I'M FINE.

Slowly, she sticks her hand out and places it in his, shaking it firmly. “ Emma! I’m one of Jack’s roommates if, ” She gestures to the interior of the home with a polite smile. He seems nice enough — attractive, well-groomed, friendly enough to shake hands and not barge in. And he has to be good if he’s a friend of a friend — perhaps that’s trusting naivete, but she believes it. “ That wasn’t obvious already. Uh, you can come back later if you want? Or … ” The offer lurks on her lips for a second, wondering if it’s worth it. It’s an annoying amount of time to spend in a stranger’s home. But kindness trumps logic, and — “ You can come in and wait for him? I could make coffee or something. See if I can find any embarrassing high school yearbooks for you reminisce with? ”

        ‘   no ! i’m just … surprised is all.   ’ he wants to say happy, that him being here is this nostalgic, sentimental happiness that he can’t quite reconcile with but … see gideon doesn’t scare easily but he doesn’t want to be overbearing. lips part as if to say something, but he has to take a moment. the question is simple, it doesn’t ask for anything more than he’s willing to give and yet he feels like he owes gideon something better than surface-level. maybe the truth would be a start, but it’s marred with stuff he’d rather not have to speak about. ‘   uh, i mean, i live here. coming up on four years now. your turn.   ’    

let’s say there is a list called  ‘     top five places marika lowell visits the most     ’,     this book store would make it into that list.     her home is almost a small-scale book heaven,     and there is always room for more at her shelves.     that particular day, she is visiting the book store in order to buy something for her beloved students.    traditionally,     she likes rewarding her students with books     —-     most of the time with books they never really like.     she won’t understand that philosophical books are not the best idea when receivers are a bunch of teenagers. 

stepping inside the familiar environment,     there is also a familiar face that welcomes her.    a face that’s memorable for marika.    her lips curve into a sweet smile gradually.     aquatic hues meet with the other pair of blue eyes.      ❝     hello. actually, yes, you can. —-    ❞      not being quite sure of what to pick, she tries describing her situation in a cynical fashion.   ❝     because this time i’m not buying for myself,    i want to pick something for my students, and they are generally not happy with my picks.    maybe you can change that for them.      ❞

     gideon’s smile brightens as she returns it. he’s eager to help her, but doesn’t show it. instead, he nods and considers her question. the last few times, he’d noted her activity... what sections she favoured, what books she’d bought, whether she wasted time at the displays or knew what she wanted. each time, she’d passed-- according to some unwritten guidebook made up by gideon himself.

     he’d walked. walked. brows knit together, and arms cross. “ ever heard of a tow truck ? ” idiot. but … oliver never was one to say no to a greased up engine, and certainly not to the money that came along with fixing one. “ too late now … ” she announces, pushing herself off this month’s project and grabbing the half-shut toolbox. “ alright then, let’s get walking. ” she announces, a phone tucked in her back-pocket. the younger might be desperate for cash, but she was still no fool. there was a possible serial killer out there. and though her phone wouldn’t do much for protection, the pocket-knife in her boot would. just needed some way to call the fed. “ you can take this. ” she offers him the toolbox, no way she was going to carry that thing all the way.

-- @mementoviverc

     with an empty shop and nothing to do, gideon finds himself roaming the rows of political philosophy books, running perfectly-groomed fingers over the spines of his favorites. he recalls the sad state of jericho books when he first came to town: a ridiculous amount of shelf space wasted with cheesy self-help books, cookbooks, and miscellaneous hobbies. now that he has say in the inventory, jericho books has become an oasis for intellectual pursuits: philosophy, poetry, memoirs, manifestos, great literature. he smiles to himself, feeling a surge of pride at what he’s done.

        he can spend hours in a grocery store, the lack of a grocery list often elongating the time. every decision is one of utmost importance, today the real head-wringer is the decision between salt & vinegar chips or the more healthy alternative, veggie straws. though before he can put either in his basket, a familiar voice pulls him out of his concentration. he looks over, and just like that there’s a rush of emotion so strong that he has to will his eyes to not well with tears. ‘   oh man, am i dreaming ?   ’ he asks, already pulling the other into a hug. with a short pat on the shoulder he shakes his head. ‘   fuck you man, you look so good.   ’ 

     she’s elbow deep in her latest project ; poking around in the engine of a rusty 1965 buick rivera. the owner had dumped it at the shop weeks ago, disinterested in the pricing it’d take to fix it. luckily, oliver had a knack for vintage vehicles and all the time in the world. she’d resell it once it was done, although done was in the distant future. hands tainted with grease & oil rub against an already stained rag as she considers her next move, only for a thought process to go interrupted. great. heel turned, and she tosses the dirty fabric onto her toolbox. “ depends … ya got a car ? ”

Very rarely, in a tiny house in a tiny town in her very own tiny corner of the universe, is there a knock at the door where wood & glass opens to reveal a stranger. It’s an inopportune time for an unlikely visitor, certainly — with all the rumours and whispers of John Keller walking the streets. But she’s always been too trusting for her own good, too KIND. And so, she opens the door in its entirety. After a beat, she figures if he wanted to kill her, he would have done it already. “ Uh, hi. He’s not home for a few more … ” She glances at the clock in the hallway to her home, hands forming the answer. “ Hours. ” There’s an awkward beat as fingers drum against the doorframe and fingers run through dark curls. “ Sorry, do I know you? ”

-- @proeliums

-- @infrasred

--- @softreigns

hi....... i’m rly too lazy to put in any facts about me so i’m just gonna JUMP right into it. also im sorry in advance for this MESS of a chara.

a ‘short’ bio

full name -- gideon eugene carlisle 

he got his middle name from his daddy eugene carlisle, who’s a senator for the state of new york. gid’s mother died when he was a baby so he never knew her and his dad, as a senator, was never rly around so gid was basically raised by his nannies/maids.

cue poor little rich boy

he’s always been troubled-- when he was young everyone just thought it was a way to get his father’s attention. as he got older, his antics began to get more serious. 

throughout high school, he had one-night stands with basically anything that breathed... not caring at all about the girls’ feelings or the guys they were dating. 

before gideon ended up going off to college, he found out the truth about his father-- that he’s dirty. not only does he accept bribes, he’s in with the mob.

with that information tucked away, gideon went off to brown, actually. turns out he’s pretty intelligent. he majored in philosophy and this was the beginning of really.... who he is now. he started a club based on anarchical political views.

he also met her. her name was rita and she was a year ahead of him. they started going out and he became.... obsessive, controlling, and completely out of control.

she was into it, for a while. at first, it seemed like he just really liked her... but eventually it fell apart (like things do, in college). he flipped shit. wouldn’t leave her alone, showed up at her house, manipulated her mother to be on his side. she transferred and he still didn’t stop.

she was his first... restraining order. his father got it swiped from his record because it would tarnish his reputation. 

all the worst parts of gideon became apparent in college-- his lack of empathy, his anger at being questioned, and his narcissism. his freshman year roommate diagnosed him as a psychopath, so gideon planted drugs on his side of the room and got him kicked out.

since college, gideon has moved around quite a bit. he lives a pretty isolated life-- only just getting by with his good looks and charm hiding the darkness underneath. he’s acquired two more restaining orders from women he’s met along the way-- still hasn’t found the one.

he’s been a bit more successful with his career. he worked as a political commentator and author until about five years ago when he got picked up for a regular column in the Atlantic. he writes political commentary that always ends up being a plug for anarchy.

he’s a bit paranoid that the government is going to try to take over, so he started stockpiling illegal arms-- which he keeps in his basement. he decided to settle in jericho because it seemed off-the-radar enough to keep him safe. (from what threat? who knows.) 

gideon’s dream is to open his own bookstore where he has sole control over the inventory-- so he can to stock his shelves with “useless” books, such as how-tos, self help, photography, or encyclopedias. for now, he works as manager at jericho books and his influence is seen in the neon “BYOB” sign and the increasing number of manifestos, philosophy books, and political commentaries on the shelves.