HONEY - SCENTED.

                                                   wanted    opposites.    

" it's starting to feel like you do this just to be a bitch , " words come pressed through nearly closed teeth , calloused fingertips weaving a needle and thread across the hardened musculature of her right arm , the blood already washed away and wound already sterilized. this wasn't the first person she's worked for that got themselves into trouble seemingly on a whim , but she might be the first one to do it so wantonly , with so little of a good reason or explanation. anything to get her to throw some guy through a window , apparently , even if it costs a knife wound. this , though , is what she got herself into: you don't do this job and not get banged up. dark eyes scan the room , coming to the smug , haughty woman watching her. " i can't keep protecting you if you keep jumping into shit assuming i'm gonna' save your ass every time. " she does , because she's good at what she does , but: " i know you think i'm just some fucking thing , like if i get killed you can just replace me , but i guarantee you the next person you hire is gonna' let you get dragged off to some dirty basement and tortured if you keep acting like this. " // @hclysins

" she's doing okay , i promise. " so few people come to these meetings anymore , at least for any meaningful amount of time. not that she can blame any of them: the classroom , the whole school really , they all just feel different at night , sterile almost. the halls had already cleared out , the rest of her co - workers having probably already gone home , their parent meetings finished , all questions answered satisfactorily , leaving only her and soraya left to tackle the difficult issues. it felt . . . nice though , strangely enough , sitting across from her , though it couldn't help but be awkward , what with her still stationed behind her desk. " it feels like — i don't want to pry , really , but it feels like there might be something going on outside of school , she's had a bit of trouble focusing. " she's no counselor , nothing of the sort , but compassionate eyes level on the face of the woman opposite her , drawn to her. " is everything alright ? you — obviously you don't have to tell me , i just . . . i want to help , if i can. she's . . . such a smart girl. " her speech becomes a little more informal , rolling chair moving out from behind the desk in an attempt to make her feel less like such an authority figure here. " if i can do something , i want to. " // @hclysins

open to: f/nb. plot: edie and your muse are stuck together at one of her hospital fundraisers. connections: 30+ year old muses. " you know , i assumed it was a requirement that everyone who showed up to these things had to be boring. " usually is , especially for what these things are — the same suite of old money investors , the same small talk: who gets their name on the new neonatal unit , something about getting their kids into harvard or yale , and at the behest of the board , the rest of the staff get dragged along to make them feel good about themselves , little scarecrows for the leering old men to stare at. especially edie: she's already had to beat back god knows how many trust fund failsons as it is already tonight. it made sense , then , that she'd find herself here , at this woman's side , offering her a drink. " so , you've been here all night and haven't pretended to try and sell me on how much you care about what we do here , so i'm guessing you aren't with any of them. " lithe fingers gesture to the rest of the room , blankly , as she watches them drift across the floor , tone dry. " unless you're one of these poor old men's date , which might just earn my sympathy. " a pause , arms slowly crossing. " anyone asks , you came here with me. might keep the vultures away for a while , for both of us. "

open to: f/nb. connection: lover , maybe secret girlfriend , actress , your choice. preferably 28+. plot: carol vibes , new passionate romance , perhaps an affair on their end. lithe frame splayed across the sofa at the heart of her small apartment , still draped in a light evening robe from the night before , her head idly turned , watching the plants swaying on the windowsill. artists can be so dreadfully boring sometimes , her very much included ; new york attracts a very different kind of pretention than los angeles , she's found , one more aloof than colorful. footsteps echoing across the wood eventually rouse her attention , and she cannot help but appraise her guest with the utmost curiosity. they fit in quite well here , no matter how odd that might have seemed just a week ago — sneaking about lest they attract the wrong kind of public attention. " i was thinking of drawing a bath , " she finally spoke , cold eyes casting a yearning glance their way , otherwise surrounded by silence. " unless of course you had other plans. "