* PRACTICALLY / 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖉 !

@ofhenri​

“i thought we could start with someone who actually knows what they’re doing,” thalia sighs, sliding back in her seat. she certainly doesn’t. she was reluctant to dive right back into what had caused the group’s rift in the first place, but knowing adam wouldn’t stop, with or without their support, was motivation enough. maybe, if they can just figure out what happened to his dad without chasing some mythical treasure at the same time, he can find closure. but she wouldn’t be out here, seeking out some mysterious historian, if henri hadn’t approached her first. 

“my mom knows him. kind of.” she unbuckles her seat belt and cranks the car door open, leaping out of the vehicle because her legs don’t quite reach the ground. “hey, you didn’t tell don, right?” thalia scrunches her nose. “i just think it might be easier to do this if it’s on the down low. if adam finds out… i just don’t want him to get his hopes up again.” 

the look on adam’s face when they’d broke the news about dropping the treasure hunt has haunted him in the days since. maybe that’s why — whenever don’s out of the house — he has been looking a little more into the history of the town to try to find out just why adam’s dad would even direct them to a crazy lady’s house.or trying to. snippets of articles published online by claudio morales, whose name he had seen scribbled onto the back of letters, documenting the town’s history behind a paywall. so, naturally he seeks out lia. their moral compass (and someone who he’s sure could take on a journalist/historian/whatever if need be).

quoting jordin sparks earns a laugh from alina that rings clear and bright in the somewhat empty beach. their chatter is rivaled only by a toddler who squeals when the water rushes to her ankles; alina thinks it’ll annoy her in twenty minutes. she turns back to henri, nodding in agreement. “exactly.” though it’s sort of out of her hands because greatness is really only a breath’s worth of effort with the connections that alina has. still, her father would have a different opinion. alina smiles again looking out towards the beach. “you’re right about that, i guess, you certainly don’t have this in paris. there are also no hurricanes though. and they’ve got french men and the champs-élysées so perhaps they’ve still got north carolina beat.” alina sighs. “oh, you’d love it there henri… but at least we have the beach.” she chuckles again.

“mm, all valid points,” he nods in agreement, and for once he doesn’t have much of a comeback. “although you cannot tell me there hasn’t been at least one moment in your life where you’ve been in that like,” he tries to conjure the words momentarily, hands raising up in a brief roll as if they can be brought about from thin air. “tipsy sorta trance where everything is great and you’re waltzing along, havin’ the best time, and the board walk? looks better than the champs-élysées ever could.” and for a moment, the grin on his face is a pure beam at the mere thought. “could just be beach side effects though.” pulling himself away from his thoughts, henri finally takes in the sight of the bag slung over her shoulder. “whatcha doing today anyway? got any big post-hurricane plans?” 

what holiday is their favorite? which is their least favorite? 

st. patrick’s day is henri’s favourite ! to anyone who asks, it’s because it’s a day for glorified drinking, of course - all done while saying “well, i could be irish ! i don’t know who my dad is - get off my back !” the real reason why it’s henri’s favourite is a bit more sentimental than that. filled with fond memories of his mum holding him up to see the chicago river being dyed green during a parade when he was a kid and taking pictures of his friends’ smiling faces as a teen. 

his least favourite holiday is christmas. it’s a bit of a cold affair in their household as it’s mostly his stepdad’s thing and it comes as a themed concept. they had an art installation in their living room with a silver tree made out of metal one year... suffice to say it haunts him. 

what time do they normally go to bed? how many hours of sleep do they usually need to function in the morning?

haha morning is not something henri’s familiar with. spotting him emerging from his room before eleven on any given day is a rare sight, mainly because he’s horrible at keeping a consistent bedtime. there’s just so many documentaries about cryptids and only so much time to view them in, y’know. 

what is their preferred weather? what would be a perfect weather day?

that one clip about april 25th is henri’s idea of perfect weather in a nutshell. not too hot, not too cold. he likes cloudy days the most because you have to work that little bit harder to find the beauty in them. 

what were they a part of in high school/college, if they went? were they a part of any clubs, did they play any sports? What clique would they have been considered a part of? 

hahaha SO i like to say that henri accidentally became a theatre kid in high school simply because he only auditioned for his first musical after he heard a classmate of his say she ‘was totally into guys who sing’. so he kinda stumbled into it but that was his whole thing for a good three years !  idk if he would have been part of any specific clique, though...? if anything, henri was a bit of a social butterfly ! 

dabbled with a ton of different things in college, though... and committed to none <3 

what do they prefer to do in the summertime? do they like going to the beach, do they prefer camping, staying in the city? do they like to stay indoors and away from the heat?

there’s something innocent about the crowd that summer brings along with it. the outer banks can get boring quickly — everyone is painfully predictable. still, summer here is like nothing else, familiarity and strangeness all at once. “good!” she exclaims, nodding, and it’s difficult to determine how genuine she’s being. but alina does like him. perhaps it’s because she sees some sort of harmless quality in him, she doesn’t quite know. when she’s next to him, she looks out to where his camera had been pointed at moments before. there’s nothing remarkable in the distance, just a sort of sad looking sandcastle. this, too, has been a point of fascination for alina; how henri somehow finds something beautiful in everything, something worth immortalizing with a photograph.

“oh, you know,” she shrugs coyly, a grin pulling at her lips. “getting there. one step at a time or whatever they say.” it couldn’t be farther from the truth. last summer she had been in paris, brushing shoulders with all sorts of important people. now, she was back in north carolina. a flash of uneasiness stirs in her gut. “figured i’d tackle the outer banks this summer.”

he lets his camera hang limply around his neck as she speaks, briefly distracted from bigger goals of sandcastle photo taking. not unwelcomely, though! because he likes talking to alina. even more so now that they have so much to catch up on. 

a laugh escaped his lips, though it was half committed. more of an exhale without sound. he shook his head, and laid back on his bed. a mistake. it was as sticky as the rest of the room was. “we shoulda bought a kiddie pool. you think that would fit in the bathroom?” he already knew it wouldn’t. the bathroom was exactly 36 square feet, just big enough for the tub, shower, and toilet. still, it was nice to dream. he imagined being outside when this was all over, watching the surfers act recklessly, seeing henri in passing going down the street on his skateboard, with whatever friends he’d made that summer. he was so fuckin’ outgoing, a trait he could never relate to, no matter how hard he tried. 

the clock had just passed five pm, which meant that it was time for him to go to the cabinet above his sink that lovingly housed all of their alcoholic beverages. “what are we feeling tonight? margs? straight tequila? vodka and lemonade?” 

there’s little he’s looking forward to more than dragging theo into his summer nonsense. but for now he’s indulging his cousin’s suggestion - gleefully so - with a mixture between a groan and a guffaw exiting his mouth as he nods his head in agreement. “no yeah,” he thinks aloud, “if you had installed one in the shower... kinda-semi vertically maybe...? could have worked?” henri says, putting the gameboy aside entirely to tangle his fingers together in front of him in a half-hearted stretch. “or we shoulda just bought a water pistol... seriously. it would have been open season. you could hit me a gajillion times right now — smack bam in my face ! and i wouldn’t even be mad.” 

it isn’t like alina to assist with any post-hurricane community service; waiting until the beaches opened up again is more like her style. still, the little effort she did put in has inflated in her head because alina swears that the beaches have opened up slightly earlier this time. she toes her way through the sand, her sandals hanging from one hand, and a beach tote over the other shoulder. a perfect day, even if she still has to search a little harder to find a perfect spot on the beach.

she’s still looking around when she recognizes a familiar head of curly, brown hair, a camera held to his eyes — just like the day they’d met. alina pushes her cherry red sunglasses to sit atop her head before yelling, “henri!” she waves her fingers, walking closer. “how ya been? it’s been too long!” / @ofhenri

much like a bear awaiting the coming of spring, it takes a while for henri to emerge from his post-stevie hibernation. namely because if there’s one thing on earth he despises, it’s manual labour. and despite the many times he has wished he were an outer banks boy, a natural pogue true and true, when henri emerges finally to see the light of day, he’s in tourist mode. with his nikon strapped around his neck and his ‘obx beach bum’ baseball cap adorning his head, he’s sure he’s doing a pretty good job of it too. and like a true tourist, his first destination is the beach. 

who: @ofhenri​ when: june 10th  where: theo’s apartment 

home was a concept that theo never thought he would know or understand. his entire life, he dreaded being at home. dreaded the thought of hearing his dad walk through the door. but now, in his own place, surrounded by his own things, he found himself incredibly thankful. a feeling theo never truly lets himself feel. but he just knew, being locked away for a week with his father would only lead to pain. and lots of it. there was another layer of gratitude in being locked up with henri. they’d stocked up on everything they’d needed before the hurricane hit (after theo did some looking into just how powerful and how long hurricane stevie was going to be.) 

despite the peacefulness he felt in having a place where he could stay during all of this, though not a very glamorous one, but his, he was getting restless. no a/c, windows having to be kept closed, and battery powered fans all around their room. it was something he should be used to by now, but he never would be. his thoughts were on the other side of the island. how they all probably have their own generators or some shit. he couldn’t even text any of his friends to see if they were alright. “man, i’m about ready to run out of here.”

visiting theo is always the highlight of his summer — hurricanes and all. not just an escape from present realities, but for the time it allows henri with his cousin. the rain still falls steadily outside the window, even if it’s not as chaotic as it had been in the first day or so of stevie’s appearance. their living situation is reminiscent of lincoln park zoo. when he had spent too much time staring in at the monkeys on a school trip wondering just what it was like living a life in captivity. except the monkeys didn’t have enough spirits available at hand to last three stevies over ( or so he hopes, he really does ).