sinners welcome

𝗮𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰 | 𝗳𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗼𝗻 | 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 | 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 | 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹𝘀

“𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗴𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴'𝘀 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄.”

Flora could barely hold back the genuine laugh that threatened to bubble up in her throat and she cleared it instead, unable to suppress a giggle. “Bad communication? Try no communication at all,” she told her, rolling her eyes. Granted, her own relationships she could count on one hand and they hadn’t been the best either but Marlon, she’d put trust into until she realized that they just didn’t seem to even speak the same language most of the time. The words that followed, had her pause though and she didn’t appreciate the way it made her stomach drop a little. She hadn’t looked at it from that perspective - way too distracted by her own feelings and needs. She’d have to unpack that at some point but now definitely wasn’t the time, Flora decided. Blinking at Lyra, she took in the flower. It was a gorgeous color. Rich and deep. A laugh escaped her fully this time. “He’d know all about it, you’re right…and in his honor, I will just go for this one,” she announced, almost sounding relieved.

It’s certainly not the first or last time that Lyra has held some form of regret over her words, the flicker of her companion’s features a reminder that she didn’t always know where the line of comfort ended and that her tendency to step over it could be destabilizing. “I’m not saying you’re wrong and they’re right.” It’s a quick correction, one she wouldn’t have felt the need to make within her own mind — it wasn’t that simple, if it could ever be when it came to people, far too complex and intricate to place into such black and white terms. “We’re all raised different and...I think sometimes we don’t realize something we’ve learned isn’t right until someone else helps us to it. Even then, we just...kind of have to be hopeful that people are willing to listen.” A reality that was unfortunately not always the outcome. It’s a rarity for her to be so serious, for the dimples of her cheeks to not be intended in a playful manner or way that indicated she was up to no good, appearance much more her own when lips tug upwards in response to Flora’s laughter, a much more welcome response than the discomfort she felt she had caused mere moments earlier. “He’d be flattered. — Not that I know him personally.”

“ maybe that’s exactly what i’m looking for . i mean , be serious , when have i ever not done something i said i was going to do ?? even if you did try and talk me out of it , i would go ahead and pack my bags anyway , ” ender would have talked the ear off of anyone ; it just so happened that lyra was the one next to her that afternoon . “ maybe i’d go back to paris — oh , girl , it was so beautiful . from my old apartment i could see the eiffel tower from my bedroom . super romantic , ” and yet there were countless other places that she felt she belonged above roswell , new mexico . “ or new york . or los angeles . ” it was all too good to be true .

“Maybe. But I also don’t think you’d need my encouragement to pack up your bags if it was what you felt you were truly ready for.” There was a confidence that seemed to flow through Ender’s very bloodstream, practically glowing from her skin, warning that no one was going to tell her who she was or what she was going to do at any given moment. It was an energy that made it questionable as to why she was even speaking on the topic as if it was a decision to be, as if she would need (or even desire) convincing from Lyra or anyone. “Why Roswell?” Lyra enjoyed it a great deal, a place that she felt called to outcasts such as herself but she wasn’t sure that it spoke to the femme across from her in the same way. “Seems an odd choice when places such as Paris and New York hold a piece of you.” Not that she’d ever experienced the prior to know.

Paige took a long sip of her water, letting her body relax a bit before speaking again was crucial. “I live for the spotlight but sometimes I throw in a little something extra. The ol Razzle Dazzle never fails.”

Paige scanned the room. The dimmed lights had brightened once more revealing a fuller riom than when Paige had started singing. So far, he wasn’t here, but the vague posting about Karaoke Night was fresh on her mind. “I haven’t felt this much of a rush in a while. Good thing I’m going up again later.”

“Well, razzle and dazzle you certainly did.” Lyra had never striven to be the center of attention, her focus always gravitating outwards rather than in, be that as it may, her odd behaviors and choice words were often more than capable of making her just that. Tonight, such was not the case. There’s shared whispers and nods of approval sent in the direction of their table, clearly focused upon the female that had just returned — and Lyra is eager to dig in before anyone else is granted the chance. “How long have you been singing?”

“I know working out leaves a stench of bad odor but it’s good for you to come to the gym and get your blood flowing and I must say for beauty such as yourself you did a hell of a workout .” He laughed .” Why thank you, don’t worry I’ll shower before we go out to get something to eat. My treat .”

“I just fail to see why one insists on working out in the boring and stiff air of a gym when you could be outside, appreciating all the beauty that the world has to offer.” Lyra may have been a virtual stranger to gyms, but it didn’t mean she was one to exercise, even if it didn’t come in the most recommended or legal of forms. “I’d certainly hope so. You owe me something for my suffering.” 

the thought of lyra communing with the little creatures was hysterical — park-ji would peek out their window the following morning to check whether the other was twittering among the birds , poking their head out of the window to observe the critters crimping freshly baked pies with their forked feet . as much as tripp’s was a mess of crime , of individuals best left avoided , pj was thankful for it ; it was an authentic existence living away from their father’s thumb and being able to make decisions for themself , pursuing success that seemed permanently dangled in front of their nose like a donkey coaxed by a carrot . “ the raccoons seem pretty sweet on those cowboys up the way there . i’m woken up enough times by one of them in his too-tightie-whities trying to chase them with a frying pan , “ their body was shaken in a shudder — there were some angles of the cannon brother that nobody needed to see . as they spoke , the more park-ji began to warm to the other . so long as lyra wasn’t attempting to butter them up to go behind their back and steal scrap metal , too , they were sure to get along just fine . lyra’s words may not have been a direct offer and yet the youngest lei took it as such — they bumbled past their neighbour , swinging into their trailer , taking a moment to drink in the surroundings so far removed from their own interior design . “ i could go for some waffles right now . what toppings do you have ?? “ maybe , on the surface , pj seemed strange — they swung from a resting-bitch-face to puppy-dog excitement , never having learned the true way of navigating life , still feeling things out on their own terms . “ can’t hunt for gas on an empty stomach , right ?? “ they could use a good , warm meal , and some pleasant company .

Lyra’s features fall with a disappointment that’s sincerity is difficult to gauge, chaotic bedhead swaying with the shake of her head. It’s not a far reach to figure that the animals are far from being most of the park’s residences’ favorite sights — unfortunately, the same can not be said for Lyra, who has seemed to grow an attachment to the creatures that is either helping or worsening the issue of them being on the grounds. “They’re just misunderstood. It’s not their fault Striker won’t take the time to get to know them.” As if they were new neighbors and not pests wreaking havoc upon people’s lives and homes. “He’s stubborn as a mule, that one.” Be it the unexpectedness of their actions or the mere fact that Lyra’s still only partially awake, she’s left halted on her hand built porch, brain taking a moment to actually process the fact that the other had moved past her and into her home. It’s a chaotic and colorful array of pieces that had clearly found their second or fifth home, nothing that had come straight off the shelves of anywhere but a thrift store, pieces fixed or shaped into a new life by her hands. Even as Lyra slips out of her boots to better reveal the colorful wool socks adorning her feet, it’s clear she’s perhaps just as much an extension of the home as it is of her. “Chocolate chips, strawberries, blueberries, pomegranate...can you put pomegranate on pancakes?” Luckily for the stranger, if there was one thing that Lyra had, it was a sweet tooth that kept things of such a variety readily on hand; most times spent in the solitude of her home included the femme snacking on something of sort. “I mean...it is a fruit.” Her feet lead her into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder and offering a wicked grin. “What is it that your heart desires?” 

Flora couldn’t hold back a laugh at the mental image and was quick to nod with intent. “I’m right there with you. I wouldn’t hurt a fly - for the most part but at this point, I think I’ve had enough of a build up to seriously consider it,” she admitted. There was only truth in her words. Flora liked to think that she was a rather diplomatic person, as long as she didn’t hold a grudge but ultimately, she could only agree with Lyra. With another chuckle, Flora gave another nod. “That’s a good point, you’re right about that,” she told her, shrugging. “I guess that has just never been mine - I’m not judging anyone for it but I did date someone who didn’t really get that this wasn’t going to be the way to win me over. So I got gifts and don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to get gifts but I guess I just need more than a sparkle sometimes,” Flora admitted, shrugging with a sigh. “It sounds better in theory but once you don’t get an apology but a gift? That’s when I’m over it,” she added before grinning back at Lyra. “Aren’t those the kinds of artists that are the most fun and creative?” She half-joked. “It’s working. Whatever you’re doing, it’s enough to convince me,” Flora told her, a genuine grin on her lips.

“Sounds like bad communication.” A declaration spoken with the confidence that Lyra was anything close to an expert on relationships. In reality, the girl’s only experience with anything of the sort was in brief trysts with those who she often didn’t know well enough to be sharing such an intimate time. In the past decade she had come to know people, though — or perhaps, merely convinced herself that she had, could read not just through someone but through words unspoken. Maybe she could, or maybe it was just easier to speak on things when you were on the outside looking in. “I think it’s easy to be oblivious to another person’s needs when we think we’re doing the right thing. Or when it’s all we know.” As if the conversation had slipped from her grasp, she’s turning to Flora with a flower in hand, the color practically a midnight blue; an almost ironic reference to the work of an artist who’s name then slipped past her lips. “In some ways, I suppose...but they’re also the most tragic. Just ask Vincent van Gogh.”