savetheearth | This ain't the Garden of Eden

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This ain't the Garden of Eden

Who: Julien and OPEN to friends (If you're wondering if he considers your character a friend, the answer is yes)
Where: Tony Stark's semiabandoned pad in Locke. (Permission was given by the mun who played his godson and 'inherited' the house)
What: Pool party, hangout, talking about things! Go on and mingle.
When: Backdated - Sunday the 27th.

There's a section of Locke given over to rich people's houses in the woods. This one is surrounded with concrete walls and has an angular, geometric-looking gate guarding access to its long driveway. Julien is operating it remotely and opens it without delay.

Much of the space between the walls and the house hasn't been maintained at all this year and is a field of tall grass and flowers, some wilting in the heat, with bushes and trees dotted about. Closer to the house is a volleyball net and the two swimming pools. In the shade near one of them is a table with drinks and mostly fruit-related snacks.

The house itself is aggressively modern and a massive show of wealth. Most of the many cats have been shut away for this - do not release them, there are a lot! Some still roam about or sleep on the furniture. Also roaming is a small army of modified Roombas, chirping and trundling about to the directions of the house computer. Tiny cameras are everywhere, but Julien has subverted the security systems completely.

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Julien struts through the house and grounds, always a little distracted by the phone in wing as he lets people in or out and manages security, which has synched to it. It's a strange feeling, using his latest pulse on this. He keeps checking things, flicking through camera feeds and checking that the recording function is disabled for the house cameras.

Strange toy and talents aside, he is himself and clearly happy to see and chat with anyone who comes. He spends part of the day with a volleyball, trying to balance it on the handlike end of one foot.

"Quite the digs you've gotten yourself here," came an all-too-familiar voice as Isabela showed up, dressed in a scant red bikini. "Am I to take this as you won't be needing my guest room as a crash pad anymore?"

She smiled and winked at him, clearly no hard feelings meant. Not that she ever demonstrated those to her friends.

"Better watch those claws so you don't pop that ball," she remarked.

Julien had seen her in lingerie no less revealing, not to mention actual total undress. But-

"Uh." With an effort, he collected himself. "Haha, I'm a little reluctant to say for sure! I do like crashing with you. This is all kind of tacky, not my style at all. But a lot of sins can be forgiven for pools, and one of the biggest beds I've ever seen."

Not that he was supposed to use the master bedroom. But it wasn't like its intended occupant would ever know, probably.

"I have gotten so much better at the claws." He said it loftily, visibly glancing from the ball to Isabela, and came to a decision. Julien lobbed it gently at her. "Catch!"

Blaine will pointedly not spend much time with him or more than acknowledge him in passing for a while, but eventually, she'll swim over to where he is sitting and rest her arms at the side of the pool, raising her eyebrows at him.

"So you're not coming in?"

Blaine will arrive fashionably late and almost immediately get rid off her clothes. Underneath, she's wearing a bikini consisting of an athletic top and shorts-style bottoms, which shows off her numerous tattoos rather splendidly - most of them inspired by Norse patterns, but also including some vaguely native American motifs - really mostly patterns, though. They run from her shoulders all the way down her body, not covering everything but existing in a lot of places.

She'll spend most of her time either in the pool or sunbathing and watching people.

He's perched on a deck chair, tail out behind him, legs stretched in front and crossed daintily near the toes as he fiddles with his phone. "Hm? Aah, I shouldn't. I got inked last week, it seems healed but I'm not sure if I should get it wet just yet." His thin inhuman skin seals up quickly after being pierced.

Julien raises his eyebrows. "Should I show it? It's not as bold as any of yours."

And she'll have dragged over someone who can't appreciate them - be that for the better or for the worse.

Anthony had been dubiously appreciative of the contact over something apparently frivolous as much as he's feeling effectively cut loose on a piece of driftwood. In a strictly metaphorical sense; in a literal one, he definitely intends not to touch the water. He hadn't said much at all on the way over - and on entering, he's all but entirely clammed up - he'll aim to stick within tracking range of Blaine, can't follow her like a duckling, either.

The lack of consistent general silence combined with his own lack of ability to participate, nonetheless, is a bit oppressive, however. A bit unsettling. And it's his fault for staying there (metaphorically) floating, he knows, without taking the initiative to (metaphorically) swim.

Best to at least cast out an anchor at the least, then.

He edges in one moment that he can - "Wi -- wi -- will you need me to, uhh, 'watch'... anything...?", he asks, petering out rather uncertainly dry-throated.

"You'd look ridiculous with bold ones." Said flatly, though she does look at him with a bit of interest now - she knew that he had it, and while she's never been fanatic about tattoos get these many out of total disinterest. "So where is it, exactly?"

"Watch anything? Can you?" She only turns her head, doesn't even sit up - she brought him here (just for the fun of it, totally not because she socialize a bit more in surroundings where people will care less about his looks) but then kind of expected him to do his own thing. She's come to enjoy herself, not to play nanny ~~or be a proper guest~~.

Technically, no, no, he can't, certainly no better than she could, and it isn't as if anything anyone could leave about would be at notable risk among allies anyway. His first thought is I'm sorry.

Which she has specifically by now told him to avoid. He bites it back, swallows unstably -- "Could still err -- keep..."

Keep track of what, again, there was nothing it'd be difficult to keep track of - voice falls bone-dry; her voice's was coming from deader on and dodges it, lets his face turn down and off at a diagonal. "...keep -- track of things.

"I, erm -- ?"

That start split itself a couple ways, and as he stood put examining them to select one he figured he'd lost his right to pick one and prolong disturbance. Had half a mind to turn that into a "why am I here?" but made the decisiob too late that heavens, that'd sound ungrateful - and he's in position to be anything else for the thought, no one at all to badger his way out of welcome.

"You could also enjoy yourself. Sit in the sun. Talk to people." It's said impatiently; dear lord, Anthony, aren't you a big boy who can keep himself entertained?

And she's really not here to deal with that. Though... "Or tell me how life's been for you recently, if all else fails. But not unless you sit down." With a tone that implies that really, this is no interest, this is her giving him seomthing to entertain himself with (when really she also is interested.).

"Yeah, I'm not sure I need to be any more striking. People would get jealous." He straightens out his very long legs and extends a wing parallel. Of course his proportions make that weird - what's left of his hand reaches past his knees, and the tips of his feathers go out past his toes. Julien bends his elbow and wrist, folds that wing, and with a feather jointed like a spider's leg flicks an invisible line up from about his ankle to his hip on the outside of his leg.

Of course, he's wearing pants today, something harem-y that clings tightly to his lower legs and is looser near his waist. "It's just a line of text."

Perhaps he could but he's been invited to do neither of those things by anyone, and so lack of disturbance and thereby enjoyment are not at all guaranteed.

And indeed, he's not sold on her interest in hearing any of it (or rather is sold on the disinterest) - but "not unless you sit down" is easy enough to take as direction. And take it he does, with the abruptness of a blurting nonverbal yes, ma'am.

His brow pinches and he ekes out an "Uhm - ?" again.

And then the first thing he can think of to say is that she hardly wants to hear it. Don't be a fool - that'd be self-pitying argument when she already prompted it -

"Not -- " This nevertheless fails to feel appropriate. " -- Not good. Not uhm. Interesting -- e -- ...either..."

Tapered dryer to match the vagueness, either a save or a cop-out.

Robyn wasn't about to decline an invitation from Blaine to hang out. Telling her to bring some of the pool noodles was a good hint that they'd be in the water today. So Robyn showed up just like had been asked two with about five pool noodles and a red towel in her arms.

It didn't take her long to hope out of her clothes to reveal a black and red bikini. She was quick to hop into the water as the bathing suit did very little to hide the bruises on her arms, leg and back. While they didn't hurt anymore and had mostly healed up, they were still visible to anyone who took a close enough look.

Robyn will eventually float on over toward Blaine on one of the pool noodles and send a ferocious barrage of splashes her way.

"Biggest you've ever seen, really?" Isabela asked, a wicked smile curling her lip, "You'll have to show me. But you know you're welcome at my place whenever.

When he tossed her the ball, she caught it easily.
"Got it! But can you do the same?" And, laughing, she tossed it back to him.

"It's really something. Seeing is knowing - trying is believing." He says it with as much earnest innocence as he can muster. "Glad to hear it! Too many cats and sticks-in-mud here to stay all the time."

He should've seen it coming. "Ack!" The ball bounced off his chest and he brought his wings together to catch it between clawed hands, making a burst of air as his wings clapped together. "My volleyball career is taking off, as you can see."

"What does it say? Love, peace and free beer for all?"

Not that she thinks that that is what he has on himself, but at the same time it seems odd to her that he doesn't specify what exactly he has there.

Blaine almost jumps when the splashes hit her, not having expected them (sometimes she forgets that playful attacks like that exist) but outwardly staying calm. A quick look at Robyn tells her of the identity of the splasher...

and then she is gone, diving down under the surface and coming back up under Robyn, with her arms up to grab the other girl around the waist and pull her down, pool noodle or not.

It's really too bad when you've gotten used to lying and pretending so much that you're a 100% convincing, right? Or not, Blaine wouldn't think that it is, rather consider it an asset.

"Leave the deciding if it's interesting or not to me. I bet it's different from what most people that don't randomly rot do, so there's at least some novelty in it.

So." She makes a gesture with her hand. Go on. "What do you mean by "not good"?"

"Oooh, good one! I do have hippie-type friends."

Using his prehensile feathers he unwinds some pant leg from below the knee. Fine white feather-hairs have been shaved off in a stripe, and there are fine letters well on their way to healing. Some of the skin over them is clouded and pale. "But nah, this is just a thing a friend told me about... well, adjusting, making things okay. It means basically 'The journey makes you who you are.' But these things always look better when people can't understand them."

[sigh I had the phrase up on Plurk and was not expecting it to go down! well not like Blaine can read Sindarin anyway. He's giving her a half-truth because the actual truth is more sappy.]

Robyn can't help but giggle once she's landed a few splashes on Blaine. Though her eyes go wide when the other girl dives down. She tries to bounce away but the pool noodle hinders this plan to get away.

When Blaine's arms wrap around her she'll let go of the pool noodle and squeal as she tries to pull herself free. Alas, she can not and after a quick breath she is pulled down into the water.

"You saw how the - how the replies to that message went," is the tentative and shallow reply from someone prepared to all but literally prostrate himself if it sounds like a complaint - after how their talk went on it, no less, something in the back of his brain is shaking on edge out of embarrassment at bringing it up like this.

That and it's been over a month since he's heard from Alex Kusnitz, a while since he's heard Tessa, and scarcely any time at all since a phone call that had proved taxing enough to tire his mind out of vividly imagining nonexistent sounds in an all-around miserable restlessness, but that ranges from either even further out of her scope of interest, surely, to not present and therefore not a matter to present to fuss.

If it wasn't for things being the way they were for Anthony by now, he'd be inside or sticking close to the door before actively approaching girls in the vicinity of a pool. As it was, neither the fact itself nor the bruises were any stop to him.

First clue that Robyn has come in carrying things and he blinked over, hobbled up to make a variant of the offer that Blaine had declined (in this case, "need me to hold anything? ...Or watch anything?"), but the pool noodles of course went into the pool. He froze short, flinched, and coughed with the side of a fist lifted to his mouth.

Robyn blinks and looks in Anthony's direction when he coughed. Was he trying to get her attention? Did she do something wrong? Oh no, she probably did something wrong. She wasn't supposed to put the pool noodles in the pool, was she? This was a probably a "no pool noodles allowed" kind of party, wasn't it? She was in so much trouble. Okay, act natural Robyn, you can do it. Someone else dumped the pool noodles in the pool.

"...Y-yes?" Smooth, real smooth.

Edited 2014-08-05 15:41 (UTC)

Confirmation and in a split second he forgot that he was hanging about anyway to catch a moment to say "hi" while he'd already gone over.

"Hi" doesn't follow "yes", exactly. Placeholder of "Uhh -- ?"

"Sorry, was just, umm." A shuffle back without turning, that's easy to end decisively. " -- was only gonna ask if you needed help with anything..."

With an ambiguous facial twitch even by his own reading and a fidgety "look" away - so blatantly unnecessary now and a time-waster now that he's stuck around to say it.

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This ain't the Garden of Eden

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