finally free

…Solomon bounded up to two familiar faces with an impish grin blazing on his own features. “Cara Simmons and Fawn Lockwood,” he greeted them eagerly, one arm around each of their shoulders. It was more of a double headlock than a hug, but the keen, chummy nature of his demeanor outweighed that little tidmit. Releasing them, he added, “Solomon Matua or your resident William Cyrus Rae at your service. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you both, though I feel like we’re all already old friends.”

Fawn stiffened up immediately upon contact and, once freed, took a good few steps back. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, trying to feign enough boredom to cover up her discomfort. “Nice to meet you, as well,” She said it to be polite, though her flat tone was anything but.

there were few constants in this new downturn of roslan’s life, but these were among those certainties: his captors would never let him out, and cara would never stopped howling. over and over, roslan thought of how he could convince them that this had all been some misunderstanding, but they were never interested in what he had to say. no one was, except for cara simmons – and maybe only because they happened to share a cell block.

“i’m here,” he whispered hoarsely, settling himself against the cold corner. a bar pressed uncomfortably against his cheek, but he’d withstand it for cara’s voice, the only semblance of normalcy he had nowadays. “you need to start saving your voice, cara. if someone finally comes for us today…” a fantasy that mulled over every day. “…we’ll need to be able to make sure they know we’re here.”

Cara breathed a sigh of a relief when she heard Roslan’s meek mumble, even tinnier through the hollowed halls of...whatever this place was. She lost track of the days, but no matter what the correct tally would read, Cara was no step closer to figuring out what this place was or how to get out of it. She even started to lose hope every time she woke up in this cramped, dark cell again.

“I don’t really do social media,” Fawn said vaguely, glancing over Cara’s head momentarily. There was the occasional post on Instagram or Twitter, but they were all taken from Getty Images, given generic captions, often crossposted on both platforms, and never actually uploaded by her. There wasn’t all that much to stalk, which had been her goal, much to her team’s displeasure.

Fawn, generally speaking, tended more toward discomfort than anything else around other people, but especially so on the set of projects. When her agent had suggested doing a couple of movies to help her post-recovery rebrand, she hadn’t been all that eager to, but she’d also really thought she could handle it. She didn’t want to be considered a diva, after all, when this whole thing was supposed to be to paint her in a positive light, but, god, it was — Fawn just wasn’t happy with doing any of this. That was all. She was lucky to make it through her first project back in the movie industry with her reputation intact, but she really didn’t know if she could keep it up. So when an all too eager girl bounded up with her, it was all Fawn do not to wince, her face a cool mask as she responded neutrally, “Hello.”

Fawn twisted a finger through her hair distractedly, not quite making eye contact with the girl in front of her. “I play Para Dox,” She answered with some reluctance, unwilling to share even the most basic personal information. Then, because she realized how batshit it was of her to not even have shared her first name, she added slowly, “I’m Fawn, by the way.”