science & faith [tag; alec]

[IMOGEN ELIZABETH GREEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]an act of pure defiance[/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443]It was a beautiful day. Every day was a beautiful day lately, it must be the high pressure like the weather girl who was wearing an overtly low cut top had said so that morning. Imogen had been here for a few hours. After picking up her navy blue jeep from the mechanics that morning, she thought it was best to take it for a spin and she'd ended up at the beach like she so often did. She was sure Billy, one of the mechanics, had a deep seated hatred for her and her Susuki Jimny. It was like a bag of bolts. Everything fell off the damn thing but she couldn't bare to part with it, even if it did mean that she was ploughing most of every pay cheque into keeping it afloat. It was a rust bucket but it was her rust bucket. Most the students had decidedly nicer rides; Mercedes, Audis and BMWs and she was used to hearing not so subtle sniggering as she pulled up. Slamming the door shut, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder before manually locking the doors because lo and behold, her central locking system had died months ago. Picking her way carefully down to the shoreline, the warm sea breeze kicked up the ends of her knee length red chiffon dress, the heels of her sandals click-clacking on the rocks. Who wore heels to the beach? Imogen Green wore sandals to the beach. Damn right. With her matching shades shielding her bright blue eyes from the bright sunlight, long pale fingers reached up, tucking stray locks of honey blonde hair behind her ears as she descended. She didn't usually dress up for the beach but she was meeting someone for lunch and she didn't really want to turn up in a pair of shorts. Whilst she knew it was perfectly acceptable, her domineering grandmother would not agree. Imogen, the voice of her grandmother rang out in her head. Take those off right now. Have you not learned anything? Nope, not really. Keeping one hand on her fedora to keep it in place, it wasn't long before Imogen reached the sand she took little time before plonking herself down. She wasn't really a beach person, she was a city person but it was still pretty. Leaning forward, she neatly unzipped her sandals before shrugging them off and placing them next to her, burrowing her toes deep into the pleasingly warm sand. Absently, her eyes lazily latched onto four boys, shirtless as they joked with each other as they walked along the shoreline, catching the tallest boy's eye. Offering a smile, Imogen coyly looked down at her bare knees. Although rigorously tormented and called certain things like prudish and frigid, she supposed she was but she didn't want a boyfriend. She wouldn't really know how to handle one. Boys were stupid anyway. Although she and Alec weren't terribly close, he was the closest thing to a proper friend she had. Imogen didn't go out of her way to befriend the spotty adolescents of Manchester Prep and why should she? In a matter of months, she'd be in New York, faaaaar away from the petty trivial life of the students. Then again, the French man was less likely to stuff her into a locker like the football team had. Imogen knew she was early and she'd made a point to just hang around for a little while and people watch. It was a little after one in the afternoon and it was fairly busy. The beach was like a hunting ground when she dissected it down. The hunters were the popular girls; all tanned and pretty, wearing teeny tiny bikinis that left very little to the imagination and the prey were the boys. They were all buffed and bronzed but she knew they were rather dim and it made for ripe pickings. Imogen heard squealing but she didn't bother to look up from her sketch pad because she knew it would be some bimbo, laughing at an unfunny joke and thrusting her chest in a poor boy's face. God, she missed Paris. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;]tagged

[/color] Alec/Mimi <3
words[/color] 691
notes[/color] i hope this is okay![/style]

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[ALEC BLAISE SOULLIERE]

Alec woke up that morning a little later than usual, as he was normally an early bird. When he did finally open his eyes, he lounged around in bed reading a book and occasionally checking his emails on his phone, etc. He spent the morning in his room, cleaning obsessively like he did, and then decided it was probably time to start getting ready to meet Imogen. Imogen was a friend of his that he sometimes hung out with, but he wouldn’t have called her a best friend. They shared ancestry in common, and they were able to converse in his native language fluently, so it made hanging out with her easy and comfortable. Though they rarely spoke in school, because Alec felt an enormous pressure not to as their social standings were completely different, they got along rather well. Alec showered and got dressed in a plain long sleeved shirt (he pushed the sleeves up to his elbows) and a pair of khaki cargo shorts (both were some name brand that was overpriced) quickly before taking the keys to his beautiful Maserati and a pair of sunglasses and driving out to the beach. The top was down, so his hair dried really fast and also really crazy, although he only cared about the state of his hair when he had a formal meeting to go to. And this was by no means a formal meeting.

Alec hopped out of his car and took off down the beach, scanning for the familiar blonde. He knew she wouldn’t have dressed to swim as many of the other buxom babes around town. (Alec appreciated the view but wished they’d left a little bit more to his imagination.) A couple of girls who’d seen his ride waved at him and giggled, and he had to admit they were pretty attractive, but he only smiled back to them and continued looking for Gen. It was a long time coming that Alec would ever have a girl on his arm, and none had ever come along to change that, so the come-hither glances went straight over his head, as they so often did. Alec was one of the most oblivious guys out there when it came to his own desirableness and every girl he came into contact with was almost immediately friend-zoned. After another beat, Alec spotted Gen sitting in the sand relaxing, and he sauntered over and plopped down next to her. He brought his legs in and rested his elbows on his knees before smiling over and saying, in French, “Bonjour. Comment êtes-vous cette belle journée?” How are you this fine day? And it was a fine day; the sun was shining beautifully on the dark blue water, and the waves were lapping at the shore lazily as if they had nowhere else to be, and they didn’t of course. Alec peered through his sunglasses at the water and then turned his attention back to Imogen.

Alec enjoyed people watching at the beach; it was rather comical watching the young girls scour the sands for a hunk. Alec could have been one of those hunks if he’d tried, but he’d never considered it himself. He didn’t imagine any else did, either. Alec continued, in English, ”It’s really nice out today. All the kids have come out to enjoy the weather.” The accent he had was apparent, but only slightly so. He laughed quietly, watching a game of beach volleyball going on a ways down the shore. The girls were laughing too much and the guys were quite obviously showing off. Alec never understood the intense need for people to make romantic connections, and, considering he’d never had one himself, that wasn’t shocking. Despite that it was a popular attraction for hopeless romantic teenagers, Alec still enjoyed the tranquility of the ocean, and the way he lulled on nice, warm days.

[style=background-color: #F4F4F4; font-face:courier new; opacity: 0.8; font-weight:normal; text-align: center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #695762; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: courier new; color: #232323; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 15px; width: 200px;]words 6 4 8 tagged Imogen/Sioban notes fancy car here sorry it took so long!

[IMOGEN ELIZABETH GREEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]an act of pure defiance[/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443]Had she been bothered about the school's social ranking, she'd be upset that she and Alec didn't hang out more. But as it stood, she didn't give a flying fart in space so that was the end of that. The closer graduation loomed, the more and more desperate she got to leave that hell hole. It was dire. It was dark and it was desperate. Really desperate. People were scrambling over themselves and for what? Four short years and then a disappearance into obscurity? Uh-uh. Nope. Not for her. She was going places and the students of Manchester Prepatory could go and metaphorically stick it where the sun don't shine. Happily minding her own business, the warm sea breeze tugged at her long blonde hair, tossing it over her shoulder and back nonchalantly. Absently, she wondered what the whether in New York was like. What was the classes at NYU like? The reason she pondered was because she was hoping to attend next year. As pretty as this place was, it wasn't her. Behind her, she heard a chorus of giggles and she chuckled to herself. Giggles and excited squeals usually accompanied Alec wherever he went. Oh girls. Have a little self respect. "Ah, très bon monsieur," Imogen replied without skipping a beat as she tilted her head back to greet him with an uncharacteristically sunny smile. See for Imogen, smiling didn't come naturally. She didn't really like to, happy people pissed her off and made her want to run them over with her jeep but that was a story for her therapist. French sounded strange to her ears. She didn't use the language at home, her parents didn't bother. No one but Alec really spoke it but it was a refreshing change. "They've come out to stalk you more like," the blonde replied with the hint of a grin, her navy blue eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her red Wayfarers as she chuckled. A few feet away, she could see a few of the bikini clad volleyball players stop and glance in their direction, whispering between themselves as they pointed. The boys, however, were less happy. Sensing they were being ignored, they proceeded to puff up their chests and she could see the scowls from here. "What must it be like, Monsieur Soullierre," Imogen replied in a sing-song voice. "Having to get to class by walking on a pile of whores with low self-esteem?" She was, of course, joking. Kind of. "Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch over there," the tall blonde said, extending a long index finger to two of the most muscular boys who were wearing the tightest swimming trunks and had the most highlights in their hair. "Are feeling threatened by your mere presence. Wanna get out of here?" She asked, hoping they could because she could feel the testosterone building and she was sure Alec was a lover, not a fighter and she would just tactfully flee the scene. [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;]tagged

[/color] Alec/Mimi <3
words[/color] 496
notes[/color] oh god i'm sorry [/style]

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[ALEC BLAISE SOULLIERE]

Alec was so blissfully unaware of most of the girls that threw themselves at him by choice, and he was fated for a long time without any one girl to call his own. He had heaps of female friends, but none that he was overly affectionate for, so there weren’t many prospects there. While all of his girl friends were great girls, Alec just didn’t feel that spark for any of them, at least not yet. Alec wasn’t consciously aware of most of the advances from the resident Alec fans, but he wasn’t completely dim. He could tell that they were interested; he just chose to pretend like he didn’t. It was much easier playing dumb and confused when a girl brought it up than turning them down.

Currently, the girls at the game of beach volleyball were, in fact, turning their attention towards Alec. He watched as the group’s tone changed completely, the girls becoming a little bit giggly and overall flirtatious, and the boys getting pretty miffed. Alec had to crack a smile at that. He wasn’t one the flirt or make some sort of conquest of girls or competition with guys to see who could get more. It was part of the reason that girls liked him so much: he was so unattainable that it only heightened his appeal. But Alec didn’t like to pick fights almost as much as he didn’t like to squirm around when girls were pushing their affections on him.

"They've come out to stalk you more like." Alec gave Izzy a sideways glance and a slight smirk before laughing and shaking his head. ”Flattering, but doubtful.” he commented, and then turned his eyes back to the beach, leaning back on his hands. "What must it be like, Monsieur Soullierre, having to get to class by walking on a pile of whores with low self-esteem?" Alec stifled any laughter he had in an attempt to appear completely serious. ”Well,” he began, leaning in towards her slightly as if it was a secret, ”I try very, very hard not to step on them directly, but, ah, it is very difficult.” He shook is head morbidly, before letting his humor show through with a laugh.

At her suggestion to leave, Alec gave the volleyball players another look, and decided she was was probably right. Alec was more scared of the girls, as they seemed to be puffing up their confidence to approach him. He gave a small sigh, and then stood, offering Imogen a hand to help her up. ”Great idea. Want to get a hotdog?” He motioned towards to the boardwalk, which was assorted with various shops and vendors, and there was a hotdog stand that Alec liked to visit a little bit down. He started off towards it, and asked Imogen, ”How’ve you been?” Alec was genuinely interested in her answer, as he liked to hear about her dreams to attend NYU.


[style=background-color: #F4F4F4; font-face:courier new; opacity: 0.8; font-weight:normal; text-align: center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #695762; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: courier new; color: #232323; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 10px; width: 200px;]words 4 8 9 tagged Imogen/Sioban notes this is so overdue and frankly it's crap uubdsfiubf

[IMOGEN ELIZABETH GREEN]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 388px; border: 10px solid #d9d5c4; background-color: #dee0dc; padding: 15px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-weight: bold; font-size: 32px; padding-left: 3px; border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; color: #9d9a8d; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px 87857d; text-align: center;]an act of pure defiance[/style][STYLE= border-bottom: 8px solid #b1afa5; text-align: center;][/style][STYLE=background-image: url(); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #434443]It was a beautiful day. Fascinating. People watching was one of Imogen's many habits. As well as painting, sketching and baking, trying to read body language was one of the blonde's party tricks. She'd read countless books on the subject, slightly obsessed with the idea of micro expressions. They were involuntary, lasting one fifteenth of a second and they truly gave the game away. Apparently, there were only a handful of people in the world who were able to see them, a scientist had labelled them the "truth wizards" and that tickled her pink. She wanted to learn more about it and she hoped New York might be the place for that. Imogen's big navy blue eyes flicked lazily back and forth, scouring the beach. Really, the dynamics of Manchester Prepatory were incredible and complex. That was her thing; logic. She broke things down to the bare bones, picking things apart to see how they worked and people were no different. She cracked a rare smile. "You don't understand the female psyche," she purred, the warm sea breeze ruffling her mildly unkempt tresses around nonchalantly. Yeah she was playing amateur psychologist today. If Imogen wasn't so inexplicably passionate about art and everything that went with it, she probably would have been a psychologist. She has a creepy knack of reading people, especially liars. Perhaps that was the reason (apart from her cold nature and stand-offish behaviour) that she didn't have very many friends. "Girls are dangerous creatures," she said softly, the corners of a plump pink lips upturning as they often did to form a little smile. "You'd do well to steer clear." It wasn't that she felt romantically attached to Alec. In fact, it had been a number of years since she'd felt anything stronger than begrudging tolerance to her peers but it was simply that he was too nice to be entangled and dragged down to the other teenagers level. She was elitist and she was sanctimonious, she couldn't change that. C'est la vie. As her friend leant in a little, Imogen returned the favour. She laughed, a pale hand reaching up to hold onto her hat. "I can see that," she mused with a little smile. "It would be rather difficult to do so. Buffed and bronzed limbs everywhere," she concluded with an over exaggerated roll of her big and expressive eyes. Imogen stuck out like a sore thumb. As far as she knew, she was the only girl to take a book to the beach and wear a pair of jeans and not a teeny-weeny bikini. If she was going to don a costume, it would be a plain and conservative one-piece, thank you very much. Instinctively, Imogen reached out a hand to Alec, gripping it and allowing him to take the slack so she could stand as she brushed some sand off the skirt of her dress. Her gaze drifted, their giggles were like nails on a chalkboard to her. "Best make a quick getaway," she joked, swiftly letting her long legs follow him away. She wasn't stupid, she could feel the hate positively radiating off the bikini-clad girls. She heard a few voices asking why he was leaving but the boys seemed thankful their competition had decided to leave. "Love to," Imogen replied curtly in response to the question of a hot dog. She hadn't had a good one in months. She had the sudden hankering to have one topped with sour cream and pico de gallo. Oh yum. She could smell the aroma that was wafting on the air and her mouth began to water. How had she been. Such a simple question but one with a multitude of answers. Imogen took a moment to measure her answer. Did she want to lie? Honestly, she was lonely. She wasn't sleeping well, she looked and she felt tired. She missed home. Ocean City was technically her home but she didn't fit in. Promptly, she heaved a sigh. "Good," she said cheerfully, blowing at a stray lock of hair. "Busy," she added. Poor Alec, he probably wasn't interested but it was going to get talked at as opposed to talked to. "I'm working on a portfolio for NYU," she explained as they walked. As socially awkward as Imogen was, she truly came alive when she spoke about her passion. "I have my first set of interviews in a few months so I'm leaving nothing to chance." She wasn't kidding. She attacked everything with military precision. If she didn't get into NYU, her life would be over. There were second choices, sure but she didn't dare dwell on that. She followed Alec up to the boardwalk, the wood creaking underfoot as she deftly stepped over the cracked to avoid her heels slipping and getting stuck. No one understood who desperate she was to get out of this city. New York would be a much, much better fit. She could live in Brooklyn and rent a tiny, overpriced apartment, fill it with junk and finally enjoy life. "I spent what little free time I have getting stuff together. I've applied for early decision," she explained. "The wait will kill me. There is not other route for me," she admitted with a shrug. She was putting so much pressure on herself, it wouldn't be long before she buckled under it and cracked. "How about you?" She asked, looking over at Alec with a soft smile. "Life treating you well?" [/style] [STYLE=background-image: url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc483/wafflesandsyrupp/96877866.jpg); opacity: 0.7; padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-size: 7.5pt; letter-spacing: 1px;]tagged

[/color] Alec/Mimi <3
words[/color] 906
notes[/color] A) I am SO sorry this took so long B) Sorry it's so rambly C) <333![/style]

template made by cray cray for BTN

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