where did the time go {open!}

[coralie annette diamond]

Coralie hated the dining hall. It was dirty, sticky, messy, loud, and above all, had the worst food imaginable. She hadn't had a meal plan since she was a freshman and so avoided eating there at all costs. Today, however, she was running late to work and it was lunch time, so there was nowhere else she could go and eat fast enough that wasn't actual fast food. She preferred the dining hall to a greasy burger joint, because at least then, she could get a salad.

Easily the most overdressed person in there, Coralie dodged her way around all of the people and various spilled foodstuffs, making sure to get nothing on her heels as she did. She was, of course, wearing colors on which food would show up boldly and so she was especially wary of stepping on anything or getting hit. At one point, she walked around an entire hamburger splayed out all over the ground.

It took longer than she'd have liked, but eventually Coralie was walking back to a table with a largeish salad that she'd covered in dressing, fearing it would be inedible if she didn't. Again, she avoided sticky places, wet places, and food until she found a large booth in the back. It was the only table that wasn't full and, though she felt awkward sitting at it all by herself, it was her only option. Setting her tray on the table, she pulled a wet wipe out of her purse and began to wipe her seat down. There was no way in hell that she was going to put her pants--or her cardigan--on that booth.

[willem van der holt]

Willem had a really hard time with the dining hall, as was imaginable being both vegetarian and lactose intolerant. He had very few options here: an apple, a banana, or an apple. Not that he minded these fruits, in fact, he rather enjoyed them, but when your options were eating one of the aforementioned fruits or lugging yourself all the way to some outside source of nourishment, it did get a bit tiring after a while. And so, not being one to distract himself from his day-long venture of watching movies in his dormitory, the young lad chose the cafeteria today. The interior of the cafeteria was frigid—in every sense of the word. The colours were harsh and the clientele were loud. For a split moment, Willem was actually regretting dragging himself from the luxury of his jammies and in to clothes to venture all the way to the hall. Yet, he was here now, so, he might as well fetch his apple. And tea. Tea did sound quite delightful, plus, that reminded him: he'd best water his plants later this afternoon.

He crossed the cafeteria on long legs, hands in his pockets as some loose change crunched slightly at the grip of his slender fingers. In a way, he was completely oblivious to the turbulent world around him and seemed lost in his own little world. The gears of imagination turned in his otherwise blank honeysuckle blue eyes. A few people passed him a strange look as he strolled across the cafeteria. He was a bizarre-looking creature for this neck of the woods. His hair, a myriad of sandy blonde and mocha in a lively, but refined curl, ate away at the corner of his cream-coloured face. He didn't even have to open his mouth for people to know he wasn't from here. The way his body was put together, the heart shape of his lips, the strange shape of his eyes: he was just... odd. His body was dressed entirely in black: from a black turtleneck, to a black overcoat, to his boot cut black jeans, and all the way down to his black converse. The contours of charcoal black hugged his trim body—limbs and torso together—that only accentuated his dangerously slim shape.

Reaching the queue, he quickly acquired his apple and a portable mug of piping hot tea. It was quite unfortunate about the poor quality of tea sold in the cafeteria and he wouldn’t have bought it at all had his body not been desperately bidding for caffeine. Willem carefully picked a direct path through the tangled web of people. It seemed quite a pinnacle, busy part of the day. It wouldn’t surprise him if all of the campus was in that cafeteria at that very moment. And just instants in to this minor revelation, he realized how very difficult it would be to find anywhere even remotely reasonable to sit. The only thing his almond-shaped blue eyes could see was an already occupied booth at the far end of the room. A single, quite lovely lady occupied it and Chai couldn’t help but think: why not? Except, in Dutch, so: waarom niet? Afterall, they were all starving university students.

“May I sit?” he asked as he approached her in the booth- his voice dripping with accent, “It’s quite full everywhere else.”

[coralie annette diamond]

No amount of moist towlettes could possibly have made this booth inhabitable, but Coralie couldn't eat standing. She had to deal with what was given to her and what was given to her was a sticky table that had probably only ever been cleaned with a dirty wet rag and that had been sat in by GodKnewWho, a person who did GodKnewWhat and made a huge mess in the process, only to have that mess swept to the side and onto the floor. Coralie couldn't even look at the floor or else she might have some sort of hint as to what GKW had done upon inhabiting this booth and then she would have cried and crying would have ruined all of her careful shadow work and she couldn't go to a boutique like Cherie with her shadows ruined.

Just because she knew that she had to sit, it didn't mean that she could just do it at the drop of a hat. Once the booth was "clean," Coralie stared at it, as though by the force of her gaze, it would disinfect itself as thoroughly as possible. After nothing happening for thirty seconds, Coralie sighed and started inching her way into the booth. It took her another thirty seconds to slide in all the way comfortably, and each second that she had to inch her Vince jeans over was a second of pain and torture for her germophobic germ-wary brain. After the painstaking journey to comfortable seathood, she sat stiff as a board and stared at her poor, untouched salad.

It was as she was doing so that her tortured reverie was interrupted by a voice that sounded like it wasn't really speaking English. It took her a few seconds to realize that she did actually understand the words behind the accent and she turned to see a boy about her age with the most luxurious and wonderful hair that she had ever seen in her life. Her gaze travelled along the length of his body, taking in his lovely thin shape, the all-black outfit [which was acceptably chic for a beginner] and stopping just above the ankles so that she wouldn't judge him too harshly on his choice of footwear just yet. Germophobia forgotten, she looked back up at his face and picked up her fork.

"Oh, please do." She gestured to the seat across from her, fluffing her hair under her sun hat as she did. "I know, it seems silly that all of the groups took the smaller tables and left me alone with this big thing." She laughed, a full throaty laugh that neither seemed genuine nor not-genuine. It was a laugh that was there to fill the space in between her making small talk and then getting to the heart of the matter--because Coralie was not shy when it came to talking about beauty. She leaned forward, fork still in her hand and salad still untouched, and gave the boy a toothy smile. "Darling, did you know that you have absolutely the most fabulous hair I have ever seen?" She chuckled again and fluffed her own hair. "Besides mine, of course." Setting her fork down, she offered him her hand. "Coralie. Coralie Diamond."

[willem van der holt]

When he had been given the permission to sit, Willem very coherently slid in to the opposite side of the booth and draped his body back. He didn’t just sit, no, his gaunt figure hung off the booth with his legs crossed at the knee and resting back against his arm, which had been wrapped around the back of the seat. With his free hand, he idly began to cut in to the apple, slicing off small parts and feeding them off the knife between his lips. Setting the knife down for a moment, he picked up his tea and let the small slit sit just below his bottom lip, letting his indigo gaze shift over and take in the young woman he had sat down next to. She really was as lovely up close as she was far away and she exuded affluence and vogue like a perfume.

“Thank you for letting me sit,” he said finally, a wan smile curling the corners of his lips in to lovely dimples at the corner of his cheeks. For a moment, he continued to watch her, not at all unlike a not-quite-hungry cat to a mouse before turning his head away and setting the travelling mug of tea down back on the table and resuming slivering apart his apple. He took his time eating and it was a delicate, sedate process of enjoyment. The only thing awaiting him was another movie, and to be quite frank, he was starting to realize now that he didn’t really have any interest in watching another movie today.

He listened to her speak quite diligently, giving a nod to signify that he had heard her and that he was being attentive, even if he was occupied with eating at that moment. He pushed some of his loose hair back and glanced over to her. The comment brought a suave smile to his face, “Thank you very much. I no know how to speak English very well, but,” he raised a flippant hand, casually flicking his hand to demonstrate his indifference, “but I can look fabulous while no speaking well,” he laughed a little and crinkled his little button of a nose. He didn’t speak well, and he knew that, but he did appreciate fashion because he could at least look striking.

“Miss Diamond,” he set the knife soundlessly down on the corner of his plate, careful to not let it come in contact with the table surface itself and kindly taking her hand in his own. His touch was cold. Being so tall and skinny led him to have less than decent circulation. “My name is Willem,” he smiled. Growing up in Europe, he was so much more of a gentleman than many Americans. In Europe, especially Western Europe, parents taught their children démodé etiquette and it had become so ground in to Chai that he didn’t even think about it, “Please, call me Chai. All friends call me Chai and you seem very lovely person with very beautiful hair!” he chuckled, very serenely relaxing his fingers on her hand as if to return her hand to her.

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[coralie annette diamond]

Taking cues from the boy with the beautiful hair, Coralie picked up her fork again and poked at her salad. She had paid for it, so she should at least try to eat it. Watching him eat his apple was much more entertaining, however. He did it with such style and finesse that Coralie almost believed that he was eating something much more exciting than an apple.

"It's no trouble at all, darling," she said, spearing a carrot and forcing herself bring the fork over to her mouth. She had perfected the art of eating without smearing her lipstick and now, faced with the task of paying attention to something more than just her own beauty, she was having to make a serious effort to remember that skill. The novelty of watching Chai eat wore off quickly, however, so Coralie was free to pucker at her fork as she pleased.

Coralie lived for fixing things, including people's grammar, but she held her tongue when Chai spoke because he was right--he did look fabulous while not speaking well. "You can say that again." She fluttered her eyelashes, not necessarily because she was hitting on him, but because when confronted with other fabulous people, she couldn't help but just be coy. She knew she was on the right track when he took her hand to kiss it, because only the most fabulous of boys did that sort of thing. This must have been what had really drawn her to the dining hall--Coralie knew that everything happened for a reason. She was meant to meet this fabulous foreign boy.

"Chai?" she repeated, unsure of what to make of this nickname. The only thing she could think of was the tea, but perhaps it was some foreign thing. Willem was a much nicer name, in Coralie's opinion, but she didn't want to offend him by not using the name he provided just yet. In time, perhaps she would show him the ways of being proper and using his full name. For now, however, she had to blush, smile, and fluff her hair. "Oh, you are too kind, darling." She tossed her head before settling in and leaning forward to look at him.

"Tell me, dear, where is it you're from? I adore your accent, it is tres magnifique."