ASHES OF EDEN

               𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉, whiskey colored eyes passively grazing under the young woman’s stature. Well now wasn’t Ruth a sight for sore eyes? It felt like just yesterday he was stashing her in the back of a squad car to keep from hearing what shenanigans her step-father had gotten into, wrapping one of the many blankets he kept in the trunk around her shoulders in an effort to fight off the bite of the night’s air. The features of her face had filled out, though her eyeroll was just the same as the last time they had crossed paths.

❝  Not for nothin’, 𝚙𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚊𝚔, but I don’t think you’d be breakin’ my bank with your order.  ❞  It was easy to joke and to tease, like he had so many times with his own younger siblings. Besides, wasn’t it the job of an officer of the law to foster good relationships with the general public? She was just one more heart and mind to win over, a teasing smile curling underneath the facial hair that so desperately needed to be trimmed..

❝  Dare you to do your worst. Throw in an extra shot and some of that fancy oat milk too, get creative. And you been eatin’ right lately? Grab one of the muffins too, for good measure.  ❞

they  had  their  history  but  who  didn’t?  it’s  a  small  town  (  NOW  )  and  (  before  ).  there  were  constants  in  little  ruth’s  life  --  like  deputy  daniel  shelton,  as  were  most  deputies  and  even  the  sheriff  themselves  but  none  more  so  than  him,  who’d  stick  her  in  the  back of  some  cruiser  with  some  attempt  to  keep  her  away  from  whatever  bullshit  was  happening  in  her  home.  on  the  off  chance  simon  wasn’t  home  that  night  because  he  was  working,  she  doesn’t  want  to  admit  that  sitting  in  a  cop  car  of  all  things  made  her  feel  a  shred  of  peace  she  often  reserved  for  her  big  brother.  add  a  blanket  and  the  silence  sometimes  made  her  drift  off  to  sleep.  most  kids  have  princess  nightlights.  her  nightlight  was  red  and  blue.  still,  she  never  wants  to  give  daniel  another  reason  to  come  around  because...  because  that  part  of  her  life  is  done  now,  right?  she’s  not  some  scared  little  kid  anymore.

                                                                                                            right?

“i’m  so  glad  your  ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ ᵗʳᵃⁿˢᵖˡᵃⁿᵗ    hasn’t  worked,  𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑦.  you  should  sue  them  and  get  your  money  back,”  at  some  point  over  the  years  ruth  went  from  a  kid  who  never  said  a  word  to,  well,  this.  most  of  it  had  something  to  do  with  simon  working  to  buy  her  hearing  aids  --  her  parents  never  noticed,  never  cared  --  and  the  few  adults  who  stopped  to  pay  attention.  as  much  as  he  annoys  her,  danny’s  got  something  to  do  with  it  too.  don’t  count  on  her  mentioing  that  out  loud.  his  ego  is  plenty  big  without  her  mentioning  something  like  that.  besides, they’d  lose  this  wouldn’t  they?

ruth  squints  up  at  him  with  a  serious  look  that  hid  a  sort  of  playfulness. “goat  milk  is  gross,”  the  curse  of  hearing  loss?  some  things  definitely  get  lost  in  translation.  no,  she  liked  her  regular  milk.  heck  she  liked  her  chocolate  milk  and  strawberry  milk   too.  at  least  he  doesn’t  have  to  worry  about  catching  her  underage  drinking.  besides  her  personal  tastes  in  what  to  consume,  she  also  knows  what  alcohol  does  to  a  person.  ruth  doubts  she’d  ever  drink.  to  the  barista  she  signs  as  she  speaks,  “two  grande  frozen mochaccinos,  two  raspberry  muffins,  a  bagel  and  three  chocolate  chips  cookies.  thanks,  sweetheart.”  does  it  make  her  chuckle,  calling  a  grown  man  such  a  thing?  of  course  it  does.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: open (coffee shop) | @hailopens​

              𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕? Vanity was a hell of a drug, his chin held a little higher and chest puffed out a little more as the fabric strained against broad shoulders and biceps. He’d missed this little cafe, the routine of stopping in before every shift for a cup of joe and the relentless flirtatious banter with whoever happened to be manning the registers and the espresso machine. There was 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡, the faint scent of fresh paint under the overpowering aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries.

❝  I’ll be takin’ my usual, sweetheart. And whatever they   ——     ❞   With a charming grin, he twisted to look to the person behind him with raised brows.  ❝  ——-   want. It’s on me. Think of it as a welcome back, yeah?  ❞

she  luckily  doesn’t  need  to  see  the  menu  to  know  what  she  wants:  the  usual  order  is  a  frozen  mochaccino  and  on  the  odd  days  she  decides  she  wants  to  spruce  up  her  breakfast,  a  bagel.  gael’s  diner  serves  good  food  but  between  it  and  her  choice  of  frozen  dinners,  she  needs  a  little  omph.  doesn’t  everyone?  the  man  in  front  of  her,  she  had  been  avoiding.  luckily  for  her  she’s  still small  enough  to  hide  behind  someone  when  she  sees  him  coming  and  fit  into  cramped  spaces.  the  mountain  of  a  man  not  so  much.  he  definitely  stands  out  in  a  crowd  even  as  she  stood  behind  him  --  her  need  for  a  fix  of  caffeine  stronger  than  her  annoyance  of  his  insistence  

                                                                   SHE’S  GONNA  GET  KIDNAPPED  ONE  DAY.  

sweetheart.  what  a  man.  sure,  she  knows  he’s  hot.  anyone  with  eyes  can  see  that.  her  eyes  roll  before  he  turns  to  look  at  her,  giving  a  rushed  smile.  instinctively  she  signs  something  to  the  barista  with  a  giggle.  “you  sure,  deputy?”  ruth  asks  softly,  eyes  flicking  back  to  him.  she’s  tiny  --  

                         ---but  she  can  eat.  

he hadn’t been here since the reopening and angel was taken aback to find that some of the menu had been changed. not good for guys like him who were riddled with anxiety. if he would have known that the menu was different, he would have looked at it BEFORE coming, so he’d know what he’d wanted rather than the anxious standstill he was at now. “oh! i haven’t been waiting long at all. seriously…all good. all good…here.” angel swallowed thickly as he tried to ignore the thoughts running through his mind. was she judging him for dining alone? should he just have ordered postmates? did people even dine alone anymore? “well…is that what makes the lasagna so special? the um tofu…” fingers tap against the table, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lowered the menu, “right…what would you recommend then? i’m honestly…at a loss.”

her  expression  softened.  no,  she’s  not  judging  him  for  dining  alone.  lord  knows  she’s  done  plenty  of  that  lately.  it’s  more  of  a  common  denominator.  ruth  misses  her  brother  with  all  of  her  heart,  sometimes  to  the  point  of  laying  awake  at  night  crying  because  of  how  much  it  hurt  to  breathe  knowing  he  wasn’t  out  there  somewhere  doing  the  same.  sometimes  she  still  looked  for  him,  watching  the  door  hoping  he’d  come  drifting  in  --  like  maybe  he  had  made  it  out  somehow  and  simply  couldn’t  find  her.  ruth  would  accept  that  more  than  she  accepted  his  death  certificate.  yet  still,  she’s  less  lonely  than  you  think.  being  here  in  hail  again,  she  almost  doesn’t  feel  alone  at  all.  “i’m  hearing  impaired,”  ruth  admits  like  she  needs  to  give  some  kind  of  explanation,  “so  a  wave  or  a  holler  usually  works  to  get  my  attention.”  there’s  a  small  pause,  a  slight  stammer,  because  not  a  whole  lot  of  people  knew  that.  or  maybe  they  did  and  they  hadn’t  thought  to  tell  her  sooner.  some  words  were  a  struggle  but  she  liked  mastering  them.  forget  learning  a  second  language  when  the  english  one  sucked  already.

“the  boss  is  out  for  the  day  so  he  thought  it  would  be  a  nice  twist  to  surprise  him.  joke’s  on  him,  it’s  not  great.”  tofu  isn’t  cheese  and  it  would  never,  ever  be,  or  whatever  he  was  going  for.  “the  caeser  salad  is  pretty  good.  i  hear  the  chicken  is  locally  sourced.”  what  else?  “chicken  sandwich  is  a  classic.  if  you’re  not  a  chicken  kind  of  guy,  burgers  work  too.  nice  and  thick.  pair  it  with  a  milkshake  and  it’s  heaven.  we  have  chocolate,  vanilla  and  strawberry  options.  i  prefer  strawberry  myself.”

To be labeled as something quiet was new news to him. Usually people claim that he’s too loud even before he made a single peep. Yet here he was, staring up at the waitress that came to the table edge. “No worries, just sat down half a second ago.” Or a minute or two, but whatever – Larkin wasn’t pressed on time.

Both brows arched in curiosity at the mention of the cook’s special. “Tofu? I dunno, kinda sounds interestin’. Lemme get an order of that n’ some coffee, please.”

there’s  something  that  still  gets  her  about  sound.  she’s  not  completely  deaf  obviously.  she  had  heard  certain  things  if  they  were  loud  enough  and  close  to  her  ears  --  like  fireworks,  she  hated  fireworks.  they  exploded  and  crackled  so  high  up  in  the  sky  but  sometimes  it  felt  like  they  were  being  lit  off  in  her  skull.  ruth  imagined  she’s  being  dramatic  but  other  than  the  diner,  even  the  rushes,  she  always  stayed  away  from  loud  places.  she  can  handle  the  diner  pretty  a-okay.  it’s  like  a  second  home  to  her.  “well  welcome,  welcome.  i’m  ruth  and  i’ll  be  your  waitress.” a  friendly  smile  crosses  her  lips.

a  chuckle  leaves  her  lips.  “a  brave  soul,  huh?  alright,  i’ll  get  your  coffee  to  you  in  a  second  and  have  the  cook  do  his  thing.”  a  polite  nod  goes  his  way  before  she  turns  to  leave,  thankful  he’s  a  polite  customer.  some  customers  are  just  so...  cranky,  looking  for  food.

Mild embarrassment slowly crept through him at the thought of how odd he probably sounded. Then again, he pretty much felt that way whenever he wasn’t in the know about everything – to some extent at least. A quiet word of thanks was made before he asked the inevitable question. “What guy?” 

Was it obvious he knew nothing about either of the Star something movies yet?

A look of surprise eased the perpetual confusion; just for a moment. “Twenty-four dollars in cloth? Huh, didn’t know that– or the food rationing.” Although it sure sounded like something his father would have known – being the family trivia buff and all. 

“What’s, uh, Star Trek even about?”

ruth  snorted.  “doe, toe, poe...  that’s it,  poe.”  in  again,  maybe  she’s  wrong.  “i  haven’t  actually  seen  any  since  uh,  two thousand twelve-ish?  i’ve  just  seen  clips  of  the  new  stuff.  i  never  got  the  hype.”  awkwardly  enough  there  was  a  STAR  thing  she  did  like.  “i  liked  STARGATE  SG1  out  of  all  of  ‘em.”

she  gives  a  shrug,  “most  people  don’t.  they’re  not  really  things  in  history  books.”  not  the  ones  in  schools,  no,  but  the  ones  gathering  dust  in  libraries  and  personal  collections.  some  are  specific  to  the  times  and  scenarios.  if  she  remembered  correctly  she  learned  about  the  rationing  from  one  of  the  books  simon  had  gotten  her.  it  was  one  of  the  only  things  of  her  to  of  survived  the  fire.  “most  people  wanna  read  about  the  grizzly  death  and  slaughter  that  made  america  or  any  land  for  that  matter.  happy  fourth  to  you.”  she  chuckles.  what  a  day,  what  a  day.  “i  read  other  things,  i  promise.”  it’s  added  because  she  knows  he  worries  sometimes.  she  doesn’t  have  a  car,  doesn’t  drive  for  that  matter  either  --  but  takes  her  bike  everywhere.  other  than  a  father  she  wants  nothing  to  do  with,  she’s  got  no  one  else  to  care.  

“i’m  pretty  sure  it’s  a  hot  bald  white  guy  in  space,”  boning  space  ladies  and  having  fun  with  his  friend.  are  spock  and  whatever  his  name  friends?  she  doesn’t  know  or  care.  “the  ship  is  cool  though.”

status: diner ( downtown ) | @hailopens​

Oddly enough, it’s quiet in the diner. The hustle and bustle of rush hour had already left the premise, and with that came the chance to actually breathe. Not that he thought of it as a bad thing. No, booming business was always good – it just took a toll on his body was all. Yet now that he could actually hear his own thoughts, he found his mind wandering.

“Had someone mention how things should be Star Wars themed for.. what was it again?” Brows lightly furrowed, Gael tried to rewind his brain to the prior conversation. “May the fourth be also with you?” Wait a second, that didn’t sound quite right. “Something about, um, Star..” A pause. “Trek?”  He asked out loud, hesitant but not about broadcasting his thoughts by mistake as per usual. 

it’s  kind  of  silly.  she  enjoys  lunch  rush  and  dinner  chaos  in  the  diner.  it  just  doesn’t  stress  her  out,  even  when  she’s  often  the  one  waitress  working  it  because  she  actually  shows  up  for  work  --  because  she  knows  even  if  she  doesn’t  ask  for  it,  gael  helps  her  on  the  floor.  she  was  working  on  getting  cups,  placing  one  in  front  of  him  before  retrieving  the  coffee  pot  and  filling  up  the  cups.  it’s  not  often  but  sometimes  she  wonders  what  he’s  thinking.  he  looks  like  the  kind  of  guy  with  the  weight  of  the  world  on  his  shoulders  sometimes.  in  hail,  that’s  not  really  anything  new.  if  she  didn’t  come  from  hail,  she’d  write  it  off  as  something  else.  everyone  in  town  has  their  ghosts.  

                                                                         no  need  to  wake  the  sleeping  dead.

ruth  smiles  a  little  at  that.  the  star  wars  reference  that  was  apparently  what  was  weighing  him  down.  simon  was  always  a  closet  geek  and  ruth  had  watched  them  with  him.  sometimes  she  found  herself  watching  clips  of  the  new  ones,  wanting  to  watch  them  but  always  stopping  herself.  that  was  something  she  did  with  simon  --  and  without  him,  it  feels  like  a  betrayal.  “i  don’t  get  it  either,”  ruth  admits.  she’s  more  of  a  medical  drama  with  chocolate  milk  kind  of  chick.  “you  kind  of  look  like  that  guy,  whatever  his  name  is.”  she  teases,  pouring  herself  a  cup  of  coffee  now.  by  this  point  in  her  life  she  drinks  it  black.  a  psychopath?  possibly.  star  wars  almost  makes  this  feel  normal  to  her. 

“i  can  only  offer  the  useless  facts  of  a.)  a  long  time  ago,  american  indians  sold  manhattan  island  for  twenty-four  dollars  in  cloth  and  b.)  today,  in  nineteen  forty-two,  the  u.s.  began  food  rationing.”  she’s  a  cesspool  of  useless  information.  “i  don’t  think  anyone  actually  watches  star  trek  anymore.”

                    “cook’s  special  is  lasagna  but  i  wouldn’t  eat  it,  he  put  tofu  in  it.”

there’s music playing over the loudspeakers, worms notes, the pounding bass not close enough to overwhelm but still very much present. but they don’t mind it, the beat blurring into the otherwise still air as he considers the odds that he’d plummet backwards if he tried to climb the shelves to get to the last box of chocolate chip eggos. “you look like you have obnoxiously long arms,” they comment, staring down another shopper. “could you get me some eggos?” and seriously, fuck being short — what did they do to deserve this? 

the  music  is  merely  static  to  her.  sometimes  she  can  hear  what’s  playing  but  other  times,  she  doesn’t  really  pay  attention.  her  attention  is  more  on  what  kind  of  frozen  selection  she  can  carry  home.  stir  fry  noodles,  rice  and  chicken,  mac  n  cheese  with  chicken,  blah  blah  blah.  the  voice  is  loud  enough  that  she  notices  it,  and  when  her  eyes  move  to  find  it,  realize  it’s  talking  to  her.  she’s  probably  an  inch  taller  and  her  first  instinct  is  to  roll  her  eyes.  it’s  almost  a  natural  instinct.  nothing  against  them,  mostly,  but  it  reminded  her  of  simon  for  the  briefest  passing  thoughts  --  and  she’s  reminded  of  how  much  she  missed  him  once  again.  ruth  reaches  in  her  cart  and  gets  the  mop  leaning  awkwardly  against  it.  she  knows  short  problems  well  enough  to  come  prepared.  “knock  it  down  or  find  someone  with  actual  obnoxious  arms.”  the  mop  is  new,  still  in  the  wrapper.  she’s  got  tricks  up  her  sleeves.  her  therapist  swears  it’s  social  avoidance  of  asking  for  help  or  some  shit  like  that.

gideon  adlon   /   female   —   ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ   ᴛᴏ   ʜᴀɪʟ,   ruth  chambers.              i   am   sure   she   is   eager   to   return   to   their   home   in   paradise  park.                                     the   19   year   old   waitress  will   be   certain   to   shake   things   up.