&. RED QUEEN

unprompted asks || always accepting ! ↳ @lchluge

DISBELIEF turns into a red - lipped sneer.   —  “ Are you fucking kidding me right now ?   You couldn’t have made that look like LESS of an accident had you TRIED. “   Arms come to cross her chest, weight shifting to stick out a hip.  

unprompted asks || always accepting ! 

It’s a weird shape -- sort of reminiscent of a STAR.   She traces it with her fingers thoughtfully.   The gesture is so SWEET, the kind of thing no one has done for her since she was a child, when she and Heather shared FRIENDSHIP braces.   It feels lifetimes away, now -- He must have made it himself, it’s not something you’d find hanging around in any of the gift shops or anything.  ( a sharp ‘what the hell am I supposed to do with this’ sits poised on her lips but one look at his face keeps the words at bay.   He’s just so GOOD. ) 

“ ... did you go out to the beach ... and get these shells yourself -- ? “  FOR ME ?  she doesn’t say, because it’s the most sincere gesture anyone has ever done for her.   She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s clutching the little charm, close to her heart.   Something to keep when he goes away, something to remember.   ( She can hang it on her purse, or by her bed ... ) 

“ This is my first one ,”  he admitted .  “ It sucks as much as I was expecting it to , but hey … You live and you learn , I guess .”  Tate wouldn’t be attending the next , no matter if it promised him some friends , or even a few acquaintances to sit with during lunch time . He’d rather be on his own than have to force himself through this kind of social event ever again . His steps were slow , but deliberate , and eventually Tate did take the offer and settle down next to Heather ; It was a situation he wouldn’t have expected in a million years .  “ I don’t really get why I thought this was a good idea . It’s not like I’m going to remember any of your guys’ faces come ten years from now … So who am I trying to impress ??”

It was just a bit lonely , he supposed . Stretching one leg out , Tate dug around in his worn - down denim pockets for his half - empty pack of Marlboro Reds , taking one between his lips before offering it out towards the girl .  “ You want one ?? Might ease your nerves .”  Which , funny enough , wasn’t really a problem for him right now . Typically , girls like Heather and her little gang of bitches set his anxiety ablaze , but the air between them was so much different than it typically was . She seemed so … vulnerable , and maybe in theory , he could have taken advantage of that . Given her a taste of her own medicine .

But he didn’t .

The carton of smokes was shaken to get her attention a little better ,  “ Here ,”  he insisted .  “ Have one .”

The gesture is kind.    Kinder than she has any reason to expect him to be -- she plucks one from the pack with a soft smile.   ( She probably seems like a different person right now, she knows.  The difference is night and day. )    She fishes around in her purse for her lighter, lights the cigarette and takes a deep pull of it.       ---  “ Can’t say I know why anyone goes to these things, other than that maybe they don’t want to be at home. “  That’s her reason, anyway.   Usually, it’s an escape.  Somewhere to bury her problems in alcohol for a few hours, forget.  Tonight had been a downer.  

She’s going to remember this, though.  That he could have chosen to be cruel, and he didn’t.  

Anyone else would have.  

“ Thanks, Tate. “  Sincere, quiet.  He didn’t have to do this.  She doesn’t usually make friends with BOYS, frankly.  All her closest friends are girls -- the guys at school have no manners, remind her more of ANIMALS than humans.   He doesn’t seem the type.  Maybe he’s gay.  She doesn’t say that out loud, just takes another drag off the cigarette.  

Maybe he deserves a little slack.   It’ll confuse the fuck out of the rest of the school when she shows up, sits with him.  She kind of lives for the chaos, so fuck it, why not ?  

❝   …  sometimes, i feel a  –  DARKNESS, in this house, too. it feels  …  strange. and not like home  …   ❞

KEEP ON TESTING ME && END UP LIKE HER ! 

          A FREQUENT GUEST AND ORGANIZER OF THESE GATHERINGS,   Stefano weaves through the masses in polite gestures and false smiles. He entertains and indulges, even humors, until managing to earn his independence to better view the gallery. Sipping silently at the champagne he, himself, holds, Stefano’s attention fixates on the painting before him. Footsteps approach, and he hears them, but does not glance in their direction. Color him SURPRISED when they halt beside him, and bright blonde waves settling on slender shoulders and the RED of her dress… that earns her a glance.

          “ Do not focus so much on what it is, and focus on the emotion behind it. Every piece feels, you just have to find it. ”   Soft words from a man typically found in violence on off hours. Not that she’d know. Briefly, he turns to her, takes her in; all painted smile and bright, inquisitive eyes. He knows that LOOK somewhere, it reminds him of her… but the opposite. Blue and black, the colors of a bruise, the colors of a frozen pond. But this one? Red and yellow, colors of fire, of passion and attitude.

          He can’t help but feel INSPIRED. Pity.   At her words, he laughs.   “ Why does it make you feel that way? ”   He wonders what she sees, how differing their viewpoints were. How innocent was her imagination? Where he sees the beauty in FEAR, she sees sorrow. He wants to know why.   —   Transitioning the glass to his other hand and turning back to the painting, Stefano points without touching, trailing the DOMINANT splash of carmine.   “ Look from the focus, and expand from there. Take in the colors separately and join them together. You will see more that way. ”

She’s a PHYSICAL sort of artist.   A lover of DANCE and vibrant music, never any good at painting because she doesn’t like to sit STILL that long.  “ Unfulfilled potential.”   She answers offhandedly, though to her credit, she does as he says.  She tries to imagine it from another view, from the focus, put the colors together in a new PERSPECTIVE.  He has the voice and stature of a man who spends plenty of time in the company of paintings -- a quick glance over her shoulder reveals that her father is still nowhere to be seen.  

“ the kind of thing when you know someone could have been BETTER -- I guess that’s the point of art, right ?  To elevate beyond.  I’ve heard some of the patrons say stuff like that before. “  She refocuses on the painting.  Naturally, she LIKES the red, the splash so reminiscent of blood like a life ENDED.     (  Was that going to be her, one day ?   Cut short, her hand or someone elses, driven by RAGE and red red hate ?   Herself, or someone else ?   She doesn’t like the hot curl in her gut looking at this -- it reminds her of those dreams where she rips her fathers guts out, makes him as UGLY outside as he is within.  ) 

“ --- and satisfaction.   I feel that, too. “ 

Art is meant to move the soul -- she’s never been particularly MOVED by it before.  There’s a tremble in her hands, so she brings them to rest clasped before her in a show of elegance and restraint.   The budding show of crimson rage is beginning to boil.  It wouldn’t do to lose her temper here, much less over a poor painting that hadn’t done anything to her.  

      He’s just watching her,    blinking eyes taking in the whirlwind of her movements while keen ears try to make sense of her words.    He doesn’t own anything bright or highly saturated;     Parker prefers to blend in with dull earthy tones.

      Tentatively,    he reaches into the closet for a dark purple flannel,    rubbing the material between his thumb and index finger to see if he still likes the texture.    Her makeup inquiry has him pausing.

      ❝    I’ve uh…  Have never used it on myself…   ❞      It wasn’t unwelcomed,    just unfamiliar and a bit intimidating.      ❝   …  Did you have an idea pertaining to makeup?   ❞

That’ll do, she decides.  It’s pretty -- besides, bright colors don’t really seem like his schtick anyway.  The dark purple is nice, she thinks Dr. Lecter will probably like it.  ( Like she said, it’s ROYAL.  And it’s different. )   ---  “ you oughta let him take you shopping one day, down in the hamilton area ?  he does a lot of his shopping there, bet he’d love to buy something nice to go to the opera ... “  To be fair, she knows that’s true because what else does a ghost have to do with her life but LISTEN.    And she listens.  

unprompted asks || always accepting !!

her vintage Taylor Swift fc never fooled me

GOLD. 

Considered a lucky color to have, the gold soul color is never short of achieving their goals and prospering. Analytical, intelligent, and cunning, the gold soulcolor is alluring to even those who aren’t their soulmate. You either envy them or hate them, there is no in between, and they’re fine with that.

This color has expensive tastes and chooses to live in the world of high fashion. They aren’t shy about showing off their achievements and wealth, and they often lose themselves in materialistic things. Bigger and better is their motto.

Gold soulmarks can seem shallow and judgmental to those who don’t know them well. They’re not afraid to cut nuisance out of their life and don’t put up with different opinions than their own. They are known to indulge in self care often, and they avoid things that stress them out as much as possible.

Always knowing how to get what they want, the gold soul color surrounds themselves with people who are not going to stand in their way. They are usually surrounded by a small clique of people designed to lift their spirits with praise. They are also clingy to those who make them feel good, and they are known for bending for those they deem important.

HEATHER EDITS ⇀ ( 3 / ??? ) ↳ HEATHER !

☆ ° • ．        ❛    this   …   okay ,  this isn’t what you think .    ❜    

@redscrunchi    /    sc.