( open ) ❤ ❝ keep your eyes on the horizon ❞

[recoined]

CHARACTERS: kimberly hart & you!
LOCATIONS: all around the city!
WARNINGS: n/a (yet)
SUMMARY: spooky and sweet october shenanigans! open starters galore!

↪ i dip, you dip, we dip.

( the first class is held on a weekend afternoon in the sunny dance hall of doo wop's, the worn maple flooring newly polished for the occasion, chairs and tables pushed aside to leave plenty of space cleared for a group to learn steps and passes and turns.

kimberly comes early, well before the start of class, before instructors begin to corral the group into smaller clusters or pairing off partners. it gives her an opportunity to stretch against the barre, to adjust to the feeling of the floor under her feet as she bounces on her heels; the sprung flooring offers more comfort than the hard surface of the gym classroom where she teaches, though it's less forgiving than the natural texture of grass and dirt she remembers from so many football games back in angel grove.

feel free to join her for warm-ups, or perhaps you're in need of a partner — just be sure to let her know if you prefer to lead or follow. )

↪ shop til you drop.

( sure, it's technically a ball, but at the end of the day, it's a fancy party with dancing and food and all the people you know. therefore, as far as kimberly's concerned, this is basically just a grown up version of prom — and just like prom at home, this one would require finding just the right dress.

on this particular day, she's mostly interested in scoping out her options. there are plenty of dresses to choose from, from little black numbers and long white gowns to everything in between, and she's tried on at least a dozen thus far with nothing in particular standing out. it's a little overwhelming, if she's totally honest, but she'll prevail.

she has to. she can't just show up to the big to-do in just any old something, after all.

should you happen to join her in front of the next rack, maybe you can help her find something new to try on. or maybe you'd like to offer your critiques in the dressing room, with its unforgiving 360-degree mirror. don't worry, she can take it. )

↪ wildcard

( want something different? feel free to throw something at me, or hit me up at semicolons or supergirl#2740 for a custom starter if you prefer. )

Comments

shop til you drop

[risers]

[ let's ignore everything that's going on in the city, shall we? keeping the announcements of october's events at the back of his mind, alec isn't shopping for a suit. it's all business in his head, even now, when he has all the time in the world, the freedom a shadowhunter like he should be possessive about. ]

[ alec lightwood's shopping for a new jacket, and has found himself lost in this mundane store. towering over the racks, he's flicking through everything in a bid to find something, face scrunched up in disgust at the colours he passes by. he stops to look around, and rather than find where the jacket he'd seen in the window is, he finds kimberly. ]

[ pink scooter girl. ]

[ he thinks about it for a second, and forgoes trying to locate them himself. asking for help isn't something to be ashamed of, especially when the layout of this place sucks (in his opinion, anyway). ] Hey. Do you know where the jackets are?

[recoined]

( hey yourself is her clipped response from over her shoulder, attention still temporarily fixed on the rack in front of her, too many variations of black and grey and cream and ivory splayed out before her in a dizzying mess. there were so many options, she was nearly sick of considering them all.

but the voice from behind her keeps talking, and there's enough recognition in its low tone that she's nearly positive they're not mistaking her for an employee — that, at least, makes it worthwhile to turn around. )

Oh, hey! ( surprise. a person she knows, albeit not exactly one she'd expected to find in a women's clothing store of all places... ) Alec, right?

( her nose wrinkles a bit in confusion, but no matter. kimberly hart can conquer this. she remembers seeing a set of jackets hung up on a nearby wall, under a display of legless mannequins on a shelf that had been just this side of way too creepy. )

I think they're over... huh. ( she could have sworn they were there. maybe they got moved, because now all that was hanging was even more dresses. ) Well, they were over here.

I guess this place is really embracing the whole formal theme.

[risers]

[ mundanes and their store layouts — he'll never understand the logic behind them. either he's missed the jackets or they're right in front of him, and all he can see is clothing for a fancy party he has no intention of attending. it seems like there's a good chance the people who run this joint are more interested in catering to the masses than the niche. ]

[ he looks to where she seems to think they are before returning his attention back to her. ] Guess so. [ he lets out a breath, looking around as though kimberly seeking them out will see the jackets magically appear. they don't. ] So much for catering for everybody. Do all the stores get like this around here? Tunnel vision?

[recoined]

( a casual shrug of her shoulders, up and down in a lazy gesture, accompanies her uncertain reply. ) I don't know, to be honest. The city's... well, kind of weird, I guess.

( which isn't inherently untrue, either. the city is weird. it's the sort of place that builds an entire section of apartment buildings for people who just so happen to have all shown up within a few days of each other, and then suffers a giant surprise earthquake. the kind of place that hosts a secret underground fight club that quickly becomes anything but secret.

if the city were a person, it'd be the person that everyone whispers about. they mean well, people would say, but they're a little clumsy.

and while kimberly means well too, she's not having any luck finding the missing rack of jackets — or a store employee, for that matter, who might be able to point them out. a frustrated exhale reverberates between her lips as she turns back to him. )

We could see if there's a men's store nearby? They probably have more suit jackets.

( because it's a suit jacket he wanted, obviously, for the party. because he's going, obviously. )

[risers]

[ what would've been a gentle rebuff of her chaperoning him (or, as he'd prefer, giving him a recommendation so he can take off and leave her to what she'd been searching for within the racks) to another store now becomes a shake of his head. the last time alec wore a suit jacket for anything, he turned into julia roberts about to run away from his own wedding. he hates that he can now make the comparison. seeking out that film because he'd heard it from simon lewis fills him with self-loathing. ]

No. [ the shake of his head is more obvious now, voice firm, mind made up. (he'd made it up a long time ago to never attend these fancy functions. he's got better things to do, like paper work and brood.) ] No thanks. I'm not looking for a suit jacket. Just a normal jacket for normal things.

[ yes, because alec understands what "normal" means. ]

[recoined]

Uh huh.

( her head tilts to the side for a moment, brow lifting as she watches him stand there, looking like a fish out of water in the midst of racks of endless dresses and skirts and fancy fabrics. he may not be looking for a suit jacket, but she's not quite sure she buys the idea that he's ever really done anything 'normal' in his entire life.

like go to prom, for example.

that's okay, though. that's what places like this were apparently for. bridging the gaps between worlds, helping people learn what life could be like if they weren't set in their own universes, if they weren't restricted to their own lives. if kimberly could learn to embrace a man who literally set himself on fire, if she could learn to admit her own fears and flaws, this man could learn to go to prom. starting with finding the right jacket. )

A normal jacket. Got it. In black, probably... ( a contemplative hum, a tap to her chin, and kimberly pulls her phone out of her pocket. a few quick swipes, and she's found what she's after: the address to a shop just a few doors down, one with a bit more promise. ) Come on, grumpy gills, this way.

( if he thought he was being given much choice in the matter, the answer's no. slim fingers wrap round his wrist, tugging him out the door and onto the sidewalk outside and then back in through another door just a few minutes later. this shop, at least, seems to be more on the men's wearhouse side of things. don't worry, alec. you're gonna love it. )

What about this one?

( so the jacket in question has a little color. is it really the worst option? )

[risers]

[ grumpy gills let's her drag him out of the store and into another one. blame it on the panda donuts he's been eating, or the fact that he thinks this may be a good deed that will score him some more points on the scoreboard. he wants that wish of his to come true, and if letting people feel like they're helping him is how he's going to get there, then he'll suck it up and not drag his feet. ]

[ he does, however, look unimpressed by the jacket. leather is more his style; it's heavy and it's sometimes more flexible than anything else, and it never tears with his arrows. the type of jackets required for these types of balls are softer and require better care. ]

[ besides, he doesn't think he looks particularly pretty in pink. black is slimming, and works with everybody, even someone who make sit a point to always look like grumpy cat. ]

[ side-eying the jacket, he looks down at her. ] This isn't a normal jacket, Kimberly.

[recoined]

No? What, you don't like it?

( maybe the velvet is a bit much. it's a very stylish jacket, to be fair, but maybe it's too fast-fashion for alec lightwood; he does have a tendency to revert to more traditional cuts and fabrics, after all, what with the whole 'black on black' fashion concept he seems to sport on a regular basis.

said jacket goes back to its home amongst its brethren, and kimberly susses out an alternative, one that hopefully might suit his preferences a little more. granted, it's not exactly contempo casual, but it's not pink. a start, right? )

Okay, mister. How about this one?