𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡.

   He made a mental note           that should he ever find himself bored, or lacking the inspiration to paint something meaningful, he would sketch out the image of a pregnant fish. With hair, of course. Because why the fuck not? And should he ever find himself in need of some southern hospitality  (  HA!   )   , he could even show it to her. And what the hell, maybe it would make her laugh. 

   ❝  Ah, shit. Figures.  ❞  As though he made a mistake. He should have known the petite blonde was into chokeholds. Who wouldn’t have been able to guess that? The ghost of a smile appeared as he shook his head.    ❝  M’always just a few brassers short of a whorehouse.  ❞

   His gaze whipped to Dorcas, eyes a little wider than they should have been as he registered her question. It caught him slightly off-guard, enough to warrant a subtle cough in return.    ❝  I   …   Yeah, but it s’not like I eat it every FIVE seconds. ❞   He furrowed his brow and shoved his hands in his pockets   (   a ridiculous act, seeing as every bit of him was soaked   )   .   ❝  I eat it every ten seconds.  ❞   He smirked. 

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

               hopefully,  the  rain  hid  the  look  of  surprise  that  crossed  her  face  reflexively  at  his  somewhat  vulgar  analogy.  nobody  in  her  social  circles  back  home  would  ever  casually  mention  a  whorehouse  in  conversation.  not  in  so  many  terms,  at  least,  and  definitely  not  in  the  company  of  a  new  acquaintance,  let  alone  a  lady.  she  found  herself  sneaking  a  glance  at  him,  poorly  masked  curiosity  written  all  over  her  face.  he  definitely  was  a  different  breed.  it  was  refreshing.

               ❛   —  well,  colour  me  grateful  we  ain’t  sharing  the  same  umbrella  after  all.  i  reckon  haggis  doesn’t  do  wonders  for  yer  breath.   ❜   dorcas  crinkled  her  nose  and  waved  a  hand  in  front  of  her  nose  for  emphasis,  though  the  effect  was  ruined  slightly  by  her  wide  grin.  

     “ I mean… I guess it could be worse… you could be stuck doing the dishes… “ He said. Then, his eyes widened as a thought came to mind, “ Unless you are stuck doing the dishes… then FUCK, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean nothing by that. “

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

     ❝   Touché.     ❞    His life would be so much easier if he could simply LIKE the things that couldn’t hurt him. If he could only just stand tall and proudly say, golly gee, I think I’m gonna go to church now       If he could somehow forget to be sarcastic, or if he could stop feeling uncomfortable whenever a conversation passed the ten minute mark. It would be the ultimate fix.

     But life wasn’t like that. His HUGS NOT DRUGS shirt did nothing but wash him out. 

    Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly proud when she stepped forward. He knew far too many girls during his teen years that would simply wait and pout until the rain would subside. He remembered one witch specifically, mainly for her velvet boots and how the rain would simply destroy them if she were to walk outside.                (  He dropped orange juice on them later that day.  ) 

    ❝   Nah, nah. I don’t imagine they do.    ❞     He smirked, having taken a large step in order to catch up with her. ❝   ‘Cause when you’re born with perfect hair,  ya don’t have a reason to. Born   …   hatched?    ❞  

    His hair began to grow heavy, droplets of water sliding down his forehead and into his eyes. Lifting a hand, he wiped them casually, blinking a few times before noting how far they were from the building.   ❝   Couldn’t help but notice your accent. You’re not gonna, I dunno         punch me in the face or assume I eat haggis every five seconds, are ya?    ❞  

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

               ❛   —   i’m  guessin’  HATCHED  ?  i’m  having  trouble  imaginin’  a  pregnant  fish.  or  a  fish  with  hair,  for  that  matter.   ❜    she  wrinkled  her  nose  with  the  effort  of  imagination,  lips  curving  in  a  half-laugh.  her  gaze  had  been  focused  on  their  destination  through  the  rain,  but  at  his  question,  she  glanced  over  at  him  quickly,  impatiently  brushing  away  a  few  wet  strands  of  hair  that  clung  to  her  face  from  the  motion.   

               ❛   —  punch  you  in  the  face  !   ❜   dorcas  echoed,  blue  eyes  wide  with  a  mixture  of  shock  and  amusement.   ❛   —   oh  heavens,  no.  robertson’s  givin’  us  all  a  bad  reputation,  bless  his  HEART.  besides,  ❜   she  added  with  an  impish  grin,   ❛   —  chokeholds  are  more  my  specialty  anyways.   ❜  

         “ I’ll accept that excuse.  besides,  I don’t know if anyone can ever really get used to this weather, “  evan hedged,  shrugging a shoulder out in the direction of the rain.  “ dunno,  I just think I’d handle having my ass handed to me by robertson’s training if I knew it was nice and sunny outside. “  he leaned forward towards dorcas,  accepting the proffered hair clip with appropriate pomp and circumstance.  “ your noble sacrifice won’t be forgotten.  just give me a second  —  “  he trailed off and focused on the hair clip that was and the umbrella he wanted it to be.  the resulting device made a decidedly hair clip - y noise when he shook it,  but it’d do.  he offered an arm to dorcas.  “ think we can brave it out there now? “

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

    Chestnut strands curled at the nape of his neck, bobbing in the air as a gentle breeze rushed over him. For a moment, he was tempted by the details; the inside of his mouth beginning to water as he realized just how hungry he was. And it was odd, seeing as he wasn’t the biggest fan of fish. 

    ❝   Less competition for ya.   ❞  He gave a brief nod, his lips inviting the ghost of a smile as he crossed his arms. ❝   And y’know, BURNT CEREAL gets a bad rap.  ❞

    Adie, himself, had no qualms about walking in the rain. In fact, his heartbeat quickened just a tad at the thought of doing so.    ❝   Who’s t’say it’s not the best fuckin’ thing you’ve ever tasted, right?   ❞   He needlessly added before stepping out from beneath the awning. Merlin, it was nice. Chilled droplets danced upon his skin and the smell of rain attacked his nostrils, the lot of it making him want to lie on the floor and simply drown in it. 

   ❝   I know it’s a bloody gossip, an’ the bitch says the meanest things, but  …  it can’t hurt ya.   ❞    He pointed to the sky before arching his brows. ❝  Only your hair.   ❞

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

               ❛   —  well,  next  time  i  lose  a  challenge  and  get  put  on  dinner  duty,  i’ll  be  SURE  to  fix  up  some  special  for  you.   ❜   his  name  was  adie,  if  she  remembered  correctly.  strange  name.  the  first  time  she  heard  it,  she’d  thought  it  was  a  girl’s  name.  she  wondered  if  it  was  short  for  something. 

               her  lips  tugged  into  a  bemused  smile  when  he  stepped  out  into  the  rain,  talking  about  nothing,  somehow  managing  to  look  even  more  bedraggled  than  he  had  before.   ❛   —   and  just  cause  it  can’t  hurt  me,  that  means  i  gotta  LIKE  it  ?   ❜   she  retorted  good-naturedly.  

               still,  though,  she  cast  a  quick,  flimsy  impervius  on  her  bookbag  before  ducking  out  into  the  rain  with  him,  wincing  as  her  hair  was  immediately  dampened.  blinking  away  the  drops  that  clung  to  her  lashes,  dorcas  raised  a  hand  to  shelter  her  eyes  from  the  rain  as  she  squinted  at  him.   ❛   —  well,  now  i’m  feelin’  like  the  fish.  though  i’d  imagine  they  don’t  fuss  HALF  so  much  about  frizzy  hair.   ❜   

            Andromeda’s lips tugged into a small smile at the sunny disposition that Dorcas Meadowes held. Of course, she didn’t honestly believe that anyone at the school would be gathered around a campfire singing kumbayah anytime soon. But, she didn’t quite have the heart to break that news to the blonde in front of her. It seemed a little cruel to put a damper in her optimism. So, Andromeda decided to keep hush about it. Instead, she simply gave a shrug of her shoulders in response, “ I s'pose that everyone is just a bit stressed at the idea of getting the boot. ”

﹙  *☆ ┆ 𝒇𝒕.  𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬  𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬.

               for  a  moment,  dorcas  allowed  her  thoughts  to  wander  to  the  possibility  everyone  feared.  getting  the  boot,  as  andromeda  so  eloquently  put  it.  she  imagined  it.  packing  her  things,  leaving  edin,  back  into  the  waiting  arms  of  her  family,  of  seymour.  at  least  they  wouldn’t  be  disappointed  in  her.  that’s  what  they  expected,  wasn’t  it  ?  just  one  more  unfinished  dream,  rotting  silently  in  the  back  of  her  mind.