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sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - Printable Version

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sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - alexander - 08-26-2018

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/W8N8gUDb.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #ff0000; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 6px; padding-left: 6px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]my brother's friends explain to me, with breathless words and bloody knees; it's a black eyed trust, respect the pain.
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Saturday night had arrived at San Creado University, music thumping through the dorm walls as parties took off, tired college students banging on walls to get them to quiet down. Alexander would feel bad for the people trying to sleep if they weren't one of the people currently getting ready for a party. Well, karaoke night, but going out with their friends always felt like a party in itself.

They stand in front of a full body mirror, struggling to pull on a pair of black skinny jeans and pay attention to a makeup tutorial playing on their phone at the same time. All of their movements stop suddenly when the artist they're watching states the brand of makeup they're using, eyes widening, head whipping from the mirror to the phone screen. "She wants me to use what? What do I look like, someone who has money?" They throw their phone away from them, pulling up their pants and straightening out the rest of their outfit in the mirror. There wouldn't be any new makeup looks on their instagram this weekend, it seemed. Not with that ridiculous video on their minds. Alex sighs loudly and continues on their way to the bathroom, deciding on their regular look and a choker to compliment the leather jacket they're wearing.

They take a moment to stand in front of their mirror, turning every which way to admire their appearance. "Lookin' good, as always." They give themselves finger guns before walking out of the bathroom.

After retrieving their phone and slipping on a pair of shoes, they leave their apartment, heading down the hall to the common room. Settling down on one of the couches placed around the room, Alex immediately gets comfortable, throwing their legs over the arm and resting their head on a decorative pillow. They unlock their phone and open a group chat, named three dumbasses and cat. There are, of course, a bunch of emojis that come after, courtesy of both Alex and Rialto.

out of the way 2's said: come down 2 the common room it's karaoke night bitches
out of the way 2's said: cat if ur not down here by the time ri nd marko r down here i will knock down ur door and drag u




Re: sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - CATHERYN - 08-26-2018

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://images3.imgbox.com/15/0d/WZf0zqBX_o.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 103px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #8A8A8A; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]you're my funny valentine, sweet comic valentine, you make me smile
with my heart
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In a shocking turn of events, Catheryn arrives at the common room first. Not because she's read Alex's text message, because she's on do not disturb almost constantly, and had muted that group chat about five years ago, but because she's on the hunt for some soda. The fact that Alexander is there already has her stopping in the doorway, taking a deep breath to steel herself before walking in and heading for the fridge.

"Alright," she says when she turns around, shoving the door closed and cracking open the can of Cola she's found. "What are we doing today?"

The thing is, Catheryn doesn't hate hanging out with her friends, she doesn't absolutely love it, but it's an activity that she will tolerate, if only because it's entertaining to watch Alex and Marko yell about twinks for three hours. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket as she takes a seat on an armchair, swiping away all her Instagram notifications in disinterest and tapping into her messages. "Since I'm here first, you owe me," she says after a pause, not bothering to backread more than the screen she's currently on before re-locking her device and letting it fall to her lap.

Saturday nights usually mean she sits in her room with a good book, or gets some knitting done, but every so often, she gets dragged out to social events. Alex is, almost constantly, the instigator, but Rialto and Marko follow along and Catheryn would rather just leave her room than sit on her bed and listen to three different boys whine in increasingly unbearable pitches.

"If we're doing something boring, I'm just going to go hang out with Aurora instead." Her girlfriend probably has some free time tonight, Catheryn just has to text to let her know that the boys are being douches, that's a good enough reason to bail.



Re: sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - Rialto - 08-26-2018

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/4XVwGFUK.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #8A8A8A; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 5px; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase"]Secrets on Broadway to the freeway, you're a keeper of crimes; Fear no conviction, grapes of wrath can only sweeten your wine
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Organised chaos, Rialto explains to the dorm supervisor who comes around about once every four months even before they peek into his room. He has a method to this. Socks in the drawers, weekend clothes on the floor, slightly more appropriate as in not back-baring tutorial clothes piled in the rolling chair he never sits on. It's a system, really. Don't touch that corner, it has all his art things, if you ruin it you owe him fifty bucks because he has orders lined up on Etsy -

Actually, those every four months they come around, a sensible broke person would then do their damnedest to straightforwardly football tackle that supervisor right into their pile of palm-sized papier-mâché butterflies and cross-stitched Scoobies just to make a quick profit, but Rialto wasn't that person. He had his own pride. Not pride that meant he wouldn't beg Alex to lie flat so he could paint on them just to make sure he's still got it, but pride in what he made. His shoe add-ons were absolutely cutting edge. Avant garde. The day he destroyed his creations with his own two hands meant a zombie outbreak was on the rise and you had to kill him.

Rialto, already fully dressed long before his cracked abomination of a mobile device buzzed against his thigh, was only late on account of scribbling intricate abstract shapes over the sides of his cream Docs.

You couldn't disturb him while he was neck-deep in the creative process. No one could.

He slunk into the room about ten minutes later when he was finally finished, also without texting back, if only because he actually couldn't - the screen lit up when he pressed the button, but with fragments of the glass missing and the surface just one more drop from being too scarred to even touch without fear of electrocution, he figured that They'd Realise. Somehow. 'One day,' he said languidly, folding his arms over the back of Cat's seat and unabashedly peeking at her screen, 'we're going to get caught in a heist, and the police is going to be after our asses. Then Marko's going to text us an awesome cover story, and you're going to get arrested because you don't have an alibi.' Rialto smiled. 'Then you'll know.'

And then he got a thin sliver of her hair to start braiding until Marko came, knocking his knee against the back of the chair, but whatever. Domesticity in the Addams family.



Re: sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - MARKO ! - 08-27-2018

[align=center]
[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/T0sEEOX.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: lightcoral; line-height: 100%; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]seesaw swinging with the boys in school and your feet flying up in the air, singing, "hey diddle diddle," with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn't care.
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[div style="width: 300px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 8pt; color: #8F7686; line-height: 115%;"][color=lightcoral]it was common for marko to avoid his dorm entirely, if only because he could barely step in without destroying something "valuable" or get woken up in the middle of the night to help a certain rialto shoplift from jo-ann's. so he usually broke into cat's car and slept there, before spending the rest of his day on his motorcycle or, like, other places. sure, he entered the dorm when it was necessary, for a change of clothes or to check his phone once every blue moon. he enjoyed disappearing occasionally, going off the grid. besides, he was bad with technology and it was easier to just go without it sometimes.

multiple patches had fallen off of his jacket after a rather dumb stunt that gained him pretty bad bruises and a decision to not talk about how big of an idiot he'd been, so it was a time where marko had to go into the dorm and hope that rialto wasn't there. he actually had a basic knowledge of arts and crafts, enough to stitch his patches onto his jacket, but grabbing his phone off of his bed told him that he wouldn't have time to get that done.

so, he secured the missing patches on with safety pins and left for the common room.

there they all were, probably waiting for him. he took a deep breath, readying himself for the verbal berating that usually followed his every move. marko considered himself rather alright at rolling with the punches, so he could most likely handle whatever comments any of them had. that is, unless cat had anything to say concerning the five minute wait he had to put the three of them through.

okay, speaking time, marko had funny things to say sometimes and maybe he could avoid cat murdering him with a singnle phrase if he spoke up first. "yo, alex, am i gonna get any choice in the music at all?" he asked, deciding that maybe she wouldn't be as cutthroat to him as she would be to, say, a rather handsy rialto. he was hoping that by not acknowledging her aside from a quick glance, he'd get by just fine.


Re: sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - alexander - 08-30-2018

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://i.imgbox.com/W8N8gUDb.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 100px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #ff0000; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 6px; padding-left: 6px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]my brother's friends explain to me, with breathless words and bloody knees; it's a black eyed trust, respect the pain.
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What was the use of a groupchat if no one responded to it? Alexander glances up from their phone at the sound of Catheryn's voice, eyes widening when they realize she was the first one to arrive. Well, what a surprise! They wouldn't have to break into her room and drag her out by her feet this time. Somewhere across the campus, Aurora was probably sighing in relief. The poor girl was involved in a lot of their shenanigans when it came to Cat, but not tonight.

They straighten themselves out when Catheryn comes to sit with them, a triumphant smile on their face. "I'm glad you asked! I've planned an excellent night out, one I'm sure you'll enjoy." They pause for dramatic effect, frowning when their friend mentiona ditching them for her girlfriend. Ugh, people in relationships; always wanting to be with their partner, never wanting to be pulled around town by their friends. "We're having a karaoke night! And you can't escape to Aurora. I cashed in a favor and told her she can't let you in if you come over." They stick their tongue out in Cat's direction, reaching out with their leg to push at her chair. No getting away this time, Cat.

Alex's expression brightens when Rialto walks into the room, flashing him a peace sign. They settle back onto the couch, huffing out a laugh at his words, glancing back at Catheryn to nod their head. "Yeah, we'll be caught in a heist, and it's going to be your fault that we're caught, because you won't check your phone." They could acknowledge that Rialto hadn't texted back in the group chat, either, but ganging up on Catheryn was more fun. They go quiet for another moment before they groan loudly, throwing their arms into the air. "What is taking Marko so long? I know that nerd doesn't hang out with anyone other than us and the pigeons at the park. What could he possibly be doing?" Alexander lifts themselves up to throw an exasperated glare at the twins, like they might know the answer.

Another round of complaints is on the tip of their tongue when the youngest finally arrives. Alex is off the couch and lunging toward Marko in seconds, mouth running a mile a minute as they reprimand the boy for being late. "You definitely don't get to chose the music! No one listens to eighties songs anymore. It doesn't fit the mood. Also, because you're late, you're sitting in the back." After giving Marko a good punch to the shoulder, they're heading out the door, keys swinging around their finger. Their car isn't the biggest or the best, but it fit the four of them just fine.

They settle into the front seat, not checking if the others had followed. Alexander had faith in Rialto to force Catheryn around, and knew Marko would follow them regardless. They start the car and rev the engine, giggling at their own antics. "Come on, y'all. The karaoke station is calling our names!"



Re: sweet twenty-three at the chateau. private - CATHERYN - 08-30-2018

[table][tr][td][div style="width: 70px; height:70px; background-image:url(https://images3.imgbox.com/15/0d/WZf0zqBX_o.png); background-size: cover; background-position: top;"][/td][td][div style="width: 103px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; font-size: 7pt; color: #8A8A8A; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; opacity: 0.75; text-transform: lowercase;"]you're my funny valentine, sweet comic valentine, you make me smile
with my heart
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[color=#717785]It stands to reason that, when Rialto starts fiddling with her hair, Catheryn briefly contemplates turning around and knocking him out. The thought passes, like thoughts like these often do, and she lets him continue with his styling. Once in a while, Catheryn is nice to her friends, though never outwardly, and it is almost always followed by a snarky comment because that's just what she does.

"Great, thanks. I'll let her know our next date is on her." No one would put it past Alex to just give Aurora a twenty dollar note and make her promise not to entertain Catheryn if she shows up, in fact, it's probably something that's expected. None of that really matters, though, because she knows Aurora would let her in regardless, and they'll probably use the twenty dollars to get something to eat. "Also, keep your grubby limbs away from me," she says, shoving at Alex's foot as it nears her chair.

She chooses not to respond to the whole heist debacle, and has her mouth open to answer Marko's question when Alexander gets there before her, and she nods in rare agreement. Their pigeon-loving enigma of a sort-of-friend can't be trusted near the AUX cord of anything, Catheryn's going to put Rialto in charge of making sure Marko is as far away from the karaoke machine as possible. Alex might be extremely annoying sometimes but at least they have good taste in music, and if they decide to be an idiot today then she'll just take over the machine and hold them all at arm's length on pain of getting clocked very hard in the jaw.

Catheryn would never actually do it, but it's funny to watch them eye her suspiciously as if she would.

She stands up slowly, probably dislodging Rialto on her way out of the armchair, and stretches before gliding out the door after Alex, deciding not to be difficult, for once. "Stop being a country whore," she says in response to her friend as she wrenches open the passenger side door. Catheryn gets the shotgun seat if she's not driving, it's an unspoken rule and no one has ever tried to veto it. "I'm reiterating that if this is boring I'm calling an Uber and going back to Aurora's."