She was a woman on a mission. Her company, what was left of it, needed to be resuscitated back to it's former glory. Then lifted above all the other fashion companies of the world to its rightful place at the top. A process that was long and arduous but doable as long as one was willing to forgo sleep and other unnecessary luxuries. Truth be told Vina was starting to forget what her apartment even looked like. She doubted she'd stepped foot in it once since she'd been released from her confinement. Just a brisk in and out to freshen up and change her clothes each day, and she was charging back through her errands. There was no shortage of designs of course. In her madness she'd never stopped sketching the dresses and outfits that would become her new lines. They'd allowed her pencils and papers and that was all she'd needed. So that by the time they did finally release her she already had a collection to start on and four more waiting in the wings for the upcoming seasons.
That of course was the only thing that was done. There were fabrics to find, seamstresses and models to hire. She needed to go through her contacts to get accessories, set up press conferences, look at venus, venders, sponsors, and pick dates. She was severely behind and if she wanted to catch up she needed to run at full capacity. The outfits could be finished in time, at least the prototypes for the fashion show itself. But the rest?
Perhaps this was how she died.
It was rare for her to seek a break. She ran until her heels were worn down to the stubs or snapped beneath the pressure of so much sweeping from one place to another. Yet even she knew that she needed one. If only just to have tea or coffee. Food and drink to keep her running and her blood flowing at a pace that made all this doable.
This was one of those rare moments right now. When she rubbed at her temple and waited for the barista to finish her order. Her purse laying half opened on the counter. She had every intention of running right on out of here with drink in hand, but alas that was just courting disaster. How often did people get coffee spilled all over them when they got bumped into? Not to mention there was a couch in the corner of the little cafe that made her aching feet yearn with longing.
Gaze lifting to peek out from beneath the hand that still rubbed at her temples, she froze. Eyes catching on blond hair and a familiar shade of blue. Perhaps not a blue dress, but blue nonetheless. It wouldn't be the first time she'd felt her blood start to heat at the sight of that combination. Like a bull that saw red. She'd been wrong before, but it never hurt she supposed. Especially since she felt like that face was somewhat familiar once the other turned around enough for her to see her features.
She was absolutely horrible with faces.
But her eyes drifted down to the girl's neck, eyesight dimming for a moment as she imagined how easily an axe could- no.
Her order was done and she took it, before hastily moving to where the girl stood, "Excuse me Miss? I hope I'm not being too forward...but have you ever thought of being a model?" There was a sugary sweet smile on her face, her voice just as welcoming. Though madness hummed insider of her and threatened to seep out through her very pores. This close she could feel that sense of familiarity strengthen, and she perked up at the idea that this might be just who she was looking for. "I'm a fashion designer, and I have to say you'd probably fit the part wonderfully..."
ooc: i feel like it's a whole lot of nothing, and i forgot if we had any concrete thread idea for them SO I HOPE THIS IS OKAY >.>