[ what kind of backwards cruise was this??? she'd assumed that maybe she'd just blocked out the past couple of days. that somehow, to get her away from newport and the added trauma of recent events, that he mother had somehow talked summer's dad into booking them on a cruise. or that he dad had come back in spite of her telling him to stay away to whisk her off to some place safe. somewhere that didn't know her. away from all the memories, all the loss.
but that doesn't appear to be the case.
crumpling the paper in hand, marissa grabs the life jacket, slinging it over one shoulder, and heads for deck one. she's got her arms folded over her chest in open petulance throughout the drill, rolling her eyes dramatically at the duo she wrongly presumes are cosplayers and this is some wacky comic con themed cruise that would make seth's wildest dreams come true. ]
Are we done here? This isn't my first cruise, you know.
ii. one by one they'll do you in
[ she's trapped in a conga line. a freakin' conga line. marissa always organized ridiculous things like this when she was harbor's social chair. listing events that she would never participate in herself because it was the thing to do; it appeased the teachers that oversaw the social committee and gave incoming freshman and those looking to just let loose and be silly something fun to do.
she never participated in them herself. maybe that's why she's trapped now.
but she's tired and her legs ache, and she doesn't want to conga anymore. so she reaches out to grab the arm of the first person the line passes by in hopes they can help free her from this neverending dance trap. ]
iii. the price of vice foretold
You're kidding me, right? Is this really all they have here?
[ marissa holds up a brightly colored men's tommy bahama shirt that's about three sizes too big for her. ]
marissa cooper | the oc.
[ what kind of backwards cruise was this??? she'd assumed that maybe she'd just blocked out the past couple of days. that somehow, to get her away from newport and the added trauma of recent events, that he mother had somehow talked summer's dad into booking them on a cruise. or that he dad had come back in spite of her telling him to stay away to whisk her off to some place safe. somewhere that didn't know her. away from all the memories, all the loss.
but that doesn't appear to be the case.
crumpling the paper in hand, marissa grabs the life jacket, slinging it over one shoulder, and heads for deck one. she's got her arms folded over her chest in open petulance throughout the drill, rolling her eyes dramatically at the duo she wrongly presumes are cosplayers and this is some wacky comic con themed cruise that would make seth's wildest dreams come true. ]
Are we done here? This isn't my first cruise, you know.
she never participated in them herself. maybe that's why she's trapped now.
but she's tired and her legs ache, and she doesn't want to conga anymore. so she reaches out to grab the arm of the first person the line passes by in hopes they can help free her from this neverending dance trap. ]
[ marissa holds up a brightly colored men's tommy bahama shirt that's about three sizes too big for her. ]
I can't wear this. Where's the women's section?