for that matter do you  ?  ❞  the  londoner  inquired  from  the  stranger  closest  to  her,  ❝  i’m  at  a  real  LOSS  here.  ❞  there’s  an  attempt  at  a  jest  lingering  in  her  usual,  flat  tone,  but  vita  truly  had  to  admit  she  hadn’t  the  slightest  clue  who  was  currently  onstage.

.

Dorian’s attention was never in one place for very long. It was a bit like a bumblebee, flitting from flower to flower, taking just as much as it needed before moving on. So she did hear the question asked by the amazon woman standing next to her, but she also heard the accent, and saw the face, and the outfit, and the legs, and was entirely distracted for a full ten seconds before she could pull herself together. 

“You are lovely…” was all she said for a moment. And then she pulled herself together.

“I think I heard them introduce themselves as ‘Korea Saturday’, but I actually believe I may have lost my hearing tonight, so it might be something completely different. Who knows, honestly, band names are wild. They’re great, though, right?” she beamed. “Did you hear the ballad a couple minutes ago? Almost made me want to call my ex.”

Then the attention bobbed and weaved again, and she did a double take. “Wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

❝  you’re  CERTAINLY  one  to  talk  !  that  jacket  is  gorgeous.  ❞  the  ensemble  entirely  was  one  worth  praise.  vita  had  always  adored  arresting  fashions,  especially  those  she’d  never  considered  herself  suitable  to  wear.  in  her  mind’s  eye,  victoria  kept  her  fashions  understated  and  let  her  CONFIDENCE  carry  through  —  though  she  just  might  need  the  name  of  the  designer  before  the  night’s  end. a  chuckle  buffers  between  the  conversation  &  a  soft  grin  plasters  itself  upon  her  visage.  ❝  right,  right.  ❞  the  woman  CONCURRED  with  a  nod,  arms  folding  jut  of  her  hips,  ❝  oh  yeah,  they’re  fucking  blinding  —  nearly  brought  me  to  tears.  ❞  what  a  seldom  sight  that  would  be  &  EXCUSE  her  language  but  victoria  had  more  than  enjoyed  the  last  few  sets,  even  if  it  were  at  the  expense  of  possible  hearing  loss. ❝  well  that  depends  . . .  ❞  the  woman  mused,  turning  over  the  query  in  her  mind.  &  for  a  moment,  a  breath  hitches  in  her  throat  as  to  alleviate  the  other’s  inquisition.  rather,  she  lets  her  wonder.  vita  took  some  humor  from  watching  people  rack  their  brains  over  what  made  her  OH-SO  familiar.  ❝  how  about  you  think  it  over  with  a  drink  ?  i  could  certainly  use  one.  ❞  a  music  festival  wasn’t  well  enjoyed  until  you  were  either  cotton-candy  sick  or  loaded  off  of  the  watered  down  liquor,  and  victoria  certainly  hadn’t  intended  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  evening  sober.

for:  anyone  /  @voicenotesstarters​

location:  somewhere not too distant from the stage.

event:  parton music fest

the  life  and  times  of  a  working  woman.  had  anyone  asked,  vita  would  have  dispelled  any  rumors  of  DISSATISFACTION  but  truthfully,  work  was  gauche.  she  loved  the  title  &  the  accolades  that  accompanied  such,  but  it  was  but  a  slower  progressing  week  than  most.  in  saying such,  every  atom  of  her  itched  for  movement.  and  though  it  certainly  was  worlds  away  from  her  usual  RITZY  weekend  brunches  and  day  trips  to  the  big  apple,  the  music  festival  had  proved  itself  a  keen  option.  for  the  day  prior,  the  blonde  had  been  MOUNTED  to  the  pale  linens  and  feathered  pillows  of  her  bedroom  like  some  sort  of  pompeiian  relic—worn  by  time  long  passed  and  reclaimed  by  ever-evolving  surroundings.  and  though  vita  certainly  could  have  using  being  laid  to  a  weekend’s  REST,  it  seems  her  nature  eclipsed  the  fact.  the  nature  to  delight  &  to  be  delighted.

DELIGHT  takes  the  form  of  an  afternoon  spent  indulging  in  cheap  food,  water  bottle  booze  &  decent  music.  a  throng  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  those  otherwise  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  hotel room that had most certainly reached it’s utmost capacity.  a  HAPPY  sort  of  melody  is  carried  on  the  the  current  band  &  victoria  doesn’t  bother  to  distinguish  the  lyrics—all  she  can  make  out  is  the  thrashing  of  the  bass  resonating  in  her  chest.  perhaps  the  blonde  could  have  benefitted  from  onceing  over  the  setlist  before  she  came.  ❝  you don’t happen to know the name of this song—or the band for that matter do you  ?  ❞  the  londoner  inquired  from  the  stranger  closest  to  her,  ❝  i’m  at  a  real  LOSS  here.  ❞  there’s  an  attempt  at  a  jest  lingering  in  her  usual,  flat  tone,  but  vita  truly  had  to  admit  she  hadn’t  the  slightest  clue  who  was  currently  onstage.

The sky steadily darkens as the evening grows long and Maya finds solace in people-watching for a spell. Her social battery started to deplete after frantic mingling and belly laughter that made her heat up from the inside. She was a human furnace and needed a break. She finds a comfortable spot near the center of the festival, enjoying the music as a new band takes the stage. She sips on an overly fruity cocktail, the kind that tasted more like sweet syrup than anything else. But Maya enjoys it, her lips puckered around the brightly colored straw that dangles outside the festive cup.

Her people-watching continues, Maya suddenly a temporary wallflower. She allows her gaze to scan the growing crowd, Parton natives and visitors alike stirring and moving their hips to a new song that begins. The bass swells, filling the air with a sound that makes Maya’s chest and stomach drop as if she was on a rollercoaster. And it’s a welcomed feeling, bringing the sort of rush you get from doing something stupid. In an instant, her damaged social battery charges back up.

Then, someone is speaking to her in a lush accent that makes Maya feel like she’s been transported onto a movie set. She pictures it vividly, a large camera in her face with a prolific director behind the scenes. 

victoria  had  a  BEGUILING  sort  of  effect  on  most,  perhaps  that’s  how  she  won  over  her  position  at  the  bbc.  people  appreciated  her  icy  gaze  &  curated  aloofness  —  and  her  watchers  appreciated  her  uncut  truths  that  she  sang  like a  canary  for  millions  to  absorb  each  day.  giving  the  stranger  a  brief  once-over,  the  faint  rouge  that  SPRAWLED  across  the  woman’s  cheeks  caused  vita  to  divert  her  gaze  momentarily,  though  it  met  the  significantly  shorter  woman’s  coppery  sights  in  the  accompaniment  of  a  half  grin.  ❝  maybe  i’ll  —  ❞   she  pondered  briefly,  unfinished  words  teetering  on  cherry-stained  lips.  it  finally came  to her.  ❝  shazam.  i’ll  do  that.  ❞  fetching  her  phone  from  the  inner  pocket  of  the  blazer  hung  loosely  from  her  frame,  vita  went  through  the  motions  of  identifying  the  song  before  tucking  the  device  away  once  more. a  compliment.  vita  had  heard  it  a  thousand  times  over,  and  never  quite  tired  of  hearing  it.  frankly,  any  comment  made  on  her  behalf  was  one  savored.  so  long  as  it  could  not  INHERENTLY  damage  her  reputation,  she  considered  all  attention  good  until  proven  otherwise.  victoria  often  heard  of  how  her  accent  was  suave  &  romantic  —  brushing  over  even  the  most  fickle  of  conversations  like  a  warm,  honeyed  lacquer.  her  bottom  lip  is  seized  briefly  between  her  ivories  before  being  released,  ❝  i  wouldn’t  suppose  you’ve  heard  it  before  ?  ❞  the  inquiry  is  masked  as  a  tease,  vita  played  this  game  often  with  strangers  —  there  was  no  harm  in  testing  the  reach  of  her  AUDIENCE,  whether  they  tuned  in  to  scope  out  her  latest  fashions  or  to  adhere  to  her  political  opinions.  knowing  that  others  knew  of  —  much  less  indulged  in  —  her  work  was  one  of  the  highest  form  of  flattery.

for:  anyone  /  @voicenotesstarters​

location:  somewhere not too distant from the stage.

event:  parton music fest

the  life  and  times  of  a  working  woman.  had  anyone  asked,  vita  would  have  dispelled  any  rumors  of  DISSATISFACTION  but  truthfully,  work  was  gauche.  she  loved  the  title  &  the  accolades  that  accompanied  such,  but  it  was  but  a  slower  progressing  week  than  most.  in  saying such,  every  atom  of  her  itched  for  movement.  and  though  it  certainly  was  worlds  away  from  her  usual  RITZY  weekend  brunches  and  day  trips  to  the  big  apple,  the  music  festival  had  proved  itself  a  keen  option.  for  the  day  prior,  the  blonde  had  been  MOUNTED  to  the  pale  linens  and  feathered  pillows  of  her  bedroom  like  some  sort  of  pompeiian  relic—worn  by  time  long  passed  and  reclaimed  by  ever-evolving  surroundings.  and  though  vita  certainly  could  have  using  being  laid  to  a  weekend’s  REST,  it  seems  her  nature  eclipsed  the  fact.  the  nature  to  delight  &  to  be  delighted.

DELIGHT  takes  the  form  of  an  afternoon  spent  indulging  in  cheap  food,  water  bottle  booze  &  decent  music.  a  throng  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  those  otherwise  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  hotel room that had most certainly reached it’s utmost capacity.  a  HAPPY  sort  of  melody  is  carried  on  the  the  current  band  &  victoria  doesn’t  bother  to  distinguish  the  lyrics—all  she  can  make  out  is  the  thrashing  of  the  bass  resonating  in  her  chest.  perhaps  the  blonde  could  have  benefitted  from  onceing  over  the  setlist  before  she  came.  ❝  you don’t happen to know the name of this song—or the band for that matter do you  ?  ❞  the  londoner  inquired  from  the  stranger  closest  to  her,  ❝  i’m  at  a  real  LOSS  here.  ❞  there’s  an  attempt  at  a  jest  lingering  in  her  usual,  flat  tone,  but  vita  truly  had  to  admit  she  hadn’t  the  slightest  clue  who  was  currently  onstage.

—

After deciding The Sagittarius Bar was a total bust, Ingrid had followed the sound of music down to Parton Park, resisting the desperate urge to call it a night and head home - if she was allowed to call a motel home. She’d been in Parton a month and besides her co-workers, the customers and the ever-changing cast of visitors to the motel, she’d hadn’t made much of an effort to speak to people. She liked the town, she wanted to stay (or at least that’s what she was telling herself), it would make things better. Her life, whilst she was freer than she had ever been before, was a cycle of monotony and grey.

The benefit of the music festival was it was easy to blend into the crowd. She didn’t look so obviously out of place as a new face in town. She had a cheap, watered down plastic cup of beer in her hand and was focused on the band currently jumping around on the stage. They were good, pleasantly so. She hadn’t realised the town’s reputation for music when she’d moved here, but she had grown well acquainted with it in the month she’d been in Parton. 

She was so focused on the music she jumped when the person next to her spoke.

“Oh no, sorry, I don’t,” she said hurriedly, looking up at the woman who was a good head or so taller than her. Her voice had an unfamiliar accent, clipped and sophisticated. It took Ingrid a second to place it as an English accent. She guessed she wasn’t the only person in town who wasn’t born there.

“I don’t really know any of the bands I just…came here,” she didn’t know quite what she was saying, or why she was trying to explain herself. She was sure the well-dressed woman next to her wasn’t interested in how she came to be at the festival.

whether  is  was  HAPHAZARD  or  intended,  vita  had  made  it  something  of  a  habit  out  of  startling  others.  whether  it  were  her  outstanding  height  —  that  of  which  was  only  magnified  by  her  usual  high  heel  wearing  —  or  her  typically  brooding  nature,  it  came  as  no  surprise  that  the  towering  woman  had  startled  the  other.  no  less,  her  visage  with  steely  hues  narrowed  against  the  sun  SOFTENED.  perhaps  it  was  an  effort  made  to  wordlessly  console  the  stranger,  surely  victoria  hadn’t  meant  to  frighten  her. 

❝  oh  sorry  ———  i  didn’t  mean  to  startle  you,  ❞  wavering  apology  aside,  the  woman  can’t  help  the  stint  of  laughter  that  bubbles  from  her  throat.  over  the  years,  vita  had  learned  to  take  HUMOR  in  the  inconsistencies  of  life,  &  this  certainly  was  one  of  them.  though  rushed,  it  hardly  takes  a  moment  for  vita  to  denote  the  woman’s  accent  in  reference  to  her  own.  she  couldn’t  place  the  exact  state,  but  the  southern  twang  in  her  voice  was  enough  to  back  her  assumption  that  she  too  was  of  FOREIGN  hailing.   admittedly,  victoria  could  relate  to  the  woman’s  retortion.  though  she’d  grown  accustomed  to  a  schedule  befit  with  business  luncheons,  airtime  &  stuffy  soirees,  this  was  one  of  the  few  occasions  that  victoria  had  merely  ventured  out  into  town  on  a  WHIM,  and  in  a  sense,  it  was  freeing.  ❝  seems  you’re  enjoying  yourself  so  far,  hm  ?  ❞  the  blonde  inquired  of  the  shorter  woman  —  a  question  merely  based  off  the  observation  she  gathered  just  moments  before.  

❝  i  WISH  i  could  tell  you,  ❞  vita  too,  was  something  of  a  transplant  —having  officialized  her  move  across  the  great  work  just  a  little  over  a  year  ago.  though  it  was  an  endeavor  made  in  PURSUIT  of  her  work,  the  woman  had  soon  grown  to  admire  the  slowed  pace  &  wholeness  parton  offered.  even  so,  she  couldn’t  quite  say  that  she  felt  a  certain  BELONGING  to  the  community  just  yet.  the  gesture  is  returned,  the  faintest  of  grins  curling  along  the  edges  of  rouged  lips.  ❝  we’re  in  the  same  boat  i  fear.  i  hadn’t  the  chance  to  go  to  last  year’s  festival  but  i  could  imagine  it  hosted  the  same  festivities.  ❞