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ageeksnerdyworld · 5 years ago

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A Birthday Bash

Characters: Avia Carstairs, Kelly Ronan O’Connor, Scribe Jenkins, Isabelle Lombardi, Emery Becker, Jett Leach, Mazarin Leach, Holland Ayer, Kalenn Birch, Walker, Scout Carstairs, Paisley Carstairs, and October Ispen

Word Count: 5,405

Trigger Warning: N/A

Notes: This idea has been bouncing around my brain for a real long time so I finally wrote it. But this took like ten years to write. This is as good as its gonna get. As always The Cyber World and the viruses therein belong to @voiceoflarka

Summary: The gang gathers at the Carstairs manor for Avia’s birthday. An unexpected guest arrives. Much to Scout’s dismay party shenanigans ensue. Click the read more if you’d like.

~~~

That morning Avia woke to find a hand written note on her night stand.

Happy birthday to my wonderful niece. May your wishes for today come true. I love you with all my heart. --Aunt Paisley

The ivory white paper was on the thicker side, with a golden border, and a small intricate flower embossed into the middle of it. At the bottom of the flower were the initials P.E.C. The message was written in neatly penned, and amazingly precise, black calligraphy. A smile formed as she read it. But her happiness was short lived as she realized that her father hadn't said anything. Part of her didn't expect him to even remember what today was. But a small piece secretly hoped he would.

She pulled the covers off and got out of bed.

Returning the lovely note to the nightstand she grabbed her phone.

She checked her messages as she crossed to the bathroom.

Most were from her teammates. All sending birthday wishes her way. There were also a few extra messages from Kelly. Each one of his texts were signed with a red heart emoji.

In the bathroom Avia washed her face from the lull of sleep.

When she was finished with that she went back into her bedroom and changed. She wore a long-sleeved, white, shirt with a boat neck. She also wore a red plaid patterned skirt with a hemline that ended just above her knees. The hemline was asymmetrical with the right side a bit shorter than the left. Two angled zippers sat on either side of the skirt. Underneath the skirt she wore a pair of thin, black, pantyhose.

Sitting down at the ivory white vanity she brushed her hair.

Before doing her make-up she sent “thank you” texts to everyone. She also sent a purple heart, and a red, emoji to Kelly. As she opened the drawer of her vanity there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened and the small form of October Ispen stepped in.

They were her father’s driver, bodyguard, and the family’s butler. For as long as she could remember they had been a constant presence in her life. As Avia did her makeup she saw the reflection of the virus in her mirror. They wore a black suit, with a white dress shirt, an obsidian tie, and impeccably shined shoes. Their skin was white and covered with dark rosewood veins. A stone-cold, serious, expression marked their face. An expression which was even more threatening due to the utter lack of hair on his head and face. Even their eye ridges were entirely void of any hair.

Everything about October Ispen was unsettling. The veins that crawled along their bare skull. Their uncanny talent of being able to stand perfectly still. The black leather gloves they constantly wore. Their unnerving, relentless, brown eyes.

She knew why they were there without them having to say anything.

She sighed and said; “Already?”

October gave her a silent nod.

She shook her head and quickly took the dress she wanted to wear later out of her closet. Avia carefully laid it on her bed. Quickly finding the matching heels she set them at the foot of her bed. Just before leaving her room she slipped on a pair of sleek black boots.

Together the pair walked through the hallway and down the winding staircase.

When they arrived at the landing Avia gave October a pleading stare. They didn’t react. She sighed; not expecting anything else from them. They were her father’s employee after all. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he used his powers to keep October in line. He had done so many times before to other less important people in his employ. He often said that he owed the success of his business to it. People often said that his powers were the only reason he landed her mom. Whether the rumors were true or not she had no idea.

As she rounded the corner and crossed the hallway all these things ran though her mind. She steeled herself before entering the dining room.

He sat at the head of the long, rectangular, dining table. His light gray hair was a bit messy as if he had been stressfully running his hands through it. As always the crawling scar under his right eye glowed lightly. He wore a dark gray jacket over a white dress shirt and a pair of cream colored dress pants. A dark brown belt sat on the waist of his pants. On his ring finger sat a thick, plain silver, wedding band. A series of files covered the area in front of him. In his right hand was a tablet and he held a stylus in his left. He twirled the stylus between his fingers as he read whatever was on the screen. When she entered the room October immediately walked to her father’s side.

Scout Carstairs always liked to keep his possessions close.

He looked up just as Avia walked through the open doors.

“Good morning,” she said.

Returning the sentiment he smiled slightly. The emotion was barely reflected in his eyes. He motioned for her to walk over to him. She did.

He held her hands in his. It was always strange when her father chose to show emotion. Every time he did it felt wrong, as if it was only half there, and fake. But she didn’t flinch away. She didn’t want to deal with any of the aftermath today.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Do you really want to have the party here?” he asked. “Dad has a lot of work to do, sweetheart, and it might not be a good idea.”

Avia rolled her eyes and let go of his hands. Of course he wanted something from her. He was barely ever nice just for the sake of being nice. Even the trips they had taken in the past were more often work related than not.

“This is about my team coming isn’t it?”

“No, I just--” she cut him off.

“It is! You think they’ll tear the place apart or something. They’re my friends, father. You still want to me be to be the little girl who liked staying inside all day? But that ship has sailed, father. I’m finally being myself and I have friends.”

“Avia, stop,” he said harshly.

“Not until you admit the truth--”

“I SAID STOP!” he yelled.

The lighting of the room shifted as he spoke. The lights dimmed significantly. When she looked at her dad now he seemed to grow twice his size. He loomed over her like a giant. If it was possible October looked even smaller than usual. Scout’s face darkened with anger. His voice now boomed and echoed.

“I can’t have that tattooed punk ruining tonight. He’s uncultured, disrespectful, and vulgar. Even the smallest, cheapest, thing is worth more than his life.”

“Tonight isn’t about you, father. Emery’s coming. They’re all coming.”

Avia was unshaken by her father’s powers. He tended to have his abilities up in some capacity almost all the time so she was accustomed to them. She stood firm and kept her face as calm as possible. She nodded in agreement. Scout was very surprised. Sitting back down he switched it off and the room returned to normal.

“Very well,” he said; returning his attention to his work. “You may go. Paisley would like to go shopping with you. Her present this year, apparently. I do believe she’s waiting out front for you.”

Avia said nothing as she turned on her heels and walked out.

Just like her father said Paisley was waiting for Avia on the front steps of the manor. She wore a slim fitting dress and a pair of black stilettos. The dress was mostly white but there were a few intersecting black lines across it. Some ran vertically and others ran horizontally. A few of the sections were dyed different colors; red, blue, yellow. A pair of black sunglasses sat on her face. She looked stunning as always.

“Didn’t go too bad, I see,” she said as Avia approached.

“Father’s letting my friends attend so I think not.”

Paisley nodded approvingly. She handed her niece a small, thin, rectangular envelope. The paper was clearly expensive and just like the note it was thick. It was black in color and the writing was silver. Avia’s eyes went wide.

“Father said we were going shopping,” she said confused.

“Oh, we are. But, one cannot really shop without stable finances,” she said with a smile.

Avia opened the envelope and the card inside was plain black with a small message. It read; Get yourself something nice, in that same silver font. Inside the card was a thin blue credit card. A small receipt showed how much money was on it. It was a lot more than Avia expected.

“Oh my,” she whispered in shock.

“If your tall, ginger, friend is coming then you’ll need something new. And fabulous. Also, it would greatly anger Scout and that is always a plus.”

Avia smiled and they descended the front steps together.

~~~

While the birthday girl was getting ready so were her friends. The Leach siblings were the first ones dressed and ready. So they met in the hallway outside the rooms and hung out. Mazarin, who was the odd one out in the group, stuck by her older brother. From what she had seen of Avia and her family differed so much from her own Mazarin didn't know what to expect.

"Je," she whispered to him as they waited for the others.

"Is Avia's family nice? Are they like how mom and dad used to be?"

"I don't really know," he said staring off at the opposite wall. "That's more of a question for Kell. He's the only one of us who's met Av's dad. Why? Something wrong?"

Mazarin wrapped her arms around her torso and hugged herself. She dug her toes into the carpet. Jett could tell something was bothering her. He reached over and put his arm around her shoulder; pulling her into a side hug. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Maz," he said. "I'm sure everyone's gonna be fine. We're going to a birthday party after all."

She turned away from the wall and hugged her brother tightly. Her face was buried into the front of his jacket. With her this close he didn't have to hear her to know she was crying. He could feel it. As she silently cried Jett began to slowly, soothingly, stroke her hair.

"I miss them so much," she said; her voice muffled a bit from the fabric of his jacket.

"Me too."

They stood like that for a few more seconds before she let go and wiped her eyes. Jett straightened the front of his his jacket. Then he noticed that her headband had fallen so he fixed it for her. He tucked his finger under her chin and gave her a soft smile.

"Don't you worry, little lady, we've got each other. And that's all that matters."

“Everything alright, Leach?” Walker asked.

Neither of them saw Walker enter the hallway, but, they weren’t bothered.

“Yeah. We’re good,” he said. Noticing the rabbit virus’s attire he chuckled; “You look almost the exact same you do every day, Texas Ranger.”

They wore a white, long-sleeved, button up which covered their upper body. A maroon, double-breasted, vest partially covered the dress shirt. Dark black pants covered their legs and the dark dress shoes poked out from underneath the fabric. A black waistcoat tightly hugged their frame. Their usual goggles were replaced by a black and brown vertical striped top hat. The hat hid their long, black, ears. The outfit was complete with a black tie that sat under the shirt collar.

“He’s right you know,” a voice called from the end of the hallway.

The voice belonged to Isabelle who had just exited her room.

She wore a pastel blue dress and silver colored heels. Her hair was pinned up on one side with silver, sparkling, barrettes. The rest hung down and was neatly curled. The hemline of her dress was shorter in the front, stopping above her knees, and longer in the back. A thin, white, ribbon ran along her waist; separating the sections of the dress. The bottom half was comprised of many layers. The very top layer was sheer and continued to just below her shoulders. Patches of small flowers were embroidered on that layer. She twirled around to show the others the back which was laced up like a corset. A small, white, clutch sat in her right hand.

Walker rolled their eyes at her but said nothing.

“You look nice,” Jett said as Isabelle joined the others with a smile.

Mazarin, who was sitting on the floor, looked up just as Jett spoke. Her eyes went wide and she gasped quietly. Isabelle walked over to where she stood and leaned her back against the wall. She jumped up from the floor and preceded to excitedly talk to Isabelle. She asked the skitty virus a multitude of questions. Jett knew that Mazarin admired Isabelle so he let them talk. He plugged his headphones in his ears and closed his eyes.

Walker spent the time analyzing the various dents, scratches, and stubborn stains that were scattered around the carpet. The four of them were all in their own worlds that none noticed Scribe enter the hallway.

“Ready,” she said; quietly approaching the group.

Scribe wore a dress that stopped just above the knees. The dress was white with gold and blue half oval accents. The design was clearly supposed to look like scales. A thin, light gray, cardigan comfortably sat on her shoulders. She wore an armillary sphere ring that hung from her neck on a thin gold chain. The sphere was open and the five bands circulated over one another. The outermost bands were engraved with simple recesses to form swirls and curves with the metal. Behind those a thicker band was engraved with her name in Atlantean runes. The two middle bands were then like the two outer ones. But, these impressions had a message engraved into the metal. It was written half in binary and half in Atlantean runes. A message just for her from the one who gave her the ring. She wore it on the chain to keep her mom’s memory close by.

Her outfit was complete with a pair of light gray flats.

"Scribe, you look so cute!" Isabelle exclaimed with a beaming smile.

She shrugged and pushed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. Looking away, slightly embarrassed, she muttered her thanks. Returning the compliment she moved over to stand next to the skitty virus.

Holland, Kalenn, and Emery all entered the hallway at the same time.

Holland’s inky black hair was combed back; styled as it usually was in a short pompadour. They wore a dark teal suit. The lapels, and the pockets, were a dark navy. A white dress shirt poked out from underneath the end of the sleeves. Emerging from the collar of the shirt was a bright coral tie. Monochromatic coral paisley designs were embroidered onto the fabric. A matching coral pocket square was neatly folded into a winged puff. Their shoes were white and pointed at the toes. The soles were black and a slight heel. A sliver, rectangular, clasp sat on the outside.

Kalenn wore a short sleeved, black, dress. Much like Isabelle’s dress his was multi-layered. The hemline stopped in the middle of his thighs. Under the dress he wore a pair of gray faux leather pants. But unlike any of the outfits the others wore his was tattered and ripped. He also wore a pair of black boots that stopped at his knees. His outfit was completed with a sheer gray shawl and a silver antler shaped necklace.

Both the dress and the shawl had slits in the back for his wings.

While the couple stopped to talk to the group Emery rushed to sulk behind everyone. It was clear to Walker, who was the only one who saw, that he wanted to hide.

"I'm actually surprised at how well you clean up, Becker," Walker said with a smirk.

As a matter of fact this was the only time most of the team had seen Emery Becker with his natural hair color. His deep black hair wasn't spiked up in his typical mohawk either. It was combed down and slicked back with gel. And he had taken out some of his piercings; the nose ring, the double studs in his eyebrow and the claw shaped ring in his bottom lip. All of his ear piercings remained.

He wore a black leather jacket over a black button up. A bright, plain, white bow-tie sat just under the collar. He wore dark black dress pants and a white belt. The pants were obviously too small for him. The hem of the legs stopped just above the top of his boots. A small section of his mismatched socks poked through.

Despite the clear signs that his attire was hastily thrown together it seemed that Emery had put in an effort.

“Don’t listen to them, Beck,” Jett said. “You look like shit.”

Emery chuckled; “Least I’m not as ugly as you right now. You look like road kill, dude.”

They laughed and playfully threw insults and obscenities at one another until Isabelle made them stop.

Kelly was the last person to enter the hallway. He wore a simple black suit and tie. He was clearly nervous. While he walked over he kept readjusting his sleeve buttons and straightening his tie. Muttering to himself he wasn’t looking where he was walking at all. He was so distracted by his own nerves that he bumped into Walker.

“Watch where you’re going, O’Connor,” they snapped.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” he said.

"That's everyone," Jett said; trying to take the heat off Kelly. "Let's head down and see what's what."

The group entered the elevator, taking up two of them at the same time, and descended to the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator doors they looked around. Avia had told them that her family’s butler was going to pick up the group. But they were nowhere to be seen. So, the gang decided to wait around until October showed up.

It was a long, boring, wait.

After what seemed like forever a short, bald, virus approached the group. The virus wore a black suit and had a serious expression. The group thought that this might be the person who was supposed to pick them up. Kelly was about to ask them who they were. But he was cut off when the virus lifted their hands and began signing something.

“I.. um, we don’t, uh, rea--” Kelly stammered nervous and unsure of what to say.

But Emery shoved past him, saving him from further embarrassing himself, and said; “Don’t worry, dude. I got this.”

A minute or so passed with Emery and the other virus signing back and forth. Even though he was speaking while he signed the entire exchange was very awkward for the rest of the group. When the short conversation was over Emery motioned for the group to follow.

As they made their way through the parking lot Kelly walked up to Emery and tapped him on the shoulder.

“How’d’ye know how ta do that?”

“Sign?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Kelly shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“Kinda had to learn it,” Emery replied with a somber smile. Then he chuckled lightly as if reminiscing about something. “Honestly, Irish, lemme tell ya it was pretty hard to talk to her without it.”

“Who, if ye don’t mind me askin’?”

“My mom.”

Emery jogged to catch up with the others and left Kelly standing in the parking lot with his mouth hanging open in shock.

~~~

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the Carstairs manor. October was instructed to drive fast so they did. The group filed out of the limo and up the front stairs. Most of the group rushed inside, ready to get their party on, except for Jett and Emery. The boys took their time; awestruck by the expanse and the aura of the filthy rich of the place.

Emery felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see October behind them.

Hurry it up, alright, they signed.

Yeah, sorry, he quickly signed back. Then he grabbed Jett by the arm and rushed inside.

The open foyer was spacious and inviting. Streamers hung from the ceiling and along the banister. The streamers were dark eggplant purple and navy blue. A large, rectangular sign, hung across the large chandelier. In the same purple and blue as the streamers the sign read HAPPY BIRTHDAY AVIA. Unsure of where to go the boys hung around and tried to listen to where the party was.

They heard Kelly’s very loud, and extremely awkward, nervous laugh.

The rushed over in that direction.

Stepping into the room they took in the scene. Neither were surprised to find that it was a large ballroom. Just like in the foyer there were purple and blue streamers hanging from the ceiling. On the left hand side of the room there was a long, stylish, buffet table. A wide array of food and desserts lined it. Next to the buffet table there was a smaller one. Bottles of champagne and a bowl of punch sat on it. On the right side of the room there were a series of round tables. Each table had four black chairs and was covered with a white tablecloth.

A small, black, bird shaped, centerpiece sat in the middle of each table.

The rest of the room stayed as the dance floor.

“Over here,” Mazarin called; waving the boys over to their table.

The table that the group had sat was actually two tables pushed together. Someone had fixed the tablecloths so that they covered both tables equally. On either side of the middle of the tables there was a centerpiece. When they approached only Mazarin and Isabelle were there.

“Where’s everyone else?” Emery asked.

Mazarin shrugged as she pulled Jett over to sit next to her. She started filling him in on what he missed.

“Scribe’s getting something to eat.” Isabelle said.

“Holland and Kalenn are slow-dancing; it’s adorable. I think Avia and Kelly are talking to her dad. Not really sure where Walker is though.”

Jett suddenly realized how hungry he was. Asking the others if they wanted anything he got up and walked over to the food. He got himself a plate and then had to awkwardly try and hold it white pouring himself some punch. Then he noticed how stupid he looked. So he set the plate down and poured the punch. Just as he started walking back to the table Kelly walked up to him.

“How’d it go?” Jett asked.

“Feckin’ awkwardly, an’ probably horrible, to be honest.”

“Sorry, bud.”

Kelly shook his head; “Ye don’t get it, Jett. He’s more intimidatin’ than he looks an’ he’s got that scar on his face. Ye can’t ignore that shit. No matter how much ye try.”

“Hey, Jett, can I ask ya somethin’?” Kelly asked; clearly changing the subject.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Kelly explained the earlier events as quickly and clearly as he could. His hands moved about wildly and his talked too fast. But he repeated himself enough so Jett eventually got the gist.

“It’s not my place to say. That’s something you really gotta ask him, Kell.”

Jett walked back to the group’s table.

While Jett left him alone Avia walked up behind Kelly. She tapped him on the arm. He turned around with a smile. Avia grabbed his face and gave him a long, deep, kiss. His bright, blue, eyes went wide for a split second. Then he relented and melted into the kiss. When she let go she lead him by the hand to the dance floor.

~~~

The couple danced close.

Avia felt a tap on her shoulder. She ignored the obvious vie for her attention. Whoever this was they could wait. In this moment it was just her and Kelly. His arms were around her waist. She had placed her arms over his shoulders. They were looking into each other's eyes; swaying back and forth.

Whoever stood behind Avia loudly cleared their throat. They spoke with a conceited and very posh accent. The voice alone exuded a pompous and conceited air.

"Pardon my intrusion but I haven't given the birthday girl my respects."

Avia knew exactly who it was without needing to see his face.

Elias Dekkart.

He was the son of one of her father's business associates. Dallas Dekkart and Scout Carstairs had known each other since the earliest days of his business. She was one of the few people Scout trusted with his life. They often met for lunch or dinner to advise each other on business matters. From time to time the adults would spend entire days with one another surveying other business prospects.

Which meant that Avia and Elias had spent a lot of time together as young sprites. Over the years he developed an intense crush on her. While she never expressed even the slightest return of his affections he persisted. She hadn’t seen him in a very long time and she wanted to keep it that way. Hearing his voice put a damper on her mood but she had been taught better than to ignore guests no matter how unwanted they were.

So she put on a smile and turned around.

He wore a black pinstripe suit with a plain black tie. A silver tie clip kept the fabric in place. In his breast pocket sat a bright white pocket square; folded neatly. Wine red veins covered his daisy white skin. His chocolate brown eyes matched his perfectly coiffed hair. Everything about his attire and his look had a pretentious opulence to it. Even his stance was overtly grandiose.

"Oh, Elias, it's been so long I almost didn't recognize you," she said in an obviously bothered tone of voice.

"Whereas I could never forget your beautiful face. Many happy returns of the day, my dear."

He took her hand and kissed it gingerly. As he slowly, and very uncomfortably, let go Kelly stepped up next to Avia. She made a big show of kissing him. He understood what she was getting at so he too made a very obvious display as he hugged her. The message was clear and she hoped Elias would get it this time around.

She would never be his.

"Who might this be, my dear?"

The question was meant for Avia but she deferred to her boyfriend. It only made sense that he introduced himself after all. Kelly stared Elias down and stood on the balls of his feet; making himself appear even taller. Elias didn't seem to be intimidated but then again Kelly knew next to nothing about the young man.

"Name's Kelly Ronan O'Connor and I'm her boyfriend."

Elias stuck out his hand and introduced himself. Kelly didn't take the offered hand. Instead he muttered something about "being absolutely parched" and walked away. It was clear to both Avia and Elias that he was mocking the unwanted guest. Barely five feet away Kelly looks over his shoulder and cocked his head to the side. Avia saw the slight gesture and excused herself.

She turned around and called to Elias, mimicking his accent; “Don’t embarrass yourself by crying to mummy.”

Elias Dekkart was left alone.

~~~

The group spent the rest of the night having the best time. Scribe and Avia started devising a plan to get Elias out of her hair for good. In void of paper they had been typing notes in their phones and drawing maps on napkins. Jett, Mazarin, and Isabelle danced together. Holland and Kalenn were sitting at the group’s table making up stories about the other party-goers.

At some point in the night Emery took control of the DJ booth. He rummaged through the pre-set music before getting rid of all of it. With an over the top motion and gravitas he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out one of the very few copies of Midnight Decoy’s first CD.

Without even giving it a second thought he put it on. Seeing the anger on Scout Carstairs’ face made him smile.

Almost out of nowhere Walker appeared at his side.

“Pissing off her old man?”

“You know it,” he said with a nod and a smirk.

“I have an idea. Be right back.”

Walker rushed off without another word.

Meanwhile Scout was sitting near the entrance. He was sitting with Paisley and Dallas Dekkart. The latter had five glasses of champagne and was starting on her sixth. The Carstairs siblings were daintily drinking their champagne in moderation. October, the ever dutiful butler, stood within earshot of Scout. Elias rushed over to his mother and tapped her on the shoulder. Dallas tried her best to hang on to her son’s words but she was very drunk.

He desperately threw some water in her face and said; “She told me off, mother. Her and her ginger boy toy. I was just trying to be nice.”

“What? Scout, is this true?” Dallas exclaimed.

“October, be a lamb and tell Avia to play nice,” Scout said.

“Don’t listen to him,” Paisley said. “She doesn’t like this sniveling brat and she’s quite within her rights to. He’s been after her since they were sprites.”

Unsure of what to do October walked over to the birthday girl anyway.

October stood there until Avia noticed them. Scribe actually took notice of the virus first. She tapped Avia on the shoulder and pointed toward October. Avia looked at them and they gestured to where Dallas and Elias were sitting. They began signing to her but then remembered that she didn’t know ASL. But it seemed that she figured it out quickly enough with the context. Avia eventually gathered the guts to tell October to roughly escort the Dekkarts out of her house. They did without the slightest hesitation. Much to their surprise Emery joined them. As they telepathically threw Elias and Dallas out the front door Emery stepped up next to them.

Just as Elias rose to his feet Emery let out a glass-shattering scream. Both of the Dekkarts fell on their backs.

Slamming the doors in the Dekkarts’ faces the two of them went back to the party. Instead of joining the others they hung around the buffet table and talked in ASL.

You sign fluently.

Thanks. Had a pretty good teacher.

You have stories don’t you?

Tell you mine if you tell me yours, Emery signed with a smirk.

Meanwhile Walker went around messing with the decorations. They made sure to do so without being seen. After a while Kalenn and Holland joined in. The trio went around popping balloons and tangling streamers. Emery went back to playing music from the unmanned DJ booth. Kelly began spraying, and drinking, the champagne over Avia like she just won NASCAR. Walker ran to the coat room and came back with bags full of silly string. They threw cans out to everyone and the group ran around spraying each other with silly string. Some overturned tables and teamed up as if they were playing paintball.

Scout watched all of this in silent horror.

“Leave them be, brother,” Paisley said; laying a hand on his shoulder. “They’re just kids. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

She was right and they did. Tired, and out of ideas, Isabelle was the first to start dozing off. Over time they all began to succumb to the lull of sleep. Jett tried to rally the group so they could get back to the hotel. But Avia shot him in the face with silly string; effectively shutting him up. Emery and Mazarin laughed and after a bit so did Jett.

After a bit more of silly string fighting the group collapsed into a massive dog pile on the ballroom floor.

“Sleepover!” Mazarin yelled as she crawled into the pile.

#my writing #oc writing #larka's virus community #lvc #avia carstairs #scout carstairs #paisley carstairs #jett leach #mazarin leach #emery becker #kelly ronan o'connor #isabelle lombardi #scribe jenkins #holland ayer #kalenn birch #walker #october ispen

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qow-us · 6 years ago

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Since 1999, nearly 1000 emerging poets have participated in Cave Canem’s community-based workshops, rare opportunities to work with accomplished poets for free or low-cost fees. Limited to an enrollment of 12-15, eight and ten-session workshops offer rigorous instruction, careful critique and an introduction to the work of established poets—all within the welcoming environment of our Brooklyn, NY loft. “Time Keeping and Time Travel” with Anastacia-Reneé In this workshop, participants will be in conversation with the work of Audre Lorde and Octavia Butler. Participants will examine multi-genre writing and poetic craft elements to build poems that bend, restructure and reimagine “form.” Participants will be creatively inspired by the notion that the “paranormal” is normal and traditional fiction can inhabit a poem. The goal for all workshop participants is to complete the course with two drafts and confidently share them. Dates: Wednesdays, 6-9 pm. September 5, 12, 19, 26; October 3, 10, 17, 24, 31; culminating reading: November 7. Where: Cave Canem, 20 Jay Street, Suite 310-A, Brooklyn, NY. Who’s eligible: Black poets of African descent living in New York City’s five boroughs. Individuals who are not enrolled full-time in a degree-granting program. Individuals who can commit to attending all ten sessions. Individuals who are not Cave Canem fellows. Writers who have not published more than one collection of poetry with a commercial press. This is a tuition-free workshop, funded by The Jerome Foundation. The instructor will review applications and select up to 15 participants, with preference given to individuals who have attended fewer than three Cave Canem workshops. The deadline to apply is August 12, 2018 at 11:59 pm EST. Applicants will be notified by August 20, 2018. Applications will be accepted via Submittable only. Click here to apply. Anastacia-Renee is the current Seattle Civic Poet, recipient of the 2017 Artist of the Year Award, and former 2015-2017 Poet-in-Residence at Hugo House. She is the author of five books: Forget It (Black Radish Books), (v.), (Gramma Press) 26, (Dancing Girl Press), Kiss Me Doll Face (Gramma Press) and Answer(Me) (Winged City Chapbooks, Argus Press) and has received writing fellowships from Cave Canem, Hedgebrook, VONA, Artist Trust and Jack Straw, as well as a writing residency from Ragdale. Her theatrical mixed-media project, 9 Ounces: A One Woman Show, is a multivalent play unapologetically downward dogging its way through class, race, culture, oppression, depression, survival and epiphany. Her cross-genre writing has appeared in the anthologies: Women of Resistance: Poems for a New Feminism, Sinister Wisdom: Black Lesbians—We Are the Revolution, Revise the Psalm: Work Celebrating the Writing of Gwendolyn Brooks and: Split this Rock, Painted Bride Quarterly, Crab Creek Review, Seattle Review, Bone Bouquet, Duende, Poetry Northwest, Synaethesia, Banqueted, Torch and many more. She teaches poetry and creative writing at Hugo House and Seattle University and lives as a superhero in Seattle with her wife and dog. “Procedures, Discomforts and Retellings” with LaTasha N. Nevada Diggs Participants will discuss what provokes/inspires them to write. Is it identity? Mothers? Politics? Language? Bullshit? Culturally one might write as one’s ancestors might have spoken. Perhaps some are not meant to write in a linear fashion. To be “roundabout” or circular may be closer to how one’s ear is innately tuned. During this workshop, participants will examine/dismantle, misread/fail for the sake of finding out what to write about and what momentarily terrifies to the point of stopping altogether. Through a number of restraints and recipes, participants will modify their “engines.” Expect no finished work. as the procedures explored will be durational and dependent upon individual comfort levels. Participants will read new and not so new works by Celina Su, Tusiata Avia, Clarence Major, Harryette Mullen and dg nanouk okpik, among others. Additionally, participants will listen to and view a number of recordings by performance based artists and musicians who utilize spoken word. Dates: Tuesdays, 6-8:30 pm. October 2, 9, 16, 23, 30; November 6, 13; culminating reading: November 27. Where: Cave Canem Foundation, 20 Jay Street, Suite 310-A, Brooklyn, NY Who’s eligible: Adult poets of color living in New York City’s five boroughs. Poets at the early-to-intermediate stage of their writing endeavors. Individuals who can commit to attending all eight sessions. Individuals who are not enrolled full-time in a degree-granting program. Individuals who are not Cave Canem fellows. Writers who have not published more than one collection of poetry with a commercial press. Suggested Donation: $30 – $240 Up to 15 participants will be selected by lottery, with preference given to applicants who have attended fewer than three workshops. Applications will be accepted via Submittable only. The deadline to apply is August 26, 2018 at 11:59 pm EST. Applicants will be notified by August 28, 2018. Applications will be accepted via Submittable only. Click here to apply. A writer, vocalist and sound artist, LaTasha N. Nevada Diggs is the author of TwERK (Belladonna, 2013). Her interdisciplinary work has been featured at the Brooklyn Museum, the Poesiefestival in Berlin, Museum of Modern Art, the QOW conference in Slovakia, the International Poetry Festival in Bucharest, the Whitney Museum of American Art, the Walker Art Center, the 56th Venice Biennale and in Beijing as a Red Gate Artist in Residence. As a curator and director, she has staged events at BAM Café, Lincoln Center Out of Doors, The David Rubenstein Atrium, The Highline, Poets House and El Museo del Barrio. LaTasha is the recipient of numerous awards; of them include New York Foundation for the Arts, Barbara Deming Memorial Grant, the National Endowment for the Arts, the Jerome Foundation Travel and Study Grant, the Japan-US Friendship Commission, Creative Capital and the Whiting Foundation Literary Award. She lives in Harlem. Payment via PayPal Poetry Conversations Amount: Total $0.00 Funder, New York City Fall and Spring Workshops: Jerome Foundation Funders, Poetry Conversations Workshops: This event is funded in part by Poets & Writers through public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, in partnership with the City Council; Amazon Literary Partnership; conEdison Consolidated Edison Company of New York; National Endowment for the Arts; New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew M. Cuomo and the New York State Legislature, and the Whiting Foundation.

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