Oh sweet I really like this set. So, I know I said I'd do a part two to my last Co set but I'm just absorbing it into this story (making it doubly long!). And some pretty cool stuff goes down so stick around babes? :)
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The first part of this story is actually the second part of my previous story that took place from June 22nd to June 27th, and therefore is just generally part of the madness during that time period. The second part is set solely on the 28th of June, with the event following:
Thursday, June 28th; Tonight we will be going through a little process known as Cotillion at the Coldgrove Country Club. Make sure you wear those fancy dresses, fix your date’s tie and have those presentation statements absolutely perfect because tonight’s the night to make mommy and daddy proud.
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scent – hair dye; coach poppy
mood – mischievous
hair – freshly dyed and piled high
nails – chanel vamp
lips - rouge dior lipcolor in favori red
music – not in love//crystal castles
food – champagne counts, right?
where – gas station bathroom; later a party of the highly elegant variety
with – surrounded by people but completely alone
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(Some background because I never ended up writing this part: Coco is taken back to the Cape Cod hotel of her family, who proves just as toxic as usual with the mess of campaign promises and failures to take into account what she wants. So she sends a text to the boys she’s grown increasingly dependent on and they make their escape. They’re gone less than twenty-four hours before they see a news report on the missing senator’s daughter. And cut to….)
The mirror was cracked, and in the corner someone had scribbled a crude drawing in thick black sharpie. The whole room stunk of bleach and for a moment I briefly wondered what I was doing there. The little brown bottle was perched on the edge of the sink, which was mercifully pristine. I closed my eyes to rub them with the heels of my hands. My hair was dripping on my shoulders, which stung from the cold. My head hurt. I gritted my teeth and turned the water back on, sticking my head under the faucet again, until my hair was soaked. I wrung it out over the trash can and turned to look at myself in the mirror, briefly entertaining the thought of stopping here.
My blonde locks looked dangerous, dripping and dark under the harsh florescent light. I took a deep breath and pulled on the gloves from the package. I picked up the bottle, and it felt heavy in my hands as I slowly turned it over, freeing the contents, massaging it into my hair. I stood still for five minutes as it sunk in, my eyes stinging from the ammonia. The room smelled like the dye now, covering the bleach. I preferred the bleach. I took one last glance at my phone to ensure it had been five minutes, and then turned the water back on, sticking my head back under as the goo slid down the drain. I wrung my hair out again but didn’t dare check the mirror. I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
I turned my attention to my search along the wall, looking for the power outlet. It’s by the toilet, easily the most disgusting part of the room. I frown and glance around for another one but there is nothing to be seen. I sigh and pull the hair dryer from my duffel on the counter, plugging it in and immediately sanitizing my hands. I smell ridiculous, I’m sure, a combination of alcohol from the sanitizer, ammonia, and bleach. A noxious cocktail. I had prayed for a shower to appear miraculously, but none materialized and I resigned myself to my fate, weakly lifting the dryer to my damp hair. I took less time than usual drying, due perhaps to the aid of the heated hand dryer I accidentally triggered on my right. My neck tingled from the temperature. My hair felt dry and I pulled it back, away from the heat.
My actions took on a mechanical quality to them as I unplugged the dryer and replaced it with a curling iron. I still couldn’t bear to look in the mirror, but I was forced to. My platinum blonde locks were gone, replaced by soft chocolate brown hair that tumbled down around my shoulders in commas and quotation marks. Somehow, I still looked like me. I started to shove the things back in my duffel, when I caught another glimpse. I was smiling. A real smile, not a smirk or a pout. There. I was unrecognizable. The smiled grew wider as I slung the bag over my shoulder and pushed open the door, slipping on my hugest sunglasses and linking arms with Iain at the register. Time for the missing girl to play a little game.
I pray Coldgrove is ready.
PART TWO HAS BEEN WRITTEN AND WILL BE UPLOADED JUNE 28TH
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(type ‘the amount of ruby aldrige pictures in sophia’s items is insane’ if you read it all so far)