Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'ms. thursday'.
Found 3 results
The Kirby November 10th, 1:30 PM Corinne had passes to a private showing before the public launch. Likely from her father. It didn't matter, really, though. As it was a show of modern Dakanan art, on a day the museum was normally closed, but for an exclusive viewing. Of course, she wasn't the only one with passes. Other people had them and she had been a bit free with handing them out at Claremont, so even some people who weren't really friends with her got some. Since Hannah left she felt a little... lost, and really just delved harder into the dancing. Until the injury, and the setback. But she didn't have much else. And no roommate meant she had no impetus to reach out, apart from stuff for the Orange team. Right now, she was standing there in front of a complicated mixed media sculpture, chewing thoughtfully as she took in the piece that dominated the room with it's abstract representation of... something. She wasn't quite sure what. But it seemed very insistent. She wore a pair of overalls, with her daisy adorned hat, and a big green sweatshirt on under the straps, and a pair of similarly green Doc Martens.
Seven years ago "Perhaps, one day, Dunwich would rise again. Not as an exercise for visions of madness, but as a true place of realization." Thanksgiving 2018 The Parkhurst Hotel Arcane energies crackling around its edges like so much barely-suppressed lightning, the mystic gateway opened and out stepped a visio n from beyond the very edges of our reality! Resplendent in his starry robes, his eyes glowing with the energies that lay between the planes, the Gatekeeper raised his gloved hands and said, "Hello, Nick!" Kyle and Eric were actually on a first-name basis but they both were working, the latter especially. With the holidays, Claremont students with no particular place to go had been attached to established heroes for a "ride-along" - which explained what Ms. Thursday was doing there. "And company, I see." The Gatekeeper brushed his hair, looking a little distracted; the faint smell of smoke rising from him. "Are the two of you free for a small favor?" he asked. "I hate to interrupt whatever you're doing for the holidays, but I have a situation."
September 4, 2018 Claremont Academy (Fourth Floor, Rita Kord Dorm) Jaycee had suggested they meet people before the assembly. "The first time you meet somebody, you set the tone for the whole rest of your relationship. If I meet them now, when Ah want to and on mah terms, that'll make it easier to stay in control. And Ah gotta stay in control, right?" It was actually one of the most perspicacious things Ashley had ever heard her charge say - and certainly the longest string of words she'd put together since a recently-drained Jaycee had parted company with the bulk of her Secret Service detail at an undisclosed location and headed onto Claremont's campus that weekend. They'd come in early, before any of the other students arrived, and Jaycee had spent most of her time in her room studying and texting to her sisters. And so it was that the "sisters" headed out into the fourth floor hallway, Ashley taking the lead as she would for the next two years. Jesus Christ, she took a moment to think before she took in the scenery. 410 was down at the end of one hall on the fourth floor, with 409 and 411 on either side a little further towards the main staircase. There were backstairs too, of course, and escape hatches that the sophomore students probably weren't going to find out about yet. Ashley was dressed for her part in a leather jacket, denim shirt, and scuffed jeans. She'd told her handlers that the pink dye in her hair cut down on the "look" she was trying to present, but they'd told her it would soften her image. By which they mean not make me look like a lesbian. She contemplatively chewed a toothpick as she scanned the hall, then took a look back at Jaycee as she closed the door behind her. "Judy" Smith didn't look much at all like her First Daughter self - with her long hair loose and hanging down her back, in baggy brown shirt and slacks that had made her make a single small noise at the sight of them, she looked like one of the refugees they were pretending to be. She was smiling the smile of someone who'd had media training, though, as she ran her fingers against the gold cross she wore around her neck. That was new too; a gift from the First Lady that nobody had seen in public yet. "Well?" It was true - Ashley had to lead the way on this one. She headed down the corridor, looking for open doors - or the sounds of activity inside them.