Sofia "Skip" Hughes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wolfmarked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-02-08 01:50 pm
wolfmarked) wrote in undergrounds2016-02-08 01:50 pm
Entry tags:
Anklebiters (Feb open post)
Why do you care what people think?
Department store, early February
"No. No, no, no. Also no."
To say that Skip is picky is... Well. It's very accurate. But Lupercalia with a new pack isn't exactly an every day occurrence. What she does and what she wears there will get back to her father, so she actually has to put some thought into all of it. Even if she'd rather just ignore everything that happens in the middle of February.
"Purple and gold, maybe?" she says, half to herself and half to whatever poor person might be walking too close.
Try to remember how it felt
Jolly Roger, all February
On the clock, Skip has only two settings. She is either excessively friendly or incredibly short-tempered. The usual good will of her as a bartender is sorely lacking, and woe to the person who implies that anything related to her being female has any bearing on the situation. Women are given proper service with a fair amount of friendliness, but men are singled out more than usual as either targets of her rage or objects of her interest. In the bar itself and in the back room.
"'Nother round?" she asks, stopping at a customer to collect what's empty.
Fall in love with yourself
Coffee shop, mid February
February and Skip simply do not get along. She's on edge far more than usual, especially when out and about. And being out with her sketchpad, sitting at a table by the window. It's deceptively warm with the sun pouring in.
The drawing she's working on is of a skeleton, laying back against a bush. Thorns have encircled the ribs, and, in the center of his chest, there is a single rose where the heart should be.
Skip sips her coffee as she sketches in details.
The only one you've got
Simon's flat, February 17th -- closed to Simon
Lupercalia is done. Valentine's Day is over. And Skip can finally start pretending that this month doesn't exist. She still hates February, yes, but at least it's almost done.
So, after a bit of warning -- mostly to make sure they're alone -- she's at the door, holding a bottle of vodka and dressed in an blue ombre cocktail dress.
A broken mirror to reflect
North Pole, late February
Dressed in thigh-high tights and a skirt that barely covers the top of them, Skip is completely at home in the noise of the club.
Tonight, she has only one goal: not going home alone. Maybe not going home at all.
With the music pounding in her ears, she sways to the beat and moves from partner to partner on the dancefloor. The more eyes she can get on her, the better.
When she does take a break from dancing, she stays close to the bar, leaning against it and making sure her cup stays full.
Department store, early February
"No. No, no, no. Also no."
To say that Skip is picky is... Well. It's very accurate. But Lupercalia with a new pack isn't exactly an every day occurrence. What she does and what she wears there will get back to her father, so she actually has to put some thought into all of it. Even if she'd rather just ignore everything that happens in the middle of February.
"Purple and gold, maybe?" she says, half to herself and half to whatever poor person might be walking too close.
Try to remember how it felt
Jolly Roger, all February
On the clock, Skip has only two settings. She is either excessively friendly or incredibly short-tempered. The usual good will of her as a bartender is sorely lacking, and woe to the person who implies that anything related to her being female has any bearing on the situation. Women are given proper service with a fair amount of friendliness, but men are singled out more than usual as either targets of her rage or objects of her interest. In the bar itself and in the back room.
"'Nother round?" she asks, stopping at a customer to collect what's empty.
Fall in love with yourself
Coffee shop, mid February
February and Skip simply do not get along. She's on edge far more than usual, especially when out and about. And being out with her sketchpad, sitting at a table by the window. It's deceptively warm with the sun pouring in.
The drawing she's working on is of a skeleton, laying back against a bush. Thorns have encircled the ribs, and, in the center of his chest, there is a single rose where the heart should be.
Skip sips her coffee as she sketches in details.
The only one you've got
Simon's flat, February 17th -- closed to Simon
Lupercalia is done. Valentine's Day is over. And Skip can finally start pretending that this month doesn't exist. She still hates February, yes, but at least it's almost done.
So, after a bit of warning -- mostly to make sure they're alone -- she's at the door, holding a bottle of vodka and dressed in an blue ombre cocktail dress.
A broken mirror to reflect
North Pole, late February
Dressed in thigh-high tights and a skirt that barely covers the top of them, Skip is completely at home in the noise of the club.
Tonight, she has only one goal: not going home alone. Maybe not going home at all.
With the music pounding in her ears, she sways to the beat and moves from partner to partner on the dancefloor. The more eyes she can get on her, the better.
When she does take a break from dancing, she stays close to the bar, leaning against it and making sure her cup stays full.
no subject
He pours Skip a shot. "Guess not. It's all a bit overwhelming, honestly. Wasn't exactly expecting to get nominated, much less get the job."
no subject
There are certainly perks as far as she can see. Not that she'd want the job. God no. But wanting to know people who are in the position? Hell yes.
no subject
Instead, he smiles weakly and pours himself a drink. "If there are any, I'm not sure I've discovered it yet. 'S training right now, mostly. I'm quite a bit younger than the other guys and I don't know as much about a lot of the political stuff, so I've got a lot of studying to do on top of my work for Uni." And after last month, he has no idea how he's even still enrolled in his program, given that the two times he did actually show up for his lectures he was drunk.
But maybe they expected that? Either way, his chances of perfectly good marks when he finally did get his degree had probably diminished quite a bit.
He smiles. "One of the other new guardians is a werewolf. D'you know him? Tall Russian guy. Doesn't exactly talk much."
no subject
The pack was only worth noticing when it mattered to her. The daily comings and goings were unremarkable, though from the description, it sounded like someone she would have noticed. Especially if he was now a Guardian.
no subject
It's a small couch in a small flat and there's no way they can be sitting so close without touching, but for whatever reason Simon can't bring himself to close the last couple of centimeters between them. He just wants to get drunk and fool around, but he's just so damn tired.
"How are your classes going?"
no subject
It's easy to shrug and lean against him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Being close to someone helps. A lot. More than she'll admit. Things feel normal when she's got someone under her hands. Intimately or otherwise.
"Glad t' be on break. That-- Y'hear 'bout that Valentine's shit?"
no subject
He stiffens slightly when she changes the subject. Of course. Valentine's Day. "It's all over the news," he reminds her. How could he not have heard about it. "The other Guardians are working it nonstop. I think they'll probably send me down there too. At some point." He's glad they haven't yet. Maybe they still think he's too young, too untested. He won't argue with that. "You didn't know anyone who...?"
God, he hopes not.
no subject
"I was there."