annieperreault-blog

[annieperreault-blog]

roy--walters:

Unfortunately, I did… but it’s worse than that… It was my internet ‘girlfriend’. [Roy almost cringes into his hoodie just thinking about it] And I was convinced that we were just perfect for each other. She, um, turned out to be my twenty-two year old neighbor, James, who was just messing with me because I lbroke his lacrosse stick. So, needless to say, it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. God, why’d I tell you that? [His laugh is nervous as he flips his hood up, hiding his face] Just… let’s forget about that… Forget about me writing poetry at all; it’s all just bad. Embarrassing. I’m remembering all of it. Oh God, this is worse than everything else. [He recalls poems he wrote that he ended up not turning in because he was embarrassed by them. Now he was embarrassed for other reasons. Poems about girls he liked. Poems about boys he liked. Poems about the pressures being put on him. Poems that probably would’ve gotten him A’s in that class. But, he didn’t want to share his feelings, even then. What fourteen year old boy wants to share their feelings?] Well, you had more figured out than I did, [he says taking his hood back off, readjusting his beanie.] And thank you. The secret to nice cheekbones is not eating enough food for five years. And I wouldn’t trust anyone else to be my knight. [he glanced at the training bow that lay beside her on the ground.] I believe you. The only weapons I was ever good with were the ones in video games so, even if you can get near the target, we’re in better hands with you.

[Roy nods and gives a small smile.] I take it summer camp wasn’t as fun as the movies made it seem? That’s cool, though, that you’ve even ridden a horse. [He looks up at the star dotted sky, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his chest. Why had the demons suddenly gone quiet? No. Don’t worry, Roy. If you worry, they’ll come back. Just ignore it.] If I see any string in the Hub, I’ll keep that in mind. [he chuckled] Yeah, it’d be great. People’d get to have a few laughs, we get to ride horses, there’s the possibility that one of us–most likely me–will get hurt, and that always excites some of the NWRF guys. Where’s the downside to running a rodeo?

Oh my god, you got catfished? [She really, really shouldn’t be giggling, but she is. So hard that she’s actually doubled over and buried her face into her knees to try and muffle the sound. She shouldn’t be because that is awful, and Annie can say that she knows that pain, but maybe, just maybe, that’s why she’s laughing so hard.] I-- I’m sorry-- I shouldn’t laugh but-- I mean-- [She reaches up to wipe away a tear that has formed at the corner of her eye, shaking her head.] Hey, makes you feel better? I’ve been there. And I actually tried to use that poem from IT once to woo. [Her eyes glance up, and she tries to remember.] Your hair is winter fire, January embers. My heart burns there, too. Like, super lame, right?  [Her voice as she recites it is dreamy and far away, but it loses some of it’s appeal when she giggles again.] And hey, maybe you told me because we’re friends, and friend share all of their most embarrassing moments. It’s, like, friendship rule number twelve or something. 

[Annie shakes her head, offers a bit of a laugh.] No, and prom isn’t either. But my prom was a blast, my friends and I cut out early and went for tapas. But riding a horse was fun, once I got over that whole ‘holy crow this thing is the side of a house and I’m sitting on it’ thing. [She offered a chuckle as she tugged idly at her sleeve, pulling it down a bit to try and warm herself up a bit.] Bonus points if the string is pink, because I am positive that pink is your color. But if you think for a second I’d let you get hurt, you’re crazy. [She bit her lip for a moment, though, because dragging the NWRF into her rodeo fantasy was really dulling the shine.] A rodeo, a rock band, we need to come up with one more. Rule of threes and all. 

Locked Out Of Heaven || Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

aurelia--ferris:

[She glances away, as the girl pauses, seems a little awkward. Who knew, talking might be more complicated than reciting Moulin Rouge? But then she offers to help ‘find her dignity’, and Elly snickers. She bites her lip—then stops, recognizing butterflies and flirty things, and she’s suddenly feeling… well, conflicted doesn’t even come close as a descriptor. Still, she gives her a smile, as she’s hearing a surprisingly sincere sort of praise for their stupid Britney moment—]

[Laughter isn’t flirty, it’s just laughter—right? And how’s she supposed to not—goddammit but she’s super cute.] They are my friends, yeah, I guess that’s very true. [How it happened, when she’d determined not to make connections with anyone, she’s not quite sure.] They share a dorm with me, but um… Andee, the Chancellor tonight? She’s in Brink. 

[It occurs too late, that maybe—well, no, that’s way too much to assume, but maybe—maybe—that was an in to explain if one of them… was a girlfriend?] I’m… [She has no reasonable adjective to come after that—she’s not single, nor is she taken, nor was this even asked. She’s both married and widowed at the same time—she’s Schrödinger’s widow. Fuck.] Um. I’m… Elly…

[Fuckashittery. She’s already given her own name, hasn’t she.] Yeah—so. Annnyway… [Oh god. The only thing more awkward than trying to flirt with someone was trying to not flirt with someone, with her wife’s voice in her head making fun of how miserably she’s failing. That actually calms her down, some. Lucy is many things, but insecure and jealous she is not. They both knew what they meant to each other, and she knows instinctively that Lu would be telling her to lighten up and quit making a big deal of it.]

[She breathes out a sigh that turns into a laugh, again.] Sorry, I’m just… a bit flustered, as I get. Are you having a good night, so far?

[Annie is so used to being the awkward one in a situation that watching someone else be the awkward one is... adorable and endearing. She wonders if she looks like this when she goes on one of her little rambling diatribes. If she looks flustered and adorable. Is adorable an okay way to describe a grown woman? Is Elly a grown woman? 

Is Annie’s brain going on a rambling diatribe?

She is about to ask a followup about Andee, and the other woman, about their dorm or something when Elly introduces herself again and-- shit, she’s laughing. That’s so mean, she’s laughing, but she can’t stop it from coming out, and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth.] I’m-- I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at-- you... [She stifles and swallows what’s left of her giggle fit, shakes her head a bit.] It’s alright. We all get flustered, right? And after your performance? I’m sure you have every reason to be. 

[She considers the question, offers a nod.] Yeah, for the most part. [If you ignore running into a demon and the minor breakdown with Roy. No need to dwell.] Are you? And uh-- [Her weight shifts from foot to foot.] Do you want to dance? With me? Not-- not like the dance you did before but just... friendly little shimmy to the great tunes Gordon is playing? 

backstage jitters || elly & open || rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

roy--walters:

[Roy laughs; it’s probably more genuine than any others he’s had that night.] Creative writing. Right. Well, jokes on you, because I actually did take a poetry class. I took it for an extra English credit and I ended up just barely passing. I couldn’t write a poem to save my life. Plus, I was like, fourteen. So, they were pretty crappy poems. [He remembered one where he rhymed everything with different swear words. He didn’t do too great on that project. It was one of the only classes he ever did extremely bad in. It was the class that really pushed him to start working harder. It was that class that eventually led to him causing his parent’s deaths and the end of the fucking world. Stupid poetry. Roy smiles, nodding.] That sounds like the kinda song that’d be on the album. I’d listen to that song, and not just because it’s us. [He listens as Annie describes her dream job. Well, dream jobs.] Damn, you had it all, like, figured out. But, personally, [Roy puts his hand against his chest, indicating himself] I would’ve stuck with the princess goal. You’d get to live in a castle and wear the most amazing dresses… Rodeo cowgirl, though. That’s pretty cool.  I dunno, I think growing up kinda dulled out your career choices…

[Roy lets out a soft chuckle. There were so many reasons he’d make a terrible therapist. But, he didn’t want to bum Annie out, or get her worked up again.] Well, thanks. And hey, now we have next years Halloween costumes. Rodeo cowboy and cowgirl. You know how to ride a horse? [Roy had to ask, because he’d never ridden a horse, and it was honestly one of the most intimidating things he’d ever seen; riding horses. Horses were way bigger up close than he had anticipated seeing pictures.] Alright, rodeo it is. And, I saw a few people dressed as clowns tonight; what’s a rodeo without a few clowns?

Oh god, fourteen year old poetry. Did you write an ode to some person and their eyes and your ever lasting love for them? And yes, before you ask, I did do that. His name was Richard and he was a senior and he called me ‘Amy’ because he couldn’t remember my name. Get your chuckles out now. [She stuck her tongue out at him, dissolved into another fit of giggles. Because it’s a funny story in hindsight, thinking back on a silly crush and the silly things she did to try and get noticed. Likely many of the same things she would do to get noticed now, because really, she hadn’t exactly grown up that much.] I definitely didn’t have it all figured out, but I did have a lot of dreams-- [She paused, and had to laugh because how ridiculous was that to say out loud in this particular situation.] Daydreams about who I wanted to be. But I must say. You would make a much prettier princess than I would. You just have the cheekbones for it. Can I be your brave and stalwart knight? Not to brag or anything but I’m actually pretty good with the bow and arrow. It’s not just for show. 

[She pulls her hand away from his knee, leans back on the palms of her hands and nods.] I learned how to ride one disastrous summer at camp. I... think I could remember if I actually saddled up and got on a horse. But it’s been a while. I can definitely make you a lanyard, though, or a friendship bracelet, if I can find some string. [She leans over, nudges him a little.] You, me, a couple of clowns and some horses. Sounds like a great show. Maybe we could even sell tickets, earn a few extra points. 

Locked Out Of Heaven || Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

aurelia--ferris:

[A slim pair of dark-clad legs wanders close to the table, while Elly hides like a kid at a wedding. Then, knees bend, and to her surprise (and some relief) she sees the woman who sang with her in the cafeteria. Her chocolate hair dangles in a long braid, and there’s a bow slung across her back. Elly realizes suddenly her own hair has gone from Jadzia-cool to rat’s nest over the course of some over enthusiastic hair-flips. She doesn’t want to take the hand that’s offered to help her out, or be visible in any kind of light, but—’gotcha’ was accurate, there’s no staying here.]

[Emerging tentatively, she ducks her face away, and takes the elastic from her wrist to brush the hair back, recovery being a process—] Um. Thanks, I wish it was hide and seek, but I just um… dropped… my dignity…

[Her eyes dart around, but no one seems interested in a table that doesn’t currently have snacks or drinks on it—this one only has mostly-empty platters. So it’s just the girl, who she didn’t even know except as the Penniless Writer to her Satine, and a slightly awkward pause. She does calm down enough to offer a tiny smile, after a minute.] I’m Elly. [She blushes, swipes at her hair, confronted with an audience member to her little Footloose moment.] You saw all that?

[Elly. She has a name now, for the face, and she repeats it several times in her head so that she doesn’t forget it, though she can’t exactly help herself when she asks the first question that pops into her mind.] You mean it isn’t Satine? I’m a bit disappointed. [A mock pout, but she quickly lets it disappear into a fit of giggles as she pulls her hand away once Elly is back on her feet, and idly fiddles with the end of her braid.

For a moment, she’s at a bit of a loss for what to say, because she happened to think that the performance was spectacular, but it seems Elly is more than a little embarrassed by the whole thing.] If you’d like, I can help you find it, your dignity, but I don’t think you’ve lost it at all. [A shrug, and she lets the fraying braid drop back down and hit her chest again.] It was a great dance. You and the two other women, it was marvelous. Excellent song choice, too. I mean, really stellar. Are they your friends? They seem like fun. [A pause, as she realizes that Elly has offered up her name, and Annie still hasn’t.] Annie. I’m Annie.

backstage jitters || elly & open || rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

roy--walters:

Well, if it’s any consolation, I’d try really hard not to laugh. Promise. [he gives her a small smile, which quickly turns into a smirk and a chuckle as she smacks his knee] Sure, okay, [he continues to tease lightly] Sure, okay, I believe you… But, was one of those classes poetry? And obviously we’re gonna write it. [he smiles at her titles] Those are good. We could have one called ‘Everyone Calls Us Crazy’ with like, the subtitle of ‘Katniss and Gerard Walk into a Bar’. That’s about all I got though… And that’s not even that good. So, how about you can take over the band, and I’ll work as your promotional manager.

[Roy looks at her as she speaks on her past self. He smiles.] That… sounds like a lot of the same stuff I did. Although, I don’t think I could’ve done law. Too passive, y’know? People would be like ‘hey, why’d you do that thing?’ And I’d say, ‘well, I didn’t do it.’ To which they’d reply, ‘Prove it.’ And then I’d be drawn a blank and eventually just be like, ‘Well, shit, guess I done it.’ [He gives a half smile] I mean, I know we just met, but you don’t really strike me as the ‘law’ type. What type of law would you want to do; like being a lawyer? [he gives another shrug, looking over at her.] I never really knew what I wanted to do. Maybe I’d do something that had to do with computers since I was practically glued to mine all the time. But, I dunno. Things coulda changed once I got out of high school. Well, [his tone has a bitter edge to it] I guess things did change.

[Her expression is mock annoyance, mixed with a bit of mock shock, as she lets out a scoff that could come straight out of a highschool teen movie.] No, one of those classes was not poetry. It was called creative writing, thank you very much. And it happened to get me college credit. [She fights against the laugh trying to escape, but fails, instead the laugh takes over and she’s doubled over for a moment in a fit of giggles, shaking her head in an attempt to calm them. They cut off a bit when she hears the word ‘crazy’ though, and she closes her eyes for a moment against it. She isn’t crazy. He isn’t crazy. They aren’t crazy. But her eyes pop open again and she offers a weary little smile.] Gerard and Katniss walk into a bar... they probably should have ducked. 

[Her head tilts a bit, eyes lifting to watch the sky for a moment as she thinks it over.] I’ve always been fascinated by, like, criminal law. I think my ultimate goal would be working my way up to District Attorney, but who really knows. There was also a time when I wanted to be a princess and for a short time I considered a life as a rodeo cowgirl. [She looks his way again, offers a bit of a grin, head shaking slightly.] Just based on our limited interaction, I would offer up my suggestion of ‘therapist’, because you’re clearly a great listener. But also I bet you could pull off rodeo cowboy, too, we just have to teach you how to ride a horse. Screw the band, let’s start a rodeo. [She’s trying now to lighten the mood, because the way his tone has shifted makes her... sad and slightly on edge. She doesn’t want that.] 

Locked Out Of Heaven || Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

elsa--copland:

[Her voice is penetrating as it rings out, Elsa flinches involuntarily. Instantly the girl’s excitement is consumed by embarrassment. Elsa’s reaction doesn’t help, but the girls excitement surprised her. 

 Their attention turns to the snack table, she listens intently hoping the girl will grab the treat she’s searching for. The girl reaches out to their left the sound of her clothes rustling and the tap of her hand knocking the side of the plate. Elsa’s narrowed in on her target, at least she hopes she has. She reaches out in in her best attempt to locate the plate of treats. 

After a moment of fumbling she grazes the side of a platter and her hand finds a small flaky treat. She takes a bite, a swirl of apple and sugar melt in her mouth. She pops the rest of the tart in her mouth just as as she’s asked about her poison. 

Poison?! 

Oh she means treat. 

Her mind had gone blank the moment the blissful pastry touched her tongue.] I love anything with fruit in it. Also cinnamon. And sugar. It’s all great really. 

 [She hadn’t been a huge fan of sweets before D-Day. It took the world ending and a couple years of eating canned food and make shift meals to truly appreciate all that is sweet and delicious. After arriving at the colony she began working in the kitchen and started baking in her spare time where she acquired a bit of a sweet tooth.   

She smiles at this opportune moment.] If you like sweet treats, I made some cinnamon buns. They’re at the end over there to the left I think. Unless they’ve been moved, they’re the weird looking ones but I promise they’re good. Really sweet, I poured caramelized sugar on top. 

 [Weird looking really was the only description she needed to give as they are probably the oddest pastry here. Twisted spirals with extra purposefully disfigured blobs to look almost scary and a dark red layer of caramelized sugar spilled over the top. She hopes it’s red, it was the food colour she asked for. And she put lots of drops in, enough to make a few people ask if she needed help. She took it as an indicator that she’d created a shockingly red mixture. It wasn’t until the party started that she started worryingly she might have gone a bit overboard and made them look too gross for people to eat. Maybe if she got a few people to try them others would see they’re only bad on the outside.]

[As Annie watches, she almost reaches out to help, but stops herself, her hands drawing back and folding tightly to her stomach. The girl seems to be managing fine on her own, and if she needed help, would likely ask for said help. She isn’t one to be rude to anyone, but sometimes, offering help is just as rude as not doing so, and she isn’t sure the proper etiquette in this particular situation. 

So instead she watches, and listens, when the girl responds to her.] You know, I never was a fan of baked fruit growing up. I liked fruit, of course, apples and pears and blackberries, mostly, but when they were baked in a pie or a tart, I just... I dunno maybe it was the texture. I’ve grown more... fond? of them now, I suppose.

[Her eyes trail to the end of the table when the girl mentions her own creations, and she sees them straight away. They look... well... like a murder scene, really. Look as though they’ve been plucked straight out of a horror movie and plopped on the end of the table. Of course, Annie is instantly intrigued and wants to try one.

Her feet shuffle the few steps it takes to get to them, and she grabs one, though her nose wrinkles a bit at just how sticky they are, it is to be expected, considering. And the likelihood of her fingers staining red? Pretty high, it would seem. But she pulls off a piece and pops it into her mouth, and after a moment, her face lights up.] You know the expression ‘taste better than they look’? Because, well... I think you’ve hit the nail on the head.

Ask You Who You Know || Elsa & Annie Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

call-me-wes:

Well that’s because no body likes Batman. Batman’s a sissy. [He smirks] What kind of superhero spends the whole time whining over dead parents and talking in a fake voice? 

Ah, the Mockingjay. Valiant. [He leans in when she lowers her voice to mutter something closer to his ear, and lets out a chuckle.] My dear, if you have a hard time with cursing you’re probably not going to love hanging around me. Which is a shame. [Because they’re going to have to, actually. But judging by how his interaction with Aurelia went, he’s not going to lead with that piece of information.] And thanks for the compliment, though I don’t know if I’m nice so much as uh—well intentioned. [Another smirk, easy, casual.] 

He doesn’t even have any powers, just... money. Money isn’t a superpower. Well... I mean, okay maybe money is a bit of a superpower if you have an endless supply of it, but still. [She’s rambling, about Batman of all things. She had such limited Batman knowledge, and yet here she is, rambling about the one thing that’s always bothered her about the damn thing.] I suppose you could forgive him the fake voice because he’s attempting to hide his secret identity. But then he had Robin, the boy blunder as a sidekick, and that’s just lame.

[She glances down at herself again, adjusts her top, a little too clingy for her liking, but necessary for the outfit.] Not so much valiant as... reluctant. A reluctant hero. But also, it’s the only thing I could think of that wasn’t just... witch or vampire or something like that. [Teeth chewed on her lip for a moment, and she let her eyes dart around, head shaking slightly.] You know, there are better ways to express yourself than swearing. You could... make up new words, all your own. [The splitting hair of his statement catches her off guard, and an eyebrow lifts.] Well intentioned? Isn’t that the sa-- well, okay no it’s not the same thing as nice, but it lends itself to niceness, doesn’t it? Or... do I have the wrong definition? [A pause, rambling again, of course.] Do you wanna... explain?

The Jester of Tortuga || Wes & Annie Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

alexander-donovan:

I can safely say I’ve never been on a carousel. Probably for the better. [Arms over his chest, he glances over at at the other groups working—so far, all doing fine.] I probably would have looked about as in place as a Grumpy Cat on Santa’s lap. [He looks back at her, a small grin sneaking into his stern features.] My mother took me on a ferris wheel once, though. When I was probably six. 

I can understand that—wanting to be the best at something. But I also think it’s more fulfilling to accept being the best of yourself, than it is to constantly be focusing on other people. Competition is really only helpful in shades. 

[He looks down as she speaks. Her words are kind, and he bares a soft smile, but doesn’t take it to heart.] Well, that’s flattering, certainly. And I guess I’m not opposed to being seen as a big brother… Never had any siblings myself. And I suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t say ‘father’. [He smirks.] What about you, did you—[it feels wrong to talk about having family in the past tense, as if it’s drawing attention to the obvious. He adjusts his phrasing.] Did you grow up with any siblings? 

 I think it would have been an adorable sight to behold. Truly photo worthy. Would have gone viral. [That had been the big thing, hadn’t it? Going viral, being a snapshot in everyone’s mind for fifteen seconds. Her own face is breaking into a grin as she finds a more comfortable way to settle her feet on the ground. After a moment, she offers a nod.] 

It’s a fair point. I suppose the drive to be the best doesn’t matter so much in the long run, anyway, it isn’t as if you can take the title with you. [She could be the best in her own dream world, and it wouldn’t garner her much once she finally made it back home. Maybe she would retain the skills she’d learned here, but did it matter?] Did you ever consider a career path as a motivational speaker?

Well, I could have said father, but I don’t think you’re quite old enough to hit father. You need a few more years for ‘father’ to be believable. [She chews lightly on the inside of her cheek for a moment, shifts from foot to foot.] I have an older sister. [Have, not had, because her sister is likely sitting by her bedside right now, shaking her and attempting to wake her up. Or complaining to her friends that Annie is still sleeping.] She’s kind of a gem, encouraging but still annoying, just like an older sister should be. [Perfect in every way, too, the golden child, but Alex doesn’t need to know that bit.] 

[annieperreault-blog]

claytonboyd:

[If he’d have been that touch more receptive, if he hadn’t shrugged off that stale air of feign she was so obviously pushing onto him, he’d have commented on the fact that reading, losing track of time because of, was a poor and overused excuse for not sleeping. Especially in this world. But he didn’t, just nodded slowly, over punctuating the forward roll of his head] What you reading? I’ve been looking for a new book to get into. 

[But he does snicker, not a harsh sound, more one of childishness. Shrugged, shook his head] Sometimes, not always in our dorms. But yeah…more so than I’d maybe like. But hey, we live in quite a communal set up. Its expected. [He once again shifts from foot to foot, bends at the waist enough that he can bring a hand down to rub at his ankle] I went to various camps when I was younger, in the summer, same story just that bit more innocent I suppose. Always finding couples canoodling in corners.

[He smirks, straightens his back] But I mean, I don’t always hear it. Sometimes just f-e-e-l it [he draws out the word, offers a playful smirk] any way, I should probably head off. Soak the foot before it falls off. 

[Annie offers a bit of a shrug, thinks it over for a moment. She could lie about what she’s been reading, say that she’s thrown herself into some hole of re-reading the classics. But she decides that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the truth, either.] Books about dreams. Dream study and lucid dreaming. It’s a-- fascinating subject, after all. 

[Her hand waves flippantly, even as she feels her face heating up in a blush, a blush probably bright enough to act as a beacon.] I suppose... expected... I guess I’ve never really... considered it before. [Her eyes trail down to his ankle, and she offers a wrinkle of her eyebrows, worry, because it’s in her nature to worry. But her eyes shoot back up to his face at his next statement, and if it’s possible, she gets even redder.] F-feel? I-- [Her head shakes, as she tries to understand, but before she can, he seems to be dismissing it and dismissing himself. She offers a bit of a nod.] I-- uhm-- I hope you feel better. I’m sure I’ll see you... ‘round... 

[annieperreault-blog]

[Annie feels like she’s frozen to the bone, somehow the outfit she’s wearing doesn’t lend itself to retaining heat, and after spending too much time away from the fire, she finds herself dancing back to the flames until she overheats and dances away again. This time, she’s taken to sitting, found a nice spot, and has paid next to no mind to the boy beside her dressed as a clown. Her eyes are focused on the dancing flames, it’s enough to make her zone out, for her eyes to close for just a second too long and her head to duck before she jerks herself up again, blinking and shaking her head.

Eyes dance over to the boy, and she offers a bit of a smile.] You know, clown panic may have started with John Wayne Gacy, the so called Killer Clown in the 1970s, but he never actually murdered anyone while dressed as a clown. [It’s completely unprompted bullshit, simple small talk based on his outfit.] Still, I’ve never found anything inherently terrifying about someone who enjoys dressing up as a clown. Do you have a clown name like Floppsy?

room of no walls {rebranded} ↠ open

[In the room of no walls, the fire’s reflection has nowhere to flicker but the specs of gold and silver of clothes—buttons, bangles that catch in the light—and in the shine of bright eyes, laughter spraying them with dew. 

And in this room of no walls, music hugs like a warm wash-cloth, numbing away things that don’t quite go away, but one can forget, for a while. 

In this room of no walls, on this night of the hallows, people wear their shadows like cloaks, adorn them like shawls. In this room of no walls. 

The fire is warm on his face, and he fingers at a dry patch of skin under the white of his face paint. People lurk about him, as if everything has changed from the day to day life, and nothing has changed from the day things like parties and holidays were normal, commercialized. People lie and they fake and in all the pretend, the Shadows spread wide, like fingers stretching and retracting, relieved to have been set free. 

He has spoken to no one, which isn’t unusual, but he’s captivated by the flames, the way they ignite and enlighten, and the world around him has become a blur, a muffled cotton swab of sounds in his ears, and he, for a moment, remembers his sister, and the way she had cried.] 

[annieperreault-blog]

zachbastiaans:

[He smiled a bit when she mentioned his name being biblical, a comment he got very often, and while he didn’t make the same connection, it was always funny to see what kind of reaction people had to it. A lot of people thought his parents were catholic, what other reason could they have for naming their kid after a priest from the New Testament. Zach was easier though.] It is, which is why I’m allowing people to use it. 

[He wondered how fast they would find out he was setting fires if he went for it. Ten minutes maybe? Give or take? Was he just offering because of their conversation, or could he actually do as he promised? Something in him wanted to see how far he could take the rules and see if smooth talking and good arguments could get him out of trouble. But an other part of him didn’t believe his own judgement anymore.] We wouldn’t be setting fires as a rebellious act of course, simply to teach you one of the basic survival tricks. 

[Annie feels herself shifting from one foot to the other, considering the proposal and considering his words carefully. Can she see herself as a firestarter? Well, no, not really, she can’t see herself as anything, really, not when it comes to things like acts of rebellion. Which, despite what Zach says, that’s what this would be. An act of rebellion. 

Besides that, what is she going to need survival tricks for once she gets the hell out of here?

She doesn’t say that, though, instead she offers a casual little shrug, a laugh.] Well, you’ll have to start extremely basic with me, I’m afraid. I’m absolutely pathetic when it comes to things like this. 

Ghostly Roman || OPEN || Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

[A crowd has gathered, and Annie is finding her way through it, trying to find the source of the fuss. She’s reduced, unfortunately, to standing on her tiptoes and ducking her head around the heads in front of her, trying to catch glimpses of what’s happening, trying to figure out exactly who the women are that have turned this into a show for everyone. She can catch glimpses of the two blonde women the easiest, seeing as she happens to be on the side with the one in the white dress, and the other, in the middle and dressed like the Chancellor.

That one strikes her as familiar. As does the brunette on her other side. She can’t put a name to that one, but she can put a song to her. And a grin breaks out across her face as she continues to watch.

Once the number is over, she’s clapping along with the crowd, watching it break up and doing her best to dark around bodies to catch the attention of the brunette. Her friend. Dream girl? Dream girl is what she’d taken to calling her in her mind, since she’d never gotten her name. But she doesn’t catch up until she finds an opening, slips through a few more bodies, and as soon as she’s making her approach, the girl is disappearing under the table, and Annie, confused, freezes for a moment, unsure of what to do.

It’s with a bit of resolve that she ducks down, offers the girl a smile.] Are we playing hide and seek? Because if so... gotcha. [A little giggle, and she offers her hand to help the girl stand up again.] You danced really well. 

backstage jitters || elly & open || rebranded

—a little context: (x)

[A tap of percussion.]

[A whisper, in the song. The beat picks up. Then, the real work begins.

They stand in a line, having cleared an obvious semi-circle that leaves the firelight as their backing. Andee takes center-stage, stoic in her long coat and stubble. Bobbie on stage right, Elly left to pick up the other side. But the lyrics are here in a moment.

They have to work, bitch.

The number, history, won’t be the same if they drop anything here.

Every step, every thrust of hips, needs to be assured. It’s not like they had that much time to rehearse, this being an idea hatched about half an hour ago. It relies on a mutual understanding of what would be the trashiest of moves they could possibly make. With the added note; what will make the “Chancellor” shine, while telling everyone to ‘work, bitch.’

And it’s a great—no, an ecstatic—four minutes of dancing. The crowd has gone into hysterics, while the three dancers maintain their poise, and all Elly is thinking is—this isn’t real, for me. No one knows who I am, she thinks, tossing her hair. I could be taken back two minutes after we finish, and never face consequences here. It’s beyond me. Who thinks about Aurelia Ferris, rebellious Star Trek nerd?

Then, the song ends, the three of them pose together seriously before they break. Snickers and adrenaline-boosted laughter provide a rush, for a few minutes. Then, the others bid her adieu—Andee distracted by onlookers and Bobbie off to find more entertainment—and Elly wanders by herself over to the refreshments, wondering if, at this point, any of them haven’t been doctored.

When someone approaches, though, instinct takes over. She’s just been in a virtual spotlight, and now—yeah, under the table seems best. Trying to keep silent, she wills with all her might to either be transported to the past, or else go unnoticed.]

[annieperreault-blog]

call-me-wes:

You know the Missy thing was a—[ah, fuck it.] You know what, never mind. Annie it is. [And he knows who she is already, actually. Well, he knows her name, her face from a photo, in a file. The kind of summary of a person that never served to actually capture who a person was. What their fears were, their needs, their favourite colour, the things that make them laugh. He’s never thought that a person could be reduced to their file, but until he does what he’s best at, a file is all he has.] 

Excuse me, wanna be sexy pirate? No no, you must have me confused with someone else, because I am by far the sexiest bastard here. [He grins at her] And what are you? Chick-Hawkeye? Wouldn’t be the first gender-bent comic hero I’ve seen tonight. [He nods towards the inked-up-twink with the music at his fingertips, trying not to pull a face.] 

[She offers a bit of a laugh, head shaking slightly as her eyes dart in the direction he’s nodded. A face, one that she can’t put a name to, but for some reason ‘Gordon’ springs to mind. Is it Gordon? Something that rhymes with Gordon, perhaps? She should make it a point to ask him later.] I think he looks good. Can’t say I’ve ever been a huge Batman fan in general, but he pulls it off, it seems almost effortlessly. [She glances down at her own costume, then, and shakes her head a bit.] But no, I’m not Hawkeye. I’m the Mockingjay. Katniss Everdeen. 

[After a moment of thought, she offers a bit of a smile.] By the by, you shouldn’t call yourself a-- [Her eyes dart around for a moment, and she lowers her voice a little, almost ashamed of the word that’s going to come out of her mouth.] --bastard. You seem like a nice guy. That word doesn’t imply as much, no matter the context you may be using it in. 

The Jester of Tortuga || Wes & Annie Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

alexander-donovan:

[’Ambition can be dangerous,’ she says. He shrugs.] Maybe, but so can a ferris wheel, if it’s not assembled right. Can’t be afraid of everything. Anything worth having can be dangerous, if you’re an idiot about it. [He gives her a small grin, adjusts the settle of his shoulders, and the arms folded casually over his chest.] And you don’t have to be perfect at anything, in order to work at being better at something else. Perfectionism isn’t exactly an enabler. 

[He’s so surprised, he can’t even muster a laugh. His brows do shoot up to his hairline, though.] What Would Alex Do? [He does chuckle then, shaking his head.] Christ. Somehow I doubt that very much. And if I’m a role model it’s probably only because I’m an AP trainer. Package deal, in these parts. [He shrugs off the accolades.] 

[Listening to Alex speak is like listening to a motivational speaker, but Annie actually likes it. It’s encouraging, without being pompous or overblown. Alex is a good person to take advice from, even if he may be a little stuffy, stiff.] You’re right. But then, I’ve only ever been on a ferris wheel once in my life. I was always more of a carousel girl, personally. [She reaches up, twists her hair from her face and knots it on top of her head.] I guess I just... want to be the best at something. A flaw in the human system, wanting to be on top of the pack. Plus, I suppose I would like to help win the games. 

[She watches his expression change, and her head tilts a bit, her own forehead wrinkling a bit. She can’t figure out if it’s humble or if it’s awkward, or something else entirely. She shakes her head a bit.] I don’t think it’s just that, but, well... I dunno. I look up to you. It’s like having a big brother. Maybe I just... appreciate that you take the time to help. And if other people don’t, well... it’s a shame.

[annieperreault-blog]

roy--walters:

[he nods along. Control was relative, she was right. Roy had no way of controlling his own demon, but he knew what made him better; calmer.] I mean, that’s better than wandering around blindly; having your body on auto pilot while you’re trapped inside your mind, just watching. 

[Roy’s thumb absentminded rubbed against her hand. He doesn’t even realize; it’s almost like a twitch. Usually he’d either clench his fists or scratch at the tattoo on his wrist. He wasn’t trying to feel anxious, but it was this sort of complacent conversation in silence that made him feel like something bad was going to happen. But things were starting to get better in their conversation, he didn’t want to ruin it again. So, his thumb ran circles against the side of Annie’s hand; a little tick that calmed his thought. 

He chuckles as she rolls her eyes.] I mean… [he started with a teasing tone.] Maybe just a tiny bit… [he smiles. He almost wants to ask about her sister, but he feels like that would be a bad idea. She was finally smiling again.] Yeah, I could never settle on a picture. Sometimes I’d change it at least three times in an hour before just going back to the same one I had. [Roy, honestly, missed his computer more than most other things from his past life. Sure, he still had some technology in his life, but it wasn’t the same. That had been something he’d good with, something he’d understood. Now, he was an embodiment of death itself. He could understand Annie’s desire to wake up; he would love for all of this to just be a bad dream.

But, he went back to their conversation with a small laugh.] Something… It’s definitely something. [he looks to Annie for a moment] Other than all that bad stuff that happened, are you still having fun?

Can you imagine? I would just be wandering around like a zombie, crashing into walls and people, not even aware of it. It would make for some entertainment, I suppose. [She offers a bit of a chuckle, shoulders lifting in a shrug. She feels that she does do that, occasionally. On bad weeks, when she’s practically sleepwalking through the days and sitting dazed in a corner at night. Naps, at least, make her feel more alert, more present. But they don’t help get her out of the dream. 

She offers a wrinkle of her nose in his direction, especially when his tone turns teasing, and her hand lifts just enough to lightly swat at his knee before relaxing there again.] I can’t say I’ve ever written a single piece of poetry that wasn’t for a class assignment. Though, I suppose I could take a crack at it, just for this album we’re obviously going to write. The first single can be called ‘Someone tripped in the hallway today and it was funny enough to write a song about it’. Or maybe ‘I actually saw a butterfly today for the first time in a while, how magical’. Or... maybe I should just let you come up with the names. [A soft laugh, as she shakes her head, rests her chin on her knees.] I have to say, that level of customization, one of my favorite things about my computer. It was a hand-me-down. Three years old by the time I got it, but it was mine. I covered it in stickers and got those little keyboard ones, too that could change the colors of the keys. 

[She considers the question for a long moment, offers a smile and nods before her head turns to rest more comfortably against her knees, where she can look his way.] Yeah, I think so. Back home I wasn’t much of the party type, played a lot of computer games and did a lot of extra credit homework. I hadn’t really decided what I wanted to do yet... But I was thinking maybe law. Did you know what you wanted to be when you grew up?

Locked Out Of Heaven || Rebranded

[annieperreault-blog]

claytonboyd:

[He remembered the khaki, the baggy loose jackets that smelt of damp and wax, the people wearing them, how he’d turn his nose up or scoff at them as he passed them in the market. Hunting used to be a past time, one held in high regard, amongst many of his hometowns natives. But it wasn’t a past time now, it was a necessity. So he hadn’t meant to scoff but it had sort of slipped out of a mouth that seemed almost too soft to produce such a sound; the battle between his own response and one he couldn’t innately control any more in full force once again] I don’t really think we have much of a choice these days. I mean its not like we’ve got delis where we can get a perfectly butchered venison loin is it? Do you think we do all this stuff with bows and arrows for the fun of it? 

[But he could see she was uncomfortable and the idea of this one so much as standing on a snail by mistake seemed painful] you know I was like almost vegetarian back in the day. My mom read shit about cholesterol and hormones and some other crap so like would only cook chicken. Crazy we don’t have a choice now right? Crazy. [Sometimes, he was sure, the awkward small talk that came with trying to empathise with others was actually worse than the fact he felt what they did. But the next thing she said made him chuckle, low, not sharp or mocking, just a soft gurgle of a sound that faded quickly] Oh well maybe you’re luckier than me then. Or I’ve just got stuck with the randy ones. But…there must be a reason surely? Have you tried lavender? I hear that essential oil stuff is supposed to aid sleep. 

[Annie thinks on it, long and hard for a moment before she offers a bit of a shrug.] I assumed it was for the games. I don’t think they’d really consider me a hunter, if I’m being honest. Though... what do I know, I could be wrong. [The bow bounces from one hand to the other, and she glances again at the target, the off shots. She knows that practice makes perfect, perhaps more practice will simply make more perfect. A long string of thoughts that she’s getting lost in, and when she glances back to Clay, she offers a weary, albeit genuine smile.] You know, I managed vegetarian for all of a day. I just loved hamburgers too much. It is rather.. I dunno if crazy is the word I would use. Something. But not crazy. [That word, well... it has too many painful implications. 

But Annie isn’t crazy. She reminds herself daily.

When he chuckles, she actually lifts an eyebrow, lips curling in. Is he laughing at her? It doesn’t seem so, at least.] Well, I suppose.... I’ve never heard anyone... But then, I haven’t exactly been listening for it, either. But I-- uhm-- I just wasn’t all that tired. Got caught up reading, lost track of time, suddenly it’s time for wake up. [She offers a shrug at her lie, lets it play as convincingly as she can. One night of missed sleep over something so casual, better than a week because she’s forcing herself to stay awake.] Do you... hear it a lot? People... people getting randy? Have I just been woefully oblivious this whole time?

[annieperreault-blog]