capriciousdrop (capriciousdrop) wrote in summerview, @ 2018-10-11 10:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | znerissa drake |
I used to care what people thought, but now I care more
Who: Nerissa and Peisinoê
When: October 12th midmorning
Where: Mainstreet of Town
Warnings:
Peisinoê has a tendency towards overworking herself. Between the life her family would want her to lead, and the path her passions took her on, combined with her need to be a top achiever in both areas, Peisinoê had a habit of wearing herself out. The Masquerade she had volunteered for was just the latest example, of course they had asked her. Why wouldn’t they? The van der Zee’s were well known old society, prestigious, and unafraid to show it.
And Peisinoê wasn’t the best at saying no, especially not when it was something that would have pleased her parents. Perhaps she would send them pictures.
That’s how she found herself in three inch heels and a lovely dress on main street, a notebook with a far too detailed plan and drawings for the party in her hand. She stood between two gazebos under construction, one being built by shifters with and dragons using old fashioned methods but largely by hand and the other by earthen fae with twisting, glowing magic. It was beautiful to watch, and so was the fact that she and a few others had been working on the perfect setup to appeal to their odd hodge podge of races. With her sister’s help, and many books that her parents had given her on different races, she had broken it down like a formula. It was all science, and she plugged their traits into equations to figure out the most efficient way to hit all the points she needed.
It gave her immense satisfaction. Even if not everyone seemed overly pleased with her watching every little move and catching details she wasn’t supposed to, especially from the ones a great deal older and normally more secretive than her.
But, as the song said, the times they were a changing.
Main Street was cute - the whole of Summerview was cute, really, all quaint and shit, with other streets named after flowers and all those independent shops. Nerissa liked it just fine
(for now, anyway) but the thing was? Whenever something different happened, she noticed right away. It was kind of difficult not to, given the routine that most of the residents had established in their hideaway.
She was fresh from a rejuvenating trip taken home, sinking into the comforting cold embrace of oceanic depths - she needed that, occasionally, because as a sea serpent she wasn’t exactly built to live on land indefinitely. Nor would she want to. But now that she was back on land, she immediately hit up one of her favorite bakeries to get something delicious - her beach cottage had been aired out, everything smelled like salt and so did she, and she just threw on a simple outfit to pick up apple pastries. Skinny jeans and a sweatshirt with a t-rex bio on it (the more you roar), paired with heeled boots that could double as weapons if need be. Sharp as her fangs, in fact.
Those fangs were currently munching on a pastry, white box carried in a grocery bag, as she wandered to check out the construction going on. “Festive,” she remarked, head tilting as she studied a gazebo in progress. “What is all this for, exactly?”
Normally Peisinoê was very good at staying aware of her surroundings. But in her defense there was a lot going on, both all around her and in her head. Part of her mind working on a paper for a medical journal even as the rest planned out if all of this was going to be done on time.
So she jumped slightly when the familiar sound of clicking heels was suddenly very close along with a voice she didn't entirely recognize, “Gracious!” She gasped out, a hand over her heart while her eyes narrowed at the woman who she recognized vaguely from around town.
“This is a construction zone you know.” It was only about half a mile, why was this so difficult? Yes yes she knew they were getting started awful early but there was an itch in her gut that they needed to do so, alright?
Oh, awesome, it was Pearl-Clutching Percy. Nerissa always did have fun with these types. She grinned broadly before shoving the last of her pastry into her mouth (and she did chew with her mouth closed, thanks) and swallowing, dusting off her claws - er, manicured hands.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she remarked about the apparent construction zone. “But you’re in the middle of it looking like a snack, and not wearing a hardhat I might add, so what’s the big deal?”
It was Percy, right? Ness sort of recalled the name - short for something really long and fancy, so she was apt to go with a nickname since she usually did that anyway. “I know you. I’m Nerissa.”
Well. That wasn’t very nice, was it? Peisinoê wasn’t entirely sure, to be completely honest. Was it slang? She wasn’t the best at interpreting euphemisms or metaphors, as ridiculous as that was. Spending years in medical school should have prepared her better for interacting with peers, and yet, she had spent too long hiding her nose in a book to develop that skill.
So her mind flipped back and forth confusedly before deciding to settling on vaguely offended and scandalized.
“I beg your pardon?” Her eyes narrowed at the shorter woman, nose wrinkling in distaste, a hand still over her heart as her lip curled slightly in an unintentional imitation of her mother when presented when a dish that didn’t meet her standards.
Not that most of them did, but that wasn’t the point at the moment. She pursed her lips, glancing away from Nerissa, “Be that as it may, you’re still not supposed to be here.” Her attention and focus went back to her list, a finger skimming down it idly in a gesture that was all for show, “Do you? I can’t say I recall having the pleasure, Miss Nerissa.” Usually she was friendlier on a first meeting, truly, but Nerissa had put her on the defensive right out the gate. For whatever that defense was worth.
“Most do tend to recall the pleasure I give them,” she winked, though being called ‘Miss Nerissa’ made her feel like a kindergarten teacher. It was probably improper for pearl-clutchers to refer to strangers as anything else though - like something taught in etiquette lessons along with which pinky to put up while drinking tea and how to faint properly. “You can just, you know, use my first name. Want one?” She held out the box of pastries - a genuine offering, though if Percy didn’t take one it was highly possible Ness would polish them all off before she even got home.
But that brought her back to the original question, what the fuck was all this? “So you’re...planning a fall cotillion on Main Street?” she guessed. “Hanging out in a construction zone to ensure it all goes to plan?” Because ‘Type A’ personality, maybe? Was she getting warmer?
Her cheeks flushed at the innuendo, giving her a narrow eyed exasperated expression at the innuendo as she always reacted to such a thing. Peisinoê had never been overly exposed to such things, especially not from women. Maybe lecherous male patients, certainly, but that was old hat now.
She eyeballed the box speculatively, “What is it, exactly?” Nimble hands danced across the top of the box, not touching the pastries but clearly interested and curious nonetheless. Peisinoê wasn’t on the strictest diet, all things considered, but she was still picky about what she ate.
What a wonderful word choice! Her eyes lit up a bit at it, “Yes. A Masquerade, to be specific. I do miss a proper gala, my sister and I have dresses on order from home.” Because as much as the van der Zees had adjusted to land, it still wasn’t home, and neither was the quality of dress quite the same, now was it?
“Pastries. Sweet things,” Nerissa explained, still holding the box open, but then added a helpful, “Basically an orgasm in your mouth.” Mostly because it was true, but also because it sounded dirty - and she often did love to sound dirty. “Try the cherry? You seem like you’d be into cherries.” That probably also sounded risque, ooh la la.
A masquerade, then. Well, she supposed that was cool. Then it did hit her, a sudden flash of memory. “Oh, right, your family is all about the fancy parties, huh?” she grinned - the mermaids and more humanoid sorts seemed to like that sort of thing. Her ilk, gigantic sea serpents, preferred to hunt for tasty meals and keep to themselves. Besides, being sixty feet long meant that she’d probably literally crash a party if she attended one at home.
“I guess I’ll come. I like dressing up. When’s it happening?”
Suddenly her stomach chimed in, letting it’s opinion be known in a rumbling sound that insisted she take a pastry right now and that she had ingested no more than a clementine and some tea that day. That embarrassment was chased by consternation at Nerissa’s innuendo again, mind trying to peel apart the cherry comment even as she plucked a pastry out of the box that looked light it might have a red filling. She had never been very good at verbal sparring, but she tried all the same, “I’ve never been terribly fond of tarts, myself.”
At the mention of her family, she held her head a bit higher, shoulders perfectly aligned and back more perfectly aligned, “Yes, we have a bit of a reputation for them, at least back home.” They were still working out the logistics on land, truthfully. Her family and her may clash on several levels, but that didn’t come between her and familial pride at all, and it showed.
A smile blossomed across her face, “Oh! You will? That’s marvelous, I’m sure you’ll look quite elegant! It’s on Halloween, of course.”
“Yeah, I clean up nice,” Nerissa nodded - she wouldn’t argue that astute observation. Her style was a mix of everything - casual, boho chic, and she had some dresses she wore like a second snakeskin as well. It just depended on her mood.
Maybe she shouldn’t hoover the pastries so much until then - her metabolism was quick, her human form literally just a pretty face and nothing more, but still. She wanted to be able to fit into something elegant. “I’ll see what I can come up with - an awesome costume and mask. Is it like, a bring a date thing or can we play the field at this shindig?”
She’d scrounge up a date if she had to. But wasn’t it much more fun to play Russian roulette about who you went home with when you were drunk for the after-party? Clearly.
Fingers that looked delicate but were still surprisingly used to disgusting work pulled at the pastry so she could pop a small piece in her mouth, clearly curious even if it had come from a strange source. A pleased look crossed her face as the taste blossomed across her tongue, and she nodded with a grin still stretching across her features. She took a moment to speak, swallowing her food first and even then covering her mouth, ever polite and by-the-book demure when she remembered it, “Indeed! And thank you, this is delicious!”
The concept of having a date for the Gala hadn’t occurred to her, truthfully.
Peisinoê gave the question serious consideration, tilting her head to the side to stare at Nerissa even as she took another slightly less delicate bite of...Danish? Yes that seemed right. Danish. “You may bring a date, but it is not required no. There will be no king and queen of the Masquerade.” With identities hidden, they would lose bragging rights, and what fun would that be?
Wait, she couldn’t be Queen of the Ball? Oh, the inhumanity! Nerissa almost made some quip about how, fuck it, she definitely wasn’t attending now, but she had a feeling Percy would take her seriously. And she didn’t want to upset her; her eyes probably got all big and anime when that happened.
“Cool, sounds fun to me. I’ll find something to wear,” she decided. There would be much planning involved. “And I better get going for now, but save me a dance at this masquerade or at least a spare minute for doing shots in the corner.”
That would also be fun. And by then, she imagined her mermaid planner friend here would need to unwind a bit anyway. Or unwind a lot.
If Peisinoê was more socially graceful, better at reading people, at winging conversations and making plans on the fly, then she might have offered to join Nerissa as she dress shopped. Maybe she would learn something. But she was none of those things, and any input that Nerissa asked from her would reveal that all of Peisinoê’s clothing opinions fell into three categories; what was safe to wear in a lab, what was comfortable for reading for hours on the couch, and what the latest fashion magazines said was chic at the moment.
Indeed, she was the type of person to nod happily at the dance offer, taking it as genuine without any evidence that it would be otherwise until her expression changed to apalled a beat later. “Shots? What? Of alcohol?”
The hands around her notebook tightened in horror at the thought even as the polite portion of her brain kicked back in, “Oh. Yes. Enjoy the rest of your day, Nerissa. It was a pleasure meeting you properly.” When she was lucky, she fell back on formality when caught off guard. When unlucky, well, her learned social graces were completely discarded.