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Fingers still wrapped around the strap of her bag, Deanie remains braced for any verbal beating that could be sparred against her.
There's an urge in her stomach to retreat -- deep down it's what she wants to do -- but she knows that wouldn't be fair to all the amends that being back home means she had to face. Any lashing Tyson had for her was something she knew that she deserved.
She made her bed and now she had to lay in it.
(When the last time she had seen him she'd been lying in a bed next to him.)
Deanie finds herself surprised that he had fallen for the story that her parents had put out -- as effective as her parents were about spinning details into their favor, for some reason she always thought that Tyson was too smart to fall for them.
Maybe they both had overestimated each other.
His question makes her pause, her hands briefly twisting at the strap of her bag for a moment before she considers how honest she wants to be -- how much shame she's willingly to wear openly on her sleeve in the middle of the subway platform.
"I went upstate," she answers, voice low and not fully making eye-contact.
At least it wasn't a lie.
"I just…needed time."
@tyreynolds
Receiving no fight on the return of the ring provided some brief comfort to him, until he started to wonder if Deanie had any fight left in her at all. She seemed more subdued then than he had ever known her to be, the vibrance that emanated from her now dulled and more muted.
( Like a watercolour repainted to be matte. )
Worry creeps into the edges of his long held rage, enough to keep him stood there and in the conversation when every other part of him was telling him to walk on passed her and not look back -- just like she had done the morning of the wedding.
Her confession brings more questions to him than it answers for him, a flicker of confusion evident in his expression. Tyson wants more than that, but Deanie had never known how to give him more when it counted so he readies himself for this to be no different.
"Are you going to tell me where you were or is that something you're going to keep to yourself too?"
@deaniewagner
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"I'm really craving sushi but Italian could be nice, too?" Deanie offers, sitting a little bit straighter on the couch while Mila jumps off of it, clicking her screen to black and placing her phone aside with a little laugh with she immediately frets about what to wear.
She notices the gaze as it hits her, looking down in turn at the cashmere sweater she was wearing.
"I mean, I could borrow something --" she trails before her noses scrunches at the idea of the clubs.
"I don't know if that would be the best idea..."
@milasingh
"Depends on what you're in the mood for." Mila instantly responded, filing her nails on the couch beside her close friend.
The mention of going out piqued her interest as she looked over at the raven-haired woman with a smile. "Yes and yes." She jumped off the couch. "Oh, fuck - what am I going to wear?"
That was when her eyes caught the other's attire. "Please tell me you're borrowing something of mine and we're hitting the clubs?"
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Ironically, the last time that she'd worn the ring had been the last time that she'd seen Tyson.
Maybe if she had been thinking more clearly then she would have left the ring behind in the hotel room just so he wouldn't have had to worry about it being somewhere questionable -- she knew what traces of his mother meant to him and would have never stolen one on purpose.
Because the moment that she had decided to leave, wearing the ring had become stealing -- taking something that wasn't rightfully hers anymore.
"No. No," she reaffirms with a shake of her head to show that she isn't expecting any gratitude from his end, "You can have it. You should have it. I don't want to keep it."
His illusions to France and calling her 'Doc' earn a brief and bleary look of confusion from her before the pieces click -- the memory of the story her parents had spun on her behalf coming back to her.
(When your family was in media they are always in control of the narrative.)
She would have rathered they just told everyone the truth.
She should have told Tyson the truth from the beginning.
"I wasn't in France."
@tyreynolds
Deanie gives him a perfectly reasonable and accommodating answer to his order -- like a true peacekeeper only could -- and all it does is enrage him further. It was displayed in the polite way that had been bred into the pair of them from being raised in social circles that demanded better behaviour than making a scene in public, though every part of him wants to lose his cool.
( Tense jaws and terse tongues. )
"Hope you're not waiting on a thanks because it's the absolute least you can fucking do," He reminds her, "I'd say pardon my French but we're a long way from France, aren't we, Doc?"
He had never fully bought the PhD in Paris story that her parents had peddled in the aftermath of the wedding that never was, but the Wagners had fast closed ranks and Everett had no interest in shedding any light on Deanie's whereabouts to Tyson, so he had allowed it to become truth and he had allowed it to piss him off.
That's all he could see on his worse nights, visions of her having her best days in some far off European city, sparing not a single thought for the wreckage she had left of him without so much as a goodbye.
@deaniewagner
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"Do you think she's had a few too many cosmopolitans or do you think she regularly assumes every person in uniform that she meets is a stripper?" Deanie questioned as she watches the woman walk away in delight.
"Must be really awkward for her to go through TSA."
@brklynbxys
open 0/5 ( @bfmstarters) Location: idk a bar
The best thing about working his way off the midnight shift was going to the bar after work, which was a thing that could happen without raising some eyebrows. His shift hadn't been too hard so as he sat at the bar maybe that's why he was approached by a tourist, "No I promise I'm not a stripper i am an actual paramedic," the laugh in his voice letting him know that he was not offended by the ask. He reached down to pull out the little badge he had. "but you can still take a picture to show your friends you meet a stripper. He was taking the second to undo a few more buttons before he posed. as they walked away he shook his head and brought his beer to his lips. "Gotta love the city at Christmas"
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starter for: @milasingh location: their apartment
"If I order takeout tonight do you want in on it?" Deanie questioned as she scrolled through the delivery app, trying to decide what she was in the mood for.
"Or should we be big brave girls and go out somewhere?"
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As she regained her posture, Deanie prayed fervently in her head to whatever higher power may have existed that Tyson would just walk onto the train or walk out of the station.
She knew that returning to New York meant taking accountability and making amends for the things she'd done wrong and the people she had hurt.
But there were some things -- some people -- that she hadn't felt ready to face yet.
But sadly she hadn't earned the right of good karma.
There's no easy way around him when he falls into her path so she didn't try, both hands clutching at the strap of her brown leather bag as she immediately nods to the words that met her ears.
"I have it," she confirms with another nod, knowing exactly where she'd placed it for safekeeping.
"Not here. Not on me. But I have it. I'll give it back."
@tyreynolds
Tyson’s not sure how long he’s been staring at her until he hears the sound of the subway car doors closing followed by the drag of wheels on the track, taking his easy escape route along with it.
The platform never empties but it did disperse some with the whisking away of some of the clamouring commuters.
He’s got nowhere to go now but toward her, the exit putting him directly in her path with his slow approach, unsure if he could or should say anything.
“You’ve still got my mother’s ring,” He accuses in lieu of any softer greeting, everything from his tone to his posture was defensive. It may have been Everett’s to give away, but it wouldn’t be something Tyson allowed her to keep, “I want it back.”
@deaniewagner
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It was strange to feel strange in the city.
As if nine months in the Catskills had completely undone twenty-eight years of muscle memory; had made her forget what it was like to be surrounded by constant white noise, constant people, constant goings on.
But it was nice to feel invisible, too, after so long in constant self-reflection.
It was two stops early to her usual destination, but she'd seen postings about an estate sale in Williamsburg that she wanted to snoop around in for decor for her new bedroom, so with one earbud in, she broke her carefully cultivated new routine and stepped off the train.
She turns her head to look in the direction of the exit at the exact moment Tyson's eyes find her face.
The way she freezes is not welcome by other busy commuters, Deanie nearly being knocked off balance by a press to get onto the newly vacated car.
@tyreynolds
closed for: @deaniewagner
where: subway station platform
Taking the subway was the furthest thing from his preferred method of transportation but there were times when it was the fastest and if he was late for another lunch with his father he knew he would be hearing about it for weeks to come.
( 'Everett's a doctor and still manages to find the time to respect a reservation and mine'. )
His natural irritation at the volume of bodies shuffling towards the subway car is sidetracked by something akin to an inkling. An inexplicable something that made him halt and turn his head rather than continue forward, catching sight of dark-haired girl exiting one car over, standing out from the rest of the commuters around her without having to try to.
Deanie Wagner was no ghost, but seeing her so unexpectedly hit Tyson square in the chest like it might if he was staring at one and it's enough to render him cold all over in a way that has nothing to do with the New York winter.
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"When I panic I bite my nails," Deanie tells him in turn, as if she's trying to make him feel less bad about his own predicament by sharing her own unsavory habits.
She eyes over at his table.
"What did you order?"
@unimaginariies
" it would appear as though i've been stood up . . . " the composer let out a humorless chuckle, taking off his glasses as he nervously rubbed at his nose, " and it'd also appear as though i've ordered far too much food. the waiter kept coming over and well, i panicked. i can't eat it all. care to help me? " arthur was one of the most infamous pianists in the world but his dating life was not one to be envied.
@bfmstarters
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"I try not to scold, it makes me feel gross," Deanie pointed out as she eyed the other girl carefully as they walked along -- like she's half expecting her to just wander off into oncoming traffic.
"Plus, it doesn't usually help. You know what would help in a moment like this? Water."
@ladcies
an open starter @bfmstarters
a bottle of whiskey, amber liquid somewhat consumed, hung from safiye´s fingers as she strolled aimlessly, brown eyes dazed as tears dripped down her. " no, i'm not fucking crying, its just the booze... " often it has such hold on the dancer, pushing emotions to spill out as painful memories lingered. " it's all good, i can even walk in a straight line, or do the whole nose touching thing " a lie, as safiye stumbled upon her own words. " please don't scold me, i might actually like that " she quipped.
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Titanic (1997) directed by James Cameron.
[They've got you trapped, Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong, but sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose, that fire is gonna burn out.]
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I-i-i-i-it's a knife when you know they're waitin' for you to choke It's a knife when a journalist does a misquote It's a knife when a friend is suddenly steppin' on your throat It's a kn— when they say that you've been doing things you don't-don't It's a knife when your old friends hate your new friends When somebody says, "Charli, I think you've totally changed" It's a knife when somebody says they like the old me and not the new me And I'm like, "Who the fuck is she?"
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FULL NAME: Gerladine "Deanie" Marie Wagner
GENDER: Cisfemale
PRONOUNS: She/her
AGE + BIRTHDAY: 28 + December 1st
TIME IN NEW YORK: Raised in Upper East Side, recently moved to Brooklyn
HOUSING: Carrol Gardens
OCCUPATION: Cataloguer at Southeby's
tw: this bio contains mentions of divorce, prescription drug abuse, rehab, and nervous breakdown
(@brooklynextras)
Geraldine Wagner was born into generational wealth on both sides of her family -- her mother's side in publishing and her father's side in television media.
If the rumors in Manhatten were true and the couple had Deanie (their third child) in a last-ditch effort to save their marriage it certainly didn't work -- her parents were divorced by the time she was six.
Deanie was always the most obedient of her siblings, constantly trying to temper any discord in her family and please both of her parents in secret hopes that if she was a good enough child her parents would get back together.
(Plan clearly didn't work. Her father remarried when she was fifteen.)
She found her solace in solitary activities -- ballet, piano, reading. But art was where she felt especially talented. Sketching, charcoal, and watercolor being her favorite mediums. She had hopes of skipping college to join an art fellowship until her father called her work 'uninspired and pedestrian'. She instead double majored in art history and museum sciences.
While she was getting her graduate degree she started dating an old family friend, Everett Reynolds. The relationship was highly favored, the couple constantly being called beautiful and successful, and it was no surprise when Everett proposed to her after three years of dating.
Since Everett was in the midst of a grueling surgical residency in Boston most of the wedding planning had fallen on Deanie -- and all the pressure that had gone along with it. Navigating the logistics and emotions had become more and more challenging for her and she had started to more and more progressively abuse her prescriptions in order to cope.
On the morning of her wedding, Deanie was nowhere to be found. The runaway bride was the biggest and juiciest mystery that the Upper East Side had seen in years. While her parents had stayed tight-lipped -- their story had been that she had gone to persue a PhD in France -- the truth was that Deanie had been in an inpatient rehab and mental healthy facility for the past nine months, recovering from a nervous breakdown.
Determined to stand on her own, Deanie is now in pursuit of a life where she can be more true to herself without being swept up for the good of others.
TRAITS
Positive– Curious, detailed, inviting
Negative – Obedient, cautious, analytical
Aesthetics: WATERCOLOR PAINTINGS IN GOLD FRAMES, MARY JANES AND TIGHTS, WHISTLING TEA KETTLE.
FUN FACTS
Personal heroes are Jane Austen, Lucille Ball, and Artemisia Gentileschi
Can play piano and violin
Speaks French and Italian
Favorite flavor of ice cream is black cherry
Cocktail of choice is a French 75
Favorite flower is tulips (orange specifically)
Has an etsy shop but has never had the courage to post anything on it
Season ticket holder to the Metropolitan Opera, The New York Ballet, and The New York Philharmonic
Current Connections:
Roommate of @milasingh
Almost sister in law (and one night stand) of @tyreynolds
Former student of @bitingironics
Best friend/former college roommate @4ftermidnights
Wanted Connetions:
Siblings and Step-Siblings -- Deanie has an older sister and brother and a two step-sisters and one step-brother. These connections would need to be heavily plotted.
College best friend -- someone who Deanie was paired with as a roommate freshman year at NYU and the two have been inseparable ever since.
New York society friends -- people who grew up with the same silver spoon
Ex friend -- A close friend (likely a bridesmaid in her wedding) who used Deanie's runaway bride story for clout on TikTok
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