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Happy 4th Birthday, Lochland Grove!
01/02/14 - 01/02/18

It is time to celebrate! Over the course of this month expect to see fun activities. Currently we have:

1. Enjoy the new birthday skin.
2. Birthday Hunt! (LINK)
3. New Temp Forums.
4. Birthday Discussions
5. A new newspaper: (LINK)

Welcome to Lochland Grove
Open since January 2, 2014

We are a Real Life Roleplay site focused on enriching character driven stories through events, newspaper headlines, and even death. Set in modern day Connecticut, our background plot follows the on-goings of a small town with a murderous past. Whether your character explores it is up to you. Life is about choice - this is your story. Our goal is to provide a place where you will feel comfortable writing it. Come join the fun!

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 Nectar of the Gods, Jorge Cervantes
Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 9 2018, 01:51 PM
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Townie
Thoth


He really could have spent all day just listening to Minuit speak. Her accent was inviting and sultry all at the same time. Honestly he didn’t know why he was so interested in it. Maybe it was because in Lochland Grove, he didn’t hear many people with exotic voices. Then again, he was a college professor and, more often than not, spoke with students who came from a variety of backgrounds. So then, if it wasn’t so unusual for him, why did he feel so bedazzled when Minuit spoke? Mysteries to ponder on his personal time, he suspected.

His raised his head towards her when she started to read off the small menu of antipasto that the restaurant offered. He wasn’t too surprised at that, given the fact that fancy restaurants like these tended to have minimal menus of only their selected best. So, he listened to the options before he made his decision.

”All sound appetizing,” he confirmed. ”Though I would be partial to their White Wine Sauce over Risotto,” he said. ”Risotto is often my favorite.”

Another sip of his wine and he set the glass down upon the table top. Reaching underneath he casually stroked Emma’s head, feeling her lean against him. Retracting his hand he took a second to just listen to the world around him. To the conversations being had, too the footsteps of people as the milled back and forth from the kitchen to the dining area. While he wasn’t one for a lot of social interaction, he had to admit that this wasn’t the worst of them; especially considering the company.

His attention turned back to Minuit as he shook his head. ”Unfortunately I have not,” he said. ”I’m afraid I’m a bit more a recluse than I probably should be,” he said lightheartedly. ”I have been invited by coworkers but they don’t make ‘good company’.”

A light tease, nothing more.

At the mention of the mansion, a name which escaped him as well, the poet pursed his lips in thought before shaking his head. ”I know what you are talking about but, again, I’ve never gone. Most of my Halloweens are spent terrifying the local children,” he added with a chuckle. ”Though Halloween parties tend to be more fun than Christmas. I should go one year. Maybe I should showed up in polka dots and tell people I’m dressed up as ‘Blind Spots’.”

That was a joke.

Their conversation was interrupted, however, by the arrival of the waitress who relinquished bread and asked if they wanted ‘Italian Butter’ with it. Once he heard the cap unscrew of the olive oil, he knew what was coming. He had gone to enough Italian restaurants to be aware of this practice, where oil is poured into a shallow dish and it’s spiced with salt and pepper. Sometimes other ingredients were included, in this case, cheese was graded.

”Thank you,” Jorge offered to the waitress, dipping his head in her direction. When some form of food served, the poet turned towards the center of the table where Minuit was already digging in. She described to him the contents and even said how good it was. Though, sadly, there would be no rolls for them to test out their theories. Chuckling, he reached over, carefully, his hand touching the basket of sliced bread. Pulling one out, he found the dish of olive oil and dipped it in. ”That’s okay,” he said with a smirk. Biting off a bit of the bread, he chewed it, hummed to agree to it’s tastiness, and swallowed. ”It just means we’ll have to do this again at some point.”

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Minuit Estelle
 Posted: Jan 10 2018, 04:52 AM
Quote
Newcomer
Kat


‘Italian butter’ was by no means butter. It fascinated Minnie, making her wonder just how creative she could get with a little olive oil and a spice cabinet. What could she come up with? Who knew, but she’d probably test a few ideas out. Maybe on someone. The fact they didn’t have rolls to eat with it seemed to add to her amusement. After so much talk of them they found a basket with fresh bread.. no rolls involved at all. ”It just means we’ll have to do this again at some point.” The woman hummed in agreement. ”I suppose. Per’aps you could come over to my apartment and I could make us somet’ing. T’ere is no point in coming ‘ere over and over again. “ Her wild green eyes watched him eat, quieting for a moment. ”Not t’at my cooking would be anywhere a good as t’is. “ There was a small pang about leaving her apartment behind, but she let it go. It wasn’t the apartment she was going to miss but the concept of it. A house just felt so.. permanent.

A waiter scurried over, introducing themselves quickly, Minnie ordered after glancing at Jorge momentarily, getting a salad with the house dressing and a side of the ‘Potato of the day’. Hopefully it wasn’t just a baked potato. ”T’ank you.. Jorge?” It was his turn to order. She looked over her menu again for a quick double check then handed it over. ”Well, alone again. What shall we talk about now?” She had a list of ideas in the back of her mind, but she had been breaching most topics. Their acquaintance wasn’t an interview. ”Do you ‘ave anyt’ing you are curious about me? Feel free to ask. It could be traditional t’ings such as family, career, favorite color, season... or untraditional.. like..My values of who I am, My taste in music.. or men. i suppose.. hmm... ‘ow i spend my spare time... what music i’ve been listening to....” The list went on and on. She was curious if his conversation would be more careful or .. well.. curious.

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Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 10 2018, 06:50 PM
Quote
Townie
Thoth


Though Jorge was only teasing when he said that they would have to eventually do this again, truth was that he actually, really wanted to spend more time with her. Aside from just getting the dreaded “Roll Basket” question answered, he actually had a really good time whenever he was around the mysterious woman. He knew only snippets about her but he was continuously intrigued, especially concerning her interest in him. How did she view him? A father figure? A friend? Something more romantic than that? Truth was that he didn’t know and he wasn’t really banking on any notion, one way or the other; but he wanted to find out through spending time with her.

His jest earned a laugh from Minuit as she toyed with the idea of cooking at her apartment. It was true, there was no point in coming back to this restaurant if there was no hope for a basket full of a rolls in their future. Still, that was a rather intimate sounding evening, being cooked for by someone like Minuit. The poet smirked a little at the little dig to herself about not being as good as this place and he shrugged his shoulders.

”I’m sure you’re giving yourself far too little credit,” he said with a small laugh. ”Besides, I can help. I have some cooking skill. I bet together we can create something at least half as good.”

The smile he wore was playful though in the back of his mind he wondered at the words that had really come out of his mouth. It almost sounded like a date suggestion to him but surely it wouldn’t be taken in that context. It was just two people, making a meal together, nothing overtly strange about that, right? He needed to get out of his head. Thankfully the interruption of the waiter pulled him out of his thoughts when they were asked what they would like for the evening.

Minuit was the first to order, followed by Jorge who chose the veal, as well as a side Caesar salad and side pasta. The waiter commended both of their choices before scurrying off to place the orders. Jorge sighed, taking a sip of his wine as he turned his attention back to the woman who sat across from him. They were alone, again, and thus the conversation must continue.

But what was there to talk about. She was apparently an open book, offering him a chance to ask her essentially whatever it was that he wanted. He mulled this over, going over the facts that he did know about Minuit already, such as her being a dancer, having a shitty family member in her life; but what else did he want to know about her? He hummed to himself in thought, before a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Minuit like conversation games, well, he had an idea.

”What about this...we play a little game,” he asked. ”We take turns, asking each other one, and only one question at a time, that the other has to answer. Let’s say...out of ten? Unless you want to add more?” Quietly he tore off a piece of bread that wasn’t dipped in olive oil and held it under the table for Emma. Emma was grateful and licked his hand. ”Does that sound like a deal?” He then chuckled. ”That wasn’t my first question, by the way.”

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Minuit Estelle
 Posted: Jan 11 2018, 09:58 PM
Quote
Newcomer
Kat


Conversation was never an issue with her. There were fantasies she could fulfill or curiosities to satiate. Minnie could remember struggling to support her mother during her last months, dancing whenever she could get a shift. Her words kept every nervous exchange from getting worse. Sometimes it was easier to control it, giving depth and feel until there were no questions left. They came of the dancing, but they stayed to talk to her.

Jorge could ask her anything.
Her answers would be interesting.

”What about this...we play a little game,” The woman’s brow arched, her form leaning on the table as her pointer finger ran along the top of wine glass. ”A game?” She was intrigued. ”We take turns, asking each other one, and only one question at a time, that the other has to answer. Let’s say...out of ten? Unless you want to add more?” Oh poor man. ”Does that sound like a deal?” Her green eyes were eyed him with amusement. ”That wasn’t my first question, by the way.” He read her mind. ”I t’ink we can make t’at ‘appen.” It sounded interesting.

”Alright.. My first question is easy: What songs ‘ave you completely memorized?”

Her long fingers slid down the crystal glass, caressing the cool surface. ”I ‘ave been into an album by ‘ugh Laurie. It ‘as remakes of old songs in a blusey style t’at I’m enchanted by. The man is an actor and a comedian, but I ‘ad no idea until I ‘earn ‘im t’at ‘e was a musician. It makes me ‘appy.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. ”I figured I’d add a little about myself so you don’t ‘ave to re-ask.. if t’at was your intent. I love a variety of music, but t’ere is a difference between music t’at makes me want to dance and music t’at sucks me into the song.” She in-took a breath then laughed. ”.. and somet’imes makes me dance anyway.” Her long lashes lowered slightly as she let her gaze drop to her drink in silently contentment.

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Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 12:27 AM
Quote
Townie
Thoth


There. A little game. He remembered Minuit saying how much she loved games, especially when it came to conversation. Trying to find the right topic to bring up could be rather difficult, but if there were set rules and space to work with, then surely they could figure learn a bit more about one another. Minuit was an interesting woman but Jorge had never been good with broaching the subjects of conversation with other people. He lived a solitary, quiet life, not one that allowed for much interaction with others.

But Minuit, she just spurred in him a want to actually talk to her, to listen to her talk, to take in the information she deemed appropriate to give him and feel it course inside of his body. The woman was unlike anyone whom he had met before and he wanted to know why. What was it about her that caused this change in the usually prickly curmudgeon?

He didn’t know. But, maybe with some questions answered, he would.

So he presented the game. Ten questions, and only ten, back and forth, in an attempt to learn a bit more about one another. Surely this would yield some answers. Minuit seemed game and, while that was good, momentarily Jorge hoped that he was doing the right thing that the woman wouldn’t dig too deeply into his own past. Ten questions was surprisingly looking like quite a bit of them.

But it was too late. She started things off and he had to comply.

What songs had he memorized? Briefly the man went quiet, thinking to himself, humming a few bars of an unheard song that only played in his head. Minuit had interjected, anticipating he may ask the same question, and revealed what she loved. His smile widened a bit at the description of the blusey-styles of a man who sang remakes of old songs. Sounds quite entertaining.

So he finally answered. That’s How Strong My Love Is, by Otis Redding…” he considered and then chuckled. ”And Baby It’s Cold Outside, with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan.” He smirked shaking his head. ”I tend the like the older stuff too.”

He paused, taking up another piece of bread as he started to consider the first real question he wanted to ask her. He had learned some details, but not all of them. However, he didn’t want to pry too deeply into her life; partially out of respect and partially out of fear of reprisal. But he was committed to the game and he was certain he could start with some more mundane questions. After chewing on his piece of bread, he asked.

”What is your favorite book?” he inquired. ”You already know that Pride and Prejudice is mine.”

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Minuit Estelle
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 01:20 AM
Quote
Newcomer
Kat


This was not an interview. Questions were fun, but conversations were best when there was a little give and take. Minuit’s first question was gentle yet personal. She offered not just the question but a little bit about herself to gnaw on. Hopefully Jorge would enjoy it. ”That’s How Strong My Love Is, by Otis Redding…” There was a moments pause as he considered something. ”And Baby It’s Cold Outside, with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan. I tend the like the older stuff too.” Her expression took on a look of attentiveness. ”Bot’ Interesting. I ‘ave a love ‘ate relationship wit’ ‘Baby it’s cold outside’. It’s a beautiful song, and can be taking for regular banter, but...” Her eyes glanced at the her drink as she lifted it to her lips. ”The story makes it sound like ‘e is trying to be a very pushy date. In fact, she talks about ‘ow somet’ing seems wrong wit’ ‘er drink. Despite ‘er logical and reasonable worries ‘e is still inclined to pressure ‘er to stay.” The wine slipped into her mouth in a minute sip, savored on her tongue. ”When I ‘ear it I ‘ave to step out from my logical stance or else it is a song about date rape... not as cute as it was probably meant to be.”


It was his turn for a question...

”What is your favorite book?” he inquired. ”You already know that Pride and Prejudice is mine.” Ooh, a tough one. ”Hmmm. You ‘ave me stumped. I wasn’t much of a reader growing up. In ‘igh school I did read a fascinating chapter on variations of the Cinderella story. It pops up all over the world. Out of all of t’em, my favorite would be ‘When The Clock Strikes’.” The wine circulated gently around the crystal glass as she tilted her hand back and forth gently. ”It is about the daughter of a woman who is the last of ‘er lineis secretly a witch. People find out and t’ey kill ‘er mot’er, but before t’ey can kill ‘er

I don’t want to spoil it, but t’ere is a little political shuffling where the current royal line used treachery to get used to those before them. T’is girl and ‘er mot’er are the last of it, ‘idden away and practicing witchcraft to get revenge. ‘er mot’er is caught and in a last effort to save ‘er tells ‘er to tell t’em she was being controlled. She t’en bides ‘er time to get revenge, covering ‘erself in soot and pretending to be ‘umble.... well until she was ready to strike, but I won’t tell you the rest of it. I like ‘ow it is written. A pretty short story. It sticks out more in my ‘ead t’an anyt’ing else I can t’ink of.. at least as far as stories go.”



She had a sudden yearning to reread it. Perhaps she’d pull it up later on her phone. ”Hmm.. My question... If you could make one rule that everyone had to follow, what rule would you make?” She had a feeling there were several. ”Mine would be ‘don’t touch me wit’out premission’. I already live wit’ t’at rule. It makes it rat’er easy to work wit’.”

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Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 03:18 PM
Quote
Townie
Thoth


Those were probably the most well-memorized songs that Jorge knew inside and out. Of course there were others but they were the first that came to mind. He remembered there were times where he and Gemma would sing “Baby It’s Cold Outside” during the holidays, probably the only time that he had actually enjoyed a holiday-esque song. Why he mentioned it to Minuit, he didn’t know, but he figured she would want honesty and, honestly, that was the song that came to mind.

Of course, not everyone cared for the song. Minuit seemed just a little uncomfortable with it -- well, uncomfortable reading too much into the lyrics. He was aware of how scandalous they sounded, but really it was a matter of perception. Arguments could be made for both supporters and non, however Jorge tended to keep his opinions on the song fairly subdued.

Historically the song was scandalous but not for the same reason. Inside jokes about “weak drinks” and wanting to stay over but also wanting to avoid the rumor mill, as well the socially accepted norm of “playing hard to get” were all notions that some rallied to and some avoided. Jorge chose to think that it started as an innocent product of its time and the modern age added implications that could be interpreted in a negative way. But he wasn’t about to denounce anyone’s feelings on the matter. Music, like poetry, was subjective.

So he moved on. What was her favorite book? It was a nice, basic question. Minuit, it appeared, was not a big ready but one of her favorites had been a variation on a fairy tale. He smiled at this.

”Oh yes, the old fairy tales have a lot of variations,” He was experienced enough to know how much stories change and evolve with the passage of time, especially stories as popular as those. ”I’m afraid that’s a variation I haven’t read,” he admitted. ”I shall have to see if there is an audio version available.”

Now it was his turn again. He braced himself, wondering what the lovely woman would ask. Rules. Hrm. If he could make one rule that everyone had to follow, what would it be? He considered this for a second, listening as Minuit instituted a ‘no touching without permission’ edict. That was hardly surprising, especially with her line of work.

”That’s a good rule to have,” he agreed. ”Some people like their personal space, I know that I do. Plus, it’s safer,” he explained. ”If someone just touches me without expecting it, it can be a bit off-putting. Thankfully that hardly seems to be a problem these days.” He then grinned. ”Rest assured, I would never place a finger on you without permission.”

He was merely joking, of course. That was not permission he ever actually expected of the woman, but in the vein of their lighthearted conversation, he thought it was a fitting contribution. However, realizing how it may sounded, he tried to push on. He still had to answer the question himself.

”No cell phones when conversing with another person,” he said. ”It’s hard these days to not have a meal or sit with someone without hearing them tip-tapping on their cells. I understand their importance but there should be a rule that, when enjoying a conversation with another that you don’t suffer distractions. It takes you away from what can be a rather amazing moment.” He smiled warmly. He then thought of his next question. ”Do you enjoy what you do for a living?” He paused. ”I sometimes enjoy my job. It’s more a distraction than anything else, which I appreciate.”

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Minuit Estelle
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 11:55 PM
Quote
Newcomer
Kat


The wine swished elegantly in her glass, catching candle light and shadow. Minnie was immersed in her conversation. Not even the food was as interesting as what was in front of her. Jorge’s answers to her questions helped her form a better idea of who he was. Now that the first few were out of the way she was delving just a little deeper. She patted herself on the back for ‘If you could make one rule that everyone had to follow, what rule would you make?’ Her own answer was.. well, quite her. Yes, it practically screamed ‘her’.....

....Don’t touch without permission...

”That’s a good rule to have. Some people like their personal space, I know that I do. Plus, it’s safer. If someone just touches me without expecting it, it can be a bit off-putting. Thankfully that hardly seems to be a problem these days.” He looked amused, she was too. ”Rest assured, I would never place a finger on you without permission.” Minuit’s laughter filled the air. It was gentle, an airy sort of laugh that softened into a sigh. ”I would never assume you would, Jorge. You are quite the gentleman. Please, go on. ” He had yet to answer her question.

”No cell phones when conversing with another person,” His words were accurate. A frustration with people distracting themselves from the exchange. She could understand that. It takes you away from what can be a rather amazing moment. It was true. ”When I talk to people, I like to make t’em My world. If t’ey can’t meet me ‘alfway t’en I’m not likely to stick around. Granted, usually I ‘ave more problems keeping t’eir eyes on my face. Breasts tend to be a great distraction.” Her brow arched playfully, saying no more on the subject.

”Do you enjoy what you do for a living?” That was good. She liked that. ”I sometimes enjoy my job. It’s more a distraction than anything else, which I appreciate.” A distraction? ”Is t’at so?” A woman bustled to the table, delivering salads and spreading fresh ground pepper over them before slipping away. ”Well.. our salads ‘ave arrived.” Her eyes looked down at her food then across the table. ”Honestly, I LOVE my job.” Picking up a fork, she began to brush the dressing and pepper around the salad, making sure it didn’t pool. ”I own a Strip club, and it is everyt’ing I wanted it to be. “ She hummed thoughtfully.. trying to explain.

Hmm....

”T’ere is a common lament among strippers t’at t’ey miss the 90‘s. The clubs were good back t’en. Not all of t’em, t’ere ‘ave always been dives, but many of t’em. Back t’en t’ey made good money, work was almost a party, and the guys came for company and a fantasy... “ She laughed, adding. ”Or so I ‘ear. I wasn’t around at the time to know. “ She'd told this to someone recently and had told a massive narrative. She tried to pick her words for the sake of minimalism. At least the story was fresh in her mind and not something she had to think of too much”One by one the clubs started changing ‘ands. New owners eit’er didn’t care or didn’t know better t’an to say no when the prostitutes came off the streets in the winter. Wit’ t’em came t’eir customers and the line between a dancer and a prostitute blurred into invisibility.” The lettuce crunched, she took a small fork full and enjoyed the flavor immensely.

”Mm.. t’is salad is delicious... anyway.. You can probably guess waht ‘appened. The old school customers left because t’ey didn’t want to deal wit’ prostitutes. The dancers left or became prostitutes t’emselves. It got.. very messy wit’ what customers came to expect. I was fortunate to get to work in a legit establishment. It taught me much about myself and the world. What I give to Lochland is somet’ing of t’at calliber. A place t’at is safe, sexy, and fun. T’ere aren’t many places like t’at left. The policies work wit’ my own personal philosophies. I believe women ’ave the right to be sexual creatures and be beautiful, confident. To not be afraid of t’ere bodies.” Oh yes, something she certainly loved.

”.. and.. t’en of course not being touched wit’out permission.” Alluding straight back to what they’d talked about before. ”We talked about t’at earlier. Their body, my body is special. I’m a god damn goddess and I deserve to be treated well, be loved, and respected. Every person should give t’emselves value. From aerial dancers to ‘andsome poets.” There was plenty more she could say on the subject, but she let it go. Psychologically, touch was a language all its own. It could comfort and offer intimacy. Minuit didn’t share it freely, and even the brush of her fingertips was an expression that she liked someone. A special gift.

”What’s the best thing you got from your parents? A new question, a new conversation. ”And.. on a side note, ‘ow is your salad, Mister Cervantes.”

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Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 13 2018, 01:59 AM
Quote
Townie
Thoth


Jorge had always been a gentleman. His parents had drilled it in him early on that he always needed to respectful of people, no matter who he dated, whether they be man or woman. Therefore it was a lesson that carried on with him the rest of his life. He still held doors open for people if he were walking in a group or felt someone behind him, he excused himself as he brushed passed people, and he said please and thank you whenever it was appropriate. He was one of those few people that still held a deep-seated respect for each and every person he met -- that is unless they turned out to be a jackass.

Minuit’s laughter was lyrical. He stated that he would never touch her without permission, not that something like that was even possible, but it still seemed fitting to say. He had half-expected her to just laugh it off and tell him he was such a jokester, but instead she merely agreed he was a gentleman. He smiled earnestly at the comment, then he was bade to continue.

Really the thing that bothered him the most was how much people buried their gazes into their cell phones. Though he couldn’t see them, he could hear people tapping, clicking, and listening to music. While he was sure it had its place, the thing he hated was when it was brought up during conversation. He wanted to talk to the person, not struggle to gain attention away from a device. Thankfully it seemed that Minuit was of the same mind, admitting that she wanted to make people her world and expected the same in return when in conversation.

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a waitress who brought salads and freshly ground pepper. Jorge thanked the worker for her service and sighed happily to have some food before him. As he skewered a leaf of lettuce, he inquired of her if she enjoyed her job. It would seem that he touched on a subject of great love of hers as she admitted that she did.

It was finally clarified. She was a stripper, or, at least she owned a strip club in town. She explained that the establishment was purely for the dance and the fantasy, not a den of prostitution as man clubs had become. He nodded understandingly, actually really interested in the tale that she told him. He munched on his caesar salad as he listened intently. Though he couldn’t see her to actually show he was listening, his attention was fully enraptured by the woman as she spoke of the struggle to find the right establishment before eventually she managed to craft one. Truly, she was an inspiring woman.

Once again they circled around to the concept of “no touching without permission” and that it was something that should apply to all: women who danced to feel sexy….and handsome poets. Whenever she called him handsome, a smile appeared on his lips. It was to the point that it was becoming involuntary now, but he wasn’t fighting it. It was just what this woman did to him.

”You truly are an inspiration, Ms. Estelle,” he said truthfully. He held up his wine glass for her to clink with his. ”To everyone who have the right to feel beautiful,” he toasted and then slyly smiled. ”And, of course, to their goddess.”

They moved onto the next question. They were nearly halfway done with their game, weren’t they? Minuit asked what his parents had given him that he was most thankful for -- and how his salad was. The man chuckled and finished swallowing the bit of salad in his mouth.

”That’s two questions,” he remarked. But nodded his head. ”I’ll let that slide...this time.” he smirked. ”The salad is exception.” He then thought for a moment. She was digging a bit deeper now but, thankfully, hadn’t hit anything too uncomfortable. ”My will to carry on,” he said with a slight sigh before he explained. ”When I had lost my vision...I was seventeen. Came as a hell of a blow. I was on the fast track to a football scholarship and then...everything just went dark. It was hard to come back from. As a matter of fact, I know I wouldn’t have come back if it wasn’t for them.” He paused. ’They gave me strength. They taught me to be strong, no matter what. And that’s something I will always thank them for.” Another sigh. That was a hard one, it seemed. But, it was Minuit’s turn. As she wanted to get personal, he figured he would return the favor. ”How do you think your parents did as ‘parents’?”


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Minuit Estelle
 Posted: Jan 14 2018, 03:32 AM
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Newcomer
Kat


Her mother had been strict, but loving when it came to valuing herself. Minnie was a goddess. She treated herself well, valued herself, and only bestowed her attentions on those worth her time. It was worth taking care of herself. Her mind everyone should. ”You truly are an inspiration, Ms. Estelle,” Her companion lifted his drink for a toast and she reciprocated gracefully, leaning forward to brush her glass gently to his. "To everyone who have the right to feel beautiful, And, of course, to their goddess.” Her green eyes were hardly bashful, they stared back with confidence. ”To poets and t’eir pretty words.” The soft ‘clink’ of glasses finalized the moment perfectly.

Settling back in her chair, she offered her next question. Something simple... well, that and she wanted to know how his salad was. He seemed to like it. ”That’s two questions,” He missed the soft purse of her lips in an ‘o’ that was hardly surprised. She'd done it on purpose. ”I’ll let that slide...this time.” ”Your mercy knows no bounds.”Her lips pursed around the rim of her glass, wine filtering down onto her tongue in a moment of silence.

So, her question? What’s the best thing he had gotten from your parents? ”My will to carry on,” Interesting...

she grabbed the wine bottle, refreshing her drink.

”When I had lost my vision...I was seventeen... “ It was interesting. She hadn’t expected to hear such an interesting tale, short yet sweet. ’They gave me strength. They taught me to be strong, no matter what. And that’s something I will always thank them for.” Parents were magificient creatures. Her own were.. insanely good. She smiled silently, taking in the warm feelings she felt in her heart. ”How do you think your parents did as ‘parents’?” The in-take of breath in a laugh almost made her choke on her wine. She set the bottle back into the ice and swallowed carefully. ”Before t’ey died My parents were exceptional. T’ey taught me individuality, confidence, and self wort’. Before my fat’er died ‘e gave me an appreciation for art. My mot’er taught me to love my body, to love bodies in general. They didn’t constrict my creativity, but instead amplified and encouraged it. If I wanted to learn belly dancing I got classes despite our dwindling finances in New York. They never let me go ‘ungry. I owe everyt’ing to t’em. “ A tiny stab hit her heavily and she sighed into her glass. ”T’ey also taught me about deat’. I lost t’em both. My fat’er was killed by a drunk driver and my mot’er died of breast cancer. One was a quick deat’ and the ot’er was over time. “ She would not dwell on it. ”Not all lessons are easy, but we are still ‘ere. continue to carry on, Mister Cervantes. We are t’eir legacy.”

Setting the glass down, she pushed her salad away and folded her hands on the table. A futile gesture since she knew she’d be moving them again soon. ”My next question...” Their food was set in front of them and she smiled to the woman who set it there before looking to Mister Cervantes. What’s the title of the current chapter of your life? An easy one. There had been enough darkness for her. [b]”Feel free to be creative. I’d probably go for somet’ing less connected wit’ the theme and more stylish. Such as sexy silk. I do like wearing silk. The feeling on my skin is.. magical.”[b]

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Jorge Cervantes
 Posted: Jan 14 2018, 10:43 AM
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Jorge didn’t care to talk about his past. He loved his parents and what they did for him (what his father continued to do for him) but so much of his own tragedies were connected to his past that bringing up any portion of it immediately put him at a danger of revealing far more than he wanted to. That was the rub of it, though, he wanted to talk about some of these things with Minuit. Not simply because it was the rules of the game, but for whatever reason he actually felt comfortable around her; comfortable enough to actually talk about these things to some degree. So, rather than question it, he talked -- and the world didn’t end.

He spoke of his parents and what they did for him, the hope that they had somehow managed to instill in him not only once, but twice (the reasons for the second time he still wasn’t ready to talk about). There was a small sound of pride in Jorge’s voice as he spoke of them, a surefire sign that he was being truthful with the dancer sitting across from him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so honest with someone.

But that was enough from him. Minuit seemed touched by his tale but their quiet moment was soon interrupted by the appearance of their food. Jorge, of course, was grateful as he leaned back, letting the remains of his salad be taken away and replaced with the meal he had ordered. As the scent wafted up to his nose, he considered his next question carefully. While they were on the subject of parents, he felt it was only appropriate that she answer in kind.

Were they good parents? It should have been an easy enough answer, but he didn’t know her past.

A laughter followed, an infectious one that caused the blind poet to smile wide in appreciation. Minuit confirmed that her parents were, in fact, wonderful. Creative, artistic, they opened Minuit’s world to acception and beauty, a feat that doesn’t has the same power these days, it seems. Most everyone is so concerned with technology and making money that the finer things are no longer studied and expressed. Funny how a stripper had a more creative soul than first time college student. But that was a thought he kept to himself.

Of course their lessons didn’t stop there. Death had touched the family, not only once, but twice. Jorge was all too familiar with the cruelty of the grim reaper, taking away those far before their time. However that train of thought seemed to be taking him down a path he really didn’t want to journey so he tried to refocus his attention. He merely raised his glass once more and dipped his head in respect towards the woman.

”To your parents,” he whispered, which was followed by the thought: And to my family.

But it was time to press on. Thankfully Minuit didn’t want to dwell too deeply on that thought and, instead, asked something that was a bit more fun: what would be the current title of his life. The literary professor chuckled heartily at that. He was certain that was a creative writing exercise he employed at one point but he couldn’t quite remember. So he paused, tapping his chin in thought.

”That’s a tough one…” he smirked, listening as Minuit once again spoke on the wonders of silk. It put images in his head that he quickly exorcised out of respect. ”A Spark in the Shadows,” he answered. Though he didn’t elaborate further. She said he could be creative, not that he had to explain. He would let her interpret it however she liked. He took a bite of his food, ready to quench his hungry and found that the veal marsala was extremely tasty. Perfection. But it was Minuit’s turn to answer a question. They were about five or six questions in. They needed to make these ones count. ”What are three song titles that will describe your past week?”

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