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@fgreene ::
"oh man. remember this?" jules nudges forrest's shoulder, beckoning him to look at the notebook on his lap. the two are sitting in julian's childhood bedroom, for some reason looking at old things. "i can't believe you were this good of an artist when we were just kids," he says, pressing his fingers along the drawn grooves on the flimsy notebook paper. "but i guess it checks out."
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✶☾ previously on , ft. @fgreene
he could picture it. black feathers on a dreary backdrop of early winter. the quiet pattering of innocent talons tapping at the frozen soil and withered grass. the familiar caw of recognition, or warning, or both. it was something out of a storybook, it's pages overflowing with nostalgia. "nice." he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip. "yeah, that's simple. sweet." the flames flickered, light and fire dancing in his gaze as he watched. was it jealousy? no, something with less teeth. the sort of emotion that was hard to pin down. "i like that."
continued from here with @fgreene
his skating really didn't need practice. he'd spent over two decades on the ice. but his head was in a swarm today. first a fight with alexei, then one of his cars being vandalized. he left the police station and came straight here. they had late open ice hours. he really hoped he would be alone. there's another gentleman there, even bigger than he is. all he can hope is he doesn't recognize ilya, or at least leaves him alone. and he does. it's a small rink, but they manage to ignore each other. ilya is too deep in his own head to notice, anyway.
he hears it before he sees it: the other guy going down hard, a cry out in pain. when he turns, he can tell it's not good. the way he's holding it, the way he's not scrambling to get up right way.
❝ you good? ❞ he notices the other squirm. ❝ don't move — you will make worse. ❞ he skates over, sliding down smoothly onto his knees to take a look. ❝ i can see? ❞ he hovers his hands over the other's leg, not touching yet. he's not an expert, but he's seen (and endured) a lot of injuries.
@fgreene asked “how am i supposed to know if you don't explain it?”
“I’m not so good with words,” Shane admitted, which wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t good at words when it came to how he felt and what was going on in his mind. It was hard to file and not feel utterly humiliated every single time he tried to speak about himself. Embarrassed by his own humanity.
~ @fgreene || liked for a starter ~
Kip hates days like this. The smoothie shop is dead, just one guy sitting by the window. He's already cleaned all the tables twice but has decided to give another once over, just to give himself something to do.
"Hey - Did you draw that?" He hadn't meant to be nosy - Although he's realising fairly quickly that it does look like he'd been spying. "Sorry, I wasn't - I just mean -" Kip gestures to the sketchpad. "That's really good." He idles by the table, expression apologetic. Fuck, he's making things more awkward. "Uh - Can I get you anything else?"
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@fgreene || Cont.
Tara Jean's cheeks puff & she rubs her eyes as she breathes out. Modernity never learned & it certainly didn't have any respect for what had come before. She crams her hands in the pockets of her blue wool coat, and grinds her back teeth together. " Well, at least these spirits were old & smart enough to move on to whatever comes next ... I bet haunting a men's shoe department or make-up counter for all eternity would be the pits ! " She looks him over & sighs, fading into existence & suddenly looking far more solid than a spirit had the right to. She folds her arms over her chest and nods sagely: " They're gone now, Mr. Greene. " She's seen him around town, befriending the dead & trying to soothe their earthly pains. She used to be the same - though she had been forced to suppress the desire to speak, interact & help them. It was the devil's curse, that's what her parents had said & besides, her old man had worn her backside out with a belt the last time she'd tried. Some talents were suppose to die with you, that was the idea that had been planted in her then. " ... You only have me for company here today. "
@fgreene // continued
Dan looks at Forrest with a very, very slight frown. It isn't so much that he doesn't believe Forrest, it's just... Well! Sure, Dan has reanimated the dead before. But that was all science based. Insane, yes, but based in science. He still had Herbert's notes, the man wasn't a necromancer, he was a scientist. Dan was a doctor. Science was science.
But... On the other hand, if they were bringing people's, what, their souls back into their bodies? What did that imply? Especially about the possibilities of ghosts? Dan's brow furrows in thought.
"do you think ghosts are real?" Dan asks, finally, sounding a lot less judgmental than he had just a moment ago.
@fgreene Forrest and Lucia | cont. from here
Lucia sits down next to Forrest and flashes him a warm smile.
"No worries," she signs, with the sort of friendly body language that really means happy to help, or I got you. She tilts her head, studying him for a moment, before asking, "You want to talk about it?"
