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Post by corinne on Aug 28, 2011 15:35:44 GMT -5
Too often, Tennessee was dismissed as a gruff, simple state by the rest of the country, but an experienced traveler knew it was a lot more than that. The state's capital, Nashville, was even better than Paris in Corinne's humble opinion. Even aside from its historical background, the restaurants were amazing, and the music scene was one of the best in the country.
That's what brought her there. The room wasn't well-lit, but it was crowded and flowing with conversation. Having grown used to her sleeveless black top and her bracelets, she was already dressed for a concert coming from the street. There was a lineup of about six bands competing that night, so the odds of her meeting just one type of person were slim. For all she knew, there could have been someone... like her present.
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Post by Olivia Pietra Wallace on Aug 28, 2011 17:02:35 GMT -5
Tennessee was a hellhole for civilized people, a pit stop in the middle of the country. Olivia sat at a table alone, twiddling a fork in her hands. She would say something, though, she had a weakness for hearty Southern food. The room was dark, cocoon-like, almost, and overflowing with warm, sweaty bodies. It was a good, relatively cheap, place to get food, though. Half-concert hall, half diner, wholly a steamy good time.
It was places like these where she could find a target, easily. She had been shooting looks at that devil across the room, sitting at the bar. And a few boys had passed by on their way to the dance floor, lingering briefly before moving on. As she planned. A light, white chiffon dress, belted in the front and covered by a cropped blazer. It accented her white hair, her high cheekbones. She grinned in self satisfaction as the next band lined up to take the stage.
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Post by corinne on Aug 28, 2011 18:03:03 GMT -5
The next band that turned up seemed decent enough. Their clothes didn't give off any particular impression, which meant they were probably beyond gimmicks. That was always a plus; gimmicks sometimes had a nasty habit of becoming more important than a band's material in the wrong hands. In a way, it was similar to what could happen if certain individuals had talents on par with hers.
They weren't playing just yet, though- only tuning instruments and such. This gave Corinne's eyes time to wander. Scanning the room, a lot of people stood out to her, but none as much as a white-haired girl who just didn't seem to be having fun.
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Post by Olivia Pietra Wallace on Aug 28, 2011 19:33:48 GMT -5
It wasn't a great night, no, but it wasn't a bad way to spend time. People watching was a sport. There.. at the bar, she could see a couple destined to bed tonight, but never again. And on the dance floor, there was one boy, obviously not of the age to be actually allowed in the club, flailing wildly. Trying to impress a girl, she supposed.
Then she felt eyes on herself. She turned her head slowly, enough to catch the eye of a young woman, not too far in age from herself. The girl was short - tiny, even - and particularly busty. Olivia raised her eyebrows, anticipating future back problems for the girl. Whether natural or fake - probably the latter - she was a satire of the ideal beauty, and dressed like she knew it.
Olivia turned away. That girl wasn't worth the time spent looking at her.
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Post by corinne on Aug 28, 2011 19:47:45 GMT -5
The girl may not have been going out of her way to avoid her, but Corinne did notice her averting her eyes the minute she looked. She was at a concert - hopefully a good one, at that - and if this white-haired girl was there, too, leaving her to rot would have been outright rude. For the sake of politeness, as she told herself, Corinne carried on, not realizing that she could have been aggravating a situation.
Despite her haste, she at least had the good sense not to walk up and tap her on the shoulder. Instead, she made a false step toward the bathroom and worked her way into the crowd. She passed the next two minutes by sending text messages and looking at the digital clock in her screen's corner, and then came out from behind the girl.
"I like your hair," she opened immediately. She could have picked anything and pretended to appreciate it, but the girl's hair was what made an impression on Corinne in the first place. She knew from experience that an honest, genuine compliment was better than anything in an untrusting businessman's inventory.
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Post by Olivia Pietra Wallace on Aug 28, 2011 19:55:56 GMT -5
She looked up at the compliment, leaning back and placing the fork on the table. The food had yet to arrive. "Is that because it looks so much like your own?" Olivia said, eyes trained on the petite blonde. The girl's hair was more cornsilk than snowy, but they were in the same area of the spectrum. Her hair was straight, impeccably so, and brushed with obvious care, whereas Olivia's reflected her compulsion towards style - natural, shoulder-length, but pulled back into a soft bun.
"You can sit here." She reached across the table, patting the end of the wooden mat and watching it shake at her touch. "And tell me if there's a particular reason why you came to talk to me."
She had never taken fondly to anyone quickly, and this girl would be no exception.
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Post by corinne on Aug 28, 2011 20:08:24 GMT -5
Harsh. Perhaps she had intruded after all, but if the girl was at least willing to speak to her, it wasn't a complete waste of time. "You think so? My hair's nothing special- you could probably spot a hundred people like me if you drove around Nashville for half an hour."
She outstretched an arm to pull up a chair. "Fine by me, then," she went on, resting an elbow on the table as she sat. "I came over because you looked bored," she said flatly. "You could've been the sort of person who would rather spend time alone, but if that were the case you probably wouldn't be at a concert in Nashville." Her eyes danced- if she wasn't on to something, her logic was at least sound.
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Post by Olivia Pietra Wallace on Aug 28, 2011 20:27:31 GMT -5
"Yes, but I wouldn't care to drive around Nashville." She leaned back again, turning as the waiter brought her food. Took her long enough. The girl sat down, the waitress shot her an expectant look before turning away. The girl was at her table not for food but for a visit.
"You've never heard of peoplewatching, have you, then?" She looked the girl in the eyes. A glint of self-satisfaction. Their body language already reflected that Olivia had the girl in the palm of her hand, sitting backwards, leaning forwards. It was quite apparent to anyone with even the slightest intuition.
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Post by corinne on Aug 28, 2011 20:36:47 GMT -5
Wouldn't care to drive around Nashville, hm?
Well, she was certainly a tough one to please. She grinned at the comment about people watching. "I've heard of it once or twice," she admitted, "but if what your saying is true, your right- I only know as much about it as you might about Nashville." She kept her inflection low; the comment was meant to spur interest, and the less biting she could make it sound, the better.
She carried on, ignoring any passing glances that the waiter made, but only after taking a commanding look back. "Going off context clues, though, I guess this would be a nice place to do something like that if you were in the area."
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Post by Olivia Pietra Wallace on Sept 1, 2011 10:57:57 GMT -5
((Sorry for the late reply. Life got very busy very quickly. I'll be on and off sporadically for the next few days))
"Then you've learnt all you must want to about people watching, I suppose," Olivia shot back, her voice low and calm - barely distinguishable over the loud music. "But yes, there are too many people in this area, plenty of fodder for a scene. Shall she start one? All it would take would be a vial of darkening potion in the middle of the floor to be crushed by some careless foot, spewing a cloud of blackness over the area. But no, that would interfere with her goals, her desires for the night. Mischief was not for those who had something to lose.
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Post by corinne on Sept 1, 2011 11:14:11 GMT -5
((It's okay ^^ . I'm not in any rush (: . ))
"I must have, then." She stole a glance at a dessert menu left upright on the table, despite not having any desire to get anything. Does that sort of thing honestly help sales? She dismissed the thought as secondary, realizing how little she knew about who she was sitting with. "Either way, thanks for the seat," she offered.
"I'm Corinne, by the way." She didn't tail it with a greeting like it's a pleasure or nice to meet you this time; only because she didn't get the vibe that this woman would deem it appropriate. Whether or not she was going to get a name back... also made her curious. Maybe an alias would have been for the best.
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