#ruinedstarter

Posters for the charity mixer had been plastered all across campus, as well as a couple of email reminders as it drew closer, for several weeks and yet the event had still snuck up on him. He hadn’t wanted to go the moment he’d seen that it was mandatory for current students but his whining to Scott had been answered with a grin and reassurance that he’d be there too, so it wouldn’t be so bad. 

He could’ve arrived with the others, but given that he’d forgotten all about the damn thing, he was running it a bit late so they’d gone ahead without him whilst he spent his time dumping gel on his hair to try and get it to behave. 

Dressed in a shirt with the top button popped and the sleeves rolled up, a waistcoat in parody of his usual layers he favoured, and dark grey dress pants, it was only his shoes -- a battered pair of black chucks -- that made him feel like himself and not a kid playing dress up. What even was ‘smart casual’? He was 23 years old and he still didn’t know and his dad’s shrugged answer of ‘I think it means you can forego a tie?’ hadn’t really helped. 

He’d foregone the tie though. 

Snagging the first drink that he saw that wasn’t wine -- it was something colorful and it even had a slice of pineapple slotted against the rim of the glass -- he used his tongue to capture the straw and pull it into his mouth as he looked around the place, humming in surprise at the flavor. Not bad. Not bad at all. It didn’t even taste like alcohol, which was probably why it went down so well and quickly, until all he was left with was a slice of pineapple to munch on. 

When: The Time of Davina’s Death Where: The Bayou With: Hayley @lcstwxlf

Loitering around the Bayou was fast becoming one of Kol’s favourite pastimes because every evening he was almost guaranteed to have someone come about sooner or later and he would be treated to a little company that he could proceed to irritate until they ran away. He so enjoyed providing everyone and anyone with his particular brand of wit; it was also much safer not to look too much deeper into why he sought out people this way as often as he did. But given the chaos of the city his little proclivities were pushing already stressed people right up to the edge and that was wonderfully entertaining.

Speaking of, it seemed there was a wolf in the swamp, how delightful. Guessing he’d be noticed soon enough Kol remained seated on the thick tree branch quite high up like a darker version of Peter Pan and once the wolf came into view and her eyes met his a slow smirk crept onto his face. “A little wolf came wondering into the glade where Mr. Bat sat watching with care.” his voice taking on the rhythm of a storyteller before trailing off to a chuckle. “Hello there Darling; what’s a little cub like you doing in a big bad place like this?” 

She was not here to be social. She didn’t want to be here at all. Jennifer had never planned to return to New Orleans, it held nothing but past heartbreak and revenge that she was doing all she could to leave behind her for a quiet life now. One phone call and that had been scuppered and here she was, teaching at the university (not a position she minded in of itself) but also dealing with the societal needs of a lecturer and Deans who thought it necessary for all staff to attend damnable fundraisers. The social situation was enough to raise her shoulders in tension, so many people, so many faces looking upon her. That they knew nothing of her was beside the point, the act alone unsettled her.

Yet, here she was, clothed in a simple form fitting black dress, red stilettos, silver jewelry and her hair hanging down, a few curls half-covering an eye and some of her face. She’d thus far relegated herself to speaking with other faculty members, several of whom seemed as disinclined to be here as she (relationships were better forged in mutual dissatisfaction it seemed) but her small bearable circle was ruined by the booming voice of the Dean himself. 

“Jennifer!” he called, stomping over, a jolly grin on his face as he slipped a hand around her waist in what to his mind was merely a friendly gesture, “My dear, you must get around the room more! I’ve been telling many about you, the latest member of staff already enthralling students.” he chortled. Her reply was cut short as he half-dragged her a few steps further into the room and barged them into a current circle of speakers, “Everyone! This is Professor Blake, she’s our new English professor, another find addition to the university but a little shy, do welcome her won’t you.” And with that the would-be helper clomped off to drag more faculty into the limelight. 

Clearing her throat, the uncomfortable woman shoved a smile on her face and looked at those around her. “Well, the Dean is certainly in good spirits.” And took a drink of wine. 

@halexstorm

Rocks crunched under her car’s tires as she drove into the heart of the Bayou. She pulled up to the end of the gravel driveway and shifted the gear into park. A twist of her wrist turned the key in the ignition, shutting off the stereo and in the engine in one go. When Bonnie stared at the house in front of her car through the wind shield a sigh pushed out of her. 

It wasn’t nerves she felt fluttering around in her belly. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about. Cora was intense, blunt, probably --impossibly-- more tactless than her brother, but it wasn’t like she was going to eat her. Not only would that break the Peace Treaty, but --most importantly-- Bonnie hardly had any meat to her. Sure she was a snacc, but she wasn’t a snack. There was a difference. 

The sigh that expelled from her nostrils was resolute. A press of a button sent the seat belt back into its compartment with a hiss. She reached into the passenger seat and collected her backpack and duffel. Normally when she did this kind of thing she came prepared with a nail kit and other cosmetics. But, for whatever reason, she didn’t think that the youngest Hale would be into that kind of thing. 

No with her leather jackets and take-no-shit gumption, Bonnie was having a hard time picturing her in a bathrobe, wearing a face mask, slices of cucumber on her eyelids. Cora was not Caroline and Elena, who were the only other girls she’d ever really done this with. So, yeah, fine, maybe she was a little bit nervous. But it was fine, they’d figure it out. She’d agreed to hanging out, so... it’d be fine.

Climbing the steps to the front door, Bonnie set her duffel carefully down onto the lanai’s floorboards. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders back, lifted her hand from her side to knock on the door. Three raps later and she stood on the front porch, waiting. Bonnie looked around at her wooded surrounding as she listened for the locks to turn and for the door to open. 

@venandi

There weren't many people left in the world that she cared about. And maybe that was by design, but the names on that too short list meant more than the world to her. She'd do anything for any of them, like drop everything and come running with nothing but a phone call. Or maybe that was just him. Braeden didn't catch the earliest redeye and hightail it thousands of miles for just anyone, after all.

Not without charging extra, that is. But for him? Gratis. With their history, it was the least she could do.

Strolling the halls of the NOU campus, she casually observed the various awards and accolades that decorated the walls, mild interest in her gaze as it passed over trophy cases and faculty portraits, donator plaques and other circle-jerk memorabilia. She might've been an NOU alum, but she'd never been one for "school spirit." Leave that to the Zeta Delta Douchebags and the like.

The path down memory lane ended with an office guarded by a lone secretary's desk, which currently sat empty. The door behind it was open just a crack, barely enough to hear a familiar voice on the other side. Braeden didn't wait for Horn-rimmed Barbie to finallt stumble upon her and announce her to the room. She stepped around the desk, toward the office, and pushed the door open far enough to lean her shoulder against the frame.

Arms folded, ankle crossed over her leg, a warmth in her gaze that didn't quite make it to the lines of her expression, Braeden silently watched as Alarc Saltzman spared her a meaningful glance before wrapping up his meeting with his secretary. When the pencil skirt shouldered past her with a polite, "Excuse me," and less polite disapproval in her eyes, she nodded an acknowledgment of the woman before pushing off the doorframe into the office and closing the door behind her.

"My, we are important these days," muttered Braeden, inspecting the various, now familiar, knickknacks on the shelves in Ric's office. Impassive as the words were said, the joke was in the truth of them. Alaric was important. Every day. Not just these days.

It had been a long day already. To put it lightly. Elena was just about finished with her long shift at Rousseau’s and to say that she was glad would also be putting it lightly. Elena was dead tired. She was doing everything in her power to get her messy thoughts to stop spinning. She wanted a day off from thinking about witches and vampires and problems. Was coming here a mistake? Elena was starting to really, really wonder about her decision, maybe even regret it but... she couldn’t go back to Mystic Falls. She just couldn’t be there, not after...

Kol had never been a self-conscious fellow, that much was certainly true and right now he literally danced down the streets of the French Quarter, iPod earbuds in as he listened to the roaring jazz that had once been the lifeblood of the very roads he walked. Shame he’d never got to really enjoy it. People looked at him as he past, almost all smiled, how could they not? A handsome young man with a (dare he say) beautiful singing voice, captured their attention like the pied-piper stringing along little kids. 

“Oh it ain’t, not crime, to siiiiiiiing!’ he hit the last notes and few people near-by applauded as they went on their way. Ever the showman, Kol happily bowed and soaked up the attention like a sponge. Ahh, in another life he’d have been a bard to be remembered. Maybe he should devote the next couple of decades to stardom? That would be fun if stick-in-the-mud Elijah or Klaus would no doubt be there to ruin his fun and dagger him at the first sign of mayhem.

He elegantly draped himself against a nearby bench, looking akin to a model ready for the camera and saw someone sat on the same bench looking his way. He smirked, winked and pulled the earbuds out, “Jazz,” he breathed the world as though it were nectar of the gods, “Devil’s Music.” he continued theatrically, “Once I get to hell I think the first thing I’ll do is compliment old Old Scratch on his taste.” 

@venandi

Elena was exhausted. She was running on coffee and something like an hour and a half of sleep. The nightmares she had been having since her parents death had come back last night in a rush, drowning her even after they had woken her up. She thought that perhaps they had come back to haunt her after a few weeks of quiet because her thoughts had drifted back to the regret of dragging her friends here, of plunging them into this world that she didn’t understand and that scared her. Elena had been beating herself up and thinking about Mystic Falls and so it was probably no surprise that her dreams were going as backwards as her thoughts. Regardless, she pushed on with her day. She finished her shift and then found herself in the back of the library, with her nose stuck in her books.