𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐇 / ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊

Paying more attention to his phone than anything else, Leo had been texting his eldest brother about plans he would probably end up cancelling when Philly was jumping into his space, causing Leo to skid to a halt with a gasp, “Jesus - fuckin’ Christ, Philly, are you trying to give me a heart attack? I could’ve burned you,” he grumbled, waving his cigarette around for emphasis. Brows furrowing, he shoved his phone into his pocket before grabbing at the paper while still muttering to himself under his breath, no actual heat behind his complaints, “Which one is she? You have, like, a lot,” Although Leo had had the pleasure of meeting all of Philly’s rats - that he knew of - merely once, he’d already forgotten most of their names, holding the missing poster back towards Philly, “Want some help looking? I’ve got an ex in Fidelis, I can tell her to keep an eye out while we scour the streets.”

Philly blinked, taking a second to adjust to his initial tone before replying, “You’re too young for that, Leo. And I wouldn’t mind.” She had opened her mouth, again, to say more - a story, maybe, about how Juno used to singe the hairs off of her arm for fun, the flame of her lighter never managing to burn her skin - but Philly had instead reached forward with her free hand and plucked the cigarette from Leo’s, stealing a drag. “I only have seven - she’s the oldest. Marshmallow. I named one of my ants after her.” She offered the cigarette back up as he handed the poster over, rolling the paper into a tube and sticking it into her jacket pocket, “I’d like that, thank you.” Despite the fluidity of her movements, there was still tension - from her grip on everything she held onto to locking herself in place, knees a little too straight. Philly hardly ever worried, didn’t like how she felt when she did - could never shake the uneasiness from her stomach, unfamiliar emotions that only added to what was already there. “I’ve already been down this entire street, so we should look elsewhere.”

Elias was stood there absently at first before finally catching up with her, trainers scuffing against the pavement as he kept with her pace. “Uh — Yeah, everyone has a flashlight, no?” he questioned, brows furrowing as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if we don’t find him? Has he ever been in the wild? Maybe — I mean, maybe this is for the best. Think of all the corpse he might get to gnaw on.”

“Not mine, but I have this,” she replied, digging out her keychain from her jeans’ pocket and singling out a green finger light she had forcibly attached and added to her collection of keys and charms. She shined it against the sidewalk - it was a weak light, one that flickered no matter how hard Philly pressed down on the button, but one nonetheless, “I stole her, so I never got the opportunity to ask. I don’t think so,” Philly had ignored his question - but she also had stopped shining the green light, trinkets jingling as she held onto the keychain still, “Corpses are not part of a healthy diet, she lives too pampered a life. Do you think we’ll need to break a window to get inside?”

She had a joint hanging from her lips, waiting for the damn lighter to flicker for long enough for her to light it, she shook out her hand shaking the thing, about to raise it to her lips again she had paper into her face. Enya blinked several times and then took a fumbling step back dropping the lighter on the ground. “Oh for fucks sake.” her finger went up to pull the roll-up from her mouth before stooping down and looking up at the other. “Well, I’m not going to be able to see anything if you continue shoving that paper in my face, especially a picture of a bloody rat, which, why would you think I’d keep my eyes peeled for a bloody rat ?” she scooped it up the lighter and stood straight. 

It took a few moments for Philly to realize she’d ought to apologize, a quiet sorry escaping her lips as she folded the poster back up and took a step back, “Did I frighten you? It’s not a real rat, only a drawing.” She made a vague rat-like shape in the air with her two pointer fingers as if to emphasize her point before hugging her arms close to her, paper tucked underneath her arm. “I don’t know. I like to be aware of my surroundings, it can be very helpful.” It hadn’t meant to come off as some sort of remark - but it was always hard to determine the way Philly had meant her words, her tone never alternating from the usual deadpan that it contained. “Is smoking weed allowed on campus?”

“its a rat.” he tells her simply. “i don’t think they’re going to notice one is missing.” he says a shake of his head given. “no. because i don’t give them a chance to escape. perhaps that’s what you should be thinking about here.” would finding said rat be safe for the rat if care for the rat did not change to keep it safe? “in truth, miss…?” he left a moment for her name if she wished to offer it. “i’ve never had a pet so i have never given one the chance to run away.” his reason clearly being in his admittance. he had never had one. 

“she’s family,” she repeats, lips pressed into a thin line, “rats are meant to live in packs.” her eyes drop sure enough, towards her hands and their attempt to straighten out the wrinkled poster, “accidents are inevitable. if not now, then later. bucket is growing surprisingly adept at opening doors,” without further explanation of who, exactly, bucket was, philly gives a halfhearted shrug, gaze flickering back towards slade, “muffet. miss muffet,” it’s not her name, but it’s a name - given after a quick moment’s consideration on whether or not she’d share hers, a decision decided after his reaction towards her missing pet, “that’s an awful shame. why not?”

holly was on her way out of class when something was shoved at her face and it took her a second to figure out what the person in front of her was even saying. “i — i don’t think i’ve seen any rats, no,” she said slowly, examining the drawing with some concern, the idea of loose rats making her uneasy. “you know when cats get lost people go outside with their, uh, their food bowls, to try and lure them out? that might work, if you have — i assume you were feeding this rat, right? does she have a name?”

with a ‘swear’ beneath her breath ( it’d been fiddlesticks ), philly lowered the paper, “that’s a shame,” she said simply, chewing her cheek - it wasn’t a usual habit of hers, but an exception for the day; an exception that would’ve led to a bloody mouth if she hadn’t stopped again to speak, “yes, her name’s marshmallow.” with her spare hand, philly dug out her phone - a flip phone, pink, with puffy stickers all over, “i don’t have her food, but my ringtone is her favorite song - would it still work?”

The campus greenhouse was so great in the colder months, because it was a nice little warm reprieve from the outside.  Plus, all the plants hanging around made everything smell so good, and look so green and wonderful, so even in the coming winter months when there was a constant concern of snow, her green favorites would thrive.  Beverly sat on a stool, facing a small plastic plot of pea plants sitting atop a wooden table, scratching numbers and measurements down on a piece of paper.  “I mean, they’re growing,” she murmured, looking up at Philomena.  “They look like shriveled testicles, but they’re growing.  Slowly but surely.” *// @philcmena​

"They will be big and strong, one day,” Philly replied, end of her pencil poking a leaf and elbow leaning against the table. Despite the cold weather, she’d only worn leggings and a sweater - of which had been tied hastily around her waist, the pattern of furbies distorting every time Philly moved in her seat. She’d always been particularly warm-blooded - enough so that she had had more than a handful of doctor visits as a child for alleged fevers. “I don’t mind legumes,” she paused there, twitch of her nose betraying an otherwise blank expression - before continuing, “but I’d prefer fieldwork. I feel more productive outside than inside.”

Bram cocked his head, a strand of dark hair falling over his forehead as he studied the crude drawing. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I did see a rat downtown a couple hours ago. I can’t say it looked like it had a penchant for mystery, though. It was loitering in the gutter, watching the food truck that illegally parks in front of the mall. I would have tossed it a piece of carne, but I made a deal with the birds over at high falls.” A streetlamp roared to life overhead, turning the purple rat soft pink. “I don’t have the hook up to get us into the old fidelis building, but I think a missing rodent is justification enough for a little B and E.” 

For a moment - a single moment - Philly had looked hopeful. It’d only been a brief look passing through her eyes and contrasting with her usual, distant expression - but it passed, quickly, the more Bram had spoken, “Oh, no - that wouldn’t be her. She’s never been near downtown before. Nothing like The Country Mouse and the City Mouse biography, which I suspect is actually highly fictionalized.” Blinking under the sudden light, with a swipe beneath her eye ( a slight pull at the darkened circles beneath them - she hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, though that was neither here nor there ) and a folding of her missing poster, Philly tucked the paper underneath her arm, “Are you alright with committing a misdemeanor - without hesitation?”

he stood there, just watching her putting up the poster of some disgusting rodent. “its gone.” he says simply. “best to get yourself a new rat. yours is dinner for a cat.” 

if she had been hurt by the comment - philly hadn’t shown it besides the drop of her hand, paper crumbling further beneath her fist, “i can’t get a new rat, she’s part of the family. the others will be lost without her. i’ll be lost, too, i’m afraid.” she paused, just for a moment - brows furrowed, “have you ever lost a pet before?”

   presley isn’t expecting to be accosted, let alone by somebody trying to find a rat of all thing. he shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head. “i don’t know, it’s a college campus, there’s a lot of rats around this place.” he’s fixing the hat on his head for a moment, holding onto his skateboard in his other hand.”then why don’t you go check the old fidelis building? or near some dumpsters or something, rats like trash, yeah?”

her nose twitches, almost mouse-like herself - brows tensing as she clutches the paper back towards her chest. there were a lot of rats - which meant rat territories and rat lords and rat wars to go with those lords, and she had been awfully strict on teaching her rats to be pacifists, “they locked it up after the murder, so i’d have to break a window to get inside. and - marshmallow has a very pristine diet.”

“Philbert! I almost dropped it!” Lana exclaimed, pushing her sunglasses onto her head and blinking wildly at the ice lolly in hand, checking for scrapes or bumps with all the intensity of a high strung soccer mom. Then, in the skip of a beat, she couldn’t care less. Lana gave an idle suck at the end as she eyed the homemade poster – anyone sane would probably opt for a hot drink, on a day as cold as it was. “Your rat’s epileptic?” Catching a snippet rather than the full picture, Lana pinched her eyebrows in a bid to concentrate. Slowed a lick against the melting strawberry, and pulled it from her mouth. “Maybe she’s busting it down with Remy outside that one French restaurant, downtown. Like, gnashing at the air, to the rustles of the trash cans, with her pointy little teeth. They’re up in the club. Grinding and bumping uglies. Everyone needs to release their inhibitions, sometimes. Natasha Bedingfield taught us that,” slipped out with poorly contained amusement, smile inching wider before she attempted to get serious. “Want me to help you look?”

"Oh -” Philly hadn’t even noticed the popsicle, eyes drawn towards the sunglasses instead, “ - are you doing a total darkness simulation? I like to train my eyes to see in the dark, too - it’s very useful, and I’ve always envied species that could. Night vision goggles are very expensive.” turning the poster back towards herself, she skimmed the contents with pursed lips, as if checking to see if she had included ‘epileptic’ in the description details beneath the photo. She hadn’t - just things like, ‘large teeth’, ‘skittish’, ‘fan of the baroque era’ - though the spelling had been butchered for that one, instead implying that there had been an era of barbecue. “No - she just collapses under pressure, especially with our circus practice as of late. But outside of that - Marshmallow is perfectly sound, save for a little more chunk than usual,” she’d been about to protest the idea of her rat escaping to go on sex escapades with a rat chef - which was, arguably, the worst type of rat to be involved with, in Philly’s opinion, only tied with rat musicians - when realization had struck her rather harshly, eyes widening, “I do leave them all alone quite often. They could be having rat orgies, and I’d be none the wiser. I could be a grandmother within days.” She couldn’t afford that, not in the slightest - she’d been wearing herself thin enough as it was with all her side-projects. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d be very grateful - we have to find her soon, she’s the ringleader.”

Taking the photo, Elias squinted at it. “Looks like something I might see in my toilet after a meal with beets on the side,” he muttered, handing it back. He had to laugh, despite himself, shaking his head as he glanced back in the direction of the Fidelis building. “Well,” he started. “Don’t really think it’s considered a crime scene anymore. We could go look,” he offered, patting his jacket pocket. “I carry a pocket knife.”

“Oh my,” Philly blinked, folding the paper haphazardly and sliding it inside her jacket pocket - it was striped, black and white, just like the cartoon robbers on tv - a relatively normal fit if it hadn’t been for the Kool-Aid Man’s beady yet all-knowing eyes staring out from where the jacket’s zipper had gotten stuck, halfway up. “I do, too, but they won’t be very effective against the spirit - if it remains, that is.” She had already begun walking, tugging chunks of her ponytails to tighten them in preparation - head turning to look back at him, expectantly, “Does your phone have a flashlight?”

NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL. — philomena carmichael is really making a name for themselves as a sheep. i think that she/they are studying wildlife science in their sophomore year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from woodside, california, philly is known to be whimsical & patient, but can also be apathetic & unpredictable. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

“Sorry what?” Tired eyes dragged towards his companion, hand coming up in an attempt to rub the sleep away from them. The last week had fucked with his sleep schedule, not that it was exactly an ideal schedule to begin with. “I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t heard a word of what you’ve said for the last five minutes.”

“Oh - has it been that long?” Philly blinked at him from across the table, only once, a considering scrunch of her nose and a concerned tilt of her head. “I was wondering if you knew the time - I don’t believe in watches and someone broke the only clock in here. Now the hands only droop down towards six. It’s an alright number, but it’s often wrong.”

zeke: what's a half book?

zeke: [...]

zeke: sorry forgot to say im okay

philomena: A VERY SMALL ONE

philomena: THE KIND A MOUSE COULD TURN THE PAGES TO

philomena: PERHAPS

philomena: [...]

philomena: THAT IS VERY SWELL

zeke: do you know how to freestyle

zeke: do you know how to freestyle

zeke: oh fuck sorry i didnt know i actually sent this already

zeke: just thought i was thinking about it

zeke: people always freestyle in movies but i rarely see it in real life

zeke: how many books is normal to read simultaneously

philomena: R U ALRIGHT ZEKE

philomena: IS THIS CODE?

philomena: R U IN DANGER

philomena: I CANNOT FREESTYLE :o(

philomena: [...]

Beverly was quite often restless.  Coney Island had been a much appreciated break - save for the circumstances - to go exploring in new places, meet and talk to new people, skinny dip in a hotel’s pool only to hop the fence right after… the good stuff.  What youth is made of.  It was because of this same restlessness that she found herself sitting on the stairs of the campus center after dark, way after classes had finally ended for the night, texting her brother and playing with a glow stick she had found in the hallway this morning, that she had quickly stuffed into her backpack to keep as a souvenir for the day.  Hearing someone walking out of the campus center behind her, she turned, her blonde locks whipping over her shoulder as piercing green eyes stared down the newcomer.  “Sorry, these stairs are taken, I’m afraid you’re going to have to either jump the distance or find a new exit, because I don’t share,” she said, mostly joking, but lifted an eyebrow, curious to see the reaction.

Travelling had been odd without Elektra - one would even go so far to say that it felt wrong, almost, to go anywhere without her sister - Philly felt slimy, the entire day, on the inside. Like her body had been injected and pumped full with the Nickelodeon slime and it had coated all her organs, squished her bones - it was an odd sense of guilt, a full-body experience, one that made her spit several times throughout the day to ensure that it wouldn’t come out green and goopy. Elektra had traveled plenty without Philly - she was in New Orleans at that very moment, matter of fact, probably drunk in the French Quarter. Did she feel the same guilt? Did she feel anything about it at all? That’d been Philly’s job - not feeling, having her emotions so limited that Elektra’s made up for both of theirs - she’d even gone to the clinic about it, laid across the plastic and paper covered examining bed and proclaimed, loudly to the nurse, that she felt gooey. Horribly gooey. Philly had stayed there for exactly 23 minutes and 17 seconds before the nurse had told her that she had to go - that someone had actually needed medical assistant - and off she went, face scrunched in contemplation - thoughts broken by Beverly’s voice. “Oh,” she blinked - two times, because it felt right - before nodding with something one could assume was respect. “Okay,” Philly took a few steps back, winding herself up like a toy car - before springing forward and flying, nearly, almost, across the steps - it was more like being flung, wildly, through the air by some invisible force, than flying - but she had been in the air for at least two seconds before her feet made contact with the concrete, and then her knees buckled - and down Philly went, falling flat on her ass. “That wasn’t so bad.”