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.

In truth, Maya was the kind of person who claims she’s not a fan of flowers. But she secretly was and hopelessly so. Even though she prefers chocolates, she still adores the prospect of giving or receiving flowers. She had been stood outside of Joanne’s Petals for a while now, holding onto her already paid for bouquet while browsing. Since it was Valentine’s Day, the place was decently packed with people picking out what flowers to get for their lovers or loved ones. It was a sweet sight, really. By some miracle, it doesn’t make Maya feel lonely in the way she assumes it would. Perhaps she’s finally growing up. 

once upon a time, charity was all her mother could parrot about for hours at a time — for an ex-pageant queen socialite, philanthropy for the sake of appearance was second nature and she pushed pie-baking and charity galas onto her daughter, despite aveline despising every moment. she didn’t quite understand the point of all the uppity benevolence peacocking they partook in when most of their dresses and events they held cost more than the money they ended up donating. 

but she supposes a part of it still stuck by her as she gravitated towards the various baskets and vouchers up for auction. she walks over to a gift basket, ignoring the woman in a garish red suit behind the table and picking up the clipboard and pen. Underneath the previous bid, she writes her name as BIG BIRD’S FAT YELLOW ASS topped with a generous bid of $690, before taking the gum out of her mouth and sticking it right underneath the wicker, ensuring that whomever grabbed it would get a nice grip of her Trident bubblegum.