sun in moon

another day was winding down and today he moved slower than normal which dragged all of his closing routines out further. thackery hadn’t wanted to be rude , he knew he wasn’t much for conversation in their down moments. lost to his own turmoil it would suppose and there was not a huge point in making connections. ( even with a beguiling coworker ) . he prepares the to-go packaging for her and considers a silent acknowledgement. a nod or maybe a shrug, the way he does all day long.

❝ remind me what it’s about again ? ❞ the sound of his voice , which is so very underused , surprises even him and he goes back to putting in the discount which doesn’t work because technology did not agree with his puritan tendencies.

From the first look at the man in front of her, she knew this was who she was sent to protect. Of course, she didn’t mean to tell him that she was a witch, and that she knew he was one of the most wanted by some of the most despicable witches out there; she was sent to protect him.

For a mere one hundred years, she had been practicing to protect anyone that would come into her sight, and the first person was a special assignment from Merlin himself. It was terrifying, but Thackery Binks had been rumored to be aloof. It wasn’t the worst type of person she could be tasked with protecting, though it was much harder to get him to trust her, without any pre-text.

“Treasure Island... like a priates tale, really. Pretty sure there’s mermaids and pirates and mystical things... escapism, I guess.”

It was too bad however, that her co-worker didn’t seem to see it the same way she did... or even converse in most cases. Pulling off her dirty apron to get ready to close her side of the shop, she walks to his side, putting the book she had been hanging onto on the counter. “I’ve been wanting to read this, seems like it’s finally time.”

Sam didn’t realize she was in such a rush when he first approached her. He didn’t even want to take up too much of her time, just a little bit to compliment her poetry. He knew their classmates wouldn’t have given her the same kindness, which frustrated him. The poem, in Sam’s eyes, was objectively good, and she obviously had a talent for it. However, they only saw what they wanted to see, and that was a girl whose rumors grew bigger than her actual physical stature. They saw a gossip source, rather than a person, and that was the only reason in Sam’s mind that they could so easily say such mean things without considering her feelings - that didn’t excuse their actions in the slightest, though.

Sam saw a girl exhausted by the rumors as she read that poem. He saw a girl affected by the words others spoke - and how could anyone not be affected by words that mean spoken about them? He could only imagine how much it hurt, especially when one’s humanity was disregarded over something that may not have even been true (at least,completely). Sam was never one for rumors - he was a boy who valued facts, and was always more interested in the truth and reality than fiction.

He figured she had the right to be confused as she stared back at him - after all, they’d never spoken before, and she just finished a class where people were obviously judging her, whether it was with their stares or their words. “Hi,” he repeated with a small smile. “I just wanted to tell you that your poem was really good… you’re very talented.”

The last time Sofia had believed anything someone said to her was the night she had lost her virginity. Alex, as charming as he was, said that he adored her, and wanted something to remember her by before he left for college. That night still made her blood boil... it made her seem so weak in the eyes of everyone else. The amount of times that she had cried over the death of her good reputation outweighed anything Alex ever said about her. 

All Sofia wanted was to be taken seriously, and super popular Sam approaching her talking about a poem she had written was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t want to know what game he and his friends were playing with her, but she knew she wasn’t in the mood to play it today, or spill more tears over it when she got home.

“Sam, right?” She said quietly, “look... I don’t want to draw attention to anything right now, and that was hard enough... I’d rather not play this game right now.”

8:07PM vastfieldss:

Hey! How was your day today? Hoping it was better than mine… I definitely need an escape soon, just not sure where.

8:10PM:

Wolf didn’t know the majority of the people here – well, he did, but not really. He knew of these people, knew their names, what classes they might have shared, but he mostly knew that they all had an opinion of him, and that opinion wasn’t a good one. He was pegged as a weird kid from a young age, and he guessed they were right, to an extent. None of the other kids grew up on a farm. They all had normal pets, and while he had a dog growing up, the horses and chickens and other barnyard animals outnumbered her. They all got to go to school year-round, while he stayed behind one semester to help on the farm – that, however, he didn’t mind, preferring the classroom of his own backyard to that of chalkboard-covered walls.

Those were just the basic differences between him and Hannah Adkins, the ones that could be generalized, at least. He’d heard the nickname Princess follow her name, though Wolf wasn’t sure if that was because she was worshiped in this school as one or because she had an attitude that made them refer to her as one. Honestly, his money was on both, and while he should have known better than to judge others, he couldn’t help it, his mind using it as a defense mechanism, since others were so quick to judge him, first. Really, he didn’t know much about her besides that reputation, and most of his thoughts on the latter connotation came from his own past experiences, a young girl being one of the many children to run from him, another set of eyes glancing his way as he ate his lunch alone.

Still, that didn’t mean he forgot all manners as she walked in the door, though that didn’t eliminate his surprise at seeing her. She had been by the side of Jay the few moments he saw her earlier, and Wolf had just assumed she would have been the same way when it was time to hide. Instead, she was here with him; he simply assumed it was the closest door for her to open. He scooted back a bit on the edge of the tub to allow her more room to pass his long legs. The new position was a bit uncomfortable, but he was sure she was too, being stuck in here with him. 

Wolf shook his head, confirming her assumption. “No, you’re right, this isn’t really my scene. My cousin invited me – Jared? He’s dating Melanie…” he added, assuming the context mattered. “I, um, I’ve never really been to one of these – do we just sit here until the cops are gone?”

It suddenly dawned on him that she could have chosen this room for a different reason, that she actually needed to use the bathroom and not just hide in it. “Shit, sorry – did you have to go? I could leave…”

She wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the bathroom when she got in there, yet she was pleasantly surprised it was someone like Wolf Goshen. Sure, she had heard the rumors. Dirty, uncivilized and definitely zero social skill, and she had pretended to listen, but she never really took them to heart. She vividly remember the last time she talked to him. It was small, and inconsequential, but she had given up a swing for him in elementary school. His shirt had been ripped, and she could see a bruise, but it wasn’t her place to ask, plus, he looked happy enough to have the swing regardless.

Sitting here with him now was completely different. They weren’t the same kids that they were in elementary school. Hell, back then, she had parents. Things had been different, and she had changed. It’s not like she could tell any of this to Jay... that maybe she just wanted to be nice as long as the people deserved it. Nicole had always snap judged everyone, and she knew it wasn’t her fault, but Hannah still couldn’t put a finger on half of the people she talked about with Nicole. It wasn’t fair that half of them couldn’t defend themselves, let alone, she had no clue who they were.

She guessed in a weird way, this was the only way she’d ever get to know Wolf. “Ah, that makes sense.” She says quietly, watching him as he stretched. “I know who he’s dating... Melanie is really nice... but, yeah, most of the time we can just wait it out... I really never have been to a party this out of hand before either...”

Tonight had been uneventful, much to Ryan’s dismay. He knew being a police officer wasn’t always excitement, no matter what the movies claimed, but he still expected to see something other than a traffic violation or two while he was out late with his dad. It was Friday night, surely someone was intoxicated in public or smoking weed or something, anything more than the few tickets they’d given and loiterers they’d dispersed. Hell, Ryan would have been happy with a noise complaint - it was at least a change of pace from the slow night.

His dad could tell he was bored, too, judging by the way Ryan’s head slumped against the window, his eyes glazed as he stared out the window. It was times like this he hated that he couldn’t bring his phone on the ride-alongs. If he wasn’t supposed to have his phone, he should have at least been guaranteed something worth riding along for. “It’s not all action movies and CSI, bud,” his dad commented, noticing his son’s boredom before he spouted the same line he did a thousand times.

“I know, I know,” sighed Ryan. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be bored.”

“I know, it can get boring sometimes, but you always have to stay alert,” his dad advised. Okay, that was a good piece of advice, Ryan had to admit, but it was hard not to feel like dozing when the scanners were quiet. Though, as if it was on cue, the scanners spoke of suspicious activity, and right near where Ryan and his dad were driving, as well. Ryan immediately perked up, wondering what or who they might find, hoping it was at least more interesting than someone calling about what would turn out to be their neighbor locked out of their own house. However, to his disappointment, as they pulled up, his dad instructed him to stay in the car. Crossing his arms over his chest, Ryan complied, staring out the window once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of what his dad was up to, or who his dad was taking in.

Every time that her parents weren’t home, Harley’s life ended up being pretty uneventful. It was the same thing she did every time: Sit on the couch, watch netflix, and eat the last of the potato chips that were in the house. This was the dilemma she was facing now. She knew she didn’t look put together, and she definitely shouldn’t be walking on the street this late at night, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to do it.

This was an internal dialogue she had almost every time she decided to walk from her nice, gated neighborhood to the few blocks down the road, where town definitely got sketchier. Though, it was the only gas station in town that carried the odd brand potato chips that she loved. Sure, she had gotten in trouble one or two times there. Once for littering, which didn’t make any sense after she had picked up (most) of what she had dropped on the ground, and once for spray painting.

Being the rebellious teenager was hard, but when you were looking for your parents love, that was all that seemed to get them to stay home when she was still in high school. Having two travelling authors as parents had always been weird, though. Kids had always looked at her strangely because they could recall her parents names from the children’s books they wrote together. In a way, Harley had built resentment for the both of them over time. It seemed like they were better parents to the kids that they toured to rather than their own child.

In the end, it wasn’t unusual for her to be wandering around. The loneliness caught up to her fairly easy almost every time, and her parents would regularly check in when she was home. It didn’t help. It still didn’t make them present.

Walking with her hood up and her hands in her pockets, she kept her eyes trained forward, making sure she didn’t meet eyes with anyone too unfortunate. She had made that same mistake before, and she sorely regretted it when she talked to Homeless Pete for over an hour.

Mrs. Hawthorn recited the homework to the twenty students sitting in room 205, but it went in one of Sam’s ears and out the other. His mind was still present in English class, but not on the assignment being presented to them, however. It was fixated on one of the poems recited earlier, a product of a project meant for students to show what they’d learned from the various poets they studied in the weeks prior. His mind still lingered on the emotional tone and powerful lines that all seemed to flow effortlessly - it was all way better than the boring essay he’d written for his project. 

More than that, his thoughts wandered to the person whose lips recited those words, whose hand wrote those lines: Sofia Randall. The words held a stronger emotion and meaning, knowing they came from her heart, and they were stronger than most people might have assumed, especially as they were spoken to a crowd of mostly judging gazes as a few students whispered about her. It disheartened Sam, hearing that judgement. He’d been hearing it for a while now, and it still didn’t make things any better. He just didn’t think t was fair, calling her names without knowing her, spreading rumors and treating her like she had some ridiculous case of cooties. Sam preferred to make those decisions for himself, and that’s what he planned to do as the bell rang.

After shoving a notebook in his bag, Sam slowly wandered to where Sofia was packing her own things, his hands swinging at his sides as he spoke up softly. “Um, hi,” he greeted, thinking it would be weird to just spout about her poetry without properly greeting her, first.

She had made a mistake.

There was no way that the writing assignment they had to tackle were supposed to get this personal, but Sofia had chose poetry. She should have known better to take something close to her heart and make it about her. It wasn’t her heart that her classmates cared about anyway. It was about the rumors that plagued her name in darkness. It was about more than her. It was about the dirtiness that was associated with her name. It made her feel filthy - shamed in every way. When she read that poem, it felt like she was standing naked in front of the class.

Even worse, the whispers continued during and after the poem. She could hear her two former friends whispering about her at the next desk over as her cheeks progressively tinted scarlet. The only thing she continued to repeat in her head was that she only had a few more minutes in class. She was a moment away from freedom, and escaping the whispers at least for a few more hours. Right after this, she could escape for lunch. If they wanted to talk about her poem then... well, they were more than welcome to. She just didn’t want her dreams crushed in front of her.