#cherrygame

HE NEARLY SMILES AT THE NOTION, but manages to keep his expression in check. everyone at Nevermore is looking to see which piece they are, what part they'll play in the games to come. they don't even know whose board they're on, let alone which role they've been given. ALL WILL BE REVEALED when the time comes. ❝ no yeah, exactly. screw that. ❞ holed up here at the Weathervane, it's been so easy to slip himself into the mix -- gain their trust.

Outcasts recognize outcasts (sort of) it lowers their guard, if only slightly. he's always played this part well. the mild-tempered barista willing to lend an ear or a look of understanding. A LONG - DEAD VERSION OF HIMSELF. he wears his old face sometimes, peeling the skin back with ease.

the barbed, vicious in its intention response from bess makes penny laugh.⠀ ⠀ not a quiet laugh, not restrained or graceful⠀ ⠀ ( the way penny sinclair does ),⠀ ⠀ but taunting.⠀ ⠀ equally malicious in its melodic timbre.⠀ ⠀ it echoes down the halls of clairmont;⠀ ⠀ it lives in the very roots of this island.

she tilts her head slightly, blonde locks falling from one shoulder like the princess in a fairytale she was always raised to be.⠀ ⠀ ( be a credit to a family ),⠀ ⠀ harris always said.⠀ ⠀ but he never did tell them the cost of achieving it, the consequence in chasing the ideal.⠀ ⠀ so here they remained, stuck in the fairytale, eternally little girls:⠀ ⠀ harris and tipper sinclair's girls.⠀ ⠀ lost, repressed, unworthy.

the steely blues of penny's eyes meet bess'.⠀ ⠀ that sharp, angular gaze that leaves no room for mercy, leaves no space for emotion or empathy.⠀ ⠀ ( nothing can hurt her if she keeps her heart cold ).

“oh?⠀ ⠀ i'd be careful, if i were you.”⠀ ⠀ she leans in slightly, gaze held down over the younger sinclair, just enough to taunt, just enough to remind her dear little sister how the hierarchy works.⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ “how about i invite salty dan to dinner sometime?⠀ ⠀ hmm?⠀ ⠀ i'm sure him and daddy have lots to talk about.”

mirren had grown accustomed to the pull - one moment her spirit was in a state of rest and the next it was with someone who needed her the most. and so she came, radiant as a sunbeam. as she rounds the corner, she's surprised to see her mother staring back at her. bess sinclair - the woman who always made perfection the priority. bess' words fill the summer air, and there's a look in her eyes that mirren isn't accustomed to. ethereal essence stands still, baby blues becoming glassy. her appearance flashes between the teenage features she last possessed to the little girl with a toothy grin who still believed in fairies that sprinkled their lives with magic. " you had to be with grandad. " it's said with a complexity of sadness and understanding. mirren chooses to acknowledge the night they burned instead of the rest of her years that were filled with a want for a mother who could never truly be there. " but maybe in a way you were. something guided me to my painting. "