Basil looks at Evan with a nervous but gentle expression. There’s a long pause before he actually speaks, but when he finally does, it comes out somewhat shaky.

“Um… are you asking me….?”

school spirits starters pt 6 / accepting

"I am. just—quietly." Words are quick as she keeps an arm out to her side in some effort to herd Evan behind her. She's not going to deny what they've spotted in the back rooms of the restaurant—hell, she can't take her eyes off it. Blood. A lot of blood. On the walls, on the floor, the shelves. She swallows, takes a step back, again trying to get Evan away.

Evan. She just needs to focus on Evan right now. She might not know what's going on, but she has a strong feeling they shouldn't see this. It's only a matter of time before someone is here to clean it up, before they get caught.

⠀ 🪡 ⠀ ╱ ⠀ 🧵 ⠀ ◞ ░ ◟ 𓊆 𝐄͓̽𝐕͓̽𝐀͓̽𝐍͓̽ 𓊇◝ º ➔ STARTER CALL ︴ @bravebitten ︴

𝐐͓̽𝐔͓̽𝐈͓̽𝐕͓̽𝐄͓̽𝐑͓̽𝐈͓̽𝐍͓̽𝐆͓̽ 𝐀͓̽𝐔͓̽𝐑͓̽𝐄͓̽𝐎͓̽𝐋͓̽𝐄͓̽ 𝐎͓̽𝐅͓̽ him — the   manner   in   which   the   aureate   nap   of   his   plush   form   absorbed ,   fractured ,   &&.   refracted   the   light ,   as   though   he   were   an   artifact   consecrated   yet   grievously   displaced ,   gilded   not   for   reverence   but   for   quiet   immolation .   panic   rippled   through   the   bear   in   hushed ,   tremulous   cadences ,   a   marionette   newly   severed   from   its   guiding   strings .   his   stitched   seams   fluttering   with   each   shallow ,   unnecessary   breath   he   seemed   nonetheless   compelled   to   draw .   the   circus   unfurled   about   them   in   its   customary   lurid   exultation ,   a   grotesquerie   of   lacquered   smiles ,   impossible   geometries ,   &&.   kaleidoscopic   excess ,   yet   she   perceived   with   aching   clarity   how   swiftly   such   brilliance   could   coagulate   into   something   merciless ,   how   easily   the   air   itself   might   turn   sharp   against   the   unwary .   

with   deliberate   reverence ,   the   doll   advanced ,   measured   &&.   unthreatening ,   as   one   might   approach   a   creature   poised   upon   the   precipice   of   flight ,   her   own   stitched   smile   softening   at   its   margins .   cottony   hands   arisen ,   palms   outward ,   suspended   between   guardianship   &&.   invitation ,   as   though   prepared   to   ensnare   him   within   a   fragile   cradle — both   literal ,   should   he   falter ,   &&.   figurative ,   an   invisible   scaffolding   of   solace   offered   without   transgressing   the   delicate   perimeter   of   his   fear .   each   subtle   movement ,   every   imperceptible   tilt   of   her   posture ,   became   a   silent   benediction :   that   for   this   trembling   instant,   he   need   not   endure   the   world   alone,   that   even   amid   the   circus’s   gleaming   chaos,   some   corner   of   it   could   be   held   in   tender   abeyance , ⸺   𓊆    🪡    𓊇  ❝  hey … it’s alright … take it slow ,  ❞  𓊆    🪡    𓊇   ⸺ a murmur , her voice a silken filament of warmth , spun delicately through the synthetic expanse , threading itself around him like a quiet promise , a fragile lattice of comfort against the harsh geometry of the circus , ⸺   𓊆    🪡    𓊇  ❝  we’ve all had to find our footing at first . easy there …  ❞  𓊆    🪡    𓊇   ⸺ though she discerned the tenuousness of her words — mere gossamer wards against a storm that never truly slept — the ragdoll proffered them still , a quiet litany of hope , tenderly spun to hold him fast , if only for the briefest instant , against the dissolution that threatened to claim him .

“Well I didn’t, aaannnnndd I got the kite back.”

The redhead softly rolls her eyes, no bite or malice to it, still laying in the backyard bush she landed in after the oak tree had decided she was no longer allowed amongst its branches. The yellow and purple kite is held up in proof of victory despite her small cuts and bruises. Sitting up finally with a smile that scrunches her nose 

you se.em pr.etty sad for a girl so in lo.ve / accepting

Ollie's aware she's been distant, that with her struggling to cope, it's all Ollie can do to try and distract herself, to find whatever way she can get by, even if it's unhealthy. Even if she hasn't been particularly present for anyone else in her life, especially not Evan. Not that she doesn't still care for him or want to protect him, but she just doesn't have the energy to protect herself, let alone somebody else. Back before everything really fell apart, she'd been barely keeping it together, so where does that leave her now?

the sun sat low in the sky, swollen and rich like a heavy, overripe fruit ; a blood - orange rupture in the horizon, soaking the thick grass in its late - day warmth. it's summer again. and what a lonely time it could be. familiar faces scattered to the winds by their own excitement and plan for the season, the humid days stretching on and on — the nearby school stood still and empty, its yard just as barren. had everyone gone on to have their fun without you already ?

as the dog days dragged by, the playground equipment would bake under that bright sun, metal hot enough to burn and plastic sticky with sweat. but right now, just early enough in the month, just close enough to sunset, it was bearable. a little gloomy, maybe, in its solitude ; but at least bearable in regard to the heat. the rusty white noise of a swing gently swaying joined in the hum of cicadas, the sun sank lower, and there could at least be a melancholic peace in that.