IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD.

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍   𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑   𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒   and   rita   starts,   only   minutely   [      𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.   𝚒𝚝   𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜   𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛   𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚜     ].   nevertheless,   the   sight   kindles   a   desperate   wonderment   in   her   eyes   as   she   takes   it   in.  

  INT / EXT.    VERDURE & TELLTALE   AZURE OF CLEAR SKIES ─ APPARENTLY   DAY ─ SUBJECTIVE CAMERA, following rita’s gaze beyond the liminality, a scene that bitterly tastes like freedom.

but   it’s   what   keeps   her   grounded.   even   as   some   breeze   so   reminiscent   of   springtime   beckons   to   her,   she   thinks   to   herself     [ … ]     real   or   unreal,   it   is   captivity   all   the   same.   reluctance   keeps   rita   in   a   standstill   before   the   threshold   until   a   hand   pushes   her   onwards   (     NO    ────   not   exactly.   she   won’t   stand   for   physical   contact   and   her   step   forward   is   better   described   as   a͟ ͟ ͟ ͟s͟t͟e͟p͟ ͟ ͟ ͟a͟w͟a͟y͟ ͟ ͟ ͟f͟r͟o͟m͟ ͟ ͟ ͟h͟i͟m͟     ).   as   they   take   to   the   path   on   the   other   side   of   doorway,    rita   spares   an   irritated   glance   behind   her.   𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝙳𝙸𝙳   𝙸   𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃   𝚂𝙰𝚈?  

❝   a   very   𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈   landscape   design   you   have   here,   mr.   jack.     ❞   nodding   along   to   his   commentary   when   necessary,   her   uninterest   masks   itself   as   reticence,   but   concern   bleeds   in   as   she   realizes    that   her   new   surroundings  [    and   red   jack’s   display   of   ────   WHATEVER   YOU’D   CALL   PULLING   UP   A   DOOR   FROM   THIN   AIR     ]   don’t   hold   much   in   the   way   of   opportunities.   she   shelves   most   of   her   brazen   strategies   on   the   spot:   rita   thinks   that   throwing   him   into   the   hedges   will   result   in   nothing   but   anger   for   his   precious   trimmed   butterflies.   ruminations   leave   her   in   a   foul,   hopeless   mood;   by   the   time   they   reach   the   gazebo,   rita’s   thought   it   a   hundred   times.   𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻   𝙰𝙼   𝙸   𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳   𝚃𝙾   𝙳𝙾?

  A WOMAN sits down on varnished white.she’s clinging to the barest affectationof civility & indifference.  that countsfor something, right?

𝑙𝑒𝑡’𝑠   𝑡𝑟𝑦   𝑖𝑡   𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.   perhaps     [ … ]     and   here,   half   of   rita   thinks   she’s   given   up   for   even   considering   it,   but   perhaps   she’ll   have   a   second   go   at   talking.   now’s   the   time   to   act.    𝑻𝑶   𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬   𝑴𝒀𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭   𝑶𝑼𝑻   𝑶𝑭   𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺.

❝     L͟O͟O͟K͟.͟   i’m   appreciating   your   efforts,   see?   i   came   along   with   you.   nicely.   now   ,   why   don’t   we   have   a   little   chat   on   my     [ … ]     predicament.   because,   frankly,    aside   from   your   vague   reasoning    ────     ❞   𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎   𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢   𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢    ❝     ────   i   don’t   see   why   i   should   entertain   the   idea   of   staying   here   with   you.   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐈   𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒   𝐈𝐍   𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃   𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇.     ❞  

      her  visible  irritation  is  rewarded  with  curt  amusement  :   milky white eyes,   which  are  truly  the mirrors  into  red  jack’s  soul   seeing  as  he doesn’t  have  any other  facial  features  with which to  emote ,   narrow  in  masked joy.   he loved  a hotheaded  woman ,   and  under  the  layers of  anger,  anger at  him ,   he  knew  that   there  very  well  may  be  a  sprout  of  hopelessness inside  rita  farr.   the  sinking,  stinging  feeling  that  you are not getting away.  with  hopelessness came  fear.   with  fear  came  pain.   much  like  his lovely  garden,   it  was a  sprout  he would  nurture  with  patience  and  care,   waiting for it  to  come  to fruition.        that  being  said  ?    red  jack  sits  down  across from  her,    an  elegant  leg  crossed over the  other. 

    “    why ,   thank  you  ,   my   dear  miss  farr.   i’ve   had  lots of time to  perfect  it,   you  see ...    not  a leaf  out of  place.    ha ha.  “   gloved hands clap  lightly together  twice,   and from  seemingly  nowhere ,    a  tea set  becomes  present  on the  table.    fine  polished  china.    although  he could not be  bothered  to  get the  set himself  --   the  human  way   --    he  does  pour it  himself,    starting  with  rita’s   lovely  rosy  cup.    he  serves  her  as  she speaks. 

“you don’t have lips, but i do. if you want a kiss that bad, then i’ll kiss you.”

     resting  his  ornate  cane  in front  of  him  and  leaning  over  just  so,    jack  closes  his  crescent  moon  eyes  and   points a  satin - gloved  finger  on  his  cheek ,     not  saying  a   word   ...     a  silent  command!   

@psitu​  asked:   ❝ there’s a world out there, waiting to be seen. ❞

      she’s  not  used  to  being  mothered.   in fact,   it feels like  eons ago  that dorothy even  had  someone that  she  called   “ mama “  ...    cliff and  josh had done a good enough  job  filling  the  parental roles  in  her  life,    but  still.   sometimes  she  wished  she  had a strong  womanly  presence  in  her  life   ...  she could  feel  lonely  without  it.      that  being  said,    here  is  rita  :   attempting  to  break a  barrier,   crouching  on the  balls  of  her  feet  and  resting her  hand  on  dorothy’s  arm  where she has  encaged  herself  in a  little  ball.   ( curl  up  and  rock,   like she was  much younger than she actually was.  ) 

❝     𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺   𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑬?   y’know     [ … ]     that   sounded   like   a   threat   to   my   ears.     ❞   far   more   honeyed   than   her   manners,   surely,   but   rita   feels   she   can   hardly   be   faulted   for   her   cold   demeanor.

❝     a   little   stroll   in   the   garden.     ❞   it’s   said   with   a   flat   inflection   that   doesn’t   convey   much   enthusiasm,   but   her   guarded   expression   relaxes   into   a   thoughtful   one.   she   spared   a   quick   glance   around   her;   stifling   walls   and   doorways   too   unfamiliar   to   retract   her   steps.   fine.   i’ll   take   my   chances.   her   countenance   quickly   morphs   to   one   of   reluctant   neutrality.   ❝     [ … ]   alright.   perhaps   a   change   of   scenery   is   in   order.     ❞   for   a   moment,   disdain   flickers   back:   rita   levels   him   with   a   gaze   and   crosses   her   arms   firmly   in   front   of   her.   

  ❝     but   𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂   𝙾𝙵𝙵   me.     ❞  

     “   it wasn’t a  threat,   it was a  fact,   my dear !    an  objective   fact!  i am,  after all,   the  master  of  this  estate   ...   any  heavenly  host  would  be  cross with a  guest  who  isn’t  appreciating their  efforts.  “      red  jack  is  so  manipulative  ,   has   mastered  his act  of  playing   human  after  all  these  millennia,   that  if  he  were  to  whine  and   play  the  victim  enough,  one might actually  begin  to  feel  remorse  for their  coldness   ...    forgetting  that  they were  in  his  mouse  trap,    an  involuntary  guest.  (   yet  for  most  more unused   to strangeness  than  rita farr  was,   the cold water  wouldn’t  have woken  them  that   ...   no  .   this is an  evil  being  whose  bullshit  i  do  not have  to  play into.  )