some women are lost in the fire;

“Texas?” Beatrice guessed, turning slightly to face her company, eyes narrowed as she took in the other’s appearance. “Ruby. You sound too sane to be Texas.” Though it didn’t change her life at all to know which White was which, she was pleased with her assumption, turning back to the phone before her, tracing a flower petal with the tip of her finger for a short pause before she continued. “No offense of course, if you’re Texas. Or if you’re not. She was always the more interesting of the two.” Speaking like the twin wasn’t standing beside of her, she turned after a longer amount of passing time, her attention on the subject at hand now. “Well, Texas-Ruby, I can see that. But maybe they should have.”

A strange laugh threatened to escape her lips at the other woman’s words, images of blonde hair and a staircase turned sinister coming to mind. They’d always had the wrong twin, hadn’t they? “I’ve come to find that sanity is relative. Especially with those from Whittemore,” she hummed, nodding as Beatrice continued. She wasn’t offended by her comment, in fact, she agreed. In her parent’s eyes, Texas had been tarnished, the one in need of punishment and saving. Ruby could clearly see that, as much as she had once cowered behind the mantel of the “better” twin, Texas was truly deserving of the title. “Ruby,” the brunette clarified, eyes focusing on the other woman for a moment. “That would be a great deal of work when it seems as if they only meant to punish a select few.” Absentmindedly tracing circles on the table in front of her, she paused before continuing. “I think we’re among those to be punished.”

“You know,” Beatrice placed her phone on the table before her, cracked screen facing down, a scraped black case covered in skulls and roses up, not looking to see who the sound of footsteps belonged to. She didn’t care if it was a stranger or an old friend or even her mother approaching, she didn’t change how she talked for anyone these days . “It’s a shame all of London didn’t burn down. Rid us of the sins that have been committed, who cares if a few innocent people have to die in order to prove a point?” She turned, smiling as if it was a conversation about the weather, completely casual, “No one ever has before.”

Ruby couldn’t be sure why she found herself approaching the other woman. There was no reason for her to do so, even without taking into account the broken promise that she had never fully agreed to, and yet she found herself frowning at Beatrice’s words. “Genesis 7. Same idea, different destructive element,” she hummed, hiding the slight discomfort of the topic behind a rigid smile. Beatrice seemed unfazed, something which she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disturbed by. Drawing her gaze away from the case covered in skulls, she continued. “I don’t think the person behind this shared that train of thought, Beatrice.”

“Because I either stand in the middle of this hell or stand in my apartment but either way I have to endure the sounds of this hellish event,” she told her honestly, only then truly turning her attention to the girl that had placed herself behind her. The pamphlet, the dark hair, the face, it all reminded her of her sister, it was that same thought that made it click.

“Fair enough. Although, I imagine Hell isn’t quite as fun as a carnival.” Not that she was having a particularly enjoyable time, but that was likely because neither Liam nor Charlotte were anywhere in sight. 

There had been a time when he had entertained Ruby. She had done nothing but throw things back in his face for as long as he remembered, a track record of trying to be nice for nothing in return now entirely scrapped by his own two hands in a motion that was much too swift for anyone to understand how it had happened. Where anger resided so did bitter laughter that erupted from his throat in harsh ripples, worse than time where he had been pushed over the edge because at least then he was sure he’d found it funny. Laughter lines etched themselves onto his face but nothing met his eyes, stitches pulling, “You could, couldn’t you?” The edge to his voice was clear, a disturbed twist to a question that didn’t need an answer as he grabbed one crutch to steady himself. Even if he fell he probably wouldn’t cared, “Well this was nice but I need a fucking drink so if you don’t mind,” he paused, a grin on his face, “Move out my fucking way.”

The laugh was disturbing, and yet her face remained neutral. It seemed as if the world had finally gotten the best of Tyson King, understandable given the last time she had seen him, and it was sad but unsurprising. Even angels fell, even kings, and he had donned both a crown and wings during his time at the school. Her gaze shifted away from the ride, feeling as if he deserved her attention. She stepped back, knowing that it was pointless to fight with him. “You’ll need a flask. There’s a no open containers rule at the carnival until after most of the children leave.” It’s all that she can think to say. There was a time when she would have chastised him for his actions, when she would have tried to reason with him and ask what was wrong. It seemed pointless now. Everything was wrong, at least for the man in front of her, and if drinking was what kept him alive, then perhaps it would do for now.

A million questions raced through his head, all revolving around the recently discovered paper weighing heavily in his pocket. Who’d left it? What did it mean– well, he knew what it meant. But what did it mean in regards to the pact? The pact had been a stupid idea in the first place. They’d all been stupid to think this could ever really be over. Chase had been stupid to believe in the new life he’d built for himself, for Olivia. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It was no surprise, with all the thoughts in his mind the extra crowds thanks to the city wide carnival, plus his usual clumsiness that had carried over into his new life, that Chase had managed to crash into someone. “Shit! I’m sorry,” he muttered, the apology falling from his lips before he’d even truly had a chance to see who he’d bumped into, literally. 

“We have mass this Sunday, actually. You’re more than welcome to come, I could give you a pamphlet if you’d like one?” Her voice was sickly sweet, although she was only aware of this because of how much she used the tone. To anyone else, she was sure that it sounded genuine. That was likely for the best, after all. After an exchange of paper, the older woman was off, and Ruby stepped back to grab her phone out of her bag when she felt someone crash into her. The object slipped from her fingers, landing on the ground with a dull thud, but the screen was staring up at her so she supposed it was fine. “Yes, I imagine you are,” she laughed, not really thinking over the words as she picked up the phone and popped it back into her bag. Finally looking up at the person, she paused, a smile making its way onto her face. “Chase. What has you in such a hurry? Are you meeting up with Liam?”

It only took a quick glance around at the flashing lights and smiling faces for Rumour to know this was not his scene. Turning up at this whole carnival thing hadn’t actually been his idea for fun though, instead he was simply admiring the way people behaved. It was entertaining to just watch, forget everything about his life for a moment, and just examine others. Then again, he’d also thought it could be a good way to pick up some extra cash; people distracted by fun were the best to pick-pocket. This had been where he’d started, why not go back to the old ways. 

It seemed as if all of London was crammed into the fair ground, and one was more likely to play bumper cars trying to get from one end of the event to the other than they were to actually make it to the ride. It didn’t bother her very much, although bumping into familiar faces seemed to be more frequent than she cared for.

Did being an actor made Danny feel a little superior? Definitely. Did he used it as a way to flirt on people? Yes. Did it always worked? Absolutely not, specially when the boyfriend was near the corner as he leaned and whispered something in the girl’s ear. This lead to receiving not only a slap from the girl but also a punch from the man. Danny hoped that the girl believed that he was just saying he was an actor to get in her pants. If he got into trouble he knew he would be mentioned a lot, but that it probably wouldn’t do him any favors in Acers. Softly touching the sore area in his face he turned around feeling rather hungry. Seeing that pretzels were being sold nearby he headed there not really caring about the punch, and got in line. Out of the blue someone moved in line before him, “Yeah, because someone thought that people waiting in line was just something pretty to look at. Not to actually wait for your turn.”

The craziness of the carnival reminded her of a party years ago, one that she was only able to recall snapshots of. Most of them were unpleasant and returned in the form of nightmares, but despite this, she found herself having a great time. A few moments before, she’d thought that she had caught a glimpse of Liam. It was the reason behind her current accelerated pace, paying little attention as she hurried through the crowd. Children she’d dodge, but she’d stop making herself small to slip past men over a year ago, and she had no intentions of returning to the unpleasant practice. Usually, the person beside her’s comment wouldn’t have been reason enough to stop, except that this was a face she recognized. It was one that had once been featured next to one that looked nearly exactly like her own. “You never seem to use a very pleasant tone of voice, do you, Daniel?” Now that he’d complained, she decided to put Liam on the back-burner. This was much more interesting. 

A gold watch clung to Justin’s wrist, one that he was staring very impatiently at as if he were waiting for something or someone. His clothing of choice was far too fancy for that of a carnival, but he hardly noticed how badly he stuck out among the crowd. He stuck out everywhere, he’d grown used to it. The minute hand on his watch switched and he looked up from it as if snapped from his daze.

Eye contact was something that didn’t bother her anymore, even when it lasted for several seconds longer than most would consider normal. The eyes were ones she recognized, ones she had once been rather fond of, and the smile that pulled at her lips was genuine. There was no strange tilt, no mask, she was just genuinely glad to see him.

Gabriel had been pushing through the crowd to try to get back to his flat when he had felt someone collide into him. For a moment he thought he had been pick pocketed, looking over his shoulder frantically to try to catch who is was before reaching into his pocket, growling as he urgently tried to figure out what had been taken but only finding an addition in the form of a piece of paper. Removing it, he looked it over before opening it taking in the writing quickly. “Of fucking course it isnt over.” He mumbled crumbling up the note and shoving it back into his pocket. Things in his life had finally began to settle down, well as settled down as it could have with his growing fame but he had started to feel truly happy again. He would be lying to say he was in the mood for this new game. “So what are we going to fuck up now? Please dont say each others lives as Ive just began to get mine back on track, thank you very much.”

“How nice,” the brunette broke in, overhearing the comments of someone she had yet to actually identify. It was nice, really. They’d gotten their life back on track, although they didn’t seem too happy about something. Turning, it took her a moment to make out who the person was, and memories of an argument involving a certain former idol of hers made themselves known. “Oh. You must be talking about the message, hm? Quite inconvenient, isn’t it, Gabriel? I was just beginning to enjoy the quiet.” 

There was nothing out of the ordinary about that day. The wind blew through trees as the cold air swept past him and caused hairs to stand on end on his bare arms. He didn’t mind the cold but he did mind the people of the city. Today was a day where people could hide behind masks and facades of joy that felt much too eerie to him despite his well formed act of ignorance to the true nature of the world. His elbow leaned against the bonnet of his car, where he stood he could ease from his act into a pleasant moment between ignorance and acknowledgement that was not quite the right backdrop to a day at the carnival. “Nice day, huh?” 

The second day was one that she decided didn’t need to be spent preaching to a deaf choir, and she’d donned a little black dress Charlotte had picked out to celebrate. Coffee in hand, she took a sip and paused to study her surroundings, oblivious as people elbowed by as they entered the carnival. Still lingering in the car park, she heard a voice she hadn’t heard in quite some time. For a brief moment, her grip on the coffee cup tightened and an odd expression crossed her face, but she managed to keep it under control before turning to face the man. Her gaze automatically dropped to his leg before she lowered her coffee, red lipstick stain bright against the stark white. “It’s rather cold, actually.”

    The parade ahead moved quickly, faces blurring together and instruments smashed too loudly and from where she stood in the cold September air she could only adjust her tartan scarf, a layer to stop the breeze of the passing London day from biting at her skin. Somhow she had missed this parade for years, the reminder too great of things that had happened years ago, a carnival that had been anything but fun where a man had almost died. She wished sometimes he had, then she would not have been left to clamber back over cold gates with Maria in tow and discover something worse – his true passing. 

“I don’t know. It’s a bit too loud, if you ask me. All of the lights are rather pretty, though,” the brunette shrugged, glancing over at the girl beside her. She was pretty, although not soft, and Ruby found herself having to shake away the thought as she reached for a pamphlet in her purse. Usually, she would offer it to the person with a small smile and speak with them for a moment if they weren’t too busy trying to make the most of the carnival. She only held it this time, however, silently thumbing the edges of a pamphlet she had read a million times, but never put much thought into.

He had been so sure. He had thought he was right. Every layer of him was buried beneath another and even in this parade, where he had stood for hours with vacant eyes before pulling out a piece of paper that would shatter the entire basis of his existence, he had felt pleasantly empty. One slip of paper had almost torn everything away from him and now as his elbows leaned on crutches that would never support his weight, against the advice of every doctor, face bruised and obviously scratched, the collar of his shirt undone and tie missing from it’s place, not a single emotion crossed his face. Once he would of felt terror but only more ice seemed to freeze over a once beating warm heart, the slip of paper preserved perfectly between angry fingertips that destroyed all else they touched. Maybe it was because he could not bring himself to destroy the source of his agony any longer, he loved the pain too much, he had lived in it now so long he did not wish to escape. Blue eyes that had been grey and dead for what felt like a lifetime flickered with some emotion but it was only the recognition that he knew what this meant. Every piece of sadness or guilt had disappeared long ago and now just as it seemed he felt anything, his shoulders raised into a half shrug, what almost seemed to be a sadistic smile on the corners of his lips, a quirk of the eyebrows, “Ha,” the sound was short, “Hell’s comin’ for us and it’s not stopping this time,” and he was not upset about it. God had abandoned him a long time ago and he knew now that the only thing he was certain of was that he too would abandon them in turn. Every damn time. 

The small slip of paper had gone overlooked, deposited into a pocket filled with several gum wrappers and a pamphlet she’d been amazed had managed to fit inside. The booth she had been running was largely overlooked, tucked between a lemonade stand and a food truck boasting of ‘The best fried dough in London!’ Somehow, finding the Lord’s light wasn’t quite as important to the carnival goers as overpriced food seemed to be. Humming to herself as she reached into her pocket for another bit of gum, she picked up the slip of paper by mistake. Her gaze remained on it for several seconds before a small sigh escaped her lips, followed shortly after by an eye roll. Depositing her flavorless gum into the slip of paper, she tossed it into a nearby trashcan, pausing only when she heard a familiar voice. One maintained eyebrow rose in interest as she took in the figure beside her, a prime example of the toll a silly game could take on someone. There was more to it, of course, as there always was. Some part of her registered it as sad that his eyes looked so empty, that he was obviously not well, but his words caused her shove those thoughts away. A peaceful smile settled on her lips as she shifted her weight onto her other leg, tilting her head in the man’s direction. “You could argue that it didn’t quite stop last time,” she hummed, gaze momentarily shifting to a ride right in front of them. 

[Her] beauty is a trap. A trap, a trap, a trap. Lots of people (men, mostly) find her madness quite charming because she is so beautiful.