[open] march prompts - will match prose OR brackets

[itsconceptual]

i. a nightclub

Nights with live music are better for dancing. People come up with any number of reasons why -- the feel of the bass beating in your heart, the energy from the band mixing with the energy of the crowd. It's all bullshit, really. Esoteric crap that people come up with when the night's mostly over and they're too high to think they sound pretentious. It's all because of the noise. Because when the amps are pumped up to max, when the singers are screaming into their mics, it's too loud to worry about thinking. The couple in the corner making out, two friends having a row...it doesn't matter. You mute it and just fucking dance.

Which she does, as much as possible. Moving. Aggressively ignoring all of the other shit. Beat after beat, partner after partner, staying only long enough to make them want her and then vanishing into the crowd again. Later, you'll find her at the bar, ordering a round of shots --vodka, from the look of it-- and then immediately downing one of them.


ii. outside a tube station

"Listen, Ms. Stonem," Effy, she silently corrects, watching them. "You're a lovely young lady, but I'm just not sure you...mesh...with our vision." She wasn't really listening for the rest. There were some half-hearted platitudes --"we really do wish you all the best," "we're really very sorry," "you've been so valuable," things like that-- and she probably muttered a quick "thanks" before going to pack her things, but it didn't matter. Not really. Temping in a finance office was never really her dream job, of course, but it just sort of...seemed like something you were meant to do. "Get out into the real world" and everything. Well, so much for that. She doesn't realize until she's off the train that one of the briefs she'd been putting together is still in her bag.

As soon as she's off the train, she pulls out a cigarette, flicks open her lighter -- it doesn't work. Nice.

She can be found outside of the station, unlit cigarette still in her mouth, tearing pages out of the brief, folding them into abstract shapes and then tossing them into a pile on the ground.


iii. late night wandering

It's always the same dream that wakes her, so late into the night that it borders on early. A door, appearing in an empty wall of her flat, opening into blackness, calling her forward. Beckoning. Sometimes, she thinks she can see herself, staring back at her from the other side of it, a faint silhouette in the darkness.

"You don't know me," she hears, her own voice coming from that other self's mouth, "and you never will."

She takes a step toward it, and then another, and then--

Awake, gasping, she shoots up and stares at the wall. No door. She reaches for a lighter, remembers the stern words of the landlady --no smoking at all times, god, why had she picked this place, again?-- and slips outside. It's raining -- something she doesn't seem to notice until she realizes she's forgot her keys. In her flat. With a door that automatically locks behind her.

"...Fuck."

And that's the story of how Effy is now wandering around alone, soaked and smoking, aimlessly waiting until someone happens to open the door -- or the management office opens. One or the other.


iv. wildcard
(any time during the month. choose your own starter, or talk to me on plurk [posolutely] and i'll set up another prompt!)

Comments

II

[protagonized]

Smoking is a disgusting habit, says a voice in Simon's head that sounds an awful lot like his mother's just as he reaches into his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He's doing it a lot more lately. With all the shit he's somehow managed to get signed onto, he's increasingly surviving on coffee and nicotine. He'd sleep through his classes otherwise, not to mention all the important Guardian stuff that he barely understands.

So much for staying out of it and living a normal life, huh?

He's just lit his own cigarette when he sees a pretty girl fumbling with hers.

"Here." He hands her his lighter, a little too self-conscious to close the distance between them. She could be one of those personal space types. "This one works."

iii

[falsify]

Bumping into magical youths in the middle of the night who are woefully underdressed seems to be a thing that happens to Eames way too often.

He's soaked, but Eames doesn't seem in any hurry to get somewhere. Granted, the feeling is unpleasant but it's something you get used to after centuries in England. He's about to bypass Effy entirely, but a wandering fae in the rain is probably worth paying attention to. So Eames slows to a stop by her instead, looking up at the rain and then at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You alright?"

ii;

[spionin]

If you were to look at the nice, designer bag Gaby had slung over her shoulder, you'd never guess the amount of books it somehow managed to hold. She carries it with ease, though, her heels clicking against the pavement as she makes her way to the station -- a necessity, that, though not one she particularly likes.

The sound of her heels comes to a stop, though, right in front of the pile of papers, half-crunched or folded into shapes that barely makes sense... she bends down, picks up one of them.

"A star? It's good." It is, too -- the shapes, abstract though they might be, are also artistic. Gaby finds she likes them better than some of the origami shapes she saw in Kyoto... they're more real.

i

[akillersmile]

"Buy a guy a drink?" Kyle asks from beside her at the bar, only because she's just ordered a round. He flashes her an easy smile before shaking his head and holding up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. Between the accent and the loud gestures, it's obvious that he's an American. Yelling above the music, "Kidding. But you should dance with me before you go, if you want to actually dance instead of dealing with the line of assholes trying to get as much action as they can before you leave 'em behind."

Another smile. He's not judging. It's fun to watch some of the tools of the club get what they deserve.