𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

location: well-aid status: open @factionstarters

A long day, filled with far too much paperwork and the review of patient files and a shift in the ER during the morning hours. When did the day start and when would it end? Still, there wasn’t time for a break yet. Stella had set herself a goal, determined to sort it before she’d allow herself to rest for the day and nothing would deter her from accomplishing said goal. Until a voice to her right spoke to her, hinting at speaking into a phone clearly hinted at with their hands. A hum as she listened, chuckling quietly. “Right. A friend.” She scanned the other, noting the exhaustion. Unless she was reading things wrong, this one seemed in dire need of the medication mentioned.

starter. stella , ( @pcisonpctal ) location. hollow point precision

A checkup every now and then was just part of who Stella was. The medic, the doctor, the caretaker; all titles that she carried with pride and sometimes an intensity that could cause others to frown and feel annoyance seep in. It didn’t bother her much. And beyond that she was simply herself, a calm being with an everlasting, easy smile which would transform into a mischievous smirk if needed. “Now, do I always have to come around just to see Diego?” Plenty of times her visits were for just that. For now, she was simply coming around to pay a visit to a friend of sorts. Whatever that meant. For the most part the brunette didn’t bother with labels; didn’t dare assume or wonder or wander or worry.

"it's food meant to be fancy and meant to make people feel important because they're spending money on it. have you seen the prices on those deconstructed meals? people say it's so you can better appreciate the flavors, but it sounds like bullshit to me." nearby, he saw a woman cast him an askance look, but eli ignored her. even though they were at the mayor's party and it was upper class, eli had a feeling it wasn't his language as much as his accent that was getting him the look.

Elena listened before nodding. “Oh, yes. I do. Amazing cooking. Even insists you take at least a small portion home with you.” Did she truly have to mention what a small portion was in the eyes of those elderly, warm grandma types? A warm hug in box, with instructions to make sure to eat every bit and not once had she disappointed. “The shrimp over there is rather nice, if you’re looking for something not as fancy.” How fancy could shrimp really be? “Or the small meatballs. They did a good job making them look fancy enough. You just have to grab a fancy toothpick and a bit of overpriced cheese, I suppose.”

Jason was well acquainted with the look in the woman's eyes, familiar from his shifts bouncing at the club. It was the one that read: get me the hell out of here, and Jason didn't hesitate at the silent call to action. A pair of steely blues trailed from the mystery woman to the guy she wanted to get away from. He didn’t offer him anything other than a scowl. His presence was enough to answer the question she hadn’t asked out loud. And his style, well— it had never exactly been subtle.  Nor was he the kind of guy to simply play along.

It was a miracle; in all the ways something could be one. Elena couldn’t believe it. A silent plea for help answered and efficiently at that. The guy seemed almost pissed off, had it not been for the clear hint of worry in his eyes. Or was that fear? She didn’t want to lean too far out of the window, but damn she hoped it was the case. And then he bounced off and away. Of course, not without another glance back at them. “Thanks. Pretty sure you just sent him running for the hills. That, or we’re about to find him atop of the building over there.” Away from them, that was all she cared about.

Perhaps Elena felt pressured to perform considering the new and uncertain role she played in Tohum's growth, but Beren didn't feel much sympathy for her because wasn't that always a woman's role? A pressure to perform and deliver for others? They weren't allowed to complain, they weren't allowed to waver. What was it that Ginger Rogers said? She did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels? It was the truest possible thing.

A nod. That was all that was needed in that very moment. Elena wasn’t foolish enough to believe that this day didn’t come with pressure, a dire need to uphold appearances and assure that outsiders saw them as nothing but civilians and those in the known as nothing but professional people within their respective field. Anything beyond that was a bonus. The florist glanced around the crowd, sipping from the flute of champagne in her hands. This picnic was bound to hold more than simple gestures. In fact, with the melting pot of people from various gangs it almost seemed bound to go wrong.

Location: Sunny Side Wake Ups

Had it been minutes or hours? Elena couldn’t tell and by the time the question came drifting toward her ears the answer seemed almost impossible to grasp. “How about both?” The brunette dared turn toward the familiar voice, smirk on her lips when she spotted the face attached and was proven correct. “Late night that is about to turn into an early morning.” There was too much to be done; a delivery of flowers, restocking of floral attachments as well as some of the spicier things. A batch of exotic plants that could turn into the nicest of things if one used them to their advantage.

Location: Stella's Clinic Status: Closed @pcisonpctal

One glance at the chart before she opened the door, the voice that carried its way toward her immediately familiar. There was a smile on her lips, entire lacking any form of annoyance a long day at work would bring. “You're lucky I'm not one for cliche commentary. Don’t worry about, though. I’m pretty sure getting sick isn’t limited by time.” And she meant it, honestly. A patient that needed care was a patient that would receive it so long as she could manage it all.

"Rude, Miss Moretti." Just because Diego didn't have any interest or aspirations in winning a beauty contest did not mean that he needed the reminder that he was a raw rib-eye in a nice shirt. It wouldn't be a surprise if his color was still off, or if he looked haggard, Diego knew he didn't bounce back as quickly as he did twenty years ago, or perhaps even ten years ago, but Diego never had any illusions that his job would kill him.

How long had they been a team? At the end of the day was it all that surprising that her reaction to his words were a shrug as she reached into her bag to pull out said emergency sewing kit? Her hand lacked a nervous tremble most others might have had at the idea of their patient stitching themselves up at a garden party, but Stella had gone through life knowing the one in front of her enough to know that his stubbornness outweigh whatever caution there was and thus she threw it to the wind, placing it elsewhere.

"There's a chance," Beren allowed, twisting a lock of hair around and around a finger to keep herself from crossing her arms. As much as she generally thrived at social events, Beren knew that parties had stopped being just parties for her as soon as she elevated in status to the leader of the Tohum. Part of her couldn't help but feel on edge and like she was walking into a trap because a raid on one of her businesses meant there was a vulnerability. There was a leak somewhere in her organization, there had to be, and what's worse was that if she came to that conclusion, so would the others. Who would want to do business with them if there was a threat of a raid?

Poised. That word left no room for misinterpretation. They had to appear a certain way and Elena was going to be the last person to dare ruin that. Her smile shifted, replaced instead by a look of serious certainty that she was going to try. “No matter what direction. You’ll hear no complaints from me.” A sip. “I take it that means we’ll be moving about as though nothing is wrong and celebrating the holiday with the rest of the people?”

( @factionstarters , the mayor's party ) "i don't care how expensive these plates of - what is this, salmon? whatever this is, it doesn't matter how much it costs because nothing is better than what a little old church lady cooks." eli said as he frowned at the little slabs of meat artfully arranged on pieces of lettuce. or was that fucking kale? he didn't fucking knew, but he stood by what he said. "it's not that i think it's made with love or blessed by god or something, i just think they have those old family recipes that have been perfected over generations and they've spent their entire lives learning how to cook for the masses. i don't know if you've ever been to wildheart church during one of their fund raisers, but trust me, i mean it. food never tastes as good as when it's made by a church lady."

Elena chuckled as she listened to the rant unfolding, pleasantly surprised to find herself agreeing. Now, she wasn’t going to say no to the food they were serving. Some of it was nice, but he did have a point. Nothing was quite as nice as the food of someone with generations worth of family recipes. “Don’t have to convince me. I’d take that any day over this.” Her eyes drifted over the food. “It’s not bad but it’s not homemade, is it?”

starter: open location: bacha-lacha

The bar incident had been a full disaster, panic spreading all around when she remembered the more secluded areas. Fast feet carry her, rushed steps toward checking if anyone was still within those areas. And, to no surprise, she did find someone. Fire extinguisher in her hands, clutched she still found a moment to lean against the wall in an attempt to catch her breath. “You might want to get out, now. There’s going to be more chaos. Fire.” It was stating the obvious, something anyone could have made out from things.