Vᴀɴᴅᴇʀʙɪʟᴛ Aᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ Fᴏʀ Tʜᴇ Eʟɪᴛᴇ © discussion

mira's side:

lyra's side:

willa's side:

Willa walked into her dorm room, sweaty from a workout, and threw her gym bag onto the bed before kicking off her sneakers and pulling on some cozy sweatpants over her shorts. She attempted to tidy up her room, picking up the clutter her room had accumulated after a week of not cleaning it. She walked over to their shared bathroom to throw some trash away, and noticed Mirabelle's corner of the room when she returned. It was so strange that she even shared a dorm with her but she had never seen her before their encounter at the ice cream shop.

Mirabelle trailed awkwardly after Willa, tossing the contents of her pockets onto her bed. She knew it was her dorm too, but it just felt so weird to actually be there when other people were around. “Fancy a drink?” Mirabelle asked Willa, opening the trunk at the foot of her bed where she kept all her alcohol, pulling out a large bottle of vodka. Mirabelle usually went through the day half drunk or half high, depending on her mood when she woke up. She might’ve even been considered a borderline alcoholic, but nobody really knew nor cared. It was amazing Mirabelle could even street race at all, considering the volume of alcohol she consumed daily.

Willa was surprised that Mirabelle was finally at school, in their dorm, at the same time as her for once. "No, I'm so sorry, we have to keep sober for our soccer game tomorrow. Maybe next week, sorry." That was partly true, but truly Willa just didn't understand most people's desire to consume alcohol. Her explanation if Mirabelle asked her again next week would be the same; she just didn't think that the effects of alcohol were worth it.

Mirabelle shrugged, downing a large gulp of the expensive drink before tossing the bottle back into the large trunk. Who knew athletes were so straight laced? “Weird seeing you here at the same time.” Mirabelle pointed out, flopping onto her pristine white sheets in her grungy Doc Martens and ripped jean jacket. “I’ll make sure to atted your game tomorrow. Social activities and all that stuff.” Mirabelle wondered what spectators did at school athletic games- cheer? just watch? Mirabelle planned for her old standy at any event- bring a flask and just drink until she didn’t care anymore.

Willa looked around at their different styles. They were all so different, from Mirabelle’s moody black and white design to Lyra’s fancy grey design, and even to her minimalistic style. “I know, it’s so strange that I hadn’t seen you anywhere outside of that ice cream shop.” Willa answered. It was strange, but she wasn’t about to question the ways other people lived their life. She was so glad to see that Mirabelle was going to go to her soccer game, and she said “I’m so excited! I’ll make sure to look out for you after the game, maybe we could get lunch after?”

Mirabelle thought over the suggestion of lunch. “There’s a good French café in Wilmington, very authentic. But the food at the dining hall isn’t half bad either.” In reality, the dining hall food was better than most restaurants with three Michelin stars. Unlacing her Doc Martens, Mirabelle sat up. “Is Lyra here a lot?” Lyra’s room was the fanciest of all, with the fur rug and tufted velvet headboard. Mirabelle’s mother had sent an interior designer to set up her dorm, but the only instruction Mira gave them was “dark”. Mirabelle wondered if spending more time in her dorm would be beneficial towards her happiness at Vanderbilt, but she shrugged off such a notion. Mirabelle had always been fine being alone, and alone she would continue.

(( boost ))

Surprisingly, Willa had never heard of the French cafe in Wilmington. She supposed she didn't really go to Wilmington too frequently-there was not too much of a need when Vanderbilt had such good food at its dining hall. "I haven't heard of the French cafe; we should go there. It sounds very good, being authentic and all." Willa studied Mirabelle as she took off her boots. She seemed so tough and moody, but she was also such a trust fund child. "We're almost inseparable. I think she's working on filming right now, but we're usually here at the same time."

(( i'll have u know mirabelle is v offended ppl would call her out on being a trust fund kid haha ))

"It has a weird name..." Mirabelle paused to think. "Oh, it's called Le Joli Croissant, frankly, a dumb name, but the food is good." Mirabelle thought American comfort food could never really compare to French comfort food-- why have chicken pot pie when you could have cassoulet? Mirabelle was still unsure of how to feel about Willa-- she just seemed...nice. Nobody had really ever given Mira the time of day because she was just so aggressively anti-social; but this was a semi-welcome change. Mirabelle highly doubted that she'd be inviting Willa to go street racing or smoking with her anytime soon though. She would attend a solitary soccer game and grab lunch though; Mira feared attachment. In just a year or two, she'd be gone, so there was no point in cultivating friendships.

"That sounds delightful!" Willa responded. She had a special place in her heart for quiche lorraine, and she assumed any food in such an important place like Wilmington would be very good. "That's such a strange name though, they could have chosen such a better name." She wanted to try to confide in Mirabelle, even though she didn't seem like the kind of person to want to be confided in.

Mirabelle wracked her brain for something to say. She had observed enough of friendships, so why couldn’t she emulate the same sort of thing? What was next on the list of friendship: talking about boys? No, Mira was not romantically interested in anyone. Mani-pedis? Mirabelle would rather swallow barbed wire. That left the dreaded emotions, the feelings Mira would truly never reveal. Oh well— that left sitting in silence, a Mirabelle Annette Brown speciality. “You want to head out now?” She asked abruptly after a good minute of silence. “Or, uh, we could do something else.” Mirabelle’s fingers fumbled across the bedspread for a blunt, something to do with her hands and ease her jittery nerves. She didn’t light it just yet— setting off a smoke alarm wouldn’t be too good.

Mirabelle's idea of socializing was so much different than anyone else at Vanderbilt. She seemed so indecisive- even the most antisocial people at the school were still trained in talking, but only because of rich parents and lavish parties. On the other hand, Mirabelle didn't seem like a normal person. Willa felt like she could talk about a lot of things with most people, but not exactly with her. "Oh, yeah, that sounds nice, let me change out of these old soccer clothes before we go," Willa said as she walked over to her drawers to find some jeans and a semi-nice blouse. She watched Mirabelle pull out a blunt, and while she wouldn't completely care, she asked, "Are you going to light that in here?"

take your time but im just bumping this

“Mm, probably not. Don’t want to set off a smoke alarm.” Mirabelle commented, the blunt still dangling between her fingers. She wondered what Willa thought of her— not that she necessarily cared, but she was curious. Why would Willa continue talking to her— was that just a nice person thing to do? Mirabelle had attended enough movie premieres and Beverly Hills parties to know that she had to make the dreaded small talk, but she hated small talk! What was small talk anyway? Weather, not politics, what was on the menu— it was such a mundane series of things to talk about. “Well, let’s set off.” Mira said, going onto the balcony before dropping down onto the hedges. Sure, she could’ve taken the stairs or elevator, but what was the fun in that? They were only on the second story after all. She lit up her blunt, and asked Willa, “Walking or driving?” Mira hadn’t gone driving since her street race two days ago, and her hands itched to be on the wheel.

(( should we continue the rp @ le joli croissant ? ))

sure! sorry didn't see this