face down in the porcelain;

She found herself outside of Franks'. It wasn't that Charlotte necessarily wanted a drink. She just wanted to get out of the manor (like she so often did) and the idea of being alone with her thoughts was not particularly appealing, and Franks' was one of the few options left in town, and having a tequila sunrise wasn't necessarily unappealing. Except that as she stared at the bar, she remembered the last time she had been there, with Ian and Isaiah and...No, she couldn't. She turned away, colliding straight into someone. "Sorry," she managed to get out. "I didn't see...Sorry." @havensdalestarters

"Oh, hello-," Stella started, stopping short to avoid any further injuries. She took a step back, about to wave off Charlotte's apology when she saw that look on her face. Surely she couldn't have felt so badly about colliding with her. "It's fine, honestly. I must say though, you look like you could use a dirty martini almost as much as I do."

"Oh, it clearly is. Look at what you're wearing." Sylvie was more than a little impressed. She, personally would not have put that particular outfit together, but she could not deny that was a stunning combination and that Stella Bell more than pulled it off. "I just weep at the thought of how out of date I will look when I'm able to leave. What if low-rise jeans have returned? I'd just be so..." Sylvie let out an over-dramatic shudder at the thought. "You have amazing instincts. I go crazy for something classic. Always have. What can I say? It's in my blood."

Stella smiled appreciatively, canting her head at Sylvie's observation. There had certainly been a... shall we say, dark, period of time in Stella's life under this dome. She would hate to admit it again, but becoming a werewolf had saved her life. Truly. Now, she felt like there was a possibility of getting back to herself. A better version. "Thank you, I do try. Oh, don't. There will be hell to pay if we ever see a low-rise jean back on the cover of Bell magazine. If any two will be able to take it in their stride, I'm sure it's us. I knew it." Stella pressed her hands together, looking at her with shining eyes and the teensiest ember of excitement. "Will you let me design something new for you?"

"Having The Stella Bell make my merch? If that happened, it would be a guaranteed success," Emily laughed. "Sounds like the start of an incredible business partnership." Emily decided that she was going to take Stella up on her more than generous offer; the state of her bag really was less than great, and having a spare set of hands would be great. "How about this?" Normally, she'd just the silver-handled knife, but as Stella was a civilian, she decided to hand it to her.

"It's a done deal, then," Stella smiled, still so relieved to see her alive and kicking in person. If not a little bruised, battered or bleeding. Stella was beginning to realise that might be the norm for Emily Matthews. Still, she was determined to help and see her safe. She hadn't given it a single thought when Emily handed her the knife. Under the dome, so many of the things that hurt werewolves had been diminished. Silver had barely scratched the surface in a long time. She wrapped her hand tightly around it, and hissed as it burned against her flesh like it had never before. The knife clattered to the ground between them, and Stella was left staring at her injured - yet healing - palm. She hadn't realised yet, either, just how bad this could be.

"Very much correct." Taylor did feel pleased that her excellent taste was being acknowledged, especially by someone like Stella Bell. She did work hard at it. "There's no way I could convince you to give me the recipe? Are you absolutely positive. I'm willing to pay." And the bruschetta was almost as good as the gnocchi. It really was incredible. "More talents than just amazing food? Wow, a true Renaissance man."

"Oh, I don't know it. Shocking, I know. A man will give you his heart and his home, but he won't divulge his deepest, culinary, secrets. Give me time, though. We'll see how things shake out." Stella leaned back in her chair, undeniably curious to know more about her. "Nothing in his Wikipedia page was exaggerated, I'm afraid. Surely it's something you're no stranger to, though? A true Renaissance man."

"Of course. Fashion...Well it's not quite my entire life, but it definitely is a priority of mine. It has been since I was..." On second thought, Stella Bell did not need to know exactly how old Sylvie was. "Let's just say for quite a few years, yes? Oh, I'm always in the market for something new. You have no idea how frustrating it's been to be limited to what's in town, thanks to..." She gestured up at the sky vaguely.

"Absolutely. Fashion is... Well, it was my life. It still is," she corrected, listening intently to Sylvie speak. She could sense she was a vampire, and that only made Stella more curious about her. How many lifetimes had she lived? "Oh, you don't have to tell me. Living in this fishbowl is borderline unbearable, but we make do. Let's talk more about you, though. I would love to know what some of your favourite pieces have been? You are screaming classic chic to me. Black and white, perhaps some pastels. One, iconic, bold piece. Stop me at any time."

Lua responded to being chastised with a forceful wave to get Stella going. No time to lose when stakes were this high. While Lua wasn't sure Nathan even knew who she was, she wasn't keen on finding out. Her shoulders finally dropped once Stella made it outside, and she could take a second to appreciate her most unlikely friend, dressed to perfection - though hardly weatherproof. "I'm usually not above bruschetta but you can keep your blood bread to yourself." Sure, they weren't diamonds, and sure, the basket smelled like a gluten fuelled ecstasy, but Lua had principles. Besides, she'd brought an apple and two boiled eggs in her backpack. "That was so nearly embarrassing. Imagine if someone gets hold of the CCTV footage." She started walking down the road, assuming Stella was following. "You're not really dressed for a hike, you know? I'm feeling bog-witchy, anyway. We can make homebrew."

"Drama. Saying that, you don't have to twist my arm, Lu. I'll take this evil and gorgeously seasoned bruschetta off the table myself. Oh, they'd have it on the five o'clock report with Wendy Star. Although, I doubt any of the cronies at the news station could make it through your death traps for an interview," she added, grinning behind the bruschetta. Stella followed Lua, content to let her set their schedule. She'd had a terrible feeling the word 'hike' would be coming her way from the backpack and boots, but she still cringed. "Oh, you know me. I'm determined that anything the average Joe can do, I can do in heels." At Lua's change of plans, she perked up. "Thank god, something I might be good at, for once."

"Ooh, I'm counting down the days." Ava didn't need to be told twice and immediately grabbed some bread from the basket. Being a shifter was hungry work; she could only imagine how hungry Stella must be. "Very true, but I'm insatiable. Bless him, he tries his best though." She grinned, "I almost wish I could show you the bow he wore for my birthday."

Stella loved a little salacious gossip, which Ian-and-Ava were always good for. There was no judgement on Stella's part, of course. A gal's gotta eat, especially under this damn dome. "God loves a trier. I hope he's still meeting his targets, though." She let out a delighted laugh, her hands clapping together. "Oh, me too, and I bet I know exactly where he tied it. A happy birthday, then?"

"What, like a Crossfit sort of thing?" Emily asked with a small laugh. "Although, I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to that. Especially if it meant getting free merch." Good, they had reached a point of agreement. And honestly, Emily was more than happy allowing Stella carry her things. Or hold her hand, as the case may be. "Sounds like a plan. Let me just..." She did want to make sure that her spare knife wasn't in danger of poking anyone.

"Something like that. I think you'd make a wonderful spokesperson, and your merch would fly off the shelves. We can team up, I can make your novelty t-shirts," Stella teased. She moved closer to Emily while she sorted out her bag, barely keeping her hands to herself. She was very keen to get her somewhere safe and tended to. "Just let me know what you want me to hold-," she held out both of her hands.

Ava had just finished a private training session with Nathan and was absolutely exhausted when she finally collapsed in the seat across from Stella. She had been wavering about whether to sit and get sweat on the upholstery, but she decided it was Nathan's own fault for working her too hard. "No?" She huffed, "Well, that's disappointing."

"Well, if I knew you were going to be so enthusiastic about it, I might have got you a different birthday present. There's always next year," she added with a smirk. Stella pushed the bread basket to the centre of the table for Ava to help herself. She was a frequent flyer in Nathan's basement - sorry, training centre. "Surely you've had your fair share of bites from a certain situationship anyway, no?"

"Roadrunners as in the cartoon character? Yeah, I definitely wasn't expecting any of those. Oh, I was in the market for some of the gnocchi. The sauce that's on it? I'm obsessed, frankly." Taylor tore off a small piece of the bread that Stella offered. "I don't know how Nathan Matthews does it." Yes, the craving for good Italian food was real and at the forefront of Taylor's mind.

"Correct, or should I say, 'meep meep'. The gnocchi is a stunning choice - are you sure you want it to go? The sauce is a trade secret, I fear it will be taken to the grave." Stella smiled sweetly as Taylor took the bread, wondering how 'evil' she could be if she enjoyed a beautiful bruschetta? "He is a man of many talents, I must say. Small mercies that this place is on the right side of the dome."

"Of course I am," Sylvie said, a little surprised by the woman's response to her compliment. "Of all the young up-and-comers, you were always one of my favorites. The whole aesthetic and the level of quality...I really cherish every single one of my pieces. Oh, I promise that if the weather is better, I'll wear it just for you." Sylvie sat as soon as the offer was extended. "I'm Sylvie, by the way."

Stella couldn't help it, she was practically beaming at the stream of compliments coming her way. She had missed fashion, missed designing, more than she'd care to admit. She even missed the recognition, to say the least. "Thank you for saying that, it means... well, honestly more than you know. You must let me know if you're in the market for something new. I have literally nowhere else to be, and I'd love a new project for a worthy muse. It is a relief to meet you, Sylvie."