no i don't want your body {eb}

tag; ebonynightmare

felicity

    After months of intense studying, it didn't seem like Felicity Crusoe could be more of a hermit, but she was surprising herself every day. Her oculocutaneous albinism seemed to have flared during the fall months, confining her to the indoors or intensely shaded areas of Foresta. Even the flash of a smartphone or flicker of the lights was enough to induce a burning sensation on her skin and eyes, and she had no tolerance for it. She might've been increasing her sensitivity to light by being so secluded, but she had no reason to live in inconvenience. Better to live comfortably in the dark than attempt a painful social life; that just seemed illogical.
    She appreciated travel and the comforting aesthetic that Foresta offered, but it was still rare for her to venture too far from her dorm or the library, both of which she considered home. And for a bookworm, home was a safe haven. But, if she was going to seek out a change of scenery, it had to be at night, preferably in the comfort of her pajamas. The short girl had swapped her usually professional attire for a pair of maroon, satin pajamas that hung loosely off of her frame. They rippled gently as she strode down the corridor, donning a pair of protective sunglasses to finish off the unusual look. Her hair was tossed up into a messy bun with strands coming loose at all ends, and she absent-mindedly tucked one behind her ear as she checked the time: 10:13. Perfect timing.
    The ballroom was dimly lit and complimented beautifully by the twinkling stars shining on the ceiling. There were a few people milling about or dancing, and the rest seemed to be softly talking among themselves. A quiet din filled the room with soft swells and decrescendos; the music of chatter. Seating herself at a table near the corner of the room, Felicity removed her protective sunglasses and popped in a pair of headphones she'd stuffed into her pocket. She was careful to keep her phone on the lowest brightness setting as she quickly scrolled to Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G, letting the music thrum and sway her into a soft lull.


{ooc: song muse, my posts should get longer once the thread starts to go}

Occasionally, when he had nothing else to do, Braedyn would go to the ballroom and play guitar for the people who were there late at night. It was quite calming, and provided a great way to relax after an exhausting day spent in the pursuit of athleticism. Today, there was already someone present who seemed to be in charge of providing music, but they were otherwise occupied at the moment. Absently stroking the strings of his guitar, which was slung across his back, he made his way to an empty table and plucked at the strings without much thought. The muted chatter of the room's occupants, twinkling stars,and soft guitar created an almost magical mood, like some cheesy-but-beautiful scene in a romance movie.

As he quietly strummed away, humming under his breath, he noticed a familiar face in the corner. Admittedly, it was less her face that made her recognizable than it was the sunglasses. He was surprised to see her wearing such casual clothing--it certainly didn't fit with the impression of formality and solemnity that he had of her from their encounters. Braedyn faintly recalled some sort of bet they'd made--something about him proving to her that making friends was worthwhile. A small smile began to form on his lips as a plan took shape in his mind.

Instead of heading over to her table, Braedyn went up to the microphone placed at the front of the room and tapped it a few times before speaking. "This is for Miss Felicity," he announced, grinning at the people who looked up at him. The other musician, who was still chatting away, paused to give him a thumbs-up. Braedyn strummed his guitar a few times experimentally and waited for Felicity to look up before he began to sing. 

"I was fine, just a guy livin' on my own, waiting for the sky to fall..."

song
(OOC: hope you don't mind that I assumed Felicity would be able to hear the mic through her headphones and would look up QQ)

felicity

    This was considered being social, right? Felicity was around other people, but the actual conversation part seemed to be lacking. She blinked a couple of times, thankful that she didn't have to wear those blocky sunglasses, and decided to mentally study the groups of people surrounding her, and removing an earbud as well. There seemed to be pockets of people congregating at tables of bars, ranging in groups of two to groups of four or five. An expected amount of people for the sense of causality the ballroom adopted. One of the most intriguing things that the girl noticed was how easily people engaged in this kind of thing. She managed to overhear a few strangers approaching each other and striking up a conversation instantly. And, not only that, but they all used almost the exact same method, down to the formula and order in which they used the steps. It started out with showers of compliments, before cooly using the praise as a segway into asking the other person about themselves, their aspirations in life, et cetera. Stupid, boring, and unbearably unimpressive. For once, she was actually glad that she looked borderline homeless, so that she didn't have to deal with this shit.
    Well, or so she thought. A distant strumming began to draw people to a boy off to the side of the room, armed with a guitar and a charismatic smile. Upon closer inspection, that "Prince Charming-like" character was none other than Braedyn Evermonde, a boy whom she regarded with... Acquaintance? She hadn't seen much of him after the tavern and beach encounters, but she recalled the drunk assholes and their stupid bet about making friends pretty vividly. It appeared that they both carried out their sides of the deal, with she being a recluse and he doing whatever it was that he did every day. And annoyingly so. But, before her pinkish gaze could wander back to the subjects of her study, Braedyn strode her way with a grin much too wide for his face. Great, not only was he catching her on a day that she was completely disheveled, but he was planning something. That was exactly what she needed, obviously. She quirked a brow in his direction, "Braedyn, what are you--"
    "This is for Miss Felicity," he interjected, and then he was off. The song had a punk-pop beat and a nice melody, and Braedyn was a fine singer, but what the fuck. Now everyone in the room was staring at them! For someone who was obsessed with reputation, this felt like social suicide. She looked like a sloppy vampire, and here was this cocky boy band star to use his golden voice to woo every girl within a hundred mile radius of it. "Sarah smiles like Sarah doesn't care, she lives in a world so unaware," Braedyn continued, and Fel couldn't help but feel like that was somewhat directed at her. Oh, so this was how he was going to be? To give her no warning and then throw some condescending undertones into his song of choice? Wouldn't it make more sense to let the listener choose the song? The girl took a few inhalations to calm herself down, mainly cracking under the pressure of so much attention suddenly directed at a girl who hadn't spoken to practically anyone for months. When Braedyn finally concluded his song and was met with a soft applause, Felicity chimed in with her usual snark, "I know I should be thanking you for my performance or something, but next time I'd rather you not bring so much attention to me when I look so painfully sloppy. It's... Uncomfortable."

Obviously, he ignored her interjection--what fun would it have been if he'd stopped before he even started? When he finished, he bowed and waved at the audience with a genial smile. A few people smiled back at him, but most just turned back to talking to their partners. Braedyn turned off the mic and took a seat across from Felicity. He raised his eyebrows at her objection; she looked rather pained, as if trying not to freak out. Understandable, considering that it was rather evident that she hated the human species in general. He still didn't understand this misanthropy-slash-self-induced-isolation, considering how integral his own friends were to his life. 

"First off, you look fine. Just because you're not dressed all formally doesn't mean you look sloppy," he said, rolling his eyes, somehow managing to make the action look friendly rather than annoyed. "It's not like a lot of these people are dressed terrible well. That girl over there looks like she skinned a dog and wore it." It was almost a joke, but in all honesty, it really did look like she was some shapeshifter who had morphed halfway into an English sheepdog and gotten stuck. 

"Also. Remember when you told me to prove the benefits of having friends? Who else would embarrass you without malicious intent?" he joked. "That's what friends are for. And if you don't feel like that was enough of an experience, I could always go sing another song," Braedyn suggested with a grin. 

felicity

    As people finally started to dissolve from Braedyn's little show, Felicity slowly started to regain what was left of her "relaxed mood." The boy proceeded to dismiss her worries about her appearance, and judging by his casual attire, obviously didn't have much regard for his reputation. A shame that he could be so dense, really. "I don't care if other people choose to dress like slobs," she exasperatedly, "I just don't want to be perceived like that. And yes, if you're not dressed professionally, then you're subject to the public's demeaning ridicule, and I don't need any more of that." She paused, now realizing how paranoid and somewhat pathetic that sounded. And her reputation according to Braedyn? Down the drain. Shaking her head, she tried to dismiss what she said, "Well, whatever. Not everyone lives a lifestyle as carefree as yours."
    The girl nearly fell out of her seat when Braedyn went on to explain how friends should embarrass each other. Since when were they "friends?" Wasn't that a verbally contracted obligation? Did she agree to that? But, she stayed silent. She could've interjected, but... She was human. There was something about the word friend that was kind of comforting, even if the term itself was alien to her. "Oh, no no no no no no," Fel interrupted quickly, shaking her head, "No more songs, please. We've already had one." She paused, biting her lip as his words replayed in her head, Remember when you told me to prove the benefits of having friends? Who else would embarrass you without malicious intent?. The few friends she'd had didn't really seem to fit that description, and to her knowledge, embarrassing each other was an unhappy and equally uncomfortable task that was forced upon in friendships. And, not to mention that they were always monitored by her parents... Well, this was just another reason why Foresta wasn't like home.
    "So, I guess you're just waiting for the girls to pour in, right? This is your little pickup game to get their attention?" she said with a sly grin, peering around as if he was, "C'mon Braedyn, you've got to have some better tactics up your sleeve. Girls aren't that easy. Here, we're friends, so I'll help you out on this one." Oh man, this was definitely the most audacious thing she'd ever done. With a smirk plastered onto her face, she quickly rose, walking rather confidently towards the young woman with the terrible fashion sense he'd commented on earlier. "Excuse me, Miss?" she asked rather innocently, her accent seeming to add a professional air to her tone, "You see that kid over there? Yeah, to the right. His name's Braedyn, and he thinks you're just absolutely gorgeous. No, I'm being serious! Yeah, why don't you walk over to him, hand him your number, maybe tell him you're thinking about him? Trust me, I'm his friend, I know he'd love to hear that from you." And, just like that, the ragged girl was clapping and laughing excitedly, literally running up to Braedyn, slamming down a paper with a hardly legible number written onto it, "Call me anytime, hun!" The animal-skinned girl then proceeded to dash out of the room, whooping and cheering as if she'd just won a contest. And, perhaps she had. "Wow, didn't think that would go over so well," Felicity said, giggling quietly as she walked back towards Braedyn, "Just like you said, harmless embarrassment. So, when are you calling her back? She seems like a keeper." If this was how Braedyn was going to play the game, then so be it.

He shrugged at her insistence that she was dressed like a slob. "From what I understand, America's quite obsessed with the idea of pajamas. Pajama day is like the quintessential school dress-up day." He was sure everyone could appreciate comfortable clothing once in a while. Braedyn also wanted to object that professional dress wouldn't spare anyone for criticism, but figured that wouldn't really quell Felicity's fears about her appearance. 'If she can survive with the curious looks that I'm sure those sunglasses draw' was another thought that came to mind, but decided to save that for another time. 

Braedyn chuckled a little at her vehement opposition to another song. "Just teasing," he reassured her. He wouldn't object to some more serenading, though, it seemed like a bucketlist-worthy task. When Felicity stood, though, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow in shock. "Oh, god," he groaned. He shook his head in slight despair. He could just barely hear what she was saying to the girl--and of all people, of course Felicity had chosen just the person he'd been criticizing earlier. 

It wasn't like this whole "my friend thinks you're cute" situation was new; he'd done it for his friends a few times both as a serious endeavor and as a joke. But having Felicity be the one trying to pick up girls for him was strange, to say the least. He didn't even have time to react when the girl dropped off a paper before she scampered away. He was perplexed by her elation--must've been drunk or something. Jeez. People were crazy. 

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that when I said "this is for Miss Felicity" that it wasn't enough to specify that I wasn't trying to win over any of them," he remarked, an eyebrow raised, waving a nonchalant hand at the rest of the ballroom's occupants. "But fine. I'll be right back," he said with a wink, getting up from his seat. "If I have that girl, it's only fair you have a...pal, too, isn't it?" 

He tapped the guy nearest him on the shoulder and said, "My friend over there would really love it if you just went and hugged her from behind. She just loves surprises like that." The girl who was talking with the guy looked a bit put out when the guy looked excited. Braedyn tried to  contain his laughter when the girl stormed off and the boy approached Felicity, trying to wrap his arms around her.

(OOC: Braedyn says, "Felicity, please don't kill me for this!!!")

felicity

    For someone who thought that Pajama day should practically be a national holiday and serenading students should be a mandatory rule in Foresta, Braedyn seemed to have a lot of guts. Nothing she wasn't used to, she herself could be a bit much to handle. And, her little number on him with the dog-like girl seemed to prove that exact point. Checkmate, she thought with a sense of achievement washing over her. There was nothing wrong with some competition.
Feeling confident, the girl felt much, much more comfortable engaging in friendly banter with the loser of the competition. "Sorry, I wasn't aware that when I said "this is for Miss Felicity" that it wasn't enough to specify that I wasn't trying to win over any of them," Braedyn chided, to which she shook her head with a small laugh, "Yeah, all right pretty boy. You just keep telling yourself that. It definitely wasn't because you wanted to some girl to snog." Please, that strategy was as old as they come. He really needed to step up his game. When Braedyn rose to depart, the girl immediately became suspicious. Hadn't she won? What the hell was he planning to do? She forced herself to take a deep breath, shaking her head with disappointment on her countenance. If anything, Felicity was too paranoid about what other people around her were doing. Really, Mister Nice Guy was going to sabotage her? What a concept--
    "What the fuck?!" she shouted, a pair of arms tenderly closing around her. And, given her minuscule height, they were really able to wrap around. "Get stuffed, ya bloody piece of shit," Felicity hissed, quickly jabbing whoever was embracing her with the back of her elbow. She might be a weakling, but she knew it was enough to at least shake him off of her. For good measure, she flipped him off to really send him on his way. Her pink gaze scoured the room, before landing on Braedyn's almost sheepish smile, "Felicity, please don't kill me for this!" Ah, so he definitely was the culprit behind this little scheme. With another smirk tugging at the corners of her pale lips, she laughed darkly, "Mr. Evremonde, don't you think it's a little late for that?" Oh, competitions were one of the only things that could drag Fel out of her heavily guarded shell. With those words, she quickly grabbed whatever pastry she could from the buffet, probably a stuffed croissant of sorts, and ran forwards, aiming to smush it directly into Braedyn's face. But, given their drastic height difference, the girl's attempt to leap up and land the blow probably wouldn't work in her favor. Regardless, it seemed like the perfectly dastardly plot of revenge in Felicity's mind.

Braedyn snickered at Felicity's surprised, indignant response. Her loud swearing starkly contrasted the image of professionalism that she struggled to maintain, and frankly, it was hilarious. He almost felt sorry for the guy he had set on her, but he was too amused to have any sympathy. The fact that he was so gullible and so pathetically excited for nothing more than an embrace caused any trace of empathy he might have had to vanish. People were so desperate sometimes, he mused. 

When he implored her to have mercy on him, it was only partly joking--he had a feeling she would get revenge if she really wanted to, and had no doubt that she was more than capable of doing so. However, he was completely unprepared for her retaliation to be in the form of a pastry attack.  Was that a croissant in her hand? 

Luckily, he instinctively moved to the side instead of ducking; making himself shorter would probably only have helped her reach her goal more easily. Instead, the baked good smacked into his shoulder, leaving crumbs all over his gray shirt. Wrinkling his nose, he brushed off the remains. What a waste of a perfectly good food item, he thought despondently. 

"Nice try. I'm impressed," he laughed. Her jump wasn't volleyball-quality, of course, but that was too high an expectation to have. He would have returned the attack, if not for the sudden idea that had blossomed in his mind. He smiled wickedly and said, "Oh no, just you wait until you see what I have planned next." This was going to blow both of their previous attempts out of the water by a long shot.

(OOC: We can wrap it up here if you want!)