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Twisting the edge of her heel as a way to kill time due to her growing disinterest in the conversation, she was left with little words to say but only a safe word used by many people from her circle as a way to reply to such questions, “Quite.” With a hidden smile slowly peeking from the hand she had placed upon her face, there were moments of wanting to politely go out of the way and simply have a drink of her choice: White Russian. As she sees it, she does deserve another set to ease herself from being too deep in a conversation as bland as unsalted potatoes.
With her interest piqued at the conversation of 60s fashion, she was slightly interested and pleased with the conversation as she had a certain form of appreciation and familiarity to the topic at hand—something that she had found interesting by herself and stuck as a way to differentiate herself from many others. If she has the money, why not choose something many struggle to even collect an immense amount at such a young age? In response to his quips, she had given him an appreciative smile, devoid of her usual boredom: “It’s not just love. Infatuation would be the proper word. I don’t know why the 60s has pulled me, something about the miniskirts or the colorful pallets future generations seems to dislike when incorporating in their wardrobes.” Her mind in deep thought as she looked down, playing on the rim of her glass, she uttered, “I truly dread to live in that time, but the way they styled themselves and the united agreement of the world wearing the style… it breathes a sense of timelessness that is not encapsulated by a little black dress or a white satin gown.” Drinking from the glass, she looked at Dante with a soft liveliness, she gave a sigh, not out of boredom but of relief and appreciation, “Timelessness is by state of mind, no? I guess I misuse my words at certain points. No, I don’t think I’m a standard as no one will look at me and become a part of their mood board, but I guess I mostly wear the way I wear out of pure fun. Not anyone is bothered to manicure their nails, do a wet set, tease their hair, wear toilet paper for preservation, wear a brassier and girdle, wear stockings everyday, do an ensemble dressing, and make a time to do their makeup and hair.” Celestine cleared her throat, drinking for the glass after listing her routine. “But… I like it, as much as it seems too much for everyone. But honestly, it is a form of control in… making an example. Like me. I’m sure they mostly do a blowout rather than a full on perm.”
Celestine shook her head in disbelief after his rejection in a suggestion of a rejuvenation in his style. Giving a small grin, she chortled. “I assure you, this isn’t a style overhaul. You already have components of what would be a style. I would guess you already dress like a rebel, no more than Marlon Brando or James Dean, so it wouldn’t be shocking for you to completely have some updates in your wardrobe. Just think of it having another collection in your leather jackets; its just now you have an authentic 1957 leather jacket from some greaser rather than some cheap plastic imitation of a leather.” Celestine came close to Dante as she whispered, desperately wanting to do something about his choices of clothing. Appreciating the bad boy look, she wants to shine a different light on a potential that could be tapped with the right stylist. “Even if you reject it, think of it as a gift from me; you wouldn’t want to reject a gift from a woman, right? I already have something planned for you, of course, if you are complacent to agree to a diamond offer.”
“You haven’t even offered a dance to me, I fear. I was only playing along if you knew what I was talking about. I was curious if you were even going to keep up with my charade. If you truly want a game, we can try and look around the guests here. See that young fellow?” Her eyes shifted to some random man, giving direction to what may happen if he truly wants to play a true game. “I heard an hour ago about some agreement with his family. Something about an oil business and setting it out straight. But I also heard from farther seats about taking care of a man with descriptions as close to him as… taking care of pests. Now, we could play guardian angel and subtly warn him about a certain drink he will be about to drink. Typical method, but in here would be inappropriate. I would bet that the concoction is an emetic, then the plan will take place.” Looking back at Dante, she gave a mischievous smirk, unlike her, a certain form of excitement that usually is seen when planning something grandiose. “I have a hunch that this oil agreement is a way to save his family from debt, probably finding an opportunity to raise their predicament. Or maybe that oil agreement is something more, exploiting workers so as to make a message, hence 'setting it straight’. But who knows, unless we interfere, it would just unfold us into an unnecessary chaos. Too much, but fun to look from afar.”
Celestine was rather entertained by conversations such as these. The amount of mind games she had endured caused her to think slightly about the words she had to say. Despite the need to think, she was rather pleased to exercise what she had learned. With a sigh of amusement, she looked at him with such dignified confidence and said, “That is true. But shine is just appearance. We can argue that no one can tell, as it is just as luminous as gold. But let’s be real: fool’s gold is fool’s gold. It’ll flake and crumble, unlike gold, which will gouge and leave an indent. As they say, heavy is the head that wears the crown. Luminosity can’t compare to the weight gold has.” Tapping her head, she looked at him with some reassurance, “Besides, why defend comedy pyrite? Shouldn’t you be striving for gold? As I said, strive for quality, not quantity. Why settle for less when you can have more?”
“I can’t argue with that analogy. Our mind is as complex as the garden itself. Finding such beauty to the point of being entangled in a contraption made to be so complex as to perplex the knowledge of man. Admiration can spiral out of the mind to explore further, becoming prey to the gardens as they dug themselves too deep in the quest of finding pretty little flowers.” Such ideas made her mind numb in thinking of ways to reply to his questions. She had an agreement with all his interpretations, yet she found herself needing to defend what she had placed upon herself. Maybe it was by reflex, but a game of chess is not something you could leave unless one admits defeat. Continuing on, she gave the same thoughtful cadence she had brought out: “Of course, the gardens are still a place for admiration and serenity, even if you say that they will consume one with the secrets they hold. Even if you say it is inevitable for anyone to come out as safe from the gardens, one must never forget the purpose of the very same building they have been assigned to. If the gardens are a place for serenity and admiration, they have to comply with it, as betraying their purpose defeats their design. To be drawn to its beauty is part of the gardens; you usually come out clean once you stop by and admire the flowers.”
His tone irked Celestine a bit—such a playful tone, yet it was as if he hadn’t even stopped to think that she was slightly dejected from his viewpoint. Keeping up the ruse, she contained the same formal tone yet kept a weaker smile so as to make it seem less pressing for him and others to see. “Men usually do notice that first. What do they say? Do they like the look but not the personality? They like the makeup but want to see the real girl. To reiterate my point, is it only my style that is worth conversing about, or are you just here to ogle at it until you have an opportunity to slide it right off? It was fun to talk about my style, but we can move on to other topics like the weather or how am I doing after that quip of yours?” With the same tone of formality, she responded back, “That… is my point. Butterfly effects range from simple to big changes. There is nothing really to split hairs when a point is made.”
“Yes, yes, so that I can be the jovial piece of arm candy to compliment that sleek style of black you totally have.” Celestine rolled her eyes to respond back with such a playful manner. She wanted to maintain such energy, regaining an amount of energy she had so as to amp up the ruse. Keeping the dramatic elegance she flared, she looked back at him with glorious disbelief. "Besides, my mother’s imagination is not that vivid to make a statement. There is truth; she’s been one and many others. There may even be women from your generation once we go back to women not being allowed to vote. So are you implying that our plights and limited rights are simply our imagination? A woman’s hysteria? Fiend! "
The playfulness would soon end after a couple walks and a meltdown later on as the sound of silence consumed the place around them. There was a different energy that came out after everything had taken place. Thoughts ran through her mind as she made a fool of herself, running back to moments where she could’ve handled the situation differently from what she had already done. Still slumped on the hedges, she had heard a different tone from Dante that she had not heard before. Not the playful demeanor nor the insightful aura he had displayed a while back, yet a sound of worry—guilt, perhaps. Her back still turned to him, and she gave a weak, mocking chuckle. “Easy for you to say.” She had some strength to muster up words, yet she had felt a shiver in her voice if she would utter even an ounce from him. Despite her mind’s protest, she continued on with a struggling tone: “Says the one who mentioned my delightful rambles, my dear. Yeah, go on and forget everything you said and change the narrative of liking my f*cking company. I… don’t even know why… forget it.” Rubbing the droplets forming in her eyes, she saw her makeup from the gloves smudging around. In hurried frustration, she ripped out both gloves with a sense of loathing. Her mind wandered at the thought of why anyone would even want to be with her. She wasn’t great company, and she knew it. His concern and assurance of this rest gave her a certain form of frustration. She expected to be berated; even being violently thrown a piece of clothing at her as compensation for her attitude. Whatever it was, she felt miserable and grew angry looking at her manicured hands.
Its grim silence hummed across the fields as both of them took a good amount of silence. Her defeated attitude would soon be regained as she picked herself up using things that she had been taught and mastered through years of teaching. Despite her confidence sprinting back out, she still snickered at his tone of playfulness. With a tiny bit of annoyance in her tone, her eyebrows raised. “I could’ve slipped something in your drink if I wanted to, you twit. Even if I wanted to pry into your secrets, it’d only take a connection or two to know you front and back. But such matters are beneath me, and I prefer playing the long game.” Laughing at his overt confidence, she shook her head as she looked at him with utter disbelief. “Usually, bold means to make an intentional decision confidently. I don’t really define bold as obviously making a mistake to name me when I haven’t even introduced myself, but lets just support your delusions and move on from that.” As she tapped her heels with hearing his statements, she couldn’t help but mockingly laugh at him. “I am well aware of the dance that lingers around a masquerade. Don’t you forget, I have danced in the game so much that I could perform it in my sleep. Usually my boldness wouldn’t be this upfront had you not been so… openly confident in showing your true identity like a lunatic running around naked in the streets.”
As his statement began, the wait of this journey piqued her interest as she followed through every direction he had given her. With some confusion, she had wondered quite a lot of things, including why he was quite determined on this journey. Tapping on his shoulder, she looked at him with slight confusion and said, "And to whom are you referring to as ‘he’? I did not expect a third party to come, and I do not care that I look obvious. Who is he? I have my mask unfolded, and I could be implicated in whatever is happening! "
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@Jass - Dante
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