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Post by ruthie van sant on Jan 30, 2011 1:40:39 GMT -7
 ---IN an apartment that spanned the entirety of a block, the penthouse one of the most coveted spots in new york city, ruthie van sant lay sprawled across her bed, the stark whites of her sheets contrasting drastically with the russet colour of her hair. the low futon she rested upon was mere inches from the ground, the minimalistic decorations within the room contrasting greatly with the female who occupied it. whereas the room was simple, the decorations consisting of splashes of colour and metallic furnishings, ruthie was a vivacious, overdramatic female. when her demands were not met, she was positively terrifying. after being coddled by her socialite mother and jolly father as a child, she had come to believe that everything she wished for, she would receive. it was a skewed perspective she held and yet, it was very literally exactly how her life went. if she required a gown for an opening, she had it made by dior without a second thought and when she required a table at the city's most renowned restaurant, she had reservations within minutes. the world was at her fingertips. that was, unless it came to jack. he was unattainable and it drove the female absolutely insane and not in the way she would have expected. in other situations where she was denied the things she wanted, she became unbearably snarky, her seemingly sweet demeanour quickly turning sour; in all honesty, her actions were akin to those of a young child who had been denied a toy. to her parents, it was endearing, but to others, it was an absolute pain to deal with the aspiring actress.
---JACK seemed to derive pleasure from it though, his lips always turning up into that impish grin whenever she complained. her rants were met with laughter and eyes full of amusement. while it annoyed her greatly, it also confused her. did he really gain such enjoyment from her troubled mind? it was utterly frustrating to want something so much and to have it just out of reach, or so she thought. at times, she believed the feelings she held for him were felt by him too, but at others, it was as if there was nothing there but a playful albeit platonic friendship. whenever she voiced her concerns, forcefully interrogating him about whether or not he cared for her, he sent riddles her way, skilfully and carefully dodging every question she launched at him. sometimes, she was bemused by it, enjoying his games of cat and mouse, but that was incredibly rare. she preferred straight answers. even if he held no true feelings for her, she would've favoured it to the constant sense of discomfort she felt when in his presence. of course, it wasn't that she would handle it well, but rather, she would be able to force herself into avoiding him, ignoring him, instead of truly dealing with his rejection. she was quite impractical, she knew, but he drove her to such measures such as the one she was currently partaking in. childish or not, she would not be made a fool of.
---EVER since their immature little spat - or if she was being honest, his mischievous antagonism and her livid rebuttal - a few days prior, she had been screening every call and message from him. although, the frequency with which he contacted her was rather little since she was the one most often doing the pursuing. however, since that disagreement, she had not heard of him and though she played it off as if she did not care in the least, it was beginning to get to her. if truth be told, she enjoyed his playful jibes and careful teasing. he was one of the only people who put up with her sass and lip and it pleased her greatly to have him around; he was a good opponent, to put it simply. she liked that he had a mind of his own compared to all of the actors and actresses she normally associated with. he was a breath of fresh air to her mediocre world. she would never verbally admit to such feelings though - she was much too proud. that's why, as their silence carried on to the fifth night, she was pointedly shying away from her laptop and mobile. she knew, if she were given the chance, that she would ring up the photographer and beg him to take her out. when she was bored with the people she saw on a daily basis, she called him, but as it were, that wasn't an option. it was quite a predicament she was in, the urge to contact him against the desire to withhold herself, to keep her pride. she knew it was silly and unbelievably sophomoric but she could not help herself. it's hard to kick old habits.
---DESPITE the fact that she had intended to remain at home for the night, curled up in bed with old audrey hepburn films, fate seemed to have other plans for her though. the sound of footsteps in the main foyer met her ears and immediately, she was up and out of her bed, throwing on an oversized blue oxford. with hushed steps, she made her way out of her bedroom, back against the wall, as if to hide herself from view of whoever seemed to have gained entrance into her home. it couldn't possibly be her father, for he was out of state due to work and her mother had taken an impromptu trip to paris. "hello?" maybe it was the recent viewing of the shining that had her afraid but as soon as she had spoken, she regretted it. swallowing deeply, she swept a hand through her mused locks, turning the corner swiftly, hoping to catch whoever it was off-guard. it seemed that she was the more surprised one of the two though, as she realized who stood before her. "what are you doing here?" taking note of the flowers jack held, her gaze flicked over his face, quickly appraising his state of dress. it seemed to be nothing but a casual visit and that infuriated ruthie. "who said you were allowed in? get out, jack." eyes flashing with both belligerence and embarrassment, a perfectly lacquered nail pointed toward the door. "go back out the way you came. i'm expecting someone." pausing momentarily, she seemed to throw in for good measure, "someone who isn't annoyingly frustrating like you!" it was obvious by the tone of her that she was unhinged but being an actress, she did her best to portray her frustration through her expression, her current one being a scowl of resentment.
TAGGED jack voclain.
STATUS complete.
MUSIC slow dancing in a burning room, john mayer.
OUTFIT you knowww.
NOTES gah. loveee. it's mainly rambling. my apologies !
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Post by jack voclain on Jan 31, 2011 11:40:05 GMT -7
 ---Jack couldn't quite finger it, apart from the obvious superficial attraction, what drew him to ruthie. clearly, she was the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, nothing she did was ugly, apart from the low key tantrums he'd seen her pull a time or two, but even those amused him. when they weren't, of course, directed towards him. that had happen more then a few times because as much as he thought her games were silly, he played a few of his own, playing keep away with his feelings. it wasn't to taunt her, really, it was just the way he was, he wasn't the most open or forthcoming person, especially in matters of the heart, he'd been in one relationship and one relationship only, he'd dated here and there since moving to the city, but nothing ever serious. no girls had touched him, left a stain of themselves on him so much as ruthie was now, she was trailing into his thoughts almost all the time. her celebrity did nothing to relieve him of this because everywhere he went, there she was, on a magazine, her name falling off this persons tongue. could he blame this on her overexposure or was he just pathetically hyper-aware of her? probably a little of both. mostly the latter, he was sure. what he was sure of was that he was a little more then beyond into her, returning the feelings he knew she had but keeping them just above her head, his doubts about himself keeping them above her. what did she want with him? he was just another photographer crawling around the city, trying to say something and hoping he doesn't get lost in the bustle and fast pace, another small town kid that came her to find something bigger then the family church in his seaside home. he'd grown up around girls like her, spoiled, entitled, privileged etc. small southern towns bred old southern money. he was used to dealing with the low key mood swings and constant demand for ego reinforcement. it didn't mean he'd ever been ready to get himself tangled up in it. he'd never wanted to.
---Until he met her. which confused him, amused him a little when they were on speaking terms and frustrated him as much as he frustrated her when they were on the outs, which was surprisingly common. he didn't give in to her, which pissed her off. he didn't back down, which pissed her off. it seems like everything he did just pissed her off. almost everything she did could piss him off if he were of the mind. most of the time he just counted on the way she rebounded so quickly, she had a hot temper, for sure, but it never seemed to take long for another silly frustration to take priority over him and he listened to her complain about it with an easy smile. her worries were so different from his he couldn't help but find the amusement in them. this almost condescension had worked greatly against him as of late, this had been the longest one of their conversations that hadn't gone exactly her way had deprived him of her company. normally she'd cracked by now, so to speak, and it was almost always her, not because of his pride, but simply because he knew she'd realize. this time though it seemed her stubbornness was making he hold out and he was slowly coming to realize that this time, it might have been his bad this time around. he could see in their last conversation where it had been less about his reservation and more about him exploiting how easily frustrated she'd get with his evasiveness. so, he told himself that morning it he didn't hear from her tonight, he'd call her the next day and offer his apologize. would he answer the question she'd wanted answered? probably not. would that be a dent in his attempts to smooth things over? pretty fucking likely. he hadn't figured in to his plans how much he actually missed speaking with her, her worries might have been petty and shallow, ridiculous to someone who was more worried about making rent then getting the right colour shoe, but they weren't imperfections they were quirks, differences in lifestyles that kept things interesting. so, that evening he'd finally set down his novel after realizing he'd reread the same paragraph five times over and found himself walking to the flower shop and then making the familiar trek to her apartment.
---This probably wasn't the best idea, not with her penchant for tantrums, having her on home field advantage... there was any number of flying objects that could come at him and he wasn't quite sure how good he was at dodging, probably not good enough. he heard her voice and involuntarily a smile pulled over his lips, not the smirk he normally were but an actual smile, in a moment she revealed herself from around the corner, the slight cautionary edge her tone held not visible in her stance, her clear irritation at this unexpected visit from him was there, she was more then slightly mollified he'd had the gall to stop by. "i've come to see you, clearly." he said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world, and it was, when you weren't being stubborn. the photographer lost his composure there, he couldn't help it, a smirk turned up his lips and with a snort he shook his head, before he looked over her appearance again, not caring that she'd notice it this time, "yeah?" a heavy brow arched, "that would be your stylist, i hope." there he went again, here to make amends, soothe her ego, and he was just digging his hole deeper and infuriating her further. "whoever it may be i'm sure they can sacrifice a few moments so i may have them with you." almost calling her bluff. jack considered her expression for a moment and held out her flowers, "for you?" he gave her an almost pout before she could reject them, "these poor innocent flowers need a vase. don't take your disdain for me out on them, they're simply unwilling victims." he told her, an amused look playing under his exaggerated pout.
TAGGED ruthie van sant.
STATUS complete.
MUSIC bombay bicycle club, many ways.
OUTFIT i'll do this later.
CREDIT shameless template stealer. <3
NOTES this will be much prettier tonight, i promise. i love you.
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Post by ruthie van sant on Jan 31, 2011 17:22:19 GMT -7
---THERE were moments when ruthie felt completely in control, of her life, of her emotions, of everything. then again, there were also those moments when she felt as if everything was spiralling out of control and those were the ones she hated the most. as would be expected from a girl of her pedigree, she required constant order and the knowledge that everything went according to plan, to her plan. if others had intentions that did not match up with her own, she was positively awful to interact with. if the coat she was wearing did not correctly go with the boots adorning her feet, or if the bouquet of flowers brought to her door weren't the correct shade of taupe, she would go from perfectly appeased to livid in mere moments. it was one of the many hazards that came with knowing her, something that kept most people an arm's length away or further. although she acknowledged how wearing it was to remain constantly composed, the picture of perfection, she wanted nothing less than the very best available to her. fortunately, those she surrounded herself with had come to terms with her impossible personality. from her family members to those she considered true friends, although those were few and far between, they understood how her mind worked, how she saw life as a stage upon which she was acting. they understood, it seemed, that everything she did, she did with purpose, to enhance the perpetual performance that she called her life.
---ALTHOUGH she knew it was hard to understand for those who didn't know her, who didn't realize her passion, why she acted the way she did, it bothered her. those that didn't comprehend - merely couldn't comprehend - knew her as none other than an actress and a socialite who was two-faced, childish in the worst of ways and mature in the most condescending. although she was less than pleased about the way many perceived her, she thought it in her best interest to toss their snide comments to the wayside, focusing instead on those that mattered to her. those like jack, among others. despite her usual spats and tantrums that ranged from complaining about his inability to ever give her a straight answer to the table she had gotten at per se, he had stuck by her, casually mocking her while still remaining on her good side. it was a wonder how he did it, if she was being honest. if anyone else had ever displayed such impertinence around her, she would have torn them down with a few sharp words from her tongue. that only proved how completely different the photographer was from everyone else. it wasn't just his background or his profession that marked him as an individual, so unlike any of the pompous actors she usually saw, but how she reacted to him. her inability to ever remain angry with him only proved his originality, his utmost singularity.
---SHE could do her best to remain upset with him though. after all, she was an actress, and she could fool anyone into anything, as far as she was concerned. "well, i clearly don't want to see you." the words left her full lips in a rush, perfectly plugged brows furrowing over her eyes in clear agitation. she hated the way he spoke to her, as if she was a colicky child and he was the infinitely wiser older sibling. that's not how it was supposed to work with him, with anyone. most of all, though, she hated that he didn't seem to understand how he affected her, how every word that passed from his lips to her ears left her eager for more. even his brief admissions of affection weren't enough for her - her need was as big as the stars and as infinite as the sky. scowling faintly when she took notice of his gaze sweeping over her form, she crossed her arms across her body, as if to make herself seem imposing. when he replied, a look of amusement across his handsome face, she felt the distinct urge to shout at him, although she kept herself from doing so. "oh, you're terribly funny, jack." consternation flashed across her eyes, she listened as he held the flowers out to her, as if that would appease her, as if that would keep the venom at bay. taking the proffered bouquet from him, she disappeared into the living room, where she discovered the housekeeper humming as she moved about the house, properly rearranging everything her hands touched. once the elderly woman noticed ruthie, she ceased her actions, focusing wholly on the female before her. "gianna, put these in a vase, please." nodding, the housekeeper took them gently, "are these from that boy you see? the one with the camera?" the woman's accent was a mixture of italian and cockney which made for a rather odd combination. without replying, ruthie turned on her heel and made her way back to jack.
---LEANING against the wall opposite him, she levelled him with an irritated gaze. "are you done?" she did not bother to allow him to reply, she moved past him to the door, pulling it open before turning to face him once more. she was being irrational, she knew, considering how she had wished for him to arrive at her door with an apology and flowers, but now that it was truly happening, all she wanted was for him to leave. the emotions raged within her, the desire to keep him with her losing to her overinflated ego. "you can go back to yours and read the shining." the way in which she spoke indicated that there was more she wished to say but which she held back from. how curious it was that around him, she would hold her tongue. "and i hope you had fun at the gala." although the two had originally planned to attend it together, she had opted against going the night of and her words were meant to be a trap, a way to see if he had enjoyed himself without her company. she was expecting the worst but she wanted the best. she wanted the knowledge that he had missed her, had wished she had accompanied him, had preferred her to be there instead of whomever he had ended up attending with. it was wishful thinking, she knew, but a girl could hope.
TAGGED jack voclain.
STATUS complete.
MUSIC older brother, pepper rabbit.
OUTFIT you knowww.
NOTES i love youuuu. i love them, too.
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Post by jack voclain on Feb 7, 2011 21:27:18 GMT -7
---Jack's whims came and went like the waves in the sea, the only thing he ever nailed himself to was his work schedule, after so many years of strict rules and expectations from his father - until he'd met persephone at least- the last thing he wanted to do was live so devotedly to a schedule. at the time it felt like he was even allotted a time in which to laugh, to breath, to smile and he knew it wasn't that strict but he still never cared much for planning and guidelines. he was a day to day person, if he felt like working out or going to the grocery or walking his dog when he woke up that morning he did. if he didn't then he didn't. the only thing he ever really forced on himself was work, because it kept the roof over his head and his belly full. of course this let it be attitude didn't always get him anywhere, he had a streak of procrastination in him he fought daily and when he was forced to make plans he had a hard time sticking to them, which earned him only a few friends that took his quirks into stride. and ruthie. he didn't know how ruthie put up with it, maybe it was just something different from her structured world that he felt like a vacation, who knows, he didn't have a penchant to try and dig that deep for the motivations of others. he tried to take things at face value most of the time, people worked hard on their facades, the only exception, again, seemed to be ruthie. he liked seeing the parts of herself she wasn't trying to play up or play down, he liked to force herself to pull away the curtain and that was generally when she was getting snippy with him but he could work with it, because slowly he saw more of the real her, more then she'd like to think and probably more then she'd like him too.
---He knew half the time she was trying to put on a show, like she never left the last set she breezed from, you could see it in the set of her mouth and the dullness of the light in her eyes, it never seemed genuine like the words she was trying to feed you. sometimes he let her off, let her keep the game going, who was he to judge? how many times had he hid his real self from someone? too many times. sure, it was a little different to keep the act up all the time, ever-changing from person to person, molding yourself to the person you were sure they wanted you to be, but it was her life to do with as she pleased and he had to admit that it was actually kind of fascinating. no matter what face she wore, the pictures she painted, she was forever beautiful. she was in no way truly simple and the complexities frustrated him as much as they enticed him. when she said she didn't want to see him, he smiled instead of acted wounded, it did sting a little but he knew why there was venom behind her words, he'd only brought it on himself, "you don't?" he questioned, amusement lacing his tone which wasn't going to help this whole, coming to apologize bit, but he knew it was a lie. in so many ways he saw right through her but could never quite figure out what was the right thing to say. he almost chuckled as then anger flashed in her gray green eyes, his comments on her attire were not appreciated nor was his humour, oh well, he was used to these little taunts going unappreciated by her. "why, thank you. i try." he replied levelly to her sarcasm, as if it had been lost on him, again, it was the surest way to frustrate her further when he was trying to do the exact opposite in coming here but sometimes.. well, sometimes it was hard to pass up the opportunities she so generously offered up to him all the time.
---Jack couldn't help but chuckle to himself as she tried to hurry him away, honestly he wouldn't have minded leaving he really didn't know what drew him here, why she was so fascinating to him, why it was impossible to extract the woman from his thoughts. they were a horrible match, too opposite in too many of the wrong ways. he held his ground, apart from turning to look at her, he didn't want to leave, at least not until he was sure she'd still speak to him. "i finished it," he told her, a small smirk forming over his lips. ruthie wasn't hard to figure out, she certainly wasn't simple, there were many layers to her, a complexity, but he'd figured it out for the most part. there was a purpose behind most of the things she did, like this question, he took a second to consider the amusement of playing on her jealousy, acting like he'd had a grand old time without her when he really sat at home that night slaving over photoshop and drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee to get through all the retouching and editing. "i would have..." he said, his tone nonchalant, "had i gone." he finished as he took a step towards her, a distance between them that could easily be closed if he reached out to her hip like he wanted to, "unfortunately i had a falling out with my date because i was being a prize dickhead, so i didn't much feel like going," he told her, studying her face, "shame, isn't it?" he said, his hand twitching towards her, before he looked away from her face, chastising himself internally for being a total retard.
TAGGED ruthie van sant.
STATUS complete.
MUSIC ellie goulding, guns and horses.
OUTFIT i'll do this later.
CREDIT shameless template stealer. <3
NOTES i'm sorry i took fifty years. do you still love me?
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