Post by Stella Basch on Jul 2, 2024 19:34:28 GMT -5
Joann Fabric & Crafts
Panama City, FL
July 2, 2024
We fade in as Stella Basch is wandering down an aisle filled with bolts of cotton in every shade and print imaginable. She runs a hand along the bolts, quietly commenting on each one that catches her eye. She pauses, tilting her head as she spots a bolt of olive green cotton.
Stella: Nah… if I was working with a camo print, maybe.
She shakes her head and moves on, stopping at a bright purple bolt of fabric.
Stella: MUCH better!
She pulls the bolt from the shelf and sticks it into her cart. She pushes it down the rest of the aisle and over to a table laden heavily with pattern books.
Stella: Heh… like I’d ever use those! Freehand for the win, baby!
Stella sits down at the table, her cart pulled up beside her as she turns the chair sideways, so that she can face the camera.
Stella: It’s kinda funny, you know?
She pauses, glancing up at the ceiling.
Stella: You know how we always seem to be running into each other everywhere we go?
She shakes her head.
Stella: No, I’m not following you; I swear!
She chuckles as she gets a few strange looks from passers-by.
Stella: Still, it’s a foregone conclusion that we’d end up in the same ring in some form or another. It’s just how the business works.
Stella shrugs her shoulders.
Stella: Still, I have to admit that while yesterday was a fun little diversion, it doesn’t take away from what we have to do tomorrow. The time for games is over, and I plan on showing that there’s far more to this little MtG nerd “princess” than meets the eye.
There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice at the mention of the word “princess,” coupled with a slight eye roll.
Stella: Sure, I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted, and you may think I’m spoiled, but if I couldn’t hold my own in a fight, I wouldn’t be here, would I?
Stella: No… I’d probably be competing in a MtG tournament...
She begins to mutter under her breath.
Stella: Assuming my brother would even let me out of his sight, that is.
She shakes her head as if to say “never mind,” then puffs away a few strands of hair that fall in front of her eyes.
Stella: I’ll say this much about you, Tom. You’re a real piece of work sometimes. You’re funny, but at times, you can be a real pain in the ass. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, mind you. At least it means you’re not boring. That said, we’re not stepping through the ropes to chat about who’s got the better Commander deck.
She holds up her index finger, waving it back and forth in a “no” gesture as she props her feet up on the vacant chair in front of her.
Stella: I mean, it’s still friendly competition, but this time, it’s to see which one of us is the better wrestler. Of course, I could go the route one might expect from the Basch bloodline and say that I’ve got the pedigree for it, but it takes more than good genes. Hell, even from a genetics standpoint, I wouldn’t say I won the lottery.
She smirks, shrugging her shoulders.
Stella: But I’m not afraid to get out there and show people what I can do, regardless of who happens to be standing across the ring from me. It’s just that this time, it happens to be you.
She smiles sheepishly.
Stella: I know… you’ve run afoul of my brother on more than one occasion. And I get that he can be a bit… overprotective.
She rolls her eyes.
Stella: But even he knows that he can’t keep me sheltered forever, and that I have to find my own place in this world without him breathing down my neck. But he’s not involved in this match, and I’ll make sure he keeps his nose away from where it doesn’t belong.
She casts a sideways glance while mouthing the words “his ass better mind his own...”
Stella: And who knows? Maybe afterward, I can give you a little rematch. I’ll even use a different deck.
She winks playfully.
Stella: Just remember... I told you not to sleep on precons...
Stella gets up from her seat, pulling a notepad from out of her purse. She pushes the cart over to the cutting table and grabs a number from the nearby ticket dispenser. However, as she goes to get in line, she spots the “last chance” rack, and a partial bolt of black cotton with a multi-colored dot print. Rushing over, she grabs it and puts it into the cart.
Stella: YOINK!
She giggles as she waits for her number to be called as the scene fades out.
Panama City, FL
July 2, 2024
We fade in as Stella Basch is wandering down an aisle filled with bolts of cotton in every shade and print imaginable. She runs a hand along the bolts, quietly commenting on each one that catches her eye. She pauses, tilting her head as she spots a bolt of olive green cotton.
Stella: Nah… if I was working with a camo print, maybe.
She shakes her head and moves on, stopping at a bright purple bolt of fabric.
Stella: MUCH better!
She pulls the bolt from the shelf and sticks it into her cart. She pushes it down the rest of the aisle and over to a table laden heavily with pattern books.
Stella: Heh… like I’d ever use those! Freehand for the win, baby!
Stella sits down at the table, her cart pulled up beside her as she turns the chair sideways, so that she can face the camera.
Stella: It’s kinda funny, you know?
She pauses, glancing up at the ceiling.
Stella: You know how we always seem to be running into each other everywhere we go?
She shakes her head.
Stella: No, I’m not following you; I swear!
She chuckles as she gets a few strange looks from passers-by.
Stella: Still, it’s a foregone conclusion that we’d end up in the same ring in some form or another. It’s just how the business works.
Stella shrugs her shoulders.
Stella: Still, I have to admit that while yesterday was a fun little diversion, it doesn’t take away from what we have to do tomorrow. The time for games is over, and I plan on showing that there’s far more to this little MtG nerd “princess” than meets the eye.
There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice at the mention of the word “princess,” coupled with a slight eye roll.
Stella: Sure, I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted, and you may think I’m spoiled, but if I couldn’t hold my own in a fight, I wouldn’t be here, would I?
Stella: No… I’d probably be competing in a MtG tournament...
She begins to mutter under her breath.
Stella: Assuming my brother would even let me out of his sight, that is.
She shakes her head as if to say “never mind,” then puffs away a few strands of hair that fall in front of her eyes.
Stella: I’ll say this much about you, Tom. You’re a real piece of work sometimes. You’re funny, but at times, you can be a real pain in the ass. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, mind you. At least it means you’re not boring. That said, we’re not stepping through the ropes to chat about who’s got the better Commander deck.
She holds up her index finger, waving it back and forth in a “no” gesture as she props her feet up on the vacant chair in front of her.
Stella: I mean, it’s still friendly competition, but this time, it’s to see which one of us is the better wrestler. Of course, I could go the route one might expect from the Basch bloodline and say that I’ve got the pedigree for it, but it takes more than good genes. Hell, even from a genetics standpoint, I wouldn’t say I won the lottery.
She smirks, shrugging her shoulders.
Stella: But I’m not afraid to get out there and show people what I can do, regardless of who happens to be standing across the ring from me. It’s just that this time, it happens to be you.
She smiles sheepishly.
Stella: I know… you’ve run afoul of my brother on more than one occasion. And I get that he can be a bit… overprotective.
She rolls her eyes.
Stella: But even he knows that he can’t keep me sheltered forever, and that I have to find my own place in this world without him breathing down my neck. But he’s not involved in this match, and I’ll make sure he keeps his nose away from where it doesn’t belong.
She casts a sideways glance while mouthing the words “his ass better mind his own...”
Stella: And who knows? Maybe afterward, I can give you a little rematch. I’ll even use a different deck.
She winks playfully.
Stella: Just remember... I told you not to sleep on precons...
Stella gets up from her seat, pulling a notepad from out of her purse. She pushes the cart over to the cutting table and grabs a number from the nearby ticket dispenser. However, as she goes to get in line, she spots the “last chance” rack, and a partial bolt of black cotton with a multi-colored dot print. Rushing over, she grabs it and puts it into the cart.
Stella: YOINK!
She giggles as she waits for her number to be called as the scene fades out.