Themadisynhuang - You're A Rich Girl

— Task 005 - Let's Get Physical

Height: 5 ft 2

Weight: 114 lbs

Body Type: Pear, medium build, toned arms and legs from attending the gym / wearing heels almost everywhere 

Eye Color: Brown

Eye Sight: 20 / 20 Vision, wears glasses for aesthetics

Natural Hair Color: Dark brown

Current Hair Color: Light brown with caramel highlights ( insp. )

Hairstyle: Long with wispy layers, usually worn down with tight curls ( insp. )

Facial Hair: N/A

Scars: N/A

Skin Tone: Tan / medium, with warm undertones

Freckles: N/A

Moles: N/A

Dominant Hand: Right

Flexibility: Acts like she’s extremely flexible but suffers in beginner yoga, can put her left leg behind her head as a party trick

Body Temperature: Since moving to Illinois, runs cold and is sensitive to the gentlest of breeze

Posture: Straight-backed, chin up, confident

Birthmarks: A cornflake shape on her upper left shoulder ( insp. )

Tattoos: A butterfly on her lower back ( insp. )

Piercings: Lobes, upper lobes on both ears, helix on left ear ( insp. )

Teeth: Perfectly straight and white, rumored to be veneers though Madisyn insists she just had Invisalign 

Voice: Southern Californian accent, with Valley Girl inflections, can be loud and shrill at times

Style: Glitz and glam even in her casual wear, bright colors, sequins, and heels always

Shoe Size: 8 US

Orders taken, wine appearing on the table, it was easy to pretend for a few moments that they were anywhere else. California perhaps, cosying up in Spago or Nobu, the warmth of the Los Angeles air ready to wrap them up in greeting, instead of the chilly fall evenings that Illinois had to offer. But it was only as Madi reached the tail-end of her story about her relocation did her smile morph into something more somber, reality crashing into her. But time marched forward, or something. She wondered if Max felt the same way, seemingly disinterested when it was obvious that for once in her life there had been no drama associated with her purchasing Meadowview Farm.

A giggle escaped her at the teasing — being compared to Paris Hilton was of course the highest of compliments to an influencer — and how Max was in disbelief about her sudden pivot of career. “I mean, expect the unexpected, right?” The tone shifted when he brought up her failed business venture, and whilst she was sure Max didn’t mean it, it came off as unnecessarily cruel all the same. “Don’t. That’s not funny.” Her stomach turned at the idea of her run-in with Grace, if her former partner was still in town. If there had been any crossover between her and the Mohan enterprise. “I like the farm.” She further added, addressing her wine glass with an air of petulance.

‎ PSYCHIC INTUITION. if only madisyn could've told him about how his marriage would end, he probably wouldn't have stood in front of that altar in the first place. she also could've probably used psychic intuition when the internet feasted on her online carcass, but here they are: not-quite divorced, elbow-deep in horseshit, and reincarnated into marginally less broken versions of themselves. which is, to their respective credit, entirely of their own doing. fuck psychic intuition.

she mocks his being fine as if he can get any better (which he can, in theory, but 'fine' is the best he's been in a long time and he'll be damned if that gets taken away from him) and he responds with a huff, takes another sip of his drink as he listens to her tell him about how she managed to dig her perfectly manicured nails across the country and have her autograph on a deed of sale for a farm lot. he half-expected something insane like she'd been scammed into purchasing abandoned property when she thought she was buying a g-wagon, or whatever story would generate the most clicks, but it turns out, the truth is much more underwhelming than he'd anticipated.

his fingers tap against the moist surface of his glass, mostly silent, his eyes narrowing towards madisyn as he waits for her to order and hand the menu back to the waiter. "and how is the simple life, paris?" the makings of a smirk appear on his lips as he makes the joke. he's much more interested in talking about her life than he is about his. well, at the moment, anyway. "you must be the last person i imagine living on a farm." he shakes his head, remembering a tiktok video of hers that his sister had shown him. "madisyn huang is actually holding a fucking chicken. what is this, some sort of pr stunt to bring the bakery back, show 'em it's all organic?" he wouldn't put it past her.

It was moments like this where Madisyn felt true normalcy. She didn’t feel eyes on her, she didn’t feel like she had to parade around wearing a costume that maybe didn’t fit her anymore. There was no major digital footprint with her name attached. She was just some random woman, in a random town, with a random man. All was well, end scene.

But unfortunately the reality of her situation wasn’t one she could easily shake, and though she could pretend through her aching muscles protesting every move she made — almost tricking herself into believing she was in a different body for a moment — the truth was always there, niggling at her in the back of her mind. “Well, you took me to like, one for yoga experts. I’m a beginner!” She protested, remembering the one class she enrolled in back in LA being much more simple and easy.

“Ugh, Deac. Look at these nails,” She flashed him her manicured hand, “I’m not getting down and dirty on the land. That’s what I pay people for. Sitting in an office doesn’t require flexibility!” Breathing in the fresh air, Madisyn’s head felt less foggy. “The Mango Tree?” She suggested for food, stretching out her arms with a pout, as if it was Deacon’s fault her limbs were uncooperative to the demands of the class.

There’s very little about Madisyn that can deter him—not that she’d try. For some inexplicable reason, Madisyn’s come to favor his company and it’s never been in his nature to throw people away just like that. So when she blows a playful kiss to his direction and ditches their ice cream plan in favor of an early lunch, he can only make a show of catching said kiss thrown to the wind and chuckling. “Alright,” he says, with a grin, “Let’s do ice cream then.” 

He starts packing up his yoga gear, rolling the mat with the precision of someone, er—exactly thrice. Stepping outside with Madisyn, he can’t help but inhale the crisp morning air. It’s a welcome contrast to the scent of incense inside Lotus & Light. He has to hand it to his sister, who has to host sessions like that for hours on end. Yoga it is an acquired taste, and while his body is quick to accept the mindfulness aspect of it, the everything else is the harder part. 

“I still can’t believe you accepted my invitation, by the way. But you didn’t have particularly good form over there,” he glances downward at Madisyn, tone teasing, “Woulda thought your farm job made you a bit more flexible than that.” Then again, he has no idea what running a farm actually entailed. Beyond the brief stints at the country club, and that one ill-fated summer as a ranch hand in corn country, he’s really only had one job all his life. 

Madisyn always thought that journalism was just like an easy way to get paid. All you did was gossip and type it up for a website or print. And poor people like her were always the subjects, pictures of them blown up and edited to fit the story, lies and slander and rumors out for the world to see. Regardless of the truth in Rachel’s initial article, or the facts stated in the reports released upon the influencer’s world crumbling, shit like that still hurt. And even if the woman before her wasn’t at the helm of the destruction of Madisyn’s life, it was nice to put a face to someone who could be blamed for all these injustices. “A couple of them quoted you. Warning signs, they put it.” She sniffed. “Yeah, guess we’re both here in Blue Harbor now.” Considering the information Rachel gave her, Madisyn wondered why she was here and not back in San Francisco or Boston. “Perfect place to run away to.” It was a complete stab in the dark but hey, anything to make this bitch feel just even the smidge unsettled.

Unfortunately, Rachel learned too late that she very much did not want Madisyn to remember her. She grimaced at the exclamation, feeling eyes on them. Whether that was in her mind or if that was actually happening, she didn't want to risk glancing around. "Uh, I mean I definitely was sent articles about it, yeah. And an offer to comment on it..." She didn't know if telling this to Madisyn would infuriate her more or maybe she'd appreciate the truth. Clearly, Rachel had not chosen to comment or write an article about it. "I would definitely not put lapping up as the description of how I took in the news." She corrected while clearing her throat, not trying to antagonize but also unsure how exactly this conversation could go well. "I hadn't really felt like it had much to do with the article I initially wrote on you. But uh, I mean I definitely didn't realized you'd re-located."