#flashback thread

“I’m here, I’m here, what’d he... do-- are you okay?!” Laurian goes from wondering what Violet’s text had been about to worried out of his mind for Ozwell in a split second. What the hell happened?!

Marco had barely been home for a whole 24 hours yet, but there was one thing he knew he needed to do right away. Mikeala's brother had asked him to check in on her, make sure she was doing okay, and give her a letter for him. And despite the massive mistake Marco had made in the name of taking care of his brother, he wasn't about to delay letting someone's little sister know that her big brother was still looking out for her. Before Marco had been released, Mikeala's brother had let him know where her house was and since it was downtown as well, Marco didn't have a hard time tracking her down. He could only hope, as he reached up to ring the doorbell, that she was actually home. This could all get a lot more complicated if Marco just had to keep pressing his luck and coming back.

@noahtranter

"I already told y’all,” Sawyer says, looking around with wide, panicked eyes. “I ain’t gonna do it. Not again.” He’s learned by now that ultimately, it’s pointless to resist. But he has to try, he has to, because if he blindly goes along with it with little more than a cowering shrug, he’d be no better than his wardens.

Setting & time; club Bacchae, flashback thread - 2 weeks prior

Travel bloggers were what comprised most of Shiloh’s Instagram feed. They’d always loved the idea of traveling; took a great interest in the expanse of the world, and more than once, they’d wished to be able to see all the sun could teach with ease; yet somehow, the opportunity to travel himself had never presented to them until now. Or maybe, it was seeing a quick video of none of than Harrison Moon - the Harrison Moon, the heartbreak of Shiloh’s senior year, twirling fire and dancing in a sea of glitter and low orange lighting, with the geo-tag for Magnetic Island, the broke the floodgates of wanderlust.

However you explained it, Shiloh had been motivated, and now a few weeks later, they were situated front & center in the crowd of onlookers at the top floor club. Harrison had just come out on stage, and without really meaning to allow it to happen; Shiloh’s face broke out into a grin, and he felt a jolt of shock as he realized - he had chased his ex out to Australia. And now he was here, staring at the stage, eyes reflecting the light of the club and his hearing aids turned down low to keep the noise at a dull roar, indistinguishable sounds melding together. He wasn’t there for the music, anyway.

"you know you only paid to spend an hour with me..." the young woman said. the bed sheets, wrapped around her as she sat up to look over at the painter. harlon lay next to her, a cheeky smile on his face as he knew his time had looooong since passed. "ah right, well do you really want to leave so suddenly?" he asked. the woman looked as if she was mulling over the choice but quickly smiled and lay back down, her head resting on his chest. "i suppose a little longer isn't so bad."

harlon knew he probably should leave and find out where his friends were. in the distance, he could hear the party going on in highgarden. some fancy thing for another fancy lord. they'd been to dozen of these things at this point. and right now this was much more entertaining. but the painter had been gone probably for longer than normal. but he figured his friends might be off doing the same as him. or at least perhaps a few too many drinks in to notice his absence.

for now he was happy to enjoy the extra time he got with new companion, sylvia. curled up together on the bed, he was too busy with....other things to notice the sound of footsteps approaching. suddenly his door was swinging open and in walked in cedric and the rest of his friends "seven hells!" harlon yelled, suddenly sitting up. "haven't you heard a thing about knocking cedric!"

                  ˙ ˖ ˙ ˖   it wasn’t the first time the prince had been in a physical altercation   &&   with his temper, it wouldn’t be the last. as usual, it was he who started it.   &&   for a good reason    ━━    that’s what he told himself. that’s what he liked to believe. how could he sit back   &&   allow an innocent woman to be harassed ?  the fight was brief :  the man was clearly drunk   &&   hadn’t recognized the disguised prince until caeryn had his fist deep in the man’s hair.

now, he sat on a wooden stool that seemed ready to give under his weight as rhiannnon tended to the minor wounds on his face. she’d been scolding him like a child    ━━    it reminded him of his mother. then again, his father would always come to the rescue but, he had no one to save him now. 

yes, caeryn knew it was his fault. yes, he knew he shouldn’t have swung. yes, he knew it would attract unwanted attention. he already knew it all   &&   her words would go in through one ear just to come out the other. 

There are many things that Heloise adores: feather-stitching, pretty dresses with a ruffled edge, and her patchwork doll, Bellina. She doesn’t want to share her with anyone else. No, that’s not true. Heloise doesn’t want to share her with Brielle.

She’s as sweet as summer’s day, the reddest rose in the garden while Brielle’s petals have already started to wilt, and Heloise thinks her sister is more thorn than rose. Heloise stares at her for a moment, tear-stricken and aggrieved, and decides that she’ll happily concede defeat once Brielle expresses her regret. For nothing in particular she supposes, but there’s a growing list, one she had tucked away and adorned with the prettiest of ribbons. “Say you’re sorry!” Heloise doesn’t elaborate.

Should Brielle apologize for her calloused hands and muddied clothes? Should she apologize for her brazen words and careless gestures? Heloise isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks that an apology for any of these things will do, especially since mama hates them just as much as she does.

Heloise stumbles on her feet as she joins Brielle on the floor, tugging on one of Bellina’s ears on her way down. “Give it!” She cries as Brielle slams into her chest, knocking the air out of her. “Mama says we’re poor! If you ruin my dress, I won’t be allowed to get another one!” As if Brielle cares. Her voice clouds itself with thunderous words while Heloise’s are made of bottled sunshine. Brielle resembles the weeds that creep and crawl through the splitting concrete, eager to destroy the rose that blooms under the heat of the sun. It is an ugly thought, she’s well aware, but Brielle’s words had stung her. Heloise decides to sting her in return. “You’re being mean! This is why mama loves me more!”

Her mother’s words echo in her ears: хорошие девушки не поднимают шума.