( A - Opening Ceremonies / Special Prompt [Spoilers] )
Isabelle isn't one for celebrations - too much traveling, not enough booze - but this one is right near her house which means she can bring her own booze, and she cheers just as loudly as everyone else when the fireworks go off, set afire by the excitement of the faceless husks around her.
It's why it's pure instinct when she whips around to look over one shoulder, "It's great, isn't it, Toh-?!"
'Toh?' Who? She doesn't know anyone by that name. Blood runs frigid at the headache that starts, she knows this feeli
Reality stops obeying her.
"I have a proposition to make. May I?"
Every other thing in these memories had been as if scraps of paper, only that one girl had taken any value, and only as her cat, but this man - his face was not marred. White hair, way too pale, exhausted bags under pained eyes but a radiant, genuine smile. Her heart leaps in excitement. This man always has something of value to say. The only one with something of value to say.
"When it comes to your ideas, I will always lend you an ear... unless I'm in the shower or on the toilet!"
"Why don't we try and hand in our joint piece of work?"
Reality stops obeying her.
He rambles on - always does, the sotting bastard - but the thought moves blood and brings life to frozen veins. She only wrote for herself, for fun, for no one else. But... for someone to acknowledge that work. To acknowledge their combined work, his ideas and her words forged together in a true testament to the mystery genre. A gift for those who think like they do.
"I firmly believe in your talent!! How about you?"
"I also firmly believe in your talent..."
"Then it's decided! To your major debut, Ikuko-san!"
A wine glass is shoved in front of her, he spills a bit of it, and the shock gives way to the first real smile she's had in ages. The celebration goes from farce to fact, her glass hits his - the maid shrieks, Merlot is so hard to get out of pale carpets, the poor thing - but the joy is too much. It's enough. It's everything she wanted. For the first time, she feels human.
"Yes! To your major debut, Tohya...!"
"Tohya...?"
The fireworks blaze, sound fades away to a bright migraine-inducing ringing, and bodies fade out of her vision - but nothing registers past that bone-deep sadness. That person... The hallucinations don't matter for once. If she had a person like that in her life, maybe she wouldn't be like this. Or she would, but it wouldn't matter. She misses him. She doesn't know him but she misses him, and a hand flies to her eyes.
Isabelle does not cry. Isabelle is too eccentric to even have a heart that cries. Yet, that happiness from a moment ago is naught but cinders.
( B - Free Food For All Gatecrashers / Monday )
It's less the greenery she cares about - yes, tote around how much you care for the environment, who cares not her - but it's always nice having what amounts to a free landscaping every year. Zoning laws and her rich family means not once has the excitement encroached on her property, but a short walk through the woods later and Isabelle gets work on her classes' assignments surrounded by flowers and food so cheap it's nearly free. She even feels kind enough to grab some of the obnoxious galaxy flowers for Erica - she'll say she hates them, but later on she'll find them hanging upside-down by her window, drying out so they can become her bookmarks later.
She has the majestic tendency to have such an overbearing personality, but still vanish out of people's perception. Despite the crowds, no one bothers . She gets to spend her day people-watching, occasionally jotting notes for short stories in a notebook separate from her work. Yet, the seat across from her always has a cup of coffee, cream and two sugars (she only heard the name in that memory, but already knows that's how he likes it), always patiently sitting there, waiting for someone who will never come.
( C - DANCE MY PRETTIES / Friday )
Everyone jokes about. Oh, Thanisch, that terrible English teacher. Isn't Isabelle the one that makes her students run errands for her? Miss Thanisch, you can't just refuse to teach your class Shakespeare, it's part of the manditory core curriculum! The students are just as bad - some taking her course for the easy A, others coming to her after class to insult her teaching methods and ask her to take it seriously.
She takes writing seriously. As if anyone in her class is worth anything more than failing grades. They should be thanking her for giving them these other grading options.
Contrasting English, she's overly fond of her Creative Writing class, but on Friday you can see that she loves her Theater elective students. She rushes around with the rest of them, making last minute fixes to costumes or adjustments to someone's performance, hurling obscenities at rival schools, hanging out water to the backstage crew once the floats leave, when they inevitably all fall over in unison. The relief of a last-minute job well-done, sent off to where fate can destroy it in a place where they can't fix it.
No one dies, nothing explodes, a short celebration is had with thrown flowers and celebration, already plotting out things to change and improve on next year. And just like the flowers, one by one, they break and scatter to the winds, leaving Isabelle alone.
The water is immediately replaced with wine and blissful silence.
( D - Choose Your Own Torture / Wildcard )
((OOC: Nothing works? Message me! Discord or PM works. Re: typing style, brackets or prose is fine. I'll just change to match.
Isabelle Thanisch (Featherine McLongname) | OTA - Warning: Vague Spoilers for Episode 8
Isabelle isn't one for celebrations - too much traveling, not enough booze - but this one is right near her house which means she can bring her own booze, and she cheers just as loudly as everyone else when the fireworks go off, set afire by the excitement of the faceless husks around her.
It's why it's pure instinct when she whips around to look over one shoulder, "It's great, isn't it, Toh-?!"
'Toh?' Who? She doesn't know anyone by that name. Blood runs frigid at the headache that starts, she knows this feeli
Reality stops obeying her.
"I have a proposition to make. May I?"
Every other thing in these memories had been as if scraps of paper, only that one girl had taken any value, and only as her cat, but this man - his face was not marred. White hair, way too pale, exhausted bags under pained eyes but a radiant, genuine smile. Her heart leaps in excitement. This man always has something of value to say. The only one with something of value to say.
"When it comes to your ideas, I will always lend you an ear... unless I'm in the shower or on the toilet!"
"Why don't we try and hand in our joint piece of work?"
Reality stops obeying her.
He rambles on - always does, the sotting bastard - but the thought moves blood and brings life to frozen veins. She only wrote for herself, for fun, for no one else. But... for someone to acknowledge that work. To acknowledge their combined work, his ideas and her words forged together in a true testament to the mystery genre. A gift for those who think like they do.
"I firmly believe in your talent!! How about you?"
"I also firmly believe in your talent..."
"Then it's decided! To your major debut, Ikuko-san!"
A wine glass is shoved in front of her, he spills a bit of it, and the shock gives way to the first real smile she's had in ages. The celebration goes from farce to fact, her glass hits his - the maid shrieks, Merlot is so hard to get out of pale carpets, the poor thing - but the joy is too much. It's enough. It's everything she wanted. For the first time, she feels human.
"Yes! To your major debut, Tohya...!"
"Tohya...?"
The fireworks blaze, sound fades away to a bright migraine-inducing ringing, and bodies fade out of her vision - but nothing registers past that bone-deep sadness. That person... The hallucinations don't matter for once. If she had a person like that in her life, maybe she wouldn't be like this. Or she would, but it wouldn't matter. She misses him. She doesn't know him but she misses him, and a hand flies to her eyes.
Isabelle does not cry. Isabelle is too eccentric to even have a heart that cries. Yet, that happiness from a moment ago is naught but cinders.
( B - Free Food For All Gatecrashers / Monday )
It's less the greenery she cares about - yes, tote around how much you care for the environment, who cares not her - but it's always nice having what amounts to a free landscaping every year. Zoning laws and her rich family means not once has the excitement encroached on her property, but a short walk through the woods later and Isabelle gets work on her classes' assignments surrounded by flowers and food so cheap it's nearly free. She even feels kind enough to grab some of the obnoxious galaxy flowers for Erica - she'll say she hates them, but later on she'll find them hanging upside-down by her window, drying out so they can become her bookmarks later.
She has the majestic tendency to have such an overbearing personality, but still vanish out of people's perception. Despite the crowds, no one bothers . She gets to spend her day people-watching, occasionally jotting notes for short stories in a notebook separate from her work. Yet, the seat across from her always has a cup of coffee, cream and two sugars (she only heard the name in that memory, but already knows that's how he likes it), always patiently sitting there, waiting for someone who will never come.
( C - DANCE MY PRETTIES / Friday )
Everyone jokes about. Oh, Thanisch, that terrible English teacher. Isn't Isabelle the one that makes her students run errands for her? Miss Thanisch, you can't just refuse to teach your class Shakespeare, it's part of the manditory core curriculum! The students are just as bad - some taking her course for the easy A, others coming to her after class to insult her teaching methods and ask her to take it seriously.
She takes writing seriously. As if anyone in her class is worth anything more than failing grades. They should be thanking her for giving them these other grading options.
Contrasting English, she's overly fond of her Creative Writing class, but on Friday you can see that she loves her Theater elective students. She rushes around with the rest of them, making last minute fixes to costumes or adjustments to someone's performance, hurling obscenities at rival schools, hanging out water to the backstage crew once the floats leave, when they inevitably all fall over in unison. The relief of a last-minute job well-done, sent off to where fate can destroy it in a place where they can't fix it.
No one dies, nothing explodes, a short celebration is had with thrown flowers and celebration, already plotting out things to change and improve on next year. And just like the flowers, one by one, they break and scatter to the winds, leaving Isabelle alone.
The water is immediately replaced with wine and blissful silence.
( D - Choose Your Own Torture / Wildcard )
((OOC: Nothing works? Message me! Discord or PM works. Re: typing style, brackets or prose is fine. I'll just change to match.