"museums suck." ; open

[CLEO EVERETT]

Cleo didn’t like this place. It was too big. Normally, she liked places that were wide open and spacious. It didn’t make her feel claustrophobic. But this… this terror of a building was freaking her out. There were so many turns and corners and rooms and archways and hallways and she just knew she was going to get lost. That was another thing about New York that she hated, loathed, despised. There were too many ways. In LA, she knew where everything was. In New York, there were all sorts of ways to get where you were going. There were one too many things of one thing. Like, food vendors on the street and newspaper stands. It was so annoying to have people shouting at her to buy stuff. She wasn’t going to buy stuff from these grimy people on this filthy street. Even thinking about doing so made her shudder. That made her remember where she was though and Cleo winced, looking around. Why did this room branch out in four different directions?! The room in front of her looked empty and too quiet. The room beside her had been full of art students or something, and she’d got out of there as soon as possible. The room to her left seemed to be full of old people who she didn’t mind, but that would make her feel too young and even more lost than now. And, finally, the room to her right. From the few paintings she could see from her standpoint, it looked like an interesting enough exhibit. Maybe she could just go in that direction and stay in there until closing time when a guard or somebody came and told her to get out. Then, they could save her from this stupid maze.

Cleo turned on her heel and entered the room to her right, peering around. What were these even of? Cleo wandered around slowly, peering at each framed painting, trying to figure it out. God, this sucked. It’s not like she was an artist. She couldn’t find any hidden messages, if there were supposed to be. Jeez, she didn’t even know what they were trying to do with this one; the splashes of colors and lack of shapes gave her a headache. Annoyed, Cleo stalked out of the room and straight through the archway in front of her. Another four-way. Not even caring if somebody saw, Cleo spun in three circles, stopped and took that path. Okay. She could handle photography. Photography was pretty and easy to understand. Like, that one of the field of flowers. Cleo wondered where you even found flowers in New York. That one of the skyline looked nice. Deciding that this was a good room to stay camped out in, Cleo sat on one of the benches and leaned back, heaving a sigh. What an awful decision to come here today.

---

words; 482
notes; cleo gets lost a lot.
outfit; oo la la

[/color][/size]

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

Tristan loved to wander the halls of the art museum. It seemed like no matter how many times he would visit there would always be something new he hadn’t seen before. Something new to explore and interpret however you please. The museum was there to inspire him and he was all about inspiration these days. The Head Chef had given him the task to create and new dish for his FIVE STAR restaurant. Though honored, Tristan was a huge ball of stress. It seemed that in all his years of cooking he never thought to have such a huge creative block. He didn’t even know where to begin! Should it be and entrée or a desert? Maybe an appetizer? Vegetarian? Fish? All these questions filled his head as he wandered through the halls of art. And what spices? The restaurant was a French-inspired cuisine so it shouldn’t be to hard. Why could he come up with an idea?

Hearing nothing but the noise of a flickering light, Tristan looked around. Pictures in many different decorative frames were placed creatively across the wall. They looked so realistic… wait, were these photographs? He took a step closer and saw the signature glossy finish of photo paper. A confused smile popped up on his face. Was photography considered art? It seemed like the technology did most of the work. Could there really be hidden talent in pressing a button and flashing a light? He pondered this for a second before he realized that his surroundings were more unfamiliar than usual. Where was he?

“Wouah, je suis perdu!”* he said out loud. His voice echoed slightly and he turned around. There sitting on a bench was a girl he hadn’t noticed when he came in. (Not that he really noticed much of anything with his aimless wandering). Perhaps she knew where she was going? After all, he couldn't stay in here forever. He smiled shyly and walked up to her.

“You would not know how to leave here, would you?” he asked attempting to hide his accent but failing miserably.

*Translation: Wow, I’m lost.

[CLEO EVERETT]

Cleo buried her face in her hands and groaned. She was going to be lost in here forever. Besides, she wasn’t even interested in whatever art was surrounding her. Stupid pictures and whatever. Grr. Ugh. She was so frustrated. Cleo jumped up, surprised, at the sudden voice. The part that surprised her most was probably that they were speaking in a language she didn’t know. He was… kind of familiar? He looked her age so it could have been that they had a class together. There was something about him, basically. Cleo smiled a little sheepishly, embarrassed for having heard him. She fiddled a little with her promise ring as he approached. Please don’t ask how to get out of here… please don’t ask…

Oh, that accent. Cleo was distracted for a moment, by his voice. Accents were so hot. Really. They were. And his was… French? Yes. That’s probably what he’d been speaking earlier. Cleo nibbled on her lower lip and looked at him, all the more embarrassed. “I’m… uh, I’m actually lost, too.” She laughed a little, pulling a hand through her hair. “I’ve been wondering for… an hour, maybe?” She stood up a little straighter and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “What was that you said earlier, by the way?”

---

words; 216
notes; i'm sorry this post is so short, angela. D:
but thank you for replying to this thread<3
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

“What was that you said earlier, by the way?”

Tristan had a sudden confused face. What did she mean? A light-bulb (or flame(; ) went off in his head and he realized that earlier when he didn’t know she was there, he had been talking in French. That must have been confusing.

“Oh the French? I said I was lost…” he laughed trying to avoid embarrassment. This girl didn’t react like most of the people in his college did once they heard his voice. Most of them would roll their eyes and have an expression that said, “Ugh, foreigners always getting lost.” Then they’d talk really slowly and guide him to where he wanted to go. This was unnecessary really… all he needed were directions.

“Oh how rude of me, I am Tristan. And you are?” he asked flashing a genuine smile.

But she seemed genuinely intrigued by it. The French part not him… He took as second look at the girl and noticed she was actually really pretty. He wasn’t partial to any kind of looks but red hair was so interesting. Of course he had seen redheads in Montreal but most of them were fake. Then on her shirt was the wonderful Eiffel Tower. He himself had only seen it three or four times during his visits but it was something. Anyway she seemed nice… which was refreshing to the usual stuffy people in this museum.

With a sudden motivation, he looked behind him and formulated a plan. After all she said she had been wondering around for an hour. He should at least try to help her get out. Even if he had no idea either.

“You think if we both look around, maybe we can find the way out?” he suggested. What was that American saying? Two heads are better together?
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word count: 306
notes: I missed Tristan! x3 Sorry if the post seems kind of choppy Tristan I am in a slightly ADD mood lol

[CLEO EVERETT]

Cleo already felt a little better now that she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t the only one who got lost in stupid art museums, which was reassuring. Her uneasiness had calmed, finally. Oh, he’d said he’d been lost. Well, that made sense. If Cleo wasn’t so easily distracted and bored with learning new languages, she would probably be all over him right now, asking if French lessons. But learning new languages was not her forte and so she’d just continue swimming and shopping and eating sweets.

“I’m Cleo,” she replied, smiling in return. Oh, Tristan. Tristan was a cute name. It suited his appearance. Not to mention the accent that was still making her a bit breathless. Accents were hard to come by in New York. Okay… that was a total lie. Accents that she liked were hard to come by. She’d hated New York accents when she’d first moved there from California. It was like they didn’t know how to pronounce words correctly. Then again, she’d been teased for her accent (which she was unaware she even had) and her constant use of the word ‘like.’ Whatever.

Cleo’s smile widened. Yes! Perfect! It would be so much easier, working together to find a way out. Two heads were better than one, as her grandfather had always put it. Cleo looped her arm through his, finding nothing wrong with the contact. She had always been the touchy sort, anyway. Besides, with their arms linked, there was less chance of getting lost again which would so happen to her if she even lost sight of Tristan. “That sounds like a brilliant plan, doll.”

---

words; 271
notes; cleo gets lost a lot.
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

Tristan wanted to laugh as relief seemed to reach the girl’s expression. To him, being alone and lost was quite awful. He couldn’t bear to not talk to at least one person a day. He was sure that if he ever had to be quarantined it’d be the death of him.

Cleo was her name. An interesting name.
“Cleo. That’s very pretty. Is it a...” he tried to think of the word. His English vocabulary had definitely expanded in the past year but sometimes his brain would be too distracted to find the right words. He looked up to the ceiling thinking and then it came to him. “Is it a nickname?”

"That sounds like a brilliant plan, doll.”

All of Tristan’s uncertainty for his idea disappeared when the friendly smile on Cleo’s face reached her eyes. She made it seem like he was some super genius or something. She even interlocked their arms and did so comfortably. It was like she and him were grade school friends meeting up again. Tristan always loved people like that. He used to encounter many of them at his mother’s restaurant. They seemed to want to be friends with everyone. But Tristan had yet to see one of these people in New York. Everyone was pushy and to themselves.

“How about we go… this way!” he suggested pointing towards a corridor. His mood seemed to lighten and he felt the stress of his assignment fall away. He’d get the inspiration he needed. Right now he should just have some fun. After a bit of walking he decided to say what was on his mind since he met Cleo.

“You aren’t native to New York, are you?” he asked it more like a statement.
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word count: 285
notes: I missed Tristan! x3 Sorry if the post seems kind of choppy Tristan I am in a slightly ADD mood lol

[/quote]

[CLEO EVERETT]

She wasn’t alone anymore, thank goodness. Not only was her savior handsome, he was French and he was friendly. She could’ve come across a jerk that got her more lost on purpose. At least with Tristan, they would end up getting more lost on accident. If they got more lost, anyway. She had to have faith in his sense of direction. It certainly had to be better than hers. Using her free hand, Cleo pulled her hair over her shoulder before looking up at Tristan. She shook her head. “Thank you,” she smiled sweetly, “and nope. What would Cleo be a nickname for, I wonder…” Nicknames were hard to come by when working with a name as simple as Cleo. “If you come up with anything, please let me know.”

Cleo hardly knew Tristan and she already liked him. He was kind and he had an accent and he was helpful and he had an accent and he was super cute. Why couldn’t all New Yorkers be like this? But, no. They had to be people in business suits with their briefcases and then there were others who mugged you or had stupid little ferrets steal from you in the park. As Tristan pointed them in a direction, she nodded and let him lead the way. It was better than whatever ideas she had (which she was fresh out of). Cleo tried to keep from looking at the paintings and photos and sculptures. She knew that something would catch her eye and she’d make them stop and then it would be all the more confusing.

After a few minutes of aimless wandering (no, it was purposeful walking), he asked her a question. It made her laugh. “How’d you know? I’m the farthest thing from a New York native.” Cleo shrugged. “I don’t mind, though. To be completely honest, doll, I hate it here.” Thinking about it made her miss Los Angeles all the more. “I’m from California. LA. How about you?” Her question was colored with curiosity because she’d been wondering from the moment he spoke. Surely, he was from France, right? Or somewhere they spoke French? It was almost embarrassing, how little she knew about other countries.

---

words; 368
notes; :D<3
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

Tristan grinned. He loved coming up with nicknames for people! And this time, someone was asking HIM! He slowed down his pace and put on his best thinking expression. Cleo wasn’t a French name but it did remind him of someone. That queen in Egypt! Cleo…Cleo…Cleopatra! But that wasn’t a french name either.
“Hmmm… this one is tough,” he said, his face in deep concetration. Then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Reine! (sounds like ren)” He smiled. “It means Queen. Like Queen Cleopatra.” He grinned. Hopefully she would like it. He’s never had anyone dislike his nicknames but then again, they never said if they liked it either.

He really was starting to like Cleo. She was so nice to him and not annoyed by his accent. It was nice to see that there were people like this living in New York. Hopefully he would find more. So far almost all the people he’s met have rolled their eyes when he asked for directions, called him Frenchie (but not in the cute nice way Janie does) or insulted his background. He wasn’t sure why New Yorkers hated the French so much but he knew they wouldn’t talk to him long enough to find out.

Cleo seemed surprised by his guess. He laughed in agreement. “The city is nice… The people who were born here are not. And since you definitely are nice, I knew you couldn’t have been born here.” She was from L. A. That was Los Angeles, right? The city where famous Americans usually lived. It was all the way across the country! “That is so far from here! I am from Montreal. I would love to visit California but for now, I’ve only been around in New York.” He had heard there was a Disneyland in California too. He wondered if it was anything like the one in France he visited so long ago.
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word count: 315
notes: Tristan does NOT like New Yorkers. But for good reason

[CLEO EVERETT]

Cleo slowed down as well, wondering what Tristan was thinking about. A nickname was the last thing on her mind. Right now, she wanted out of this museum. Looking around rather absent-mindedly, Cleo was a little worried to see that there were less people hanging around. His sudden exclamation surprised her and she looked to him, curious. Ren? Queen? She smiled. Queen Cleopatra. It was clever and sweet. “Ohmygosh, I totally love it.” Cleo repeated the word, testing it, unsure if she was even saying it right. “Ren? Like that?” she asked, looking up at him. Her mind now set on her new nickname and how amazing Tristan was, Cleo was unconcerned about the lack of people. She didn’t mind wandering around with him for awhile.

The museum was quiet but in a rather calming sort of way. It was the sort of quiet she didn’t mind. With Tristan at her side, she felt safe enough to not worry about being lost or the walls closing in on her. Claustrophobia sucked. Shaking her head, Cleo ignored the panic that hadn’t started to settle in her chest. She was fine. She was okay. The walls weren’t moving. “Do you know where we are?” she asked, a little teasingly, but mostly concerned. Okay, she was starting to freak out a little.

“The city would be nicer if there were less buildings,” she complained. “You’re right, though. The people are far from nice.” Cleo smiled. Compliments left and right; she loved it. “Thank you. I do my best to be nice to everybody.” Cleo paused. Unless of course Tristan had a girlfriend. She was sure she could be nicer enough to the girl; it all depended on how she behaved. “Montreal, Canada?” She asked, knowing that this was a stupid question. Why hadn’t she paid attention during Geography? “Oh, California is lovely. I love it to pieces.” Cleo stopped herself there, knowing that if she went on any further, she’d end up ranting and raving about how Los Angeles is perfection and how much she missed it and ho—Well, yeah.

---

words; 348
notes; :D<3
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

“Yes, you said it right.” He grinned and couldn’t stop. She liked his name for her. Summer never said anything to him about her nickname. Maybe she thought it was mandatory for the tutor session or something. But he never gave Janie a nickname. I guess he never really thought of that… But Cleo loved hers! That made him feel like maybe today, he could be creative. He’ll make that dish, no problem. And his head chef would love it. Maybe he’d even have his name on the menu! Tristan felt like skipping but he remember he was attached to a pretty girl who at the moment was asking him where they were. Albiet in a very teasing manner.

“In truth, I have no idea,” he admitted feeling rather foolish for not knowing. He did volunteer to help her. Now why was that? Well, she was his age and very pretty and so nice. He found himself wondering why he couldn’t really see her as anything more that pretty and sweet. Deep in thought, he almost forgot he was being talked to.

“Yes. Montreal is in Canda. Although most people think I live in France.” He laughed looking around the room. A weird thought had appeared in his head when he trying to find reasoning to his inability to flirt. Janie. Really he thought about her too much. She was just a friend. His student. Tristan pulled himself out of his thoughts and continued his search. He spotted a long window and walked that way. He cheered when it turned out to be a door. But when he opened it, there was only another room.
“Well, this is bad,” he frowned. “My apologies.”

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word count: 283
notes: Psh, Tristan you totes love Janie. x3

[CLEO EVERETT]

Awesome. She had a new nickname and a new friend. Maybe she’d go out and buy some new shoes after this. Then she could just go about flaunting her new-ness. Yes, that sounded nice. And then after that, she would take a nice, long, hot bubble bath. Planning the rest of her day was reassuring. It gave her a feeling of finality. It made her know that they were going to get out of here. With this new (yay new!) agenda in mind, Cleo felt a spring in her step. “I really do love it. It’s unique!” She nodded, grinning. Ren. Was it R-E-N? Was she spelling it wrong. “How d you spell it?” she asked, embarrassed.

Cleo laughed a little nervously. Okay, so he didn’t know where they were either. That… that was okay. They’d find their way out of there eventually. This place couldn’t be that big. Sure, there were lots of exhibits and archways and rooms and – It didn’t matter. They would find their way out of here. They would find their way out of here. They would find their way out of here.
Ah, she’d been right! Canada. “Well, with the accent, I wouldn’t be surprised, doll.” Did they speak French in Canada? She needed to catch up on her Geography. She needed to buy an ‘Other Countries for Dummies’ book or something. They must’ve had that right? Those Dummies books had everything. Cleo looked at him as he looked around. He didn’t look too sure about their location. Well, no more sure than he had been when she answered her question. Leading the way to what seemed to be either a window or a door, she wasn’t sure, Cleo hoped for an exit. Why would there even be windows that looked like doors or doors that looked like windows? All the more reason to hate this place: it played tricks on you.

Cleo glared into the room ahead of them. “I hate this place,” she muttered bitterly. “Should we go through this way then?”

---

words; 339
notes; :D<3
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

Oh no, she wanted Tristan to spell. His accent always made the letters sound funny when he tried to spell like an American. Oh well, Cleo hadn’t gotten frustrated with him thus far. “Um… R…E…I…N…E… reine,” he said. The way he did that slightly reminded him of a spelling bee. Had he done those when he was little? He was pretty sure he did at least one. Although they were French so he didn’t have to worry about confusing people.

Speaking of worrying, Cleo seemed to look really upset for a moment when Tristan admitted to being lost. He felt kind of bad for giving her false hope. He did say he would help her. Well, he wasn’t being very helpful now! He kept walking and continued the conversation. Being lost didn’t seem so bad to him if there was people to talk to. Maybe she felt the same? “Yes but not many people know that there is a French quarter of Canada where everyone sounds like me,” he said looking around once more. “They have my accent I mean.”

Where were they? It looked like he was wrong about the two heads things. It seemed that a third person who actually knew the place would be necessary. But there was no one here… There weren’t even signs with arrows. He nodded his head. “They want us to get lost, no? Let us go this way. I think the entrance is through the next room,” he mumbled. Opening the door, he let Cleo pass through it and spotted another door on the opposite side. There was natural light coming through that door and the lobby of the museum was clearly visible. “Look, mon ami. We are found!” he cheered pointing to the door.


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word count: 293
notes: The spelling sounds so funny on English-French Google Translator xD

[/quote]

[CLEO EVERETT]

Reine. Ren. Queen. Brilliant. Tristan was good company. He was different than most people he hung out with. Patient, for one, which most New Yorkers seemed to be unaware of. She couldn’t even walk down the street without being run into. “Reine.” she repeated. “I definitely like it. Thank you!” Cleo smiled. She’d need to get his number so they could hang out more often. It would probably be good to get to know him a little better. All their aimless wandering had either been in silence, discussing her nickname, or whining about being lost. That was probably a little bratty on her part. Oops. Tristan had been sweet enough, though, so perhaps he didn’t mind. Hopefully.

“I didn’t know until you just said so,” Cleo admitted, laughing, embarrassed. “I don’t pay enough attention, evidently.” Which was true. Still, it was part of her avoid New York plan. Don’t pay attention to the city or you might just end up liking it. Like the skyline at night which she’d seen a few weeks ago while on her way back to Barrie from her mom’s house. It had actually been really pretty.

Her stomach felt like it was twisted in stupid little knots. Being lost was starting to get to her. “No kidding,” she muttered, agreeing wholeheartedly. This stupid museum and the lame employees and other things she could blame seriously wanted people to get lost. They were probably watching on their stupid security cameras and laughing. Oh… her paranoia was not helping, she realized, at a sudden bout of light-headedness. Cleo went through the door, dipping her head in a silent thank you, when Tristan spoke. She looked up and nearly – well, she did – squeal in delight. Cleo’s nervousness completely melted away and she smile at Tristan, feeling as if he were the best person in the entire universe right now. “Thank you so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooooooo much!”

---

words; 322
notes; my cleo muse is nowhere to be found so
this post is also pretty lame :/
outfit; oo la la

[MICHEAL "MIKEY" COLBERT]

Tristan held the door open for Cleo once more and followed her in. The people on the busy streets of the city never looked so refreshing through the glass doors. He couldn’t take it in too long before Cleo was literally overflowing with thanks. It slightly surprised him. Was she really that relieved? Was she really that scared to begin with?

“Oh you are welcome. In truth, I am very happy to be out of there also,” he admitted. They stood in the front lobby and Tristan realized that once all of the colorful paintings were gone, his nerves for the new original recipe disappeared. It’s as if the gorgeous art was adding to his stress. How odd. He shook it off and wondered what he should do next. Cleo had been so nice to talk to him and everthing. What did the Americans do after they meet some one who they want to be friends with? He couldn’t just leave with a thank you; that seemed rude. Maybe he could give her his number or… coffee! Tristan could use something sweet and caffeinated.

“Now that we are out of this mess… Would you care to get some coffee? If you are not late for anything else,” He suggested. There were plenty of Starbucks shops around the area but Tristan never really liked chain resturants. There was a coffeehouse right across the way though. It had really good pastries even for New York. Oh, he was definitely in the mood for one of those. “There is a place a few blocks from here. Do you like sweets? They are known for their pastries.” He did a mental check to make sure he had his wallet and then smiled.



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word count: 288
notes: SWEEEEETS

[CLEO EVERETT]

Freedom! They were finally out of that stupid museum (sort of) and they weren’t lost anymore and she could finally breathe and not die in there and, and--. She really needed to calm down. Being over-excited probably wasn’t the most attractive thing ever. Still bouncing on her feet, though, Cleo spun around, enjoying the openness of the lobby. Thank God. Thank Tristan. She would still be sitting in that stupid room if it weren’t for him. Unable to resist, she threw her arms around his neck in a hug and held on tight for a moment. “Thank you! she said again, letting go and stepping back. Still beaming, Cleo looked around some more. It was bright and noisy, more so than within the museum, anyway. There was a group of school kids, probably about to be taken on a tour.

She looked to him as he spoke. As if saving her from this wretched place wasn’t nice enough, he was inviting her out for coffee. Sure, she was very picky about her coffee and she usually only ever went to Starbucks, but the gesture was sweet. So, she couldn’t say no. “I don’t have anywhere to be,” she answered. “Coffee sounds nice.” She wondered where he was talking about. Gingey’s was known for their pastries, but if it was located near the museum, she had no idea. “I love sweets. I could live off of sweets.” She laughed a little. She was sometimes surprised that she hadn’t died of a heart attack or something from all the unhealthy food she ate.

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words; 262
notes; sorry it's short~
outfit; oo la la