, painted bride

[Deleted]

Nothing about this was a good idea. She hadn't even been in the country for a full twenty-four hours and there was a rough draft not even half-way complete sitting in his loft that should have been at the editors a week ago. Neither of these things registered as a reason not to bother her, nor did the fact that an ex-husband showing up at their currently engaged ex-wife's job was at least somewhat of a peculiar hobby to take up. They were divorced for a reason, after all and hadn't she been fairly adamant about him keeping his distance while she was in the country?  Models bounced between wardrobe and make-up while people buzzed around doing -- well, he wasn't really sure what they were doing. Talking to themselves? Yelling at people? Stressing over dresses that looking more like Halloween costumes? What the Hell made anyone want to do any of this? Does anyone even wear this clothing in the real world or is it all just a show to play dress-up and wear heels that were sure to break their necks.   Watching the show come together, he wasn't actually sure what Seven was supposed to be doing here. Shit friend, shit husband. He knew it, but he didn't try to fix either of those things. His work had always been the most prominent focus of his life and he ignored nearly everything that didn't cater to it.   Plucking a dead petal away from the flowers he brought, he stopped thinking about it as soon as he saw her untangle herself from a circle of women, focusing on grabbing her attention instead. Which entirely amounted to stepping directly in her path with a smug grin on his lips. Not that there was anything to be smug about -- he was sure she was seconds from lecturing him.        "Hello, love, you should introduce me to all your new friends."

TAGGED     seven elisabeth harper NOTES       girl should look into restraining orders.                  also sorry this sucks i have no idea what i was typing.

[seven elisabeth harper]

Morning had faded to night in what felt like the blink of an eye. It was almost unfathomable that the season was coming to an end, and New York, London, and Milan were already old news. It all came down to Paris. The overworked and overtired blonde found herself in the midst of the backstage chaos nearly as soon as she’d made her way down the ramp of the designer bought private jet. Six years into the game, countless seasons later, and it still felt just as exciting as the first. The chaos kept her going, the minor mishaps all made worth it once that final look walked the runway.  Despite the curtains closing, the show wasn’t over just yet. Backstage the press and attendees alike swarmed in, all ready to go with the questions and cameras. Annoyance wore thin as the questions shifted from the shows inspiration to who was designing her wedding dress. While the attention surrounding her newest nuptials was always welcomed, it wasn’t the time nor place to take away from the show at hand.  Ah, and a saving grace. “Merci,” she bid in the passing waiters direction, pulling a flute of champagne from the tray before her. The chilled glass met her plump lips, and she took a sip before thanking the editors before her. But before she took the spin in her sky-high heels away, she was greeted by an even more familiar face. Somewhere between the dimmed lights and shifted attention, Seven had missed Theo’s overall presence. Yet here she was, sure that it was him wedging himself between her and her company.   One more sip - more like chug - and a makeshift smile played its way across her lips.  “Theo,” she said, his name alone leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “Emanuelle, Carine, Anna,” she nodded in each of their directions. “Emanuelle, Carine, Anna, this is Theo,” arms folded across her chest. They all knew who each other were, maybe not personally, but they knew. How ironic? They’d gone from begging for the most minute wedding details, to visibly fawning over the subject of her last wedding. “Didn’t you have anywhere else to be tonight?” She questioned the second she could find a moment between the rest of the conversations surrounding them.

NOTES       YOUR CODE.                  so late. u kno what shes wearing tho. i love you. this is shit. i love you.

[Deleted]

Just one drink and Theodore knew, without a doubt, that he had already managed to wedge himself under her skin, poking at her nerves before he could manage to so much as explain his presence. Not that he felt he needed a reason to show up at her job. She was his ex wife, they had a history. Wasn't that a good enough excuse? Perhaps he was ranked among the worst husband's in France, maybe he had hardly shown up for these things even when they were married, but none of that mattered.      He tilts his head in the direction of each woman she introduced, flashing them an amused smile, deliberately set in place for the sole purpose of further bothering Seven. Something that had become second nature whenever they so much as spoke to one another. No 'Good show,' 'Congratulations,' or 'How are you?' Those were all implied sentiments. Things she surely knew.    "Not a single obligation," a half lie, he always had obligations, especially when he had contracts to write a certain number of books or scripts a year. "There's no where I would rather be," he corrects himself, still only a half-truth. Almost anywhere was better than standing backstage. He didn't even like being on-set when they were filming his own movies.  Planting a hand against her lower back, he attempts to urge her into letting him navigate her away from the chatter and flashing lights. Hopefully right out the door.  In the other hand, he's still holding the flowers he brought. "Looks like your Prince Charming decided not to come tonight." It was more of a question than a statement. He'd hoped the other man wasn't here, but he hadn't actually made any attempt at seeking him out. Why would he? He didn't like him on principle and he bristled at the mere mention of him -- even if he was the one bringing it up.    "Let me take you for a late dinner."

NOTES       omg this sucked.

[seven elisabeth harper]

Was the discomfort that obvious? Seven wondered as the group of women bid their adieus, each going off in their own direction and leaving her in the company of her ex-husband. Backstage was still flooded with people, but his company was all she could focus on, the rest of the room failing to make a sound in her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him in physical form, and now she didn’t know how to react to it. Out of sight, out of mind. That was better. Svelte finger tips rummaged through her clutch, less absentmindedly, and more to make it look as if she had something to do, or wasn’t feeling so out of her element. Phone now in hand, she scrolled through the missed messages. And considered replying, before the pleasure before her managed to get beneath her skin again. If he wasn’t so self-absorbed, she’d have sworn it was his sole purpose in life. Hm, she mused. Lucky me, the sarcasm seeped from her lips, eyes rolling in the other direction as she shoved her phone back into her clutch. She follows his forceful direction toward the exit, but is quick to step out of his touch. Eyes fixated on the flowers he’s holding in his hand, before meeting his. It’s a recurring theme with these husbands of mine, she laughs, shaking her mane of blonde locks from side to side. It was beginning to get funny. Never there when you need them, always there when you don’t. With flowers. It’s matter of fact, and before he can respond she’s pulling the flowers from his hand. The gesture was nice, and she was shocked he remembered her favorite flowers, but it all felt so very Theo, so very motive driven. Thank you for these, she said as she brought the noses toward her nose, breathing in that familiar smell. She’d tell him he didn’t have to, but that went without saying. Dinner on the other hand, that he really didn’t have to. The thought of it alone made her head hurt, and not just because the ruckus it would cause in the end, or the company, but the genuine need for a single second without anything to do. Did my bags turn up at the house yet? I need to change, and then I need to sit down for at least twenty minutes.. and then I’ll consider dinner.

NOTES       terribly rly.