[OPEN] Tonight is the night, we’ll fight 'til it’s over

[lar]

Date & Time: Saturday 31st, starting at 9:00 pm o'clock
Location: THE PARTY WAREHOUSE
Characters: ERRBODY
Summary: Ella throws a party. It is awesome. Get your asses in here people. With subthreads for maximum OCDness.
Warnings: Drunk people, loud music, teenage drama! Nothing bad overall though.

[ It was seriously happening.

Food? Check.
Drinks? Check.
Lights? Check.
Music? Check.
DJ ClaudsterRedhead? Check.

There was no time for yet another complete check up, it was now or never. Ella fought the urge of making it a "never" and decided that whatever happened was already out of her control. Best intentions and all, whether it turned to be a great party or not depended on the people that would come. All she hoped was that the guests didn't destroy the place; she was kind of thinking about a future party to come and finding one good spot had been difficult enough.

But enough dillydallying, it was party time! ]]

((OOC: PLEASE WAIT WHILE I PUT THE SUBTHREADS UP. GO GO GO))

Comments

[lucency]

[ and that's the first flicker of some emotion beyond curiosity and hope. her mouth twitches downward into a frown, eyes suddenly hardening as she freezes. she'd done something wrong, hasn't she? crossed some line. she knows she has, she's good at that, and she never realizes it's much of a problem until it's too late. getting to know people isn't the problem, she thinks - it's not knowing the right questions to ask.

and it isn't that she's hard-pressed for social niceties, either; a silly notion, given her upbringing. but belle wants to relate to people. truly, she does. relate to them and help them and let them pull through on their own after that. it's a method that's not always foolproof, but it's stunningly beautiful when it does.

she turns her drink in her hand, peering over at him. ] Oh. I. Um. Do you want company?

[ the answer's likely no, she realizes, but the thought might be appreciated, at the very least. ]

[bumbles]

( Yes.

No.

Yes.

His expression twists, and he shrugs. ) You d-don't-- don't have to. ( Somehow, he drags his gaze up to look at her, and everything in the way he moves is apologetic. Weak, some voice in his head whispers. )

I'm r-really-- I'm really s-sorry.

( For this, for being like this, and for doing the things that he does, and he just shrugs hopelessly. )

[lucency]

You don't have anything to apologize for.

[ she says it with the tiniest smile, a flicker of no hard feelings directed at him. a statement that should really be a question, seeing as she's the one who crossed the line. she turns her cup in her hands and stays where she is, watching him almost warily, debating whether or not to follow him for the aforementioned fresh air. for the moment, she decides against it, unless he invites her. ]

[bumbles]

( A nod, hopeless, before he moves away. If it had occurred to him that she might be worried, might feel bad, he would reassure her, but he can see no reason for the doubt. It's almost a stumble, really, because he just needs to be outside for a little while, needs to breathe, and he is so consistently stupid. He shouldn't be here. He has to be here.

Donny moves through the crowd, and disappears out the door. )