Audrey rolled her eyes at Joey, had someone walked in right then they would probably think the two women were about to start an ugly argument, however, having been friends for years now, cruising the New Orleans streets for troubles since teenagers, they were more than acquainted to each other to get mad about something. âI donât mean the bike, obviously.â Audrey stated. âI meant your posture, strighten your shoulders or Iâll use those asian techniques to keep them straight.â Of course she would refer to something as irrelevant as that.
A look of mock offense crossed her face at Audreyâs words. A hand came up to rest on her chest as if sheâd actually been wounded. Audrey was really the only person that got to witness her being so dramatic just for laughs. She, admittedly, took herself a bit too seriously at times. âYouâre worse than my mom, you know that?â she teased as she wiped grease from the palm of her hand with a towel she had at arms reach. âAre you gonna make me start walking around with a book on my head?â
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Raleigh laid out the last of the tomatoes and cucumbers and dusted his hands off on his jeans with a soft sigh, looking over the small folding table filled with mostly apples and assorted winter squash now. He grabbed his lawn chair from the back of the truck and sat down, staring at the seasonal produce and rubbing his eyes because he couldnât believe how much time had passed already. He was just pulling out his phone when one of the apples rolled off the table and he scrambled to grab it before it fell but his fingers were just short of catching it. He huffed out a soft âshit, fuckâ as it hit the rocky ground, inevitably bruising the small apple. He picked it up and rubbed it on his shirt a bit before carefully placing it back with the bunch and that was when he noticed someone standing by the table. âOh god did you just see that? Itâs - itâs still good, ok, I promise,â he said with a sheepish laugh.
Joey didnât partake in many of the cheesy, Hallmark-y town functions, but the weekend farmers market had become a staple of her Saturday morning. She looked a bit out of place dressed in all black and covered in tattoos and piercings. Especially when standing next to pastel sweater wearing grandmotherâs and tennis skirt clad house wives. The brunette roamed the makeshift aisles created by the booths of vegetables, homemade crafts, and organic honey. She had a canvas tote bag hanging from her shoulder with the loot from her Saturday morning venture when she started to walk past the last booth on the right. It was like the world started moving in slow motion as the apple dropping and the guy flailed helpless trying to stop it. Joey couldnât stop the laugh that left her lips. âDo I get a discount if I say I saw nothing?â
Audrey hadnât meant to stare intently but she couldnât help it, neither could she stop herself from shaking her head as she watched the other. She was about to break her own record of keeping her mouth shut and not meddle in other peopleâs buisness, let them be happy, but then she sighed and spoke up. âYouâre doing it wrong.â She stated.Â
Joey straightened to her full height from the crouched position she was in by her bike. âAm I?â she asked rhetorically. âWould you like to show me how it should be done?â she questioned, eyebrow raising as her hands fell to her hips. âDo you work on Harleyâs often or do you just know these sorts of things?â
Full Name: Josephine Moore
Nickname/s:Â Joey (sheâll hate any other nickname someone tries to give her)
Gender: CIS Female
Date of Birth:Â September 2, 1993
Age:Â Twenty Seven
Ethnicity:Â Black, Native American, Creole
Place of Birth: New Orleans, LouisianaÂ
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Bartender at Bob & Ringoâs
Faceclaim: Tristin Mays
@tupeloextras | tw: witchy things, death mention, bullying (sort of)
Joey is a witch, allegedly. Not the wiggle your nose to make things disappear or flying on a broomstick through the night sky kinda deal. But, depending on your beliefs about the supernatural and peopleâs abilities to connect to the other side, she might just be a little magical.Â
She was never a fan of academics, so she just barely graduated high school and didnât have the gpa to get into any sort of high education institution, not that sheâd voluntarily go anyways.Â
Joey was raised by her mother and grandmother. Her aunt was often in and out of her childhood home, but she didnât do any of the âraisingâ.Â
Her mother and grandmother ran a hair salon in the front parlor of their home. The rest of the house was closed off from the salon with a pair of French doors. Itâs been said that behind those doors was where another sort of business was being carried out. There were rumors of potions and love spells and serums to make lovers speak their truths were just beyond those doorsÂ
During her senior year of high school, Joey was dating the schools star receiver, which was a shock to everyone. People said she had him under a spell or that she was somehow giving him the ability to be the top recruit in the state of Louisiana. They both ignored the pestering gossip as best they could.Â
The night they found out her boyfriend was being given a full ride to LSU on a football scholarship, they had a bonfire to celebrate, but when they ran off the road into a swamp afterwards, the bonfire was no longer a fun celebration, but a voodoo ritual that Joey intentionally lured her boyfriend to in order to sacrifice himâ or something along those lines.Â
She went to stay with a cousin out of state after the funeral to get a break from the offended looks and wild imaginations of the Bible thumpers that didnât like what they didnât understand, which is how she landed herself in Tupelo, Mississippi.