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JAN. 02, 2010 WE'RE OPEN!

JAN. 12, 2011 TWO CASES HAVE BEEN ADDED AND CAN BE FOUND IN THE SUB-PLOT SECTION.

JAN 15, 2011 BOARD REVAMP. THEME CHANGE #1.

JAN 17, 2011 WE'RE BACK. CANON LIST AND CHARACTER REGISTRY HAVE BEEN ADDED.

FEB 10, 2011 FIRST ACTIVITY CHECK!




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 Coffee, Danishes, and maybe some Musings
Ellie Hammel
Posted: Mar 25 2011, 10:51 AM


ELLIE HAMMEL
Group Icon

Group: Architect Illegal
Posts: 3
Member No.: 24
Joined: 19-March 11



"Miss?"

Ellie Hammel gently combed a strand of wavy mocha hair behind her ear, sitting up straighter and fixing the waiter with her grey doe eyes. If Ellie was a little bit more down to earth she might've caught the waiters appreciation for her creamy pencil dress, but as it was, she did not. She was an architect after all-not that the boy would know at first glance. If he got to know her, however, there would most certainly be signs. The way she often stopped and stared at buildings for several minutes, as if memorizing them; the way she always had a sketchpad on hand, was reluctant to answer questions, and undeniably had a car that could only be bought with someone who had a job that called for a healthy salary.

"Miss, I asked what you wanted...?"

Ellie shook her head briefly, as if her thoughts were so high she had to shake them to the ground. Meeting the boy's gaze she nodded. "Of course. I would like a vanilla mocha with a chocolate danish on the side please." She was quite proud of her answer-she'd answered correctly without seeming too strange. "We'll have that done right away." The boy promised, skipping away with hardly a thought.
Ellie watched after him with an absentminded expression-he was 13, 14 maybe-that's how old she'd been when her father had introduced her to the magic of architecture.

"It may look like a building-" he'd say, "but it's whats underneath-everything is more than meets the eye, understand El?" She'd nod and nod, but she'd never truly understood till high school, where she'd thrown her whole being into creating buildings from the ground up. And it wasn't until college till she actually got a good job, the best, for architecture. Sometimes she regretted that it was illegal.
Glancing back down at the sketchpad that lay before her she continued drawing the layout of the building across from the cafe in which she now sat, waiting patiently for her food and drink.

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STEPHEN MOORE
Posted: Mar 26 2011, 06:15 AM


Control Architect
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Group: Architect Government
Posts: 18
Member No.: 12
Joined: 29-January 11



Blocking weeks. The weeks and months before a job when one would sit down to work--to think, to conceive--and six hours later, have absolutely nothing. Shoes. Jacket. Mr. Stephen Moore hadn't bothered to wash up, or anything like that. Or even change out of his pajama pants, actually. In a city full of eight million crazy personalities, would anyone care if he wanted to be comfortable for once? On his way out, he grabbed a pencil and a new pocket notebook and while he walked, he marked down anything that appealed to him: colors, materials, structures, fonts. And as he walked and drew, he scribbled things out, tore pages out, and threw them out to the nearest trash bin. Two blocks down the street to the cafe in the corner. Bells on the door. A loud, full house. Of course it would be: a cafe in the morning.

Stephen took the only available seat he saw, one across from a woman in a creamy pencil dress. "Hi," he said, with a brief grimmace, mind elsewhere. In a few strokes, he sketched the basic shape of the dress, scratching on next to it, beige? cream-beige? butter-pecan ice cream. Nah. Again, he grimaced, crossed the whole page out, and crumbled it up.

No sooner did the waiter arrive at his side that Stephen said, "Caffe Mocha, extra whipped cream and a sausage an egg on rye. But you can take your time, I'm not in any hurry." He was in the opposite, actually. If time were to slow down, he'd be having a better time with this, and...

Deep breath. Deep cleansing breath. His eyes wandered to the woman across from him, watching her sketching (properly, this time). She had the mind of an artist, it seemed, but probably not a particularly artsy one by the fact she was sketching a building, of all things. Stephen compared them, looking back and forth from the copy to the original. Quite accurate, at least. But it just bothered him.

So very suddenly, he said, "You do know that the design for that building is online, don't you? Goehler, the firm that did it, likes to show off all their work on their website, so you can see the 3-D version, zoom in, spin it around, do what you like. You could get a better look at it than you would from some cafe. I mean, if you're interested." Screw it. He wasn't getting any work done today. "Actually, there's another building about fifteen-sixteen blocks uptown that looks just like this one, except half as tall and with darker, more rustic molding. It's gorgeous. Far better than this one here."
Ellie Hammel
Posted: Mar 27 2011, 11:34 AM


ELLIE HAMMEL
Group Icon

Group: Architect Illegal
Posts: 3
Member No.: 24
Joined: 19-March 11



Ellie hardly noticed that the booth had been taken up by another occupant, let alone heard his order. Briefly she allowed herself to look up; it was a man-he was drawing her dress with swift, sure strokes as she spied on him. Ignoring the slight heat in her cheeks she looked back down at her drawing, not sure what to do.
She was a straight, 26 year old female; most women her age no longer found it difficult to talk to handsome strangers but as it was, Ellie was shy. Extremely so.
Even her fellow team members found her difficult at times, often having to explain the job to her because she herself was too cowardly to speak up and ask questions when they needed to be asked.
He was wearing pajamas, which was a strange look-but hey, it was New York. After their order they sat in utter silence, which Ellie was getting quite comfortable with until the man spoke up.

Brushing hair out of her eyes (yet again) she met the mans gaze. For a moment, she felt embarrassed-this man (more like a boy) was telling her how to do things? She had the urge to reach into her purse and snatch her totem-(a Parisian hair clip with diamond insets; it was much heavier in the real world than in the dream world) to see if this was one of those dreams where her projections constantly chastised her.
"I wasn't aware it was online-but I'm not much of an internet person." she murmured, slipping her sketchbook shut. Then he offered to show her another building. At first, as she packed her sketchbook into her tote bag and pulled her coat on over the dress-she considered refusing his proposal.
He could be anyone-a rapist, stalker-maybe even a Government official. And it was just so far out of her comfort zone that she gave serious thought to just walking away without another word. Her silvery eyes slid to the table top as he described it. Rustic? Gorgeous? She'd never seen a building like that in New York. Looking up she met his eyes again. Maybe just for a moment she could do this...just until he showed her the building. Then she'd make up some paper-thin excuse and come back to sketch it later.
"Really, you think so? Where is it?" she asked, her curiosity making her voice lighter despite herself.
STEPHEN MOORE
Posted: Apr 3 2011, 12:45 PM


Control Architect
Group Icon

Group: Architect Government
Posts: 18
Member No.: 12
Joined: 29-January 11



“Oh? I'm not... I'm not either. I mean, I know how to use a computer, but I don't really have the time to go snooping around the websites of architectural firms.” Stephen had that sudden sharp feeling that he was somehow being rude. After going back through his tracks, he realized that he probably had been. Not everyone responded to random casual conversation in the same way. That's what he got for not spending enough time in the real world. In order to make up for it, he offered, “Actually, I had a roommate who interned with them.” That much had been true, but perhaps it wasn't the whole truth. For nearly all his life, Stephen had lived in New York, and since he had a penchant for memorizing things, it was natural that he knew the layout of the streets and buildings as well as anyone. So while his roommate had showed him the website to the firm for which he was interning, Stephen could just as well use his eyes to see that the label on the building stated it was designed by Goehler, just like he used his eyes to notice that it looked suspiciously like the one building sixteen blocks north of it.

Secondly, Stephen hadn't realized he was offering to show her the building, but he had a creeping suspicion that that was what she was thinking. It was more of a suggestion, more of a “by the way, there exists a building that looks like this one, in case you care.” Probably, he figured, he was giving that kind of vibe. It wouldn't surprise him really. Most days, he was far, far more attentive. It was just those blocking days that bit him in the behind. “The south side of East 93rd, between Lexington and Third. It's all an office building for a travel agency, so I'd imagine if you looked interested enough, you could snoop around to see its insides.”

Now it got awkward. Did she get up because she wanted him to take her to see it, or because she just wanted to leave? The heavens answered him... or rather, the waiter boy returned with a vanilla mocha and danish. She needed to stay and eat, right? Or at least pay for her vanilla mocha and danish before she left. And considering she had just been sketching, which was usually a long term affair... “If you would like,” he said, being far too impatient to just sit and let the social situation linger in the air in front of him, “I could walk with you to show you this building I speak of, and potentially tell you about some other buildings of architectural note. I mean, I don't have anything planned for the day, save procrastinating my work, as you can see from my elegant attire.” He motioned towards his pajama pants. With perfect timing, the waiter came around with his coffee and sandwich. “But it is all up to you, of course.” Without missing a beat, Stephen sipped the Caffe Mocha, smiling with the wonderful feeling of licking a whipped cream mustache off one's lip. And afterwards, he started on his sandwich, not realizing until he tasted it how much he really needed an actual breakfast.
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