re·ject

… .

florence was no stranger to the creek. of all the locations in vertmoor, it was possibly the one that brought the most sorrow to his soul. vertmoor didn’t offer much natural life – the creek was one of its few completely natural areas, but it had been turned into a dumping ground. those who commonly found themselves there discarded their paraphernalia on its grass and those who commonly found themselves there had so often been discarded by a care they needed. the nature there was sad. the people there were sad. 

but he could only do so much for the people. its foliage, on the other hand ? its life ? ever so careful where he stepped, he’d returned for another round of removing the litter. he wasn’t alone – it was unspoken, but you were never alone at the creek. nonetheless, he still wasn’t expecting to be addressed, much less by river. solemn expression wiped off and replaced by an almost amused smile, he replied, “ oh – no, no. i can’t really get through anything past, uh, marijuana or shrooms. ” and he had tried once ! but he hated it ! “ it… makes sense. i guess they think a dozen small crimes makes up for a murder or two. ”

.

florence was one of the last people she’d expect to see down by the creek but once she saw what he was doing, the bag of trash he was clearly collecting, it made more sense. “wouldn’t have taken you for a shrooms kind of guy.” river admitted. “want some?” she offered, raising her joint in his direction. it wasn’t really like river to offer someone else the limited amount she had but there was something about him that made her want to. 

“a dozen small crimes...so they can fuck over a dozen or so people instead of just one.” she scoffed with a smirk and a signature roll of her eyes, “looks better for the cop, doesn’t it?” especially when they just go by the number of arrests. “making life harder for the rest of us instead of finding all those missing people and figuring out who the murderer is among us.” the whole thing was so frustrating. but, of course, since the perpetrator was most likely someone who practically owned the city, there was no way anyone would ever get caught. plus, the incompetence of the police only made someone getting caught even less likely, so all they had were the petty criminals by the creek. “they’re probably watching us all right now, waiting for someone to do something so they can swoop in and make it look like they’re actually doing their job.”

.

It was horrible what was beginning to make sense around here. Horrible parents, corrupt labs and police departments, new scandals at every turn. It’s easy to feel weighed down by it all, and yet River’s comment pulls her out of it, if only for a moment. Blue eyes fall to the small smirk that rests on the other woman’s lips before she makes eye contact again, a tiny laugh falling from her own lips. It means more than she can say, to hear that said out loud. That warm, fond feeling that has developed for River is there yet again, slightly confusing, just another new development she has to push to the side until she’s ready to make sense of it.

Belva tries to push past her earlier thought spiral, nodding along to River’s observations, lifting a hand as if to wave away the no offense. None of the Athanas children had the kind of names one would find on a key chain. “Did you always see it? I mean, what made you think so?” Her tone is curious, perhaps a bit searching. “I knew he wasn’t the best, but with everything that’s come out since he died…yeah, I think you’re right in calling him a monster.” Especially when River was making a rather good argument for why he could have been responsible for killing those children. Belva pales slightly, nodding her head slowly. It was a horrible thought, but could she honestly say without a doubt that her father wouldn’t do such a thing? “Maybe. I just really hope not.” 

.

Did she always see it? Maybe that wasn’t the right question. Could she really have seen what Vidal was like past the flood of jealousy and the cloud of bitterness for not being rescued? No. She doubted it would have been possible but she could blame him. Blame had a famous way of growing and changing, pulling you in any direction it wanted as long as it made you feel better. And, fuck, did it feel amazing to finally take all of her anger and disappointment with the world and pin it on one measly human being. “All I have is my gut feeling about him...and how he treated me in the hospital.” Or hadn’t treated her. Hadn’t even looked at her like she was trash someone had tried to throw out, like she wasn’t even worth his attention. Anyone who could have that reaction to someone in distress was soulless. “I don’t think it matters what we hope will happen anymore.” It was unfortunate but it seemed to be the reality of the situation.

“So...are the files back at the house?” They’d made it back to the main road and she had to assume that that was where Belva hid the information but who knew. Sighing, light eyes turned in the direction of the hill and she knew in that moment she’d be spending the rest of her day off reading through them. “And should we grab a coffee or tea or something? I have a feeling flipping through those files might call for caffeine.” Standing next to Belva, River couldn’t help but think how different things were only a couple of weeks ago. The blonde certainly hadn’t been someone River considered to be on her side, someone she could talk to. She wondered how long that would last.

.

“When people had less there was more community,” he remarks simply. He doesn’t need to go into it. Too many details. Individual experiences are something that are often harnessed but impossible to compare. Neek means that he thinks that having things is overrated in a way, a world so full of things that people think matter but don’t. “It seems like the more you have, the more there is to lose. People are losing a lot lately,” he points out, an all too realistic point drained of usual optimism. Does he think the people that are missing or dead deserved their fate? That’s questionable but it has happened either way and he isn’t the one that knows what, how or why. People are dropping like flies around Vertmoor, the towns population seeming unwavered by killers, gun men and kidnappers possibly being on the loose. Home sweet home. 

“Neither. I just wanted him to investigate something for me, he knows who I am, we have history,” Neek says with a rather charismatic glance. He knows already most of the people that hang out at the Creek, he associates with everyone and has many friends and followers and very few foes. “I won’t be claiming, the most important things are often priceless, aren’t they?” he says, although she cannot possibly know what he is referring to, the body that was taken from the legendary and completely ignored break in at the Vidal Athanas foundation that even the security seem to have all but forgotten. “I think I can start afresh. Maybe this is just a temporary stop before I move on. The worlds a big place, it doesn’t have to end with Vertmoor even if that’s where it starts.”

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She heard something like that before - the more things you had, the less they meant to you. Nothing mattered when you had it all. Fortunately, “I’ve never really had that problem before. Never had much to begin with.” But he did have a valid point. People were losing things, people were going missing, it didn’t seem to be stopping. The only thing River had seemed to lose lately was July but was he really ever hers to begin with? You could ever really have someone?

Her brow furrowed minimally at that but didn’t question it. If someone wanted information found out, it made sense to ask someone at the creek, especially Sam. He tended to know a little bit of everything going on and could easily find out what you needed to know. “So I’ve heard, you can’t put a price on everything, although they try to.” There was something to be said about the most important things being priceless. Memories you lost, people who disappeared - things all the money in the world couldn’t replace ( but you could always try and get a little paper on the side ). Though River had been through so much only in Vertmoor, the idea of leaving filled her with a certain kind of dread. Vertmoor was all she knew - for better and for worse. “Where would you go?”

[ The Family Friend ] @ofashante​

Respected. Around Vertmoor, you know who Ashante is and you know what she does. River has never once felt respected in a way she feels like Ashante is. And she deserves it. Everything about her is the kind of person that River wishes she’d had the opportunity to become. The way she carries herself, the way she runs her profession - it’s something that demands respect and oozes boss energy. River has never felt that way and instead of feeling jealous of that, she’s inspired to strive for that. She’s someone who gets the job done which is why I always feel the urge to have River go to her for help. 

Driven. Something River has never really been unless it was spurred on by some petty feeling of revenge. She’s never been driven to get further in her life because she always assumed this was all she was good for ( not to mention that’s what she’d been told most of her life ). Ashante is the definition of driven in her eyes, a woman who knows what she wants and will work her ass off to get there. River and I are both extremely inspired by that. Ashante is the woman who waits for them to tell her she can’t do it and then nails it on the first try.

[ The Regretful ] @cassia-athanas​

( tw: attempted suicide ) Kind. The two met in an unconventional way, lying in beds next to one another in a hospital. It had been a coincidence or perhaps fate depending on what you believed in, for River to find herself next to Cassia with more in common than she would have ever guessed. Her attempt to end her own life hadn’t been planned, it hadn’t been a real attempt, and when she woke up in that bed, she had been angry. Angry at the world and bitter. Somehow the whole experience had made her worse. But for Cassia? They seemed to have remained kind. Or perhaps became even more so. There is something soft behind their eyes that River sees and wishes she could be. Every day that Cassia walks through this world with kindness, though the world has always wanted to take it away from them, I ( and River ) are inspired even more...because River isn’t kind, she’s far too convinced that her kindness will only be met with cruelty.

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Belva’s initial thought was that maybe their house had been some sort of stopping point, a place for kids to go before Vidal sent them off to other families. A weird form of fostering, or much more likely, something far more sinister. River’s comment, however, causes her eyes to widen slightly. “I didn’t even think of that, but maybe. Maybe they couldn’t do what he wanted them to do.” It was a horrible thing to say about children, and yet she could see her father being that cruel. “I mean, the more I think about it, that’s kind of what he did with us. I mean, we all had something he could use. Ace would do anything for him, I was there to shut up and look pretty, Horatio kept us all in line,” she trails off, running a hand through her curly blonde hair, trying not to tug despite the emotions.

The aggravation dissipates slightly as River speaks up again, and she looks over at the other woman with a downtrodden expression on her face. “I don’t know. I can’t even remember, isn’t that horrible?” She’d been too caught up in everything else going on, too scared to go back to those files until River had been brave enough to agree to go with her. “I mean, the hair in the vents. Those…ghosts, or whatever they were, it points to that. But then there’s Max, so,” she shrugs, lips turned down. “Vidal was a horrible person, I get that now, but still…I really hope he didn’t do that.”

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“So it makes sense.” River nodded as Belva spoke. It seemed like Vidal had been exactly the kind of man who would take in vulnerable kids, test them, use them, and throw them away if they didn’t do what he wanted them to. Whoever was left were the lucky ones but at this point, she would beg to differ. Who really won in that situation? And was that better than the situation River had found herself in? She still wasn’t entirely sure. “I’m sure if we are onto something about each of you being adopted or taken in for a reason,” the brunette paused, sighing softly before giving her a genuine small smirk, “it’s probably more than your ability to shut up and look pretty.” She had to wonder what that would be like, for someone to only value you based on your looks, it was something had never worried about.

It’s not all that surprising that Belva doesn’t remember Emilio’s comment, she just wished she could remember what the name had been. “I think it was a number but I really don’t know and considering all of your names, it could have been anything. No offense.” She added quickly with a reassuring look. At least her name wasn’t a month or something. “I don’t think it’s any secret that Vidal was a horrible monster, personally I’m just glad that I’m not the only one who sees it anymore.” River was sure others already hated Vidal long before she had taken her first breath but as long as she was still alive, she’d hate him until her last. “Belva, I know it might be hard to accept it but...I wouldn’t put it past him. Think about how he treated you and he felt like you were useful. Imagine what he would do to someone who wasn’t.”

♥

River’s teasing tone prompts a giggle to fall from her painted lips, a welcome distraction, and she glances over at the people near them. Maybe once they would have seemed concerning, but after everything they’d recently been through, nothing could quite top that bunker. “You’ve got a good eye,” she jokes back, lips tilted up in a smile. 

The blonde doesn’t hesitate before following River’s lead, grateful to put some distance between herself and the creek. It’s comforting the way that River seems to have noticed her discomfort, a familiarity there that Belva never would have expected only a month or so ago. For all that the past few months had taken away, there were thankfully a few things that she had gained as well. “Yeah, yeah, maybe.” Her tone is thoughtful, lips pursed as they walk. “I’ve been thinkin’. When we first found all of those files and the bunker, and there were the  the ghosts, or whatever they were,” her voice quietens for a moment, expression tense before she pushes herself to continue. “I thought maybe something really bad had happened to those kids. But with Max, it looks like Vidal just…I don’t know, gave him to someone else. So maybe that’s what happened to the other kids, you know? Maybe they’re still out there, just with other people.” 

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Falling into step next to the other, River glances in her direction thoughtfully. She hasn’t forgotten the video she found. The proof that Belva had been at the house the night of the murder, sneaking around in Emilio’s room...looking for something. But for what? River still wasn’t sure and, walking next to her,  nothing was coming to mind. Belva hardly seemed like the nefarious type, the idea of the girl doing anything suspicious didn’t feel right, it didn’t seem like her. It also hadn’t seemed like July to up and disappear but here they were. At this point, nothing would surprise her.

“So...what? They failed a test or something?” River mused, looking thoughtfully over at her. It didn’t seem un-plausible. Certainly seemed like something Vidal Athanas would do - right up his alley. Adopt a bunch of kids, if some don’t do what you want or don’t meet expectations, pass them along. And in Max’s case, he simply handed him over to one of his partners. What a piece of shit. He would have fit right in with most of her other foster families. They were all the same. “I guess that would be the best case scenario, wouldn’t it?” The kids were just given to someone else...but...”Didn’t Emilio mention one of the others when we first discovered the stairs?...didn’t they die?”

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“Having a home can be overrated,” Neek said quickly, the same charming and utterly passive expression on his face. He was known for being able to talk to anyone, he was born to be a socialite but rebuked it at every step unlike his sister whom he had never understood. He had felt like he was part of a litter growing up rather than the son of two empowered people and he had loathed the emotion of always wanting more. “I’ve decided to go back to basics all things considered, I’d say this was the universe telling me that it’s about time that I take up pitch somewhere else and stop leeching off of modern society.”

He ran a hand through his raven hair, dark eyes watching her as she responded. He knew that if she understood who he was talking about that she should already know what it was that he was after. He made his involvement with the community his business and he had gained friends and allies from the bottom to the top of the pile in Vertmoor (not ranked by himself, of course). “I’ve heard that he knows a thing or two about how fires start. If you see him let him know that I was asking about him. He’ll know what that means.”

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Her eyebrow quirked only for a moment before letting out a breath with a sound that could have been interpreted as one of amused disbelief. “Not in my experience.” Anyone who could consider not having a home as beneficial was someone who clearly had never had the very real experience of having lived on the street more than once in their life. Or maybe he did have a point. Not having a home might have been better than majority of the ones she’d ended up in and the abuse she’d endured inside of them. “Maybe you should listen to it then and get out while you aren’t tied down.” She didn’t care much either way. Outside of this conversation, River was pretty sure she’d never had a conversation with this Silva sibling. 

Sam was involved in some sketchy shit, usually of the pyromanic variety, but if you were looking for anyone down by the creek it was only for less than savory ( and less than legal ) things. “He’ll know...that you want to find out who hired him or you have a revenge job for him?” It didn’t seem all that far fetched to assume that their local pyromaniac had something to do with the random blaze that had reduced his place to ash. “Or maybe not.” She added with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “Hope insurance isn’t being too stingy on the payout, can’t imagine what kind of stuff you must of lost.” 

“Yeah, you,” the blonde replies easily, blue gaze taking in her friend, warmth in her tone. “I wouldn’t come around here for anyone else.” There was an uneasiness to the blonde when it came to things that took place at the creek (even she wasn’t oblivious enough not to know at least some of what went on here), traces of discomfort from a life she only remembered in bits and pieces. Other than River and perhaps December, she wasn’t willing to brush shoulders with such reminders. Oddly enough, they were the exception. 

“No, didn’t really think I should be takin’ them outta the house.” When they’d discovered what they were looking for, when they had proof, that would be when the secrets of the house on the hill would be brought to the town of Vertmoor. Until then, however, the blonde wanted them kept somewhere they could keep track of. “I found a few more names. They’re not super common, so I thought maybe we could look ‘em up, but I’m not sure.” She almost goes to lean against the rock wall before she spots what looks like a bug and shies away, arms coming up to cross over her chest instead. “I’m wonderin’ though if they’re even their real names. I mean, he gave all of us new names, so,” Belva trails off, looking over at River with a slight frown.

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Now that she could believe. There was literally no other person around the creek River would even wager a guess that Belva knew. The unease was apparent on the blonde’s shoulders and the young woman felt badly keeping her in a situation that clearly made her uncomfortable. She had to wonder if her discomfort in high society was reminiscent of Belva’s discomfort at the creek - their natural environments like opposing magnets. 

“Good call. I don’t think those files should be anywhere near here.” Tapping out her spliff, she tucked the rest of it into her back pocket and took a step closer to the other. “Between you and me, I don’t trust ‘em.” She teased, looking suspiciously at the couple of stoners nearby. River knew they were harmless but it was still at least a little entertaining. She just catches as Belva moved to lean against the wall before spotting something -a bug, a stain..it could have been anything. Regardless, it seemed like a sign to leave. Motioning back up the bank of the creek, River started walking toward the main part of town. “Even if they’re fake names, they probably still use them if they’re around. You guys still do, right?” It wasn’t like they all had normal names....neither did River, now that she was thinking about it.

TASK VIII. ALL MY FAVORITE THINGS.

fishnets

smoking

sad girl energy ( aka halsey )

rooftops

iced coffee

the creek

surviving

lace bras

♥

Belva and River’s snooping had been slightly disturbing, but not exactly enlightening. There were stuffed toys and belongings that Belva couldn’t remember ever seeing in the rest of the house, and files with unfamiliar names and information that seemed to lead to just more dead ends. Regardless, after stumbling across a few more files while ‘investigating’ on her own, the blonde wanted to update her friend and exploration partner. However, her reason for heading into town that day was for a smoothie, and not to meet up with River; fate just seemed to decide to kill two birds with one stone.

The creek was far from Belva’s scene, and she certainly stood out in her white blouse and floral skirt, but when she spots the familiar figure by the rock wall, she approaches. The smell is familiar enough from growing up a bedroom away from December, and the blonde resists the urge to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Mitchie is just another Vertmoor resident she’s unaware of, the two likely running in completely different circles, and so she merely shrugs. “Nope,” she answers, popping the ‘p’. “Wasn’t lookin’ for that guy. I’m here for you.” A small smile rests on her lips for a moment as she glances at River, but it falls soon enough when she remembers why she’s here. “I found a couple more files. Nothing super helpful, but I thought maybe you’d wanna look at ‘em.”

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River spotted Belva from a mile away ( more of a figurative mile ), she stood out among the creek like a rose among weeds. She had a feeling that Belva had no business with Mitchie, the hardest drug the blonde had probably ever had was Tylenol and that was never in high depend down here. “Me?” River repeated unnecessarily. Though she wasn’t used to anyone looking for her per se, it made sense that that was why Belva was here. It was a weird feeling to be the goal of an Athanas’ searching ( well, an Athanas that wasn’t July anyway ). “Really? Anything interesting?” If it wasn’t going to be helpful, the least it could be was interesting. 

“Guessing you didn’t bring them with you?” River probably wouldn’t have. It didn’t seem smart no matter how you looked at it to bring info like that to the creek - some people around here had sticky fingers and a taste for getting into other people’s business. Especially Athanas business. It wasn’t super surprising that Belva had found some more files nor that they didn’t contain information they needed. It seemed to be the norm for all their sleuthing.

“I’m not.” His response was swift, quick, to the point. Neek rarely wasted time when getting to a point. In his opinion he never wasted time at all. Everything he did was for a purpose, “I’m not looking for Mitchie, at least.”

He paused, a glance out onto the Creek that spread in front of them. People acted like that was the dirtiest dingiest part of Vertmoor but Neek Silva would of said that they were being turned against it. The most that went on there was petty crime in comparison what seemed to occur around the rest of the hallowed town they so loved. He had never been a townie, he had been a city boy where he could campaign until he was blue in the face but recently Vertmoor was calling his name (and apparently burning down his house - this did not surprise him but it did disappoint him). “I’m looking for someone else. Sam. He’s around here sometimes, tall guy with curly blonde hair. Always flicking his lighter.”

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She gave him a look but didn’t say anything in response to that. Most people were looking for something, down here it was usually Mitchie. He always had the best stuff and, over the years, he’d grown to like River which worked out in her favor when it came to getting the best deal. Her eyes roamed over his features and had to wonder how unfortunate it was to be related to someone like Bluebell. The two hardly seemed similar and she had to assume he didn’t realize how horrible the other was or maybe they were both horrible - she hardly knew him at all. “So you homeless now?” River asked, not much emotion behind the words. Having a house burn down was not ideal in any way but she was sure someone like Neek, with all his connections, was hardly hurting because of it.

At his words, River took another hit, watching him in a way that hovered between interested and bored with the interaction. “Curly hair with a lighter.” She scoffed, her lips curling into a smirk that could have been warm but wasn’t. “You just described over half the guys I see here.” Tapping her spliff out, light eyes trained on the smoldering end of it before speaking once more. “The name does sound familiar though. Been to a few parties with a Sam like that before. What do you need with him?” The brunette asked, her curiosity getting the better of her in the moment. Sam was someone she recognized but River wasn’t that easy to get info from.

Leaning against the rock wall that looked over the creek, she took a deep inhale of the spliff between her fingers before spotting someone. She didn’t care if they saw her getting high, what was she hiding after all? What did they all have to hide anymore. “If you’re looking for Mitchie, he ain’t here. No offense or anything but with the police hanging around I don’t think you’re going to get much, seems like a waste of time.” River mused, only speaking from experience.

Every night since River had gone with Cecilya to the Vertmoor Bank, she’d spent a couple of hours staring at it. An empty ring box. It wasn’t hard to assume that it had previously held the ring July had been playing with in that video from the night they opened the time capsule. The time she spent wondering where it was now, where he was now and why he had left her behind. Empty like that god damn ring box. How poetic. But why purposefully lock it away in a safety deposit box with a seemingly random assortment of admittedly creepy things? Like a picture frozen in time, River’s memory went back to standing in front of the table with the items lined up for them to look at: an old black stuffed puppy with one eye torn off, a plastic doll that had looked remarkably like July, and an empty photo album that had been set besides one single photograph of Vidal. Cecilya had taken the photo album and the doll leaving River the box and the dog - something she hadn’t paid any attention to since putting it down on her dresser to collect dust, her mind had been on the ring and what it meant but now...

Max had clearly missed a lot in his hiatus away from Vertmoor. While he felt like he’d refound part of himself on his short lived trip to New York, he had returned to find he was more lost than ever. So much had happened since he’d left and he wasn’t even close to being caught up. Glancing down at the other’s phone, Max did his best to read the news heading from the strange angle he stood. “Wait…” He mumbled, his eyes darting back up to the female’s face. “Who was arrested? And what for?” Max usually wouldn’t have branched out and spoken to someone like this - being strangers to one another - but he was far too concerned from her words.

.