gwen prescott.

“Yet,” Casey added and by the time the word had already left her lips, she realized that she wasn’t sure why the fuck she had said that. What on God’s sweet earth had possessed her to be so optimistic about a budding friendship with Gwen Prescott? There was no logic to it and truth be told, she didn’t even really want to be friends with Gwen. The only benefit of something like that, she thought, would be a slight reduction in the chances that Casey would die at Gwen’s hand.

She accepted the information sheet, expecting that to prompt a swift end to their interaction but much to Casey’s surprise, Gwen had more to say for herself. She listened with morbid intrigue, like somebody who slowed down to see what was going on at the scene of a road traffic accident. “Sure- what is it?” she confirmed, signing her life away before she even knew what she was agreeing to. “Oh yeah, no problemo- no, I totally get it, I’m with you on that,” she assured the other girl, “-and you can do the same for me,” she insisted, “We can be like a team- like each other’s lookouts, I don’t want the boys to walk in all willy-nilly and see my hooters either. It’s kind of weird rooming with them,” she was carrying the conversation all on her own, whether Gwen was an active party to it or not, “- but just Damian? Not Max? Is Max gay or something?” 

    At the three letter word, Gwen’s eyes twitched a fraction slimmer, a clear negative and instinctual response on her part at the idea of her and Casey ever becoming friends. She was weird, Gwen didn’t know how else to put it. Weird, over talkative, and just another one of those Sci Fi nerds that went around asking aliens for anal or whatever it was that they all thought was Cool™. Gwen wanted no part in it.

    Visible confusion crossed Gwen’s face when Casey expected the same treatment, immediately defensive about the contract before realizing a moment later, it wasn’t unusual for people to not want to be around Damian Fitzgerald. Their own history aside, Gwen had to remind herself that in the last year, he hadn’t exactly been at the top of everyone’s friendship list. That reminder alone made her relax a little bit. Until she realized that her and Casey had something in common, then her shoulders tensed again.

    It was starting to get overwhelming listening to Casey, so quickly, Gwen cut her off. “Fine, I don’t care. All of them. Any and all boys, we warn each other, okay? Easy enough?”

Ezra gave a nod, teeth pinching the inside of his bottom lip. Was there another way to respond to ‘pretty decent?’ Better question, was there any correct way to respond to Gwen Prescott? Despite other’s claims of her consistency ( consistent bitchiness to be precise ), Ezra found her to be the exact opposite. She had always been unpredictable – a meek, lost freshman terrified of ghost stories, a merciless social-climber, a house captain who was equally as capable of feigning kindness as she was perpetuating cruelty, and now? Ezra would never claim that she was slipping. Even thinking it felt like bad luck. It was the equivalent of trash-talking the spirit of a haunted house; he didn’t want to invoke that level of wrath into his life. But it was clear she walked alone more often now than she had since he’d first met her. 

The paper found its way into his hands. He grimaced. Faith wasn’t bad. He’d known her since they were small, she, him, and Damian being a trio at the Fitzgerald family parties. Time had changed things and Faith’s breed of kindness could be…a lot. But there were worse things. Like being trapped with Jay Foster and Jocelyn Butler. Jay wasn’t the problem. Drea Pearson on the other hand… He resisted the urge to crumple up the paper. It was debatable of Jocelyn was the more egregious offender. She’d once taken pleasure in taunting him. Although he’d heard rumors she was trying to change her ways, Ezra had his doubts. He shoved the list in his satchel. “Define better.” He said it with a faint outline of a wry smile. It felt odd to joke with her. Like he was breaking some unspoken rule.

He wasn’t naive enough to believe what happened at the pool magically made them friends. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be friends with someone like Gwen Prescott. She was the kind of person who snapped at Casey and Conny, who bemoaned the existence of BAU. For all he knew, she’d turn around and twist this conversation into another blistering rumor.

Yet here he was. “What about you?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What’s the terrible list of inmates?”

    Gwen watched the boy’s face for some kind of reaction, but whatever was happening behind those eyes, he seemed to make it somewhat unreadable on his expression. If she was softer, she might have thought it had something to do with years of being taunted by others, a safety mechanism perhaps. Kind of how any child created a natural response of “I’m Fine” whenever their parents began to worry, some always hiding it better than others until they couldn’t anymore.

    It was strange to think that once upon a time, she’d been there. A scared kid, locked in a storage closet, the handle jammed from the outside with jeering seniors howling down the hallways at her despair. It was stranger even to think that she’d overcome all of that, or at least, she was sure she had given that now, the person she’d become, earned a natural divide in a crowd of people whenever they saw her coming.

    Her own gaze dipped for a moment, before he spoke and she gave a small yet confident shrug. “As a means of survival out here, I’d say you have it better.” She told him, though without the urge to delve into her recent and awkward past with Damian and why her own rooming situation trumped his by far. Or the fact that Ezra was very clearly a survivor... even if he’d had help just like she had at one point.

    She glanced away uncomfortably for a moment. “A mixed bunch, I’d say.” Gwen waited a moment, before realizing he seemed to actually want an answer. “Erm. Casey Roberts,” She lead with that because even if the girl drove her up the wall on any given day and weirded her out to no end, Gwen was under some impression that Ezra and Casey were friends. “Max, Francis. Luna Turner... Amari Austin,” Of course, her hesitation was palatable on the last name that rested on her lips. All because she didn’t even feel comfortable enough to say it at this point, let alone room with him. “...Damian.”

@ba-central​ Location: Outside the Main Hall

Damian was peeved. Back when they were on the bus, the data on his phone worked but now he couldn’t even get signal. It was incredibly vexing for someone who made a habit of checking their school email throughout the day. He had people to write to, you know. Projects he had to help coordinate. It was quite inconvenient that the only time they had access to working internet was at school. It was a major hindrance to his productivity. Not to mention it also made it impossible for him when he wanted to Google things like what kind of mold something was and the best ways to get rid of this cluster of dirt or that. Students had a lot of questions with their move to the cabins and Damian hated feeling inept because everything about this Retreat was so far out of his realm of knowledge it was laughable. He sighed, pocketing his phone for the nth time today before taking a look around. He spotted a close-by student and asked, “Is it just me or did signal cease to be a thing on your phone the moment you got off the bridge too?”

    So far, despite sharing a cabin room together, Gwen had thought she’d done an overall exceptional job at pretending like Damian Fitzgerald didn’t exist. It was somewhat easier however when the opposing party seemed just as happy to keep a distance as she did, though naturally, she thought she did so better. But as the days were dragging on at the Retreat, their paths were starting to cross more and more. Whether it was House Captain duties or the fact the camp was only so big, Gwen had just tried to keep her gaze and focus elsewhere. Besides, without many resources around to help with her studies, she found the best way to review any upcoming work was to read and walk, it kept the blood flowing and the mind moving. All up until she walked directly past Damian with a junior, asking about cell service, and her literal first instinct was to reply out loud before even thinking about it.

    “I don’t know why you’re surprised, we were warned about cell service.” She spoke out loud, eyes still on her World Culture essay as she floated past. A walk to the outhouse was in order, unfortunately, but she still had a few last paragraphs to read over in that time. Just to make sure it sounded perfect. Perhaps if she just kept her gaze on the paper, she could blatantly ignore the fact she’d just spoken to the one person she’d been ignoring ever since they arrived.

Lucy’s defiance of authority figures, unfortunately, did not extend beyond her peers. The whole concept of House Captains, to her, was a pathetic grab at power to inflate certain peoples egos beyond control. The way that Gwen was looking at her only seemed to confirm that particular sentiment. Any desire to abolish the establishment was lost on such a person. It was a shame, really. She turned to face her new antagonist when she spoke.

“I don’t see anything offensive about it,” she said, although the whole point of the display was to offend. “What are you taking offence at? That seems more like a you problem. If it’s the pussy that’s the problem, I hear Sister Michael’s a big fan so I doubt she’d have much to say.” 

    Gwen’s eyes slimmed a little, reading Lucy’s protest in the way she stood with conviction, down to the very poster that still remained on the wall, clearly not going anywhere by the other girl’s hand. That was fine, Gwen thought calmly. What wasn’t fine, however, was Lucy Gunderson thinking she had any authority over the matter. It was dangerous enough to throw a metaphorical middle finger in the way of Gwen Prescott on any given day, but it was worse then they were stuck out in the middle of nowhere where bodies could be so easily forgotten about.

    Watching Lucy for a long moment, Gwen waited until she was done with her little presentation. Then, without saying a word, the House Captain strode up to the wall and unhinged the poster, tearing it down with one strike before turning to square Lucy up, nails biting hard into the material in her palms.

    “I’d be careful if I was you.” She told the girl with a small nod of her chin, “And I don’t care how tough you think you are, campus rules still apply.” She informed the other senior, lips thinning a little. “My advice, though? During these times, you’re better off making allies, not enemies...” Ironic, coming from the dethroned Ice Queen herself ( or perhaps, secretively, that’s why she was even sharing the advice, to begin with. ) “Because if someone was to suddenly decide that they’re going to make your nights at this camp somewhat of a living hell... it’d would be a damn shame if I was too busy being offended to help you.” 

If Casey had ever committed to a belief in God before, it would surely be in tatters now that she was roomed with Damian Fitzgerald and Gwen Prescott, as well as one of the other super jocks who was as loud as he was cocky. At least she had Amari, in her corner, she supposed, even if the two of them were outnumbered by antagonists. Still, she had no choice in the matter and no amount of protesting would make it any better - at least she wasn’t going to be inhaling cicadas in her sleep, as far as she knew.

“Can I have one of those thingys?” she asked, gesturing rather vaguely to the paper in Gwen’s hands. It was a map or a key or some sort of information sheet that she was certain would prove useful and if for nothing else then perhaps she could shove it down her own throat and end this miserable adventure. “Roomie,” she added a beat later for reasons only known to the Gods above, if they were bothering to pay attention to Casey Roberts anymore. Why the fuck had she thought it was a good idea to talk to Gwen like that? With such a stupid grin on her face? and why had she extended her elbow to rub against the Seton house captain in such a chummy manner? Thank God she’d missed and had failed to make contact with the other girl but still, the idea as well as the disgustingly coy way she’d said the word ‘roomie’ was hanging in the air between them and she had to live with that.

    Gwen’s eyesight flew straight over the top of Casey’s head in blatant confusion for who was speaking to her, before they darted back to the girl, realizing who it was. Ew, was Gwen’s first instinctual thought. Not because of anything to really do with the Roberts twin herself, except that she was weirdly chirpy and not at all the kind of thing you wanted to deal with before a caffeine fix. But mostly because of her brother Connor and his weird fascination with being nice to Gwen came to mind a bit like a bad memory. It was like nobody had ever introduced them to the food chain in society. Whatever. Not her circus, not her monkeys, she reminded herself.

    Nevermind. Not her monkeys but apparently her circus. Gwen watched the girl jerk an elbow in her direction, only to react to negative space and pull it back with little to no coverup. Could this day get any worse? Probably not. Gwen sighed out in annoyance. “We’re not friends, that’s not —” She was shaking her head at Casey, looking at her with some kind of pity reserved for those lower than you at the table. Still, the no end to her sentence made Gwen feel like her point was made. Don’t be like that, it’s weird, you’re weird. “Here.” She flung the paper towards Casey instead, begging some force of nature to take her out in the next few hours before lights out if this was what she’d have to put up with on top of Damian for the next few weeks. 

    Then, an idea tweaked. Call her a scoundrel, but if Casey and her were going to have anything to do with each other in the next few weeks, Gwen figured it might as well be to her own advantage. “But... you can do... one thing for me, though,” Gwen suggested with a sigh of regret, wishing she didn’t have to but alas, here they were. “Can you just... like... warn me if Fitzgerald is in? I’m in no mood to be around his moronic ass right now and I could really do with the heads up.”

Crowds had never been Ezra’s thing. He dreaded the mandatory orientation that occurred at the beginning of every academic school year, long lines for manila folders containing keycards, class schedules and roommate assignments. There was too much noise, too many bodies. He always found himself scrunching up, shrinking his already lithe frame down as though he might fold up and disappear entirely. Even in a room filled with people he’d known for years, especially in a room filled with people he’d known for years, Ezra’s nerves were high enough to punch a hole through the ( probably ) mildew infested ceiling. Strange, how the inside fo a place could smell damper than the outside of one. As he waited in line for his room assignment, he took the particular shade of brown of the wooden building, the splits in the aged fibers and earthy stains of green…growth. It seemed like a health hazard if he was being honest, but also something he’d enjoy painting. He wanted to try and pull that rich scent through the texture. Touch it. Give it an unspoken name. 

It was the best solution to being forced to avoid awkward eye contact with a legion of his peers – finding a way to make art out of something. A figure strode by, carrying with it a scent Ezra never knew he’d find familiar. For a moment he was there, locked in to the damp scent of moss, wood and too many bodies. The next he was sprawled out on cold, hard tile, choking on the scent of chlorine and undertones of Gwen Prescott’s… perfume? lotion? He didn’t know.

All he knew was he’d called out her name without meaning to. A gesture no one else would have batted an eye at felt like a transgression to Ezra. As if he’d stepped out of his designated square, daring to occupy a space that didn’t belong to him. His posture shifted, awkward and uncomfortable, as he always was whenever he felt like he was the center of attention. He shifted the strap of his satchel, at a loss for words. He hadn’t really spoken to her since that night, preferring to bury its existence rather than face the humiliating reality of what had happened. Yet here they were, Ezra blundering his way through a conversation he hadn’t intended to begin and had no idea how to navigate. “Uh. Hey. How’s it…going?”

    The one thing that Gwen found comfort in sometimes when it came to having a moment of high stress, was the comfort of being lost in a crowd. Perhaps if she hadn’t been hanging onto sheets of cabin assignments for the students around her, she’d have gotten away with more anonymity but alas, every time she thought she could glower in peace, another person approached her for a handout. Eventually, she’d come to the conclusion she would have to freak out later, in private, like always.

    When her name hit her ears, however, Gwen’s initial reaction was delayed. Not because she didn’t hear it, but mostly because she wasn’t used to responding to it much anymore. Ben didn’t call out to her in the dining hall these days, Damian didn’t say her name the same way he used to whenever he was talking her down from being hyper nuts about something either. Jocelyn didn’t scream it with laughter at something Gwen hadn’t even really intended to be funny, so if it wasn’t coming directly from her parents or teachers, Gwen could easily say she wasn’t used to hearing it much anymore. Still, she finally pivoted after a moment of recollection and saw Ezra. If she hadn’t felt odd or uneasy before, well she truly felt it now.

    “Um. Pretty decent,” She lied easily, looking down at the papers in her hands and wondering how on Earth he thought it was worthwhile to just randomly talk to her like it meant anything. Sure, he’d frightened her half to death a few months ago but that had just been something... unlucky and fleeting. Like a drunken kiss at a party, some kind of twist of fate, it happened, but it didn’t mean anything so she wasn’t going to talk about it. Just like how she wasn’t going to talk about the fact she had no friends and it felt pathetically good to be sought out of a crowd by somebody, even if that somebody wasn’t quite who you hoped it would be.

    “I’ve got a terrible list of people in my cabin, though. Yours might be...” She plucked a paper off the top of the stack and glanced over it, searching for Ezra’s name until she found it, then looked at the list of roommates he had to share a cabin with. A small hint of a smile touched her face, “Well... better, depending on which way you look at it.” McKay, Foster, and Butler were a match made in Hell in Gwen’s opinion, but she suspected Ezra could probably guess as much. “Here.” She offered it to him to see for himself.

as gwen fired back, drea couldn’t help the way the corners of her lips pricked up. even allowing a small scoff of a chuckle to escape her. it was amusing to see. first her absolutely losing her shit in a bathroom, and now this, trying to inflate her own power with shitty come backs and empty threats. or at least that’s how it felt to drea, she wasn’t really intimidated by the senior like she might have been a couple years ago. “ but second week is fine? ” she retorted, lifting her brows, not even trying to hide the little shit-eating smirk that tugged at her features. “ i’ll keep that in mind. ” she said, pressing her lips together and nodding her head a little as if she were committing the detail to memory.

she wouldn’t intend to make gwen’s life difficult but if her actions just so happened to inconvenience her then, well, so be it, right? andrea couldn’t possibly control that. or at least that’s what she would say if it came back to bite her. “ can i have one of those? ” she asked, pointing to the papers in gwen’s hand. it was an innocent enough question, on the surface at least. she wasn’t dense, she knew her presence was annoying gwen. asking for anything from her would surely also be annoying.

    At the mention of the second week, Gwen’s eyes slimmed into slits, immediately annoyed that the junior wasn’t backing down like most others often did. It was probably unfair to treat Andrea like bothersome collateral but Gwen found it hard to care. Perhaps months ago when Ben had been sweet on her, Gwen would have offered her the free pass. Now, however, the lot of them could go missing in the woods for all she hoped.

    “Dare and find out,” Gwen seethed through grit teeth at the girl, also infuriated that she didn’t tower over Andrea at all, so her threats probably looked lacking, they felt lacking. Screw Nikes, she wished she had her heeled leather school shoes on for this moment.

    Fingers clenching the papers given to her by the vice-principal, Gwen seriously considered tearing them in half right in front of Andrea’s eyes or perhaps littering them in her face. She knew she couldn’t, but God it was good to imagine she could. Instead, Gwen thrust one nastily at the girl and didn’t wait for her to grab it either. “Be in bed after lights out. I know how you and your friends are.” She warned the girl before flicking her hair over one shoulder and rounding on the spot. She didn’t know exactly how long she had around these people, but if it was anything more than the two weeks referenced, Gwen was going to need a lot of distance from people like Pearson should she not burn a cabin down in the middle of the night.

STATS

Name: Gwyneth “Gwen” Prescott

Age: Eighteen

Zodiac: Gemini

Grade: Senior

House: Seton

Cabin Room: Senior Cabin: Room 1

How long have they been at Broadripple: Four years

Where are they from originally: Massachusetts

Extracurricular: Student Council { President } & Buddy Club.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: Resourceful, Ambitious, Persevering.

Negative Personality Traits: Snobby, Rude, Controlling.

ABOUT & PERSONALITY

Gwen is super strong-willed and very arrogant, it’s not easy to argue with her, not that she’s always right but she is relentless and pigheaded about pretty much everything.

She likes control, a bit too much, and the one thing she knows she can control the most is herself. Sometimes this leaks into her personal life, causing her to suffer through unnecessary physical exertion or the obsessive nature over something she would otherwise let slide easily. She struggles to find balance.

TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Assault! She’s not had a direct experience with sexual assault, but someone in her family has been prosecuted and it’s given her a very big complex over not trusting boys at all. It’s a major reason why she’s very aggro towards them and distrusting.

A proud member of the Big Tiddy Committee lol.

She’s not popular per se, but Gwen is known by all, mostly because of her turbulent attitude and the fact that she doesn’t make it easy to ignore her. She’s very patriotic for BA, and often the most competitive in school events. She is also the president of the student council.

HEADCANONS

TRIGGER WARNING: Eating Disorders! Since her first summer before attending Broadripple, Gwen was clinically diagnosed with an eating disorder. Her parents spent a lot of time, care and money to get her healthy again and has been pretty good about it until her senior year. The stress of her personal life and exam times make it hard for her not to fall back into bad habits, and these are easily noticeable by close friends or observers.

She’s very opinionated on men and how terrible they are, but according to most, they don’t even think she’s had a proper boyfriend. If she has, they can’t really remember it if she ever dated someone at Broadripple.

Gwen is always seen wearing or owning blue accessories. Most notable are her blue hair ribbons and navy gym wear. She’s a big blue fan.

Her laptop holds a lot of social blackmail but is locked behind very tricky passwords.

LINKS

Her pinterest!

Her playlist!

Her character tag on my blog!

Her aesthetics!

Her socials!

“Beats the junior cabin,” she reminded Gwen, certain that was something they could both agree on. The junior cabin was less cramped, sure but it was also further away from the outhouse- God, she was never going to get used to saying outhouse- and it also housed some of the most irritating people on the planet Earth. The seniors were lucky in that respect.

“If we’re picking our favorite arguments about why this whole thing is inappropriate I would go with how totally inappropriate it is that they think supplying us with stuff to make s’mores makes up for the fact that we’re out here where The Hills Have Eyes while our classmates are comfy in their own beds with their own things, a Wi-Fi connection and air conditioning- not to mention the vending machines and- oh my God, I’m going to stop, I did not realize how much I miss campus until I started talking,” she confessed with a laugh, dipping her head as her eyes met with the ground, glued to her shoes for a moment. It was a long time since she’d stood like this, face to face with Gwen, only a foot or two away from one another. As far as she knew the last time they’d stood like this there hadn’t been any rotten leaves, animal scat, or dead beetle carcasses underfoot but still, it hadn’t been as nice as this either. What a weird thought.

She looked up again and even though she’d seen the toes of Gwen’s Nikes just moments before, she was still oddly surprised that the brunette was still standing there. “You know as soon as one of the juniors gets caught with their hands down somebody else’s pajama shorts they’ll realize their mistake and shake everybody up again. I could almost bet on that happening by the end of the week,”

    Gwen’s lips flattened into another smile, a real one this time, with eyebrows raising this time in definite agreeance because Jocelyn was right. Anything, literally anything, was better than sharing hallways and dormitory walls with Katherine Bishop. Or... well, anything but this, perhaps. This being sharing it was Damian instead. How was it that after everything, she’d done her best to put as much distance between her and them as possible for her own peace of mind and yet here they were, directed back together again. If she couldn’t win him over, then so be it, she’d let him go he just had to go. 

    However, as Jocelyn started talking about juniors and their notorious party habits, the gears in Gwen’s mind began to turn. Once again, Jocelyn was right. The second any sister got wind that the juniors were being even remotely out of line, especially if it had to do with messing around with each other, a plug would be pulled. She didn’t know what from exactly, whether they’d divide the camp all into girls and boys again just like at home on campus, or station a house captain at every corner, but whatever the alternative was, it had to be better than this, right? Just what if...

    “I think I can bet who might be first.” She said though kind of more to herself as she was already in the midst of conspiring a plan to get Damian out of her room she’d not even set foot in yet, and possibly Katherine Bishop slammed under the bus in the process. “I have to go.” She decided, if not because she had a plan to rehearse in her mind, then because, despite the catalyst of it, she didn’t share these things with Jocelyn anymore. They didn’t conspire together anymore. That chapter was over, and if Gwen was good at anything, she was good at ending things. Even good things.

“Likewise,” she agreed, while she didn’t have the same boy troubles that Gwen notoriously had, she was often treated as one of the guys by her fellow athletes and thus forced to endure some displays of masculinity that would make any decent girl’s stomach churn. “My cabin is 50/50 girls and boys, I’ll let you know when the body odor finally overpowers the body spray,” she joked with a weak smile. She wouldn’t let Gwen know anything, they didn’t talk like that anymore. “You and Sister Michael if the volume from the Junior cabin keeps threatens to deafen anyone within a few miles radius,” she couldn’t really deny that people used Gwen in place of the local boogeyman often enough for it to become a staple of Broadripple comedy but she also didn’t want Gwen to feel bad about it. Which was fucking unfair because why shouldn’t she feel bad about it?

“At least Damian showers,” she noted, that was a good start, “-and Max is pretty good like that too. He’s chill to talk to and he’ll even do a face mask with you,” she was getting kind of jealous of Gwen’s room now that she actually thought about it. 

While any decent person would commend Jocelyn on her efforts to smooth over the awkward with quick-witted humor, Gwen’s smile didn’t touch her eyes and fell from her face just as fast as it had arrived. It was obvious that they were both very aware of how unusual this was, for the two of them to stand around talking, almost as if they were friends. Unfortunately one of them was just better at hiding it than the other, and despite all her secretive charm, it wasn’t Gwen for once. 

As Jocelyn listed off Gwen’s roommates, there was a moment in which time slowed and it felt like a fist of knuckles had collided with Gwen’s ribs, winding her and making her throat close up in shock. Out of all the preparation for the camp, and despite literally clutching onto all the cabin lists in her own two hands not twenty minutes ago, Gwen had actually all but checked her own. Perhaps it was because she’d had to deal with so many irritations in the wake of pointing people to their cabins over and over, or the fact Sister Michael indirectly called Gwen overbearing and she’d been stewing about it ever since, but she felt blind-sighted. And stupid. Two things that didn’t sit well with her at all. Of course, she knew the cabins were to be divided down the middle, she knew she’d be rooming with other seniors, sure, but... she hadn’t yet read her roommates for the next unforeseeable future and when Damian’s name came out of Jocelyn’s mouth paired with a few others, Gwen suddenly realized what that meant.

For the love of God, was he trying to punish her?

“Oh. Uh,” The words came out over the top of the end of Jocelyn’s rant, Gwen’s ears making that wooshing sound whenever something felt terribly overwhelming and the tunnel vision started to kick in. Instead of succumbing though, and ultimately ending up back where she had been weeks ago when she’d told Damian he was... well, damaged, for one. She cleared her throat and glanced at the ground, wondering if drowning herself in the river was more of a feasible option than perhaps, oh, who knows.... sleeping within arms reach of Damaged Damian for the next few weeks, potentially months. “Okay, um...” Oh god. “I mean... it could be worse? I’ll accept that.” She’d also accept a direct bus trip home if that was on the table too. “Still doesn’t change the fact I think it’s kind of inappropriate. You know — girls and boys sleeping together. Not a rule at school, shouldn’t really be at camp, um...” Keep it together, Gwen. Don’t go crazy. “But... I... guess I’ll survive, you know?” 3... 2... 1... Okay, she was good. “Always do.”

when andrea said she liked nature, she meant she liked beaches, big open spaces, the smell of sea salt and the feeling of warm sand between her toes as she got a brilliant tan. not … creepy cabins in creepy woods that you could only get to if you walked over a creepy bridge. after deciding she’d had enough of her roommates and not loving that you could just sort of hear bugs when you were outside (a sound she hoped she would learn to ignore quickly) she made her way to the main cabin. hoping there’d be something to do there that wasn’t hold hands and sing kumbaya and pretend this was all perfectly normal and acceptable. 

she didn’t go out of her way to interact with gwen, but it was kind of nice to see queen bitch herself milling around the retreat like the rest of the commoners. after observing the life, or whatever usually fuelled gwen prescott, drain from her face for a second, drea decided she didn’t have anything else she really had to do right then. “ you good? ” she questioned, announcing her presence to the brunette’s side. “ is this, like, your new thing? ” she asked, any potential to believe that drea was actually concerned for gwen’s well being running into the distance “ looking like you’re about to go all carrie on everyone? ”

    At the sound of a familiar voice — one Gwen wished she didn’t recognize so well — her immediate eye-roll towards the junior was as evident as the cracks in the hall ceiling. Really, it was just a tale of unfortunate circumstances when it came to Andrea Pearson. Because if Gwen hadn’t grown close with Damian after all these years, hadn’t developed feelings for him, then hadn’t had her heart tromped on by some stupid junior who couldn’t even pronounce half her words correctly, then perhaps also Gwen might have allowed Andrea the decency of having no opinion of her. But unfortunately, the junior was a delinquent by association to Katherine Bishop as far as Gwen was concerned, and not someone to make an ally out of. So it was evident as she looked at the girl that Gwen’s expression was that of immense dislike.

    “Wow if you think movie references make for a quirky personality, sell yourself to Netflix already, it’s so original.” Gwen sneered, not wanting to revisit the last time they had been in a room together and how much of her shit she’d lost in front of the junior. As far as Gwen was concerned, Andrea could say whatever she wanted and Gwen would call her a liar anyway.

With a presence deserving of its own private zip code, Gwen Prescott was difficult to avoid on campus. At the Retreat, however, with fewer square meters to separate them and even fewer bits of architecture to hide behind, Gwen Prescott was impossible to avoid.

Evidently reluctant, she approached the Seton house captain with her arms folded defensively across her chest, “At least we’ll never have to wonder if our parents cheated us by not sending us to those shitty sleepaway Summer camps when we were kids. Now we get the full experience- you know, minus the water sports and the sexy college-age camp counselors,”

    If shame was an accessible emotion of Gwen’s, she hid it well. Like most deeper thoughts and personal anguish, she concealed most of it with hard frowns of concentration, frustrated glance aways, and stony cold stoicism that would put even Michelangelo to shame. But yes, shame, that’s what she felt every time her eyes grazed over Jocelyn’s profile or whenever the two happened to cross paths. It was hard, pretending that she was fine while she had the very physical reminder that she ruined just about any good relationship she ever kept. Jocelyn was just another nail in the coffin before Ben, before Damian... Just another reminder of how terrible a person she was that not even the best of the best wanted to stand by her and her crazy antics. And also, after Gwen’s brief mental breakdown last month in the bathroom block, it was safe to say that Jocelyn and she hadn’t exactly spoken since.

    Sucking in a breath, it was clear that Gwen didn’t really want to talk to the other girl, but the milling of students and staff around them made it a little hard to be openly unforgiving or standoffish. So instead, she faked a smile. She was getting so good at it lately that if she could put it on her resume, she would. Prime actress despite a chronic state of devastation.

    “I think I’ve had enough testosterone causing me grief to last me a lifetime,” Gwen admitted in a blanket statement. First, her brother. Then Ben. Now Damian. It was safe to say that Gwen’s trust in male figures had decayed just as much as the cabin’s architecture had. “So... count me out for Camp Crystal Lake. Besides, I’m aware the only person people expect to be breaking through doors to give them hell is me, I’m not stupid.”

Lucy had been dreading moving day since she heard about the destruction of the dorms. Until she actually got to the site. She knew that some of her more high maintenance peers wouldn’t fare well in somewhere to… rustic. Lucy even cracked a smile when she saw the state of the rooms. Her first mission was much like anyone else’s — decorate.

She wasn’t looking to make it homely, just somewhere that she didn’t hate. She tacked up a few posters, mostly indie bands and her favourite poems. Pussy Riot took centre stage, bordered by a frame of old popsicle sticks. Still, she felt like something was missing. She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back, looking around the room for inspiration. “How does this arrangement make you feel?” she asked, as if it was some grand art exhibit and not just a collage on the wall of a rickety old cabin.

    Although they weren’t on campus, Gwen Prescott was quite sure that campus rules still at least loosely applied. Besides being a House Captain and therefore, an authoritative representative of the student body ( her mindset, not everyone’s ) she was also an obscene Know-It-All and all-round pain in the ass, this, mostly everybody was aware of. So as she did the rounds of the cabins, juniors first, seniors second, juniors once more just in case Bishop and Pearson decided they were above the rules, Gwen’s eyes caught the poster first and thus, her target had landed.

    “Well, frankly, it makes me wonder if offending people is higher on your priority list than peacefully respecting a shared space.” She responded to Lucy’s Avant Grade question as if it was directed at Gwen herself. Entering the room more, the Seton captain thumbed to the doorway, “Now... would you like to take it down, or would you prefer me to have Sister Michael ask you to do it? Either works for my agenda right now, so...”

{ LOCATION: camp entry }

  Being a House Captain felt somewhat like being a public figure sometimes. Because as Gwen’s insides curdled with disgust and loathing towards the ruins of her woodland lodging for the next unforeseeable future, her peripherals caught the sight of students fresh off of busses and out of parental Hondas, staring at her, clearly processing her reaction as it happened on her face. Quickly, Gwen snapped herself out of it. Throwing her shoulders back, lips tightening, nose high; she exhaled decisively and set off with feeling in her new NikeCourts towards the Retreat Hall on a mission to help with lodging arrangements as instructed by the sisters.