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× Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 27 Aug 2017, 18:52
by Aleksandra
Holding her head high as her world crumbled at her feet had to be the hardest thing that she had ever endured. She was trapped within Diego’s glare, his lips curved in a cruel, yet amused smile. He was enjoying watching her squirm, his thick fingers drumming against the smooth surface of his desk. “I do not feel, Alexis, that you have what it takes to work at my side. You are… weak,” he purred, his voice as smooth as a snake and as cold as ice. The misuse of her name hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she curled her fingers against her thighs, nails biting into the soft flesh as she fought to remain seated.
Her eyes burning with the tears that threatening to spill, she danced her tongue across her lower lip, and ignored the way her body wanted to recoil in repulsion when his gaze tracked the movement. She was a second from raising to her feet, when his eyes finally found hers again, his next words twisting the knife deeper into her heart. “You should have remained partnered with Lance. He could have shown you the world. A woman needs to follow her man, no?” Leaning back in his chair, she watched as he pressed his fingers together, blunt nails pressing into the scruff that decorated his jaw.
I’m not a violent person, I’m not a violent person, I’m not a violent person.
Repeating her mantra, she slowly slid the strap of her bag across her chest, her eyes locked on the papers that littered his desk as she finally moved to her feet. “I’m not Alexis. My name is Aleksandra,” she began, her voice trembling as she swept her hand through her hair. “You know nothing about me, Chef Diego, and you know even less about Lance. It would be an awful mistake to choose him over me, but it is your mistake to make.” She had no idea where she found the strength to smile when she felt like falling to her knees, but she did. Moving to step around her chair, she tried to ignore the scent of sweat and stale cigar smoke as she inhaled, the breath held in her useless lungs as an attempt to calm the panic that tightened her chest.
“There is still time, Saundra, for you to… prove… to me that you are worthy of my time. Until then, I trust you are intelligent enough to find your way out?” His voice had turned to steel in the flash of a second, and she refused to turn back towards him, to look into the horror of his eyes. Snapping her teeth together, she released that breath on a frustrated groan and stepped from the room, her fingers pulling the door closed with a thunderous slam. Pressing her skull to the old wood, she wiped angrily at her cheeks as her tears betrayed her and danced across her skin. Every cell in her body was telling her to head to the studio, to tell her boyfriend that she could no longer handle this – but she didn’t.
It would only prove that Diego was right – that she needed a man to fight her battles for her. Instead, she pushed from the door when she heard his chair scrape across the hardwood. Unsure if he was planning to leave – she turned in the opposite direction, the sound of her heels bouncing off the brick and echoing in her mind as she headed deeper into the city. She had no direction. Hell, she had no idea what she was going to do with her life. I’m not weak, she thought as she pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans, fingers quick to pull up Blaize’s number. Once again, it was him that she wanted to reach out to, to hear tell her that it was going to be okay. His honesty was like a breath of fresh air, and she knew he would tell her if she had been in the wrong. He would help her through this – but instead, she just sent a quick text, letting him know that she’d be late meeting up with him.
How late, well, that depended on where she ended up.
As she made her way down the quiet street, she studied the cracks in the pavement, the webbed wounds in the buildings that surrounded her. Each told a story, and the further she progressed, the stronger those stories became. One building was gutted, the stone exterior crumbling, and the windows boarded up. It looked as though it hadn’t been touched in months, except for the simple white ‘For Sale’ sign plastered to the cracked door that hung precariously off the rusted hinges. Stepping closer, she brought her phone back out and typed in the number, her eyes locked on the name penned beneath.
Winter Falke.
She didn’t think twice as she pressed the call button, the shrill ring breaking through the warm night as she brought the phone to her ear. On the second chime, a soft voice picked up.
“I need an appointment with Miss Falke. Tonight.”
I’m not weak.
Re: × Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 29 Aug 2017, 00:57
by Winter
“Löwenherz Visionär Designagentur, office of Winter Falke, this is Kimberly Lulana speaking. How can I help you this evening?”
The sing-song chirp of her little Hawaiian bluebird floated through the office like a breath of music on a summer island breeze. Kimberly had been an astounding asset to her Canadian branch of her designer firm, and as such, she had been rewarded handsomely. That, along with the woman’s naturally sunny disposition and the obviously charmed life that she lived made for the most incredible secretary that Winter could have ever dreamed of. In all of her years at home, she had never once had a subordinate that was so pleasant to work with, and it pleased her that she had found Kimberly under such fortuitous circumstances.
She had just been about to pack her things to return to Hawaii, when Winter had called her, offering her a better job than just about anyone in town had been able or willing to give the girl. What Kimberly thought was an outstanding salary, Winter thought she was getting away with a steal, considering the quality of the woman’s work as well as the general rise in spirit around the office. She had even taken to the late hours like a real champ, and had only solidified her position in the firm.
Standing slowly from behind her desk, Winter moved to the door of her office as Kimberly’s brows rose and her features twisted into a worried scowl as she was about to launch into a reprimand of the person on the other end of the line. “Well, I don’t think that she will be available on such short not-,” She paused as Winter’s thin hand laid over her shoulder, giving her a gentle, reaffirming squeeze as she gave her a quiet smile. She tipped her head to her office, and the tall, tanned woman just flashed her a bright smile of understanding, and turned back to her phone. “Actually, Miss, it appears that Miss Falke will be able to fit you into her schedule tonight. If you don’t mind giving me a moment to confirm an appointment, I’ll patch you through to her right away.”
With the woman on hold, Kimberly let out a low sigh, recollecting her composure. She had no idea what had come over her, at the woman’s insistent command, but it had simply rubbed her the wrong way. She closed her eyes, gave a gentle shake of her thick, ebony mane, and turned to her computer screen, the moment gone entirely, the weight of her irritation evaporated from her shoulders. The woman on the other end of the line had seemed troubled, and had certainly not earned her ire, so she had been able to keep herself cheery and professional, and as the woman was tapping at the evening schedule for her employer, she was thankful that she hadn’t sounded like a complete *****. The other woman had sounded nice, in spite of her clipped conversation. She would remind herself to apologize before she transferred the woman over.
She glanced over the screen and nodded to herself, before typing, blocking off the time for an appointment that evening as she picked up the phone again. “Yes, Miss? I’ve got you down for an appointment tonight with Miss Falke, and I’ll patch you through to her right away. I apologize for the confusion, and ask that if you have any further needs, don’t feel afraid to contact this office again. You have yourself a nice night, dear.” She put the woman on hold again and tapped at the buttons of her phone, transferring her call into Winter’s office. When the ball had been passed, she sank into her seat and turned to her computer again. The office was busier than she had anticipated when she’d taken the job, clearly.
Having watched the exchange from the glass wall of her spacious office, Winter gave a small smile to herself as she watched her assistant sink into her chair. She was going to do just fine here. She turned to the buzzing of her desk phone and pressed a key on the receiver, tapping her bluetooth jawbone and lifted her chin, letting her cascade of strawberry blonde curls fall back over her shoulder as she tipped her head to glance out a window at the city skyline illuminated by the dying sun, its orange glow only just visible, the fiery disk of day itself fallen beyond the horizon already, her day only just beginning. “Guten abend, Fräulein. This is Winter Falke speaking. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure of my first call of the evening?”
Her voice was a pleasing mix of smooth and rough, of velvet and gravel, the sound of her voice a rarity in any situation, and after the incident even less. Having your throat cut open made one much less prone to attempt much of anything with their voice. The neglect of her vocal chords left her sounding husky and soft, like she had only just tumbled out of bed to answer her phone, which wasn’t too far from the truth. She had only just managed to walk into the office after a short stop across town for a bit of a “drink.” She could still feel the smooth warmth gliding down her throat, even as she spoke. She took a slow breath, and lifted her hand to pass a finger along the jagged scar that marred her face, the mark still alien to her, even after all of this time. Cassidy had called the mark ugly, had called her ugly because of it, and had thrown the incident in her face, had made her come to feel that what had happened to her had been her own fault, that it was a flaw, a weakness of her own design.
Now, a few short years later, she understood what that mark really meant to her. It was strength. It was character. This mark made her beautiful in ways she had never imagined before, and even without the sight of one of her eyes, she wouldn’t rid herself of them even if she could; and she had been afraid of just that very thing the night after she had met Finley. She was glad to know, however, that these things would be with her always.
“I have an exceptional amount of time this evening, in about an hour,” when the sun has finally set to its fullest, “We can discuss your needs then. Shall we meet here in the office, or did you have some other venue in mind?”
Re: × Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 02 Sep 2017, 02:10
by Aleksandra
The silence seemed to last forever as she pressed her hand to the cool stone. She could hear the steady breathing of the woman on the other line, the sound of her nails as they flew across the keys, but she said nothing as she remained transfixed by the cracks in the wall. There was something about the way the moon bathed the abandoned restaurant and lit up its horrific flaws that sent a chill down her spine, even as she was alight with wonder. In the back of her mind, she could hear the warnings so clear, telling her she should end the call and back away. Her mind was at war with her heart, and as Diego’s voice danced across her ears, she ground her teeth together.
I am not weak.
No, but she was broke. She barely had enough money to finish paying for her tuition. How did she expect to be able to afford the building – as well as hire someone to bring her dream to life? Curling her fingers tight around the edges of her phone, she dug her nails into the case and closed her eyes. This is exactly what she knew would happen. Once left to her own devices, she would do something foolish – reckless. At least, this time, she had managed to stop herself just before signing her life away. As the voice on the other line changed, the shift from satin to gravel noticeable, she eased the phone from her ear and shook her head. This had been a foolish, insane, and rather stupid idea.
The building in front of her held such promise that it made her heart ache, but she just couldn’t put forth the funds needed to purchase it. Nor, apparently, did she have the skill. With her mentor’s voice in her mind, his deep baritone breaking through her confidence with the force of a wrecking ball, she pressed her thumb against the ‘end’ key and slipped the phone into her pocket. She should walk away, and leave this idea in the dust, where it belonged.
Instead, she gingerly pressed a heel to the wooden step that lead to the door, the cedar unable to sustain her weight as years of rot caused it to weaken. As it cracked beneath the first step, she flung a hand out, fingers curling around the doorframe. One quick smack to the center of the door caused it to swing open, the hinges creaking before the door splintered as it connected with the opposing wall. Wincing at the noise that she was creating, the brunette quickly eased her way inside, each step made carefully as the flooring threatened to cave beneath her weight.
Re: × Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 07 Sep 2017, 00:28
by Winter
Her greeting, which she had thought to be perfectly cheery, was greeted with a click on the other end of the line. She stood in silence for a long moment, the receiver still tucked against her ear as she stared out of the window of her office, down into the street. Her fingers clutched at the phone, and she gave a long, drawn sigh as she pulled the cold plastic from her cool cheek, settling it into the cradle with a clatter. She was doomed, she supposed, to forever be cursed with the lack of social grace, no matter how well she truly thought she might have been doing. She let one hand rest behind her back, the other lifted to tuck her fingers into the golden band worn just beneath her elbow, hooking the arm into place.
Standing in the quiet darkness of her office, arms hooked behind her back, she stood watching the street beneath her. It was shaping up to be a crisp, clear night in the city. Her office was the last place that she wanted to be, just then. She took a deep breath and, nodding to herself, let her arms release one another, falling loosely to her sides as she turned from the window and snatched her jacket from the coat rack by the door. She turned to the stunning Hawaiian beauty as the secretary turned to the sound of her office door clicking shut, and lifted her hand in a disarming gesture. “I am going out, Kim. You have my cell.”
“Yes, Miss Falke. Will you be back tonight?” The tanned woman at the front desk let her hand rest on the receiver of her phone, the other holding a ballpoint pen tucked between her fingers, the point tapping against a legal pad as she watched her employer, the small strawberry-blonde paused at the door to the elevator, one hand holding the door ajar. She lifted a pale brow and gave the woman a look that gave her all the answer she needed. The exotic beauty gave a nod, and jotted a note before Winter stepped into the elevator and vanished from her view for the evening.
In the elevator, the Bavarian woman checked her bag, finding her firearm and reassuring herself that she was armed. The weight of a pistol made her feel immediately more confident about stepping out into the night on her own, even being dead as she already was. She let out a quiet breath and tugged her jacket tightly around her slender frame, stepping out of the elevator as the doors pulled open. She flicked a wave at the nightwatchman, Edward, she thought she remembered, and without a glance his way, stepped out into the street. The fresh air was a welcome change, immediately making her feel more alive than she had since she’d awoken that evening. She checked her watch, a sleek diamond number that Cassidy had given her, and she reminded herself to replace it soon. The night was only just beginning, and she had plenty of time to explore the city again. Perhaps she would be struck with inspiration, as she always hoped on such a fine evening.
With a swift flick of her hair over her shoulder, she turned and began her evening stroll.
Re: × Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 21 Oct 2017, 02:30
by Aleksandra
If she had thought the exterior of the building had held the key to her dream, the inside was another world in itself. Though the wood had rotted from years of abandonment, and the ceiling bowed down, threatening to crack in half, it was everything she had ever dreamed. Taking a careful step further into the foyer, she paused when she heard a sharp snap, the floor beneath her groaning. The weight she applied caused a board to sway, and when she took her heel away, it splintered in two. Undeterred by the possibility that the building would come tumbling down with every breath she took, the chef continued further inside, her steps carefully chosen to avoid the more decayed flooring.
When she reached the counter, she ran her fingers across the cracked surface, the granite covered in dust and debris. Brushing away few stray cobwebs, she peeled the sticky webbing from her fingers and tapped her nails against the surface, her eyes falling closed as she hummed quietly beneath her breath. The silence was deafening, and yet, her mind refused to accept the fact that she shouldn’t here. This wasn’t where she belonged. She would never be able to achieve her dream, nor would she be able to breathe life into this beautiful piece of death. It was a gutted shell, left to fall into the shadows as it became forgotten. She could tell from the haunted state that it was in, that it hadn’t been thought about in quite a while. There had been no laughter within the walls, no love, no voices.
Running her tongue along a plump lower lip, she finally pried her hand from the counter, the grime that coated her palm forgotten as she made her way to the back of the building. There was a single door left on hanging precariously from the hinges, the glass window shattered into a thousand pieces. Carefully pushing a hand to it, she attempted to straighten it, only to have the wood snap in two. Before she could catch it, the door crashed against the ground, sending a wave of dust filling the air. Certain someone would have heard the thunderous crash that echoed off the barren walls, she waved a hand in front of her face to clear the sudden onslaught of debris, and turned to leave. She didn’t belong here.
Pressing her hand once more through her hair, she quickly made her way towards the exit, only to stop when that familiar, irritating voice boomed through her skull. You will not make it in this line of work, girl, it spoke, the painful truth resonating deep within her soul. Pressing the heel of her palms to her eyes, she tried to block it out, to push it away, but Diego’s voice only grew louder the closer she inched towards the exit. It was like it was demanding her to leave, to run from everything she dreamed of being. It was like this building, she realized, as she let her hands drop to her sides. No one had given it a chance to flourish, and instead, they had allowed it to fall to the wayside, its death swift and cold.
She had to save it.
Without another thought, she reached into her pocket and freed her phone, thumb pressing against the screen to highlight the last dialed number. This time, when it rang, she prepared herself. Though her body was thrumming with anxiety, she refused to give in. She could make it through this. She had to do this – for herself, for Blaize, for this building, as hopeless as it seemed to be. She had to.
She would never forgive herself if she didn’t try.
Re: × Dream Weaver × [Winter]
Posted: 22 Oct 2017, 18:28
by Winter
The night shift at the office was a gravy job, Kimberly always told herself. She was there to answer late-night calls, and to be sure the office didn’t have any late-night visitors while Winter was out doing her thing. The day shift were the ones that had it rough. They never got to even see Winter, and practically did all of the heavy lifting in dealing with customers these days. Kim could hardly even remember the last time she had known of Miss Falke taking a customer in personally. The more she thought about it, the stranger it really was. Though, Winter had always been strange.
The Hawaiian woman leaned against her desk, the eraser of her pencil tucked between flawless teeth as she nibbled at the rubber bit, softer than the wood of the shaft and less likely to jab her with an unwanted splinter. She flipped idly through the catalogue she’d been bringing with her in her bag, figuring it was safer to do her shopping in a book than it was to risk Winter finding her search history on the company computer. She ran her tongue over her lips as she saw a cute sweater dress she’d had her eye on, and lifted a hand to fold down the page in an earmark when the phone rang. The sudden violence of sound made her jump, nearly ripping the page clean from the catalogue. She grumbled angrily at herself and laid the page easily back into the book as she hefted the receiver into her hand, pressing it against her ear.
“ Löwenherz Visionär Designagentur, office of Winter Falke, this is Kimberly Lulana speaking. How can I help you this evening?” Her voice chimed as she answered her phone, about all of the real work she’d manage to get done in the evenings when she had the office to herself.
Outside, the bitter wind all but sliced straight through the coat Winter had tossed over herself. Fortunately for her, the cold didn’t bother her anymore. She could have worshipped Finley for that alone. She pulled at the belt that cinched the coat at her waist, tugging it tighter around her slender hips as she pulled a cap from her pocket, sliding it neatly down over her thick mane of pale red hair. At least, with the weather, her ghastly pale appearance was almost natural. She avoided bright lights as often as she could manage, after discovering their effects, and wanting to avoid drawing that sort of attention down on herself. As she moved down the city streets alone, her heels the only sound that accompanied her as the click-click of every step echoed off the brick walls around her, she felt at ease. This was her city, her new home, and she spent every night walking her streets, learning her secrets.
That was how she had met Finley. How she had become what she was. For that, she’d decided to keep up the habit of the nightly stroll, even long after she eventually learned every brick in this town.
As she glanced around her, soaking in the new buildings, the street signs she’d never seen before, she felt her phone buzz against her breast, where it had been neatly tucked in the pocket inside her jacket. She reached a hand between the widely spaced buttons, and pulled the expensive little device free, checking to see that it wasn’t work.
It was. It was always work.
It was just Kimberly, letting her know that she had a call. She gave a huff through her nose, and pulled the gloves from her fingers, so that she could tap at the screen and return the text.
TEXT
TO: KIMBERLEY LULANA
Fine. Fine. Go ahead and
patch them through. I am
not screening any calls
right now. It should not
be anyone I am trying to
avoid.
She tapped the send key, and closed her palm around the device. She should be getting the connection any second. Sure enough, as she rounded a new corner, the phone in her hand vibrated with fervor. With a gentle sigh, Winter tapped the answer key, and brought the phone to her ear.
“Winter Falke speaking.”
