☆ // YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME

[aurora.borealis]

1 x 1 between aurora and belle - unless you're us please don't post!

[aurora.borealis]

╔══════════════════════╗
x niamh (nee-ave) scaife x the influencer x 17 x cis female x bicurious

Niamh is a key player in Upper East Side society, with her opinions
on fashion and culture being considered as second to none. She's
exuberant and has an opinion on everything, which she voices
through her social media. The girl tends to avoid drama or trouble,
and is known for being quite the goody two shoes, but her refusal to
get involved stems from a worry of her online image being tarnished.

She's mostly kind, and tries her hardest to be fair, but is very
ambitious and can be quite competitive. In her spare time, you can
most likely catch her in some crazy restaurant trying out a whacky
dessert or buying more clothes that she doesn't need. Unlike the
majority of her peers, she does have a part time job as a personal
shopper and has styled many a celebrity.

x fc - sabrina carpenter
╚══════════════════════╝

[aurora.borealis]

╔══════════════════════╗
x lyssa may hartley x teenage icon x 21

After surviving the break down of her engagement and harassment from
the press, Lyssa reestablished her status as a member of the Upper East
Side by doing what she does best. Acting heartless and causing scenes.

Having fallen from grace one too many times, the brunette has finally
adopted the careless attitude that earned her her rebellious reputation
to begin with. Still lonely and heartbroken, the girl now spends the
majority of her time drinking away her sorrows and crashing parties
that she wasn't invited to, all whilst avoiding a certain Bass-tard. It would
seem old habits die hard, but the resident teenage icon is setting a new
example for her fans to follow.
╚══════════════════════╝

[belle reve]

─────── 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 ! ───────────────

let's start with the basics. this is damon porter keller, an eighteen year
old living on the south side but now attending st. jude's academy after
his home school was shut down. back at his school, he started on both
the baseball and basketball teams. his grades weren't stellar, but he
sometimes tried. what takes up most of his free time is not school or
extracurriculars- rather, he's the leader of a gang, the vipers. he has
certainly assisted in making the gang quite notorious on all sides of the
town. damon himself is known for engaging ion drag races, bar fights,
vandalizing, and the works. the gang has become a rather intimidating
and powerful force, often partaking in similar activities or even trying
& succeeding to manipulate and control some big whigs around town.
he's poured much of his time and energy into this group of rag-tag south
siders, making it less of a bunch of troublemakers and more of a family.
and being the leader of that, he would defend any of his south side crew
to the death, if it came to that. he is avidly proud of his place in that
side of town, and will make it known. nevertheless, he does have a certain
broody charm about him, and is known as a playboy just as much as he is
known as a troublemaker. apparently, the two go hand in hand, as damon
has had no issue mingling with south & upper east siders alike in affairs of
the bedroom. he's a well-known name in new york city and a familiar face,
but one might be surprised at how little they actually know about damon.
there's always more to the story, and that's the case with this "south sider."

───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

reckless - manipulative - heartless? - passionate - witty - loyal

───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

[belle reve]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰?



☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

he’s been a playboy. he's been a nutcase. he’s been new york’s most eligible bachelor. and
now, at a ripe twenty-two years of age, henry bass is a successful business man, jack of all
trades, and a master of some. he has the real-estate business on lock, and his event planning
business is booming. the record company he’s producing for is on the list of greatest upcoming
businesses. he’s really making a name for himself, and is a consistent television and magazine
presence with his never ending smile and charm. and rumor has it, he’s hoping to find the love
of his life!

well, that’s what the magazines have to say.

henry bass is many of those things. he’s a skilled negotiator and businessman, and this has caused
his businesses to succeed. he is a fair and reasonable boss, and many have come to respect him.
and for a while, henry was on the straight and narrow. but some recent personal issues have
occurred, and henry should probably be connecting back with his therapist sometime soon. though
he’s kept on the straight and narrow for the past two years, that old friend alcohol is starting to
have its signature allure. behind the scenes, he has begun to self-medicate via scotch, but he has
it under control. definitely under control. he hasn’t gotten caught yet, with the bottle tucked away
in his desk drawer and the multiple breathmints to erase the smell as best as possible. under control.
some of his old demons are clawing their way to the surface, and henry plans to push them away by
simply ignoring them. we’ll see how that goes. as of right now, this is all unbeknownst to the general
public. again, we'll see how that goes, or how long it lasts.

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

[belle reve]

「 ✧ 」 𝑯 𝑬 𝑵 𝑹 𝒀 ! !
════════════════════════════════════
xx【 ‶ a regular, decorated emergency ″ 】

xxxxx「 resident bass-tard 」「 apprehensive 」「 tagged: -- 」

2 PM. That's when the cell phone on the bedside table rang just loudly enough, just enough times to finally wake a very groggy Henry Bass up for the day. He'd gone to bed at four in the morning after a long night of... Well, he knew he stayed late at the office, and he knew he went home and worked on some more paperwork. Then he remembered that he was tired, but after some attempts at tossing and turning, he needed a sleep aid, and grabbed the nearest sour-smelling bottle. It would just be a few sips, he promised himself. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in his bed, covers thrown onto the ground, his bed reeking of sweat, and an empty bottle of vodka gingerly tucked beneath his arm.

He pawed around for his phone, closing his eyes to avoid the aggressive sunlight streaming in. It had stopped ringing by the time he reached it, but it would be certain to ring again soon, given the alarming amount of texts, missed calls, and voicemails that were displayed on his screen. He shot up to a seated position as he scrolled through everything, ignoring the spinning feeling that tried to take over his head. He missed two meetings, didn't submit paperwork on time, and failed to report to work, leaving his employees confused and concerned. Believe it or not, the Bass man had come to be known as a reliable figure in his places of work, and it was incredibly unlike him to miss any meetings or just not show up without notice. So naturally, he had to calm them down by calling some people back, texting others, and apologizing to the people he was supposed to meet with and requesting another day. As he went into his calendar to change the dates, there was one other, little thing listed for the day: Constance/ St. Judes Masquerade. Crap.


8 PM. Henry Bass was dressed to the nines, and his hangover had long since faded- it's amazing what a hot shower and a miserable run to sweat it out can do. He adorned himself in a classic black suit with just slight compliments of maroon to match the mask he'd chosen for the night. Now if we're being completely honest, Henry did not want to attend this event in the slightest. However, he was to be honored at the gala, so he was a required guest. See, he had made a substantial donation to the school last year with the request that they use the money to boost their mental health programming, and had intended that to be the last of it. But then he got the invite in the mail, and knew it would be bad press to decline. So, there he was, heading downstairs to grab his car and drive over to the masquerade.

Upon arriving, he was met with a wave of bitter nostalgia. The place was swarming with current students of the high school, all of them simply oozing privilege and entitlement- just like he did in high school (and now, but with more sophistication). This used to be where he thrived. In fact, it was at a masquerade where he had first met Lyssa- Lyss. Crap. Henry had been trying to keep his mind off the woman. He tried to help her after the engagement fiasco, but in his typical fashion, he wasn't very good at helping, and before he knew it, she was gone. He wanted to reach out, but after seeing headlines detailing her crazy escapades, Bass figured he might only add to whatever craziness she was going through. And now, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be here too.

But he couldn't think about her, not now. It wouldn't do him any good. He was suddenly a lot more thankful for his mask, which hopefully hid some of the stress and distaste playing across his face. He didn't want to be here, but it was New York socialite culture, which he needed to continue being a part of to keep good relations and references for his businesses. So, he planned to shake hands, to network, and to put on his natural charms. And if things got too unbearable, he had some liquid solution just tucked away.

「 ✧ 」 𝑫 𝑨 𝑴 𝑶 𝑵 ! !
════════════════════════════════════
xx【 ‶ i don't wanna feel like i'm not me ″ 】

xxxxx「 southside serpent 」「 displeased 」「 tagged: niamh 」

Damon Keller hadn't even set foot in St. Jude's as an official student, yet here he was, expected to attend this gala as if he'd been doing it his whole life. Way to throw him in the deep end. He hadn't realized how severely underdressed he was until he got there, and by then it was much too late to change. He was dressed in a light blue button-up, dark blue tie, and dark blue dress pants. No suit jacket, no tux. He didn't even own a mask, but luckily they had them at the check-in table- basic ones that of course would highlight the fact that it was not his chosen look. At any other high school function he'd ever been to or seen, this was the fanciest it got. But apparently, these socialites took dressing up to a whole new level. There were ballgowns, full suits... He expected high school homecoming, prom at best, but instead it looked like a wedding. And here he was, looking like... well, as he's already been called by numerous people there, "south side scum."

To make this night even better, he wasn't supposed to socialize with the other southsiders. Oh no, he was supposed to network. He even had an assigned date! None other than his peer mentor, Niamh. Her name and phone number was offered to him through an email earlier in the week, but he hadn't yet reached out. Truth be told, he even debated coming to this whole shebang, but figured it best not to completely piss off the school he hadn't even attended yet. He'd try his best to play nice, but for the leader of a powerful New York gang, playing nice wasn't exactly his strong suit.

Damon made his way to the bar, figuring that it would be his saving grace of the evening. They served up a few shots of liquor, which he took down with ease. It was only after he had a little bit of the burning liquid in his system that he finally decided to use the phone number given to him, to reach out to his "date." He typed in her number and offered a short text, it's damon. i'll be by the bar if you need me. Yeah, not helpful information, but if she wanted to find him, she'd reach out further. If she didn't want to... well, at least he could say he tried.

[aurora.borealis]

☼ L Y S S A - M A Y
───────────────────────────────────────────
( the teenage icon ) ( drinking her feelings ) ( tagged: - ) ( mentioned: henry )

The quiet buzzing of a phone roused Lyssa from a slumber so deep it could've lasted an eternity. Untangling herself from a web of limbs that she had spun herself into, she slumped out of bed with a yawn, clutching on to her head as though that would stop it's relentless pounding. The buzzing seemed to intensify and with it, so did the pounding of her head. Other hand reaching for the device, the brunette winced as the bright screen blurred before her eyes. Had she over done it the night before? Of course, but recently she didn't know how to toe the line. In fact, she had taken to leaping over it.

Raising her phone to her ear, she winced once more as the stern voice of her agent rung through her. "Yes, I'm awake," her throat was sore, and she suddenly realised how thirsty she was, "no, sorry, I'm fine, I completely forgot that we'd discussed my attendance of the masquerade tonight." In honesty that wasn't true. She had remembered all too well, hence the state she had drunk herself into. The brunette had believed that if she could sleep through the day in it's entirety, perhaps she could claim she had fallen ill and hadn't realised that she had missed the event.Clearly her plan had fallen apart before it had remotely come together, because here she was, awake, with no real reason not to attend the masquerade other than the fact that she didn't want to. According to her agent, this was not reason enough. "Of course I will attend," she sighed as she slinked through to the kitchen and made herself a glass of water. The line went dead and the phone slipped out of her hand on to the work top.

Despite only having two hours to get ready and recover, Lyssa's recovery was somewhat miraculous. Fueled by coffee topped with rum, she hummed as she applied her make up, glitter and heavy eyeliner masking her exhaustion. Though she knew she would be wearing a mask for the majority of the night, there was a likelihood that she would ultimately remove it for something or someone, and she needed to feign some sort togetherness. After all, that was the primary reason she was attending this masquerade according to her agent. To appear like she had her life somewhat together. To get in the good graces of the Manhattan's Elite once more. After all, nothing screamed reformed rogue like attending a gala held in honour of one of her old classmates, and making a charitable donation to Constance Billard of course.

Her issue lay with the classmate aforementioned, Henry Bass. In truth she had been avoiding him for some time now - not for any reason she was particularly willing to share, or admit to herself, but avoiding him all the same. It would seem tonight she might not have a choice but to risk a run in with the devil himself. But in her inebriated state, such a run in sounded an awful lot like fun. Securing her mask and observing herself in the mirror, Lyss slipped out of the door so as not to wake the guests that still slept in the rooms surrounding hers. Having accepted reassurance that nothing would be stolen from those manning the door downstairs, she finally left for the event.

The brunette swanned on to the grounds of her old school like she owned the place. It somehow seemed ironic - somehow she had fallen from grace even more so than she could have ever imagined whilst studying here. Walking straight to the bar, she flashed the mixologist a cat like grin before ordering a Bright n Stormy. If this night was to be in any way bearable, she would have to numb any and all pain with more alcohol.

[belle reve]

「 ✧ 」 𝑯 𝑬 𝑵 𝑹 𝒀 ! !
════════════════════════════════════
xx【 ‶ a regular, decorated emergency ″ 】

xxxxx「 resident bass-tard 」「 apprehensive 」「 tagged: lyssa 」

The conversation flowed easily, from the usual pleasantries to discussions of how Henry could offer his services (legit services- get your mind out of the gutter!) and how people could offer theirs. With quite a few of the older patrons he spoke with, mostly his parents' friends, he was also given some remarks on how well he looked, or how well he was doing, and how Chuck & Blair must just be so proud! They expressed happiness that he was back on the "right track," and that he had a "bright future ahead." A very genuine smile graced his face during these moments- not out of pride, or even humility, but simply out of amusement. If only they knew that he'd missed out on all his work commitments just this morning, and that he didn't quite care. But sure, the sentiment was nice, and of course, these galas were no place to truly talk about what was going on in one's life- you can't bring down the mood of the evening, after all!

The Bass had lost track of how many people he'd spoken with, and his mouth hurt from the smiles he had to force for the majority of the conversations. He'd attended many a gala in his lifetime, but never like this. The last time he remembered attending one, he was on the student side. He wasn't there to network then, he was there to get drunk and get laid. And maybe, just a small part of him, was also there to get attention- whether that be the attention of girls, guys, or Gossip Girl (or all of the above), he didn't quite know. But the attention sure felt good then.

Just thinking back on that for a second brought on a whole range of emotions. He felt regret, knowing he spent his teenage years trying to distract himself from his problems by whatever means necessary. He was upset by the fact that he was so dependent on the attention of others and thrived off of emotional manipulation. But mostly, he was nostalgic. Things were so much simpler then, and the alcohol really did an excellent job of blocking out anything unpleasant. His name was in everyone's mouth, and he had really made a reputation for himself. Things were easier just allowing himself to be unhinged and being deemed as a "playboy." And finally, he felt guilty for feeling that nostalgia.

Long story short, it was probably time for a break from networking. Old natural instincts kicking in, Bass found himself seated at the bar before he could even realize what he'd done. By now, word had gotten around that he was a recovering alcoholic, and he didn't want any prying eyes to see him taking a drink and potentially tarnish his newly shiny reputation. So, he made it a point to ask the bartender for "Just a water." Even the man taking his order breathed out a sigh of relief- he wasn't going to have to serve alcohol to a man who really didn't need it. So far, Henry was surviving this thing sober. But if necessary, he could make a quick stop to the bathroom for a hit of the good stuff.

And that's when he noticed the brunette just a few seats down from him. Figuring he might as well use the opportunity to network, he went back to flashing a smile that could be viewed as both friendly and flirtatious. "Tell me, what's brought you to the bar already?" He inquired, carefully looking her over. Short black dress, sparkles, dark brown hair, and a familiar figure. Henry had yet to figure out it was Lyssa- or, at least, his subconscious didn't want to yet admit that he knew, or else he woulnd't be here. "Was it the love of booze, or hatred of galas?" The bartender set the water down in front of him, and he took a sip, briefly reacting to the cold, hydrating liquid he hadn't downed in days. "Either way, your secret's safe with me." He made a motion that indicated zipping his lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the metaphorical key.

[aurora.borealis]

☾ N I A M H
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( influencer ) ( surprised/apprehensive ) ( tagged: damon ) ( mentioned: )

To say Niamh was anxious was a mild understatement. She had spent the week in it's entirety waiting to hear from her assigned date, with no joy. Perhaps he had lost her contact number, she had guessed, or perhaps he didn't plan to come at all. Either way, some sort of indication as to what his plans were would have been nice.

All she had been thus far given was a name, and a mission. He's somewhat of a rogue, the Headmistress had warned her, but a new student needs an offer of guidance none the less. I'm assigning him as your partner with hopes you'll help him to acclimatise to life on the Upper East Side. I'm sure you can understand that this will all be quite overwhelming for him. Of course she could, but what she hadn't expected was radio silence from said rogue until the night of the gala itself. Her night had begun pleasantly enough, she had arrived with plenty of time, dressed in a gown embroidered and beaded from her shoulders to her waist. With every step she took she shone, and though her identity was hidden by a mask, the way she carried herself identified her as one of Manhattan's Elite. Her lips had curved into a coy smile as she was beckoned to dance by her friends on the floor, but her plans to join them had been disrupted by the buzzing of her phone.

Pulling it out to check her incoming messages, her eyes widened with surprise. It would seem her date had decided to make an appearance after all, and in an even worse twist of fate, it would seem he had stumbled upon the bar already. Still she messaged him back with a tone so sweet it would rot your teeth, 'awesome, i'll meet you there! look for a cloud of blonde hair and a cream lace mask c:' Maybe not the response he wanted, but she was assigned date and if he was here then she refused to be seen as stag. She had been given a duty by the Headmistress after all.

Approaching the bar, she looked at those sat down and tried to figure who her charge was, but to no avail. It would seem there were multiple new starters with unfamiliar faces and with a sigh, the blonde turned to the bartender, "I'll just have a virgin Pina Colada please."

[aurora.borealis]

☼ L Y S S A - M A Y
───────────────────────────────────────────
( the teenage icon ) ( drinking her feelings ) ( tagged: henry ) ( mentioned: )

Watching with a childlike curiosity as the mixologist started to create her poison of choice, Lyssa rested her chin on her hand, trying to make sense of all of the different flavours that were being added but somehow failing miserably. Why the ingredients of this drink complimented each other so well she could never comprehend, but somehow every time she drank it she fell in love with the taste all over again.

Attention captured by the gala as it unfolded behind her, her gaze trained on a gaggle of Constance girl giggling on the dance floor. Had there been a time that she had been one of those girls? She felt not, if Gossip Girl wasn't the one plaguing her, then one of the mean girls or a certain Basstard was. It had been hard to be carefree during her time at High School, there were too many injustices, too many scandals, the majority of which she somehow ended up involved in. Perhaps she was just a magnet for trouble. In fact, if you asked anybody else, they would tell you that was a fact. The masks brought back memories long forgotten, a version of her younger self, with nothing to lose and the hierarchy to overthrow, approached the bar before her very eyes. She was naive then, dressed in mint green and adorning a cream mask. She had labelled herself a saint, despite knowing she was anything but. A boy dressed as a sinner had changed her life that night - some would argue it wasn't for the better. She wondered whether she would see the man he had grown into at some point tonight. Somehow it felt inevitable.

The clunk of her glass being placed on the bar in front her broke her train of thought, and the brunette took it eagerly, shooting the man who had served her a grateful smile as she took a large sip. Another masked man approached the bar, and for a moment she had a feeling that she recognised his voice. The way he moved was oh so familiar, and she assumed her suspicions were about to be confirmed by an order of scotch, but with the order of water her assumptions were broken. She began to turn away, no longer interested, the stranger spoke, seemingly addressing her with a smile and a question. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she took another sip of her drink as he continues to speak, before placing it down and tilting her head to the side. A wry smile tugged at her lips, and she shrugged, "I'll admit, it was an unfortunate mix of both. Galas weren't even my thing in High School, and that was when I got invited to them most."

She laughed quietly as he mimicked zipping his lips and took another sip of her drink before nodding to his, "water? You don't strike me as the type who's into the soft stuff. I can order you something a little more exciting if you'd like, I promise I have good taste. So what will it be, scotch maybe?" Though her suspicions had been dispelled, part of her couldn't shake the feeling that the man who stood before her was too familiar. Henry Bass would never say no to a drink, especially one offered by a mysterious woman.