Glitter in the Air (Rowena) COMPLETE

[ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT]

Rowena scoffed and smirked at the muttered comment, though she offered no verbal response. It was not surprising, coming from her. Like you would know. Her dreams were not unpleasant, not any more. When her sister had first died she'd had plenty of nightmares about losing Altair or heartbreaking fantasies in which Syria was not dead after all, it had been a false identification on the body. It had not helped that she had went with Altair to view the body herself, to see her own spitting image lying cold and dead in the morgue. Her dreams had still haunted her by giving her a hope that would be crushed each time she gasped awake and and opened her eyes. Now her dreams were kinder, dreams that made little sense but did not need to. As long as they were not the chilling terrors from those darker points in her life, she would be fine.

The Thunder girl narrowed her eyes at the mocking tone, not looking too pleased about it. Are you taking the piss? She did not have a fiery temper but that did not mean she was immune to having her feathers ruffled or her pride poked fun at. Rowena's pride was a fairly fragile thing. Poke her ego a couple of times with the right stick and it might shatter like glass. "What were you expecting, applause?" Her tone was not quite mocking but the words said enough themselves. She didn't have a lot of enthusiasm and excitement in her and what little remained was saved for things concerning fashion and her sister.

Just as her ego was easily bent and bruised out of shape, however, it was also fairly easy to stroke it. She didn't bother to hide the glow of pride that she felt upon receiving the brief praise. "The colour caught my attention," she said, her voice softening and losing the cold edge of irritation that it had contained before. Fashion was something she loved and thus one of the areas where opinion mattered. If someone spoke badly about her designs she would feel hurt and if they handed out a compliment she would appreciate it, hold it close. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was a right bitch at times, but Ro wasn't complimented a whole lot. She was going to say something else about the dress but Jessie's phone went off, interrupting them both. Rowena bit back any words that might have otherwise escaped and went back to her artwork in silence, tuning out the conversation in the background. Sometimes she liked to eavesdrop and find out details about others but she didn't feel a phone conversation would be anything interesting.

The girl shook her head as if to say that it was fine when Jessie apologised. She didn't care, really. It hadn't been any of her business and it had given her time to focus on the painting. The shell was more evident now and it was clear that the work wasn't meant to be a final project. She only spent days, weeks and months on truly special pieces. "I'm a model," Ro confessed, and she was built like one too—tall, long-legged and so thin it could be considered unhealthy. Traces of the eating disorder still remained. She had gained some of the weight back, but not all, convinced that they wouldn't want her as a model if she couldn't fit into anything and everything. "But what I'm really interested in is design. I want to have my own line some day." She spoke simply and lightly, though there was a tad more colour to her words than when she'd spoke of art and a smile touched her lips. Fashion felt like her calling.

[kenna1]

Continuing from before her little phone chat, Jessie shook her head in response to Rowena’s unanswered question. ”Applause from you? No, never.” Applause would cause effort for an act towards someone else. A sign of affection for someone other than herself. Jessie had the feeling that Rowena saved her emotions for herself and very few others. Strangers were probably on the bottom of her list. Jessie was the opposite. She loved getting to know others and hated it when people were shy and awkward during their first meetings. The artist took it upon herself to not just break the ice, but smash through it so the whole experience was over with. She moved on from it and treated most people like old friends. It got her farther than cementing a sour look on her face. When was the last time she ever really got angry? Must have been some time ago if she couldn’t think of it so easily. ”At least from what I’m starting to pick up from you,” she said.

The brief look of satisfaction from Rowena made Jessie smile even wider. ’A break through!’ she thought. She was making a list of Rowena’s very own do’s and don’t’s as the conversation went on. Do talk about fashion, art, and throw a compliment in every know and then. Do not force an answer from her, patronize her, or expect much of a discussion from the girl. ”Hmm…it’s is a nice color,” Jessie agreed. She leaned against the easel holding the dress and absently traced the dried caked up paint along the wood. The color was deep in its saturation while still remaining somber looking. Much different from anything in Jessie’s color palate when it came to clothes. It reminded her of the beautiful sunset nights back in her adolescent home in Texas. The town and it’s people were crap, but the environment was unlike anything Jessie had been use to. Just flat dry land that gave her the perfect views of the sun setting. When the blues of the impending nighttime just started to mix with the bright reds of the hot Texas days. The dress could easily fit in to the color scheme. ”I always love looking at custom clothes because I can’t sew to save my life. Probably because it requires patience.” The artist couldn’t hold the laugh in as she poked a bit at herself. She couldn’t dial herself down completely now for the younger girl.

Jessie’s eyes lit up upon Rowena’s declaration about being a model. She bit her tongue before rushing in on her usually bombardment of questions. A three second rule around the blonde girl might be more effective than what Jessie was use to. ”That makes sense then,” she admitted. Smart of her to couple her love of design with something like modeling. Of course Rowena couldn’t pick and choose what she was naturally good at, but the combination worked out in her favor. ”Designing will always be a great thing to fall back on when you feel like you’re done with modeling,” she admitted. The appropriate age span for modeling was so much smaller than that of design or fine arts. Maybe Rowena had more going for her behind that tough exterior she seemed so easy to show. With design it didn’t matter what you looked like, how old you were, or what kind of person you were. It was your work that stood on it’s own to be accepted into the world. A major appeal for Jessie herself. ”A pretty face is nice, but with nothing else backing that up there isn’t far to go,” Jessie mused. Rowena’s painting seemed to be coming along nicely from what Jessie could see. She had no idea what she was aiming for in the end, but it was nice just the same. ”Do you have any sort of formal training with fashion design or have you just been winging it?”

[ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT]

It seemed that Jessie was learning enough of Rowena's attitude to pass some kind of a judgement on her, not that the Thunder girl was all that phased about it. She was a Thunder, after all, that was the key word. She judged people all the time regardless of how long she'd known them or what they had or hadn't done to her, why would she gripe about someone else doing the same? "Oh, look, you're learning." Her words lacked real enthusiasm or tone but they were not intended to be cold any more than they were warm. It was simply Ro, live and unedited, saying anything and everything that came to mind. She wouldn't make for a good public speaker. She didn't have the friendly and likeable attitude about her.

Apparently they were agreement on the colour of the dress, which admittedly was some kind of progress given their opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to personality. "It's not my favourite or anything," she remarked with a thoughtful frown, "but it's nice. I prefer blues and greens, though. And light colours." All right, so the quiet and irritable Thunder broke some sort of a stereotype that she'd be all dark and foreboding all of the time with her lifestyle choices. And she didn't listen to a lot of heavy music, either, favouring light piano ballads and some of the poppy songs that came on the radio. Not that she'd admit the latter if you asked her about it. She looked over at Jessie and blinked, seeming to judge her without speaking. Hm. Do we have a type, designers? I guess she's not the type. She mulled over her own thoughts for a second or two longer in which her unwavering blue stare might have been a bit uncomfortable. Then she said, "My mother taught me when I was a kid." The mother that she now hated and didn't speak to. This was not evident in her tone, which was light and matter of fact. "I like sewing. It helps me think." It was a generally quiet and solitary activity and as a Thunder, that was what Ro liked.

A light laugh brushed past her lips and she shook her head. "Done with modelling? I don't think that'll be any time soon." In a way she knew she should have hated what it had done to her. It had reduced her to a shell of her former self that used drugs and forced herself to throw up for the simple sake of feeling good about herself. She was past all that now but it was modelling that had brought it on. And yet she'd went back to modelling, loyal as a dog, because it was something she knew that she could do. A talent. One of her only ways of making money without flipping burgers in McDonalds. Her brows raised but she kept any irritation about the comment to herself. "I always figured I'd juggle them both." It wouldn't be hard, she assumed, but then she didn't know much about business. She was trusting her skill to get her by and with no experience in the world of design other than sewing up and recreating clothing, she couldn't be certain.

As if she'd read Ro's mind, Jessie inquired about her formal training. Self-consciousness kicked in and she very nearly found herself lying and insisting she knew what she was doing. Would it be too obvious? She went back on the plan to fib and replied, "Winging it. I'm going to college for it, but." There wasn't a lot of 'formal training' she could have gotten through high school anyway. Not here, not at the Academy.

[kenna1]

”Me, I’m all about bright colors. Like the neon lights of a shop or the bright graffiti tagged all over the streets. Any sort of mish mash people stay away from I love.” Her bright yellow leopard leggings were a testament to that. Her current outfit was pretty demure by her standards even. ”But purple is my go to. I have at least two different purple wigs in my closet for when I feel like mixing it up.” Jessie was huge on costumes more than real clothing. She had an assortment of wigs she had been building up from all of her different performances and she still found that the best place to find interesting clothing were thrift stores. In her poorer days she shopped there because it was all she could afford, but now it was a must. The artist would pick up some small piece of clothing and then it would be months before she found a piece to go along with it. All the tiny pieces she had let Jessie mix and match for what seemed like an endless amount of possibilities. What was with that intense stare down she was getting from Rowena? ”Oh, Momma Ro. Isn’t that sweet. All my mum taught me was how to pack my bags before she kicked me out.” There had been a time in her life when that bothered her. Today she could care less seeing as she did just fine on her own.

” You’re not going to model until you’re like… fifty or something? Modeling up orthopedic shoes or something?” Fifty normally wasn’t that old, but to Jessie it seemed like having one foot in the grave already. Her restless soul would sleep when she was dead. Jessie sympathized for the blonde girl in front of her. As great as the Academy was, Rowena would not be receiving the sort of education that other’s in her field were privy too. She gave the girl an encouraging look. ”You have to do what’s right for you, you know? With art it’s all about growth, talent, and sadly luck. And not everyone gets that through higher education. I dropped out of an Art Academy in London before finishing my freshman year and believe it or not, I’m doing more than okay for myself. Despite how many times my teachers told me to give up and despite that I don’t have some rubbish paper telling people I have a degree.” For once she was dead serious as she talked to Rowena. Jessie’s path was not a common one for most successful artists and they viewed her career as maverick. Her stroke of luck came to her when she was living in her packed housing with all her fellow drop out artists. Her now good friend Jason Immonen plucked her out of obscurity and filmed her life for three months. With their combined talent, the documentary about Jessie’s struggling life gave her overnight fame.

Learning? This must be what they meant when they said teaching could be a learning experience even for the teacher. That was some deep shit there. If Jessie didn’t make it as a teacher or if her art career went sour she could always make up fortunes for the inside of fortune cookies. ’That would actually be a fun sort of job,’ she thought. Making up stuff that people took seriously or providing them with a little positive note to cheer them up after consuming so much MSG. On that note she could even be one of those phony phone in physic who put on fake a fake Jamaican accent and ‘predicted the future.’ That was an accent Jessie could fake, along with a pretty decent stab at an American one. ’Call me now, that cards don’t lie!’ Jessie chuckled at her own little private joke. ”You ever notice that people in North America can’t really get our accents right. It’s either some botched up stab at a cockney accent or some weirdo trying to be posh. Like ‘’Hello, I’m the Queen!” Random? Yes. But Jessie couldn’t help it at times. ”Or how they just pile up your plate with loads of food?” she coughed a bit before putting on what she thought was a standard American accent. ”Welcome to the Red Shrimp, you wanted mozzarella sticks? Here’s eighteen!”

I have a feeling that place is not called Red Shrimp, but I'm too lazy to look it up.

[ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT]

Rowena thought about it for a moment before deciding that the sort of yellow or green that would make one's eyes bleed seemed to suit Jessie pretty well. The snide internal judgement was accompanied by a flicker of a smirk on the surface but no words, as per usual. Just because she was judgemental and vindictive didn't mean she always opened up to others about what she thought. She was blunt when she wanted to be but there were days when she had no interest in being so whatsoever. "Purple is nice." It was another of her top picks, usually a light lavender or a shade of plum, but her words didn't suggest this as much as they might have had she been a more invested person. Ro blinked, wondering if the words were truth. Would Jessie really reveal something like that so openly? Hell, a lot of people could almost assume that Rowena didn't have parents for how little she talked of them. She hadn't spoken to Mum and Dad in years and she didn't plan on it. Unsure of how to respond, she did her usual and stayed silent.

She didn't like to think about getting older, about losing the thing that made her money. In her mind she wanted to believe that she'd be young forever. It was naive and it was stupid, she knew that she couldn't stop or even slow the progression of time, but as long as she avoided thinking about it she felt comforted. It was technically not Jessica's fault that Rowena had some issues with herself but the Thunder found herself irritated by the comment. "Very funny," she said, the words dry and tinged with sarcasm. "I'm nineteen," she reiterated. "I don't have to worry about that yet." There was a hardness to her tone that had not been there before, as if she was daring the teacher to argue with her on the matter. There was defiance glinting in the blue eyes of the Thunder and a defensiveness as well.

It was not too much of an effort to stay calm (she was no Fire, after all) but Rowena remained a little on edge now that the thoughts of her youth eventually fading away had been planted in her mind. "Some people won't even look at you if you don't have a degree nowadays," she said with disgust in her tone, though it was not directed toward Jessie. Rather, she spit venom into the air around her and thought about how unfair things were becoming. "So I figure I'll try for it either way." Jessica might have been able to make a name for herself without getting a degree but Rowena was not all that confident. She didn't know if she'd be able to make her way through the world of fashion design if there were people out there that would turn her down or accuse her of not taking herself seriously based on the lack of a degree. Then there were the ordinary jobs most people were forced to take on while they fought their way to the top of an artistic field. They expected education a lot of the time, too. It was ridiculous.

The comment on accents seemed sudden and entirely random. Rowena, who was paying more attention to the canvas than the woman, had no idea where it had come from and didn't really care much. She turned her head toward Jessie and the judgement was in her expression as she lifted her eyebrows and looked skeptical. Oh, she agreed with her—most that tried to imitate an English accent or any of the others from Britain failed miserably and made fools out of themselves. Agreement wasn't what was on her mind, though. No, Rowena was thinking about how daft it was to bring that up out of nowhere. She blinked slowly at Jessie and, brows still raised, asked, "You mean Red Lobster." She'd never been to one before but there was one on the road she usually took to get to the Academy every morning and she knew those familiar road-flanking shops well. She didn't know how else to respond, still trying to figure out why Jessie had brought this up out of nowhere. She was too judgemental for all this.

[She's so difficult, haha.]

[kenna1]

”Just nice?” she gave Rowena an incredulous sort of look ”Purple is the best basic color of all the possible primary color mixings. It’s a great mix of warm and cool. Regal, meditative, and non-judging. Rumor has it that purple is the most favored by artists.” Purple was probably the most used color in her own work, so to her it was easy to believe the obscure fact. The color had a calming almost meditative hold of the teacher. When shopping she had to hold herself back form buying too much of it. Wearing one color exclusively freaked Jessie out, except for the case of Johnny Cash. That man could wear all black any day of the week and still be a cool icon in her book. Man was still able to bag a hot woman like June Carter all while crooning on about rings of fire and walking the line. That also made him a player by her standards.

”Ahhh, so now I’m funny?” bringing their conversation almost full circle. She was unfazed by the icy attitude. Her immunity to the model’s attitude was growing with every snide comment she threw out. ”Only nineteen?” she repeated. She was the same age as her younger sister Scarlett. Jessie highly doubted the two would know each other though. Scarlett enjoyed silence, only because she was too busy studying and too meek to socialize as much as her older sister. Rowena would eat Scarlett alive if the two ever crossed paths. ”Oh well, then you have a way to go before Father Time comes knocking on your door, yeah.” ”Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be modeling your own stuff in magazines and such.”

She had to respect the practicality of Rowena’s statement. Their generation wasn’t like the days of old. The economy was even the most menial of jobs were hard to come by. They were pushed to go to University now more than ever. Not Jessie though. She was like that rare 1% to go her own way and not be validated by a piece of paper. If only it was like that across the board. ”As long as you follow your own instincts you can’t be faulted for anything.” The artist didn’t have a vendetta against anyone who wanted to receive higher education. In fact it was rather noble. Education usually meant more liberal mindsets. Nothing worse than stubborn greedy old conservatives spewing their hate and money everywhere.

Lobster! Not shrimp. Shoot…so close on that one. ”Oh yeah, Lobster!”, she snapped her fingers in her ‘a-ha’ moment. ”Poor little things forced into those glass containers only to be boiled up with some butter.” A sympathetic pout formed on her lips at the mere thought of it. Defenseless little creatures hit the already soft spot in her heart. Humans wouldn’t be so cocky placed in a ring with a vicious lion, but take a poor little calf, grazing in a field without the protection of their mother. Then BAM, a bullet straight between the eyes and you’ve got yourself a murderous burger. It was proven that one could live a healthy and fulfilled life without taken others. ”Poor, poor Lobsters. Murdered and then the deformation of their character smeared all over those billboards.”

(Jessie Yates, at your service.)

[ROWENA AUDREY BENNETT]

Apparently the woman had a passion for the colour purple beyond Rowena's feeling for any shade of anything and the Thunder once again found herself making judgements as she blinked critically at the teacher. First impressions were everything for the girl given that she was the type to make rapid and often unfair decisions about her views of others. Jessie was teetering on the edge of annoying in the blonde's eyes. She was an artist, sure, they had something in common, but Ro had things in common with a lot of people that she couldn't stand. "It's just a colour," she objected, looking doubtful. Maybe it was the best colour or something like that but that was not how Rowena judged things. She didn't go on theories or anything of the sort, the girl just picked a colour that looked pretty and called it a day. "Not me." She might have been an artist, albeit not one as serious as the other woman in the room with her, but she could not call purple her favourite colour.

Rolling her eyes, Rowena shook her head. No, no you're not. Jessie had taken her sarcasm and flipped it around to combat her but she wasn't going to bother biting the hook. If she'd been more aggressive and combative she might have snapped in irritation but that was not her style. "I already told you this, but yes." The impatience coloured her tone. She'd mentioned her age when Jessie had lumped her in with the kids in high school. She didn't consider herself to be one of them despite the fact that she was in the 'twelfth grade'. She wasn't about to waste her breath explaining how she'd came to the Academy late and been set back a couple of years but her age was enough. "That's the plan," she said, her voice losing the snide edge as the conversation settled back into something that didn't set off her insecurities. She loved the idea of modelling her own work and she hoped that, vain as it sounded, she might one day get the chance to live that dream. "And I've got plenty of time." She felt the need to stress this for her own security.

Following her dreams had seemed like it would be easy when she was a little girl and there were no problems in her family. She'd had both her sisters and the backing of her parents. Syria had always encouraged her sketches and her designs and she'd felt like she could conquer the world. Then everything had gone to shit and the dreams felt like they would never happen. Now those childhood dreams were all she had left to cling to. She'd get there in the end or she'd run herself into the ground trying, she'd decided.

Jessie seemed to think it was a good idea to launch into a spiel about how cruelly the lobsters were treated. Did she think that everyone was going to agree to her or was she simply passionate enough that she didn't care whether Ro was in agreement or not? Either way, the Thunder made a noise of amusement in her throat. "Those poor lobsters are delicious smeared in butter," she said, insensitive as ever. She might not have been to Red Lobster in particular but she'd tried lobster before and she'd found it to her taste. It cost a lot of money, unfortunately, and money was something she wasn't rolling in.

Pulling out her phone to check the time, Rowena rolled her shoulders and then started to pack away her art supplies with a, "Well, that's me done for the day. Have fun with," she glanced around the partially trashed room and shook her head, "whatever it is you're trying to do." She shouldered her bag full of supplies and flicked her long hair behind her before heading for the door.

[This can end with my post or yours? (And I'd be up for a follow up in the future~)]

[kenna1]

Rowena was filled to the brim with malice directed at the world. Kurt Cobain would have a field day with the load of inspiration coming from the blonde. Jessie felt as though someone was testing her optimism and patience here. Like they want Jessie to feel as though she just stepped out being stuck in a dryer cycle. How could someone be so… blasé all the time?

A spark of emotion other than bubbly set in her face after Rowena’s little butter comment. How about she locked the nineteen year old in a jail cell somewhere only to ship her off to some cannibal tribe in South America. Blondie wouldn’t be so snippy then would she? An extreme comparison, but the girl had finally struck a major nerve with artist. Oh how she wanted knock the girl a few pegs down and show her a little bit of humility. Had she gone off on Rowena when she told Jessie she was a model? That would have been the perfect time to assault the girl on fashion trends killing or harming poor animals all in the name of fur and leather. Or perhaps bring up the horrible working conditions of sweat shops to the oh so snide blonde. The artist placed her hands firmly on her locked hips and clicked her tongue. If the student thought Jessie was talkative now, the girl had no idea what was brewing inside the artist.

’Remain professional,’ she coached herself. Just because she was given the title of teacher didn’t mean she could force feed her opinion on the students. ’Bottle it up and save it for your work girl.’ Jessie let out a sigh, offering Rowena a bit of a smile. ’Don’t fight fire with fire,’ she thought. ”It was nice meeting you Rowena,” By the end of the week, Jessie would probably forget most of the conversation the two had, and any sort of resentment she had for Rowena’s insensitive comments would be history to her. Hell, she might only remember her even as blonde model girl. ”Good luck with your work. I look forward to hearing about it.” Hopefully one day she would stumble across the girl’s future work in a magazine. She wanted to see a success story come from this Academy and maybe Rowena was the first to come. As the girl left the art room, Jessie turned her attention back to the book pile, a genuine pout forming on her lips. Now she had to clean up this mess she had started. Maybe she’d get around to that later…

I'd love to thread the two together sometime in the future. Maybe after Jessie's had her spirit broken a bit from a few classes, or maybe Rowena's toughs it out for a little advice.