── 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁,

[ COURTNEY EATON, CIS FEMALE, SHE / HER ] shh ! sloane jennings, the twenty year old second year public health major from chicago, illinois, is known as a tourmaline around here. she was invited to join because of her versatility and her academic record, and now, they’re here to stay. she reminds me of a cigarette tucked behind your ear, sitting on the rooftop to watch the sunset, & wishing on dandelions.

⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ ⁽ ⠀ 🍓 ⠀ ⁾               𝙽𝙾𝙰𝙷'𝚂   𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳   𝚃𝙸𝙻𝚃𝚂   𝙸𝙽   𝙼𝙾𝙲𝙺   𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃,   as   if   her   answer   falls   just   short   of   satisfactory.   he’s   quick   to   ‘tsk’   before   he   raises   a   hand   at   her   question.   he’s   alright,   noah’s   always   alright,   he’s   learned.   he   gives   her   a   look   as   he   straightens,   resting   his   hands   against   the   iron   instead   of   his   forearms.      ❛       do   i   look   not   alright?       ❜      he   jokes,   leaning   toward   her   before   he   leans   away,   gaze   pushed   out   to   the   green.      ❛       i’m   good,   just   hate   parties,   you   know?       ❜

     she should feel right at home, amongst the expensive fabrics, the overly self-absorbed masked party-goers, the ice sculptures and the music. yet, amelia’s currently standing where she’s usually never found: a dark, solitary corner. for an instant, it almost feels like a personality switch has occurred between the twins, as the younger plays a drunken game of golf out on the green, and the eldest takes a pause and people-watches. ❝ so, tell me — dare … or dare ? ❞ she offers, as her once-private hiding space is invaded by another, ❝ i’d offer truth as an option, but i’m afraid masks help conceal the tell-tale signs of lies a little too easily. ❞ / ( & @opalsmedia· ! )

by this point of the night, eliot’s all flushed cheeks and freckles that can just about manage to be glimpsed behind his mask when he tilts his head just right. a happy kind of tipsy as he traipses over to the small smattering of people gathered at the bar. “mm… you know, growing up, i always thought these parties would be a little cooler than they usually are in reality,” he says, striking up conversation with the person next to him at the bar. the smallest of criticisms on their present company. “like… you could just waltz up to the bar and speak to an international super spy without even knowing it while waiting for your martini.“ there’s a glimmer of playfulness to be found in his eyes; the very same kind he gets when he has a particularly good idea. ( or what he perceives to be one ). “so, in the spirit of mystery and intrigue, i propose this.” eliot raises a hand, partly to flag down the bartender (and part just to punctuate his words).  “you tell me two lies about yourself and a truth. can be as big or as little as you want. makes the evening a bit more fun, don’t you think?” 

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐲 ??? 𝐢𝐝𝐤 // 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

          THE AIR BETWEEN stayed tense, and rose knew she was to blame. she brought sloane into a society with their relationship rocky, and hasn’t provided much guidance since — too concerned with the investigation and poppy and to finally be given an opportunity to prove her place in the ranks of the opal society. she didn’t know how sloane felt — frankly, she was too afraid to find out, worried the answer would break rose’s heart. tonight, however, spending it with someone she felt so much for, surrounded by her family, rose felt a little braver. it’s that with which she stepped outside to stand next to sloane, gazing out onto the golf course from their view. “ it’s a lovely night, ” rose said, offering her a smile. “ and you look wonderful. are you having a nice time ? ” ( @tourmvlines· )

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬     ──     𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍    to    anyone.    @opalsmedia·

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧     ──     outside.

⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ ⁽ ⠀ 🍓 ⠀ ⁾               𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙳   𝙰𝙸𝚁   𝙸𝚂   𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴,   a   gentle   reprieve   from   the   humidity   and   heat   of   the   crowded   club   behind   him.   his   arms   are   rested   against   an   old   iron-wrought   railing,   brows   brought   together   as   he   takes   a   final   sip   from   an   emptying   flask.   it’s   quickly   placed   back   into   the   inner   pocket   of   his   suit   jacket   at   the   sound   of   footsteps   approaching.   a   groan   befalls   his   lips,   he   tilts   his   head   back   to   look   at   the   offender,   an   uncharacteristic   grumpiness   written   into   usually   stoic   features.      ❛       ‘smells   like   shit   over   here,   wouldn’t   recommend   staying   around.       ❜      he   lies   loudly.      ❛       unless   you   come   bearing   drinks,   in   which   case,   the   smell   has   disappeared.       ❜

ft. sloane — @tourmvlines·

thanks to the opal society, george is no longer a stranger to upscale events like this one. she doesn’t even mind being at them anymore, especially now that she knows everyone a little better. but there’s always room for some vibe-checking, life-shattering moment to destroy her subtle semblance of happiness, whether it’s rejection, or classism, or an argument. sometimes it’s all three. george is feeling good about tonight, though, with sloane at her side—maybe she’s a little anxious about it, but it’s hard to feel nervous around her when they already know each other so well. george just wants.. a little bit more than that.

she’s looking for josie to tell her all about how well the night is going when she sees it. first, it’s the back of sloane’s head, and the silky, dark hair george loves to comb her fingers through. then, it hits her. sloane’s kissing someone, who isn’t her. it feels like her chest is swelling, as much as she wants to play things off like she always does, like she doesn’t give a crap, like nothing fazes her—she just stands there, letting the disappointment consume her. when the roots that have tied her feet to the ground finally ease up, she ducks into the bathroom, where there are at least three other girls crying. she isn’t going to cry. she doesn’t do that, especially not around strangers. and she’s definitely not going to cry because of sloane. she has no obligation to george. they’re friends, they decided to go together as friends, and maybe it was a little ridiculous to believe that it was bigger than that. george isn’t a stranger to making out with people at parties on a whim, and she knows sloane isn’t, either. but it still stings as she stares herself down in the mirror, reapplying her lip stick for the fifth time this evening.

as she slips out of the bathroom and back into the masquerade madness, she knows all she wants to do is to ditch the celebrations and have a movie night with josie. but that’s unrealistic, and she doesn’t want to bring down anyone else’s night. so she turns to the bar instead. she’s half-way through her second drink when sloane appears at her side. “you disappeared for a while,” she says, but it sounds more like she’s blowing bubbles into her glass. “i thought maybe you weren’t coming back.” it comes out a little meaner than intended, but maybe it’s just the honest sentiment behind it. 

          there’s a learning curve when it comes to attending a strathmore ball. it takes hours to get ready first of all; and, no matter how overdressed sloane feels when she’s in her own room, she’s always going to feel severely underdressed by the time she steps into the venue. the first hour or so is always fun, but things can get boring fast unless she finds someone fun to keep her company. that had been her train of thought when she had suggested to george that they attend together. something along the lines of ‘no real date would be half as entertaining.’ she’d meant it, but they both have their own friends, other people who demand their attention. but she’s a college student in her twenties, so at some point, catching up with friends turns into making out with another girl at the edge of the room. 

STATUS: closed, ft. @tourmvlines· ! LOCATION: the main entrance foyer thing !

                         THE NIGHT BECOMES A BLUR ––––– not because he’s been drinking, no ––––– it’s a far cry from the absolute haze of a memory that was fright night from the substances that had coursed through his body. no, it’s a blur for an entirely different reason ––––– the hours passe quickly in the company of someone whose smile alone makes time feel like a distant concept. and while his own date has left him to freshen up in the bathroom for a moment, he finds himself drawn back to the entranceway, not entirely sold on the idea of heading back into the main ballroom on his own. he thinks he catches a glimpse of a familiar face, a soft jawline and a pair of brown eyes that could only belong to their dear tourmaline prodigy. he approaches, one hesitant step at a time, knowing full-well the air between them has never exactly been clear. “ hey, sloane, wait up –––– ” he calls out, attempting to stop her and chat. maybe it’s not exactly the right time to try and make amends, but he’s been feeling in a rather emotional mood as of late. somehow, his feet simply drag himself toward her. “ are you –––– ” his words are interrupted by an uproar that comes from the ballroom, two pairs of couples whose voices are clearly raising decibels by the second. he recognizes one of them –––– paul, a good friend from one of his philosophy classes, and a face, far too familiar for his own liking. sloane’s friend, from first year –––– perhaps the reason he and sloane never exactly started off on the right foot. a glance over at sloane is the world’s quickest apology as he nods over at his other friend, trying to calm down the parties involved. 

──   𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨  :    𝐺𝑂𝐿𝐷𝐸𝑁 𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 .

prompt:  tell us about your character’s fashion sense !

      “  yes  —  well,  we’re  not  american,  now  are  we.  ”  she  says  with  a  bit  of  disdain.  quickly,  she  realizes  her  fault  —  sloane  is  american.  “  i  meant,  our  society  is  not  american  —  not  us  as  individuals.  this  is  an  exclusive  group,  not  some  gathering  meant  solely  for  the  purpose  of  alcohol  consumption.  ”  she’s  seen  the  movies  (  against  her  will  )  about  what  goes  on  on  american  college  campuses.  “  we’re  held  to  a  different  standard  than  that.  i  don’t  consider  ourselves  lucky  that  we  haven’t  endured  that,  because  we  never  would.  we’re  in  a  different  league.  ”

          ❝  touché.  we  both  know  i  can’t  recreate  such  niche  personalities  by  myself,  but  the  bad  pick  -  up  lines  on  the  other  hand,  ❞     her  voice  trails  off  with  a  laugh  as  the  music  swells  again.  at  these  point,  they’d  probably  heard  every  line  in  the  book,  so  reciting  them  to  each  other  was  never  out  of  the  question.  and  she’d  take  any  opportunity  to  leave  the  confines  of  her  room  these  days.     ❝  strong  fun  i  can  do,  ❞     flagging  down  the  bartender,  josie  puts  in  their  drink  order  before  offering  a  cheeky  smile.     ❝  last  time  we  were  here  all  night,  i  had  to  listen  to  a  guy  talk  about  the  cat  at  his  mom’s  house  and  how  it  perches  like  a  bird,  so  i’ll  pass  this  time.  ❞     josie  offered  an  amused  scoff.     ❝  as  if  you  could  get  rid  of  me  that  easily.  though  i  imagine  george  or  mack  would  perform  admirably  in  my  place.  ❞     with  a  nod  of  thanks,  she  takes  the  two  glasses  from  the  bartender,  though  head  turns  to  find  the  source  of  sloane’s  attention.  she  was  quite  fond  of  the  game  herself.  glass  extended,  she  nods  thoughtfully.     ❝  looks  like  he  got  in  a  pissin’  match  with  his  mum  and  she  kicked  ‘im  to  the  curb  for  the  night,  what  d’ya  reckon  ?  still  lives  with  his  mum  type  ?  ❞

                    𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐑𝐀  𝐈𝐒  𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  away  ,  voluntarily  ,  instinctually  .  she  knows  loneliness  far  better  than  company  ,  and  falls  into  silence  quicker  than  conversation  .  this  is  what  she  knows  ───  to  either  be  alone  or  partly  hidden  .  never  completely  present  or  exposed  ,  always  a  dark  side  turned  away  so  light  cannot  hit  it  and  reveal  the  cracks  that  form  spiderwebs  across  the  ice  she  is  made  of  ,  the  very  weaknesses  she  is  hellbent  on  keeping  hidden  .  still  ,  ginevra  likes  to  believe  that  good  intentions  seep  into  her  actions  ,  enough  for  those  familiar  with  her  to  know  that  she  is  loyal  to  them  .  that  she  cares  for  them  as  though  they  were  her  family  ───  because  they  are  .  so  sloane’s  question  catches  her  off  guard  .  it  leaves  her  so  stunned  that  ginevra  falters  for  a  moment  ,  a  frown  forming  on  her  features  as  she  is  left  to  wonder  how  many  prodigies  doubt  her  .  for  what  may  very  well  be  the  first  time  ,  ginevra  wonders  if  the  secrecy  that  she  wears  like  armor  is  rather  a  weapon  ,  one  that  has  harmed  the  very  people  she  tries  to  protect  .  do  they  truly  believe  she  doesn’t  care  ?  as  they  walk  ,  her  eyes  scan  around  their  surroundings  ───  they  find  no  one  other  than  the  tourmaline  ,  so  ginevra  dares  to  be  honest  .  ❝  i  am  not  trying  to  convince  you  of  anything  ,  sloane  .  all  i  am  trying  to  do  is  to  keep  you  safe  .  just  as  i  am  trying  to  keep  everyone  safe  ,  precisely  because  i  care  .  i  do  not  need  all  of  you  to  believe  me  when  i  say  that  …  i  suppose  i  just  wish  you  did  .  ❞  her  frown  dissipates  then  ,  expression  returning  to  neutral  composure  as  she  shrugs  ,  as  though  her  words  had  fallen  easily  rather  than  tasting  like  a  confession  .  ❝  do  what  you  will  with  that  information  .  ❞

      it wasn’t every day mack got freedom in the hospital’s kitchen. typically, he was there to help complete a predetermined menu, but for once, there were more than enough staff members, and mack is able to make whatever dessert he wants. it’s one of the most fulfilling shifts he’s put in, and he’s eager to share his happiness. placing the prettiest one on a plate, he drapes a napkin over the top, careful not to damage any his hard work and heads off to find sloane. “aye! jennings!” he calls out the second he catches sight of his fellow volunteer. after closing the distance between them, he drops to one knee before her and pulls the napkin away from the plate, revealing a cupcake. a cupcake that’s perfect as far as mack is concerned; the fudge-like cake has a chocolate ganache and chopped strawberry center and a piped tower of chocolate buttercream icing, decorated with a bouquet of small pink fondant flowers. “i hope you’re not allergic to anything in this, but if are, at least we’re in a hospital.”