#gchqstarter

As he had already promised, he would stay late, he would dance with his friends, he would send them safely home, and he would help Emily out whenever she needed a break to go have some fun. Honestly, she's probably know how to have more fun than he did anyways, he was put to better use as helping hands to keep the bride and groom enjoying themselves too. They certainly had proper bartenders doing the drinks, so Ashton simply situated himself to help get them out once they were done. "Espresso Martini? We got a non-alcoholic option too." Ash pushed up his jacket sleeves so they didn't get wet as he greeted the next person coming up to the bar, "I've tried the latter only but know they're equally delicious."

"Well this here is my famous raspberry Rhubarb pie. It's sweet n' tart and like a touch'a spring you can put in your mouth." Never much of a sales woman, Birch was doing her best to win the contest, having put her heart and soul into the pies that had been cut into bite sized pieces and were handed out in little cups with wooden spoons to those who were testing the pies at the booths before placing their votes.

Although he'd always been athletic, that had become even truer for Conor in the days since Evan's death. Sometimes working out was the only way to get what happened out of his head (or more realistically put it on the back burner); sometimes running until he felt like he was going to pass out was the only way to find some peace. And though he frequented the gym, Conor's favorite way to quiet his mind was to run. He'd played midfielder in soccer, which meant he was always running during games, so Conor had always been a runner, working to improve his speed and endurance. And that just kind of stuck even after his soccer days were over, though he had to be a bit careful now. While his knee injury had mostly healed, his knee would never been the same, not even after the surgery he'd needed following the accident. By this point he knew his limits.

Or at least that was usually true. However, Conor had forgotten that running on sand was quite a bit more difficult than running on a flat, firm surface. Holy shit, Conor thought as he ran, his knee screaming at him. He was going to pay for this tomorrow. All Conor wanted was to make it back to his car to save himself from further embarrassment, which was why he hadn't switched to walking, even as he began running with a limp; Conor still carried some of his old pride it seemed. But just as he realized he needed to swallow that and accept that he'd reached his limit, his knee gave out, and before he could do anything about it, Conor was on his hands and knees in the sand. "Shit!" he exclaimed, fingers digging into the sand; he paid no mind to the woman with two young children glaring at him nearby. Managing to get to his feet, Conor ran several more paces with a heavy limp, but he didn't get far before he went down again. This time though, Conor just laid down on his back in the sand, arms and legs spread and eyes closed, accepting defeat.

As he lie there in the sand, the sun shining down on him, a shadow came across his face. Without opening his eyes - not sure if he wanted to see who it was - Conor muttered, "I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me."

Location ⇥ Carroll Park

The morning air was still cool enough to sting a little when she breathed it in, the kind of quiet that made everything feel… too loud inside her own head. Evie sat cross-legged on the edge of a worn bench in Carroll Park, one earbud tucked in, the other dangling loose against her collarbone. The music wasn’t loud—just enough to blur the edges of her thoughts, to keep them from spiralling too far. Fingers idly toyed with the cord as her gaze drifted over the near-empty park, watching the way the light filtered through the trees like something softer than reality. She told herself that was why she came here. Not to run away. Just to clear her mind. She had already ran, and that was to this town.

Her leg bounced faintly, restless energy she couldn’t quite shake, and for a moment her expression slipped—something distant, tired, almost fragile flickering across her features before she caught it. Footsteps. Evie noticed them before she looked up. She always did. And just like that, the shift was seamless. Her shoulders straightened, her hand lifted to pull the loose earbud free, and that practiced, bright smile slipped into place like it belonged there all along—warm, effortless, convincing. ❝ Hey, ❞ she greeted, voice light, like the quiet hadn’t just been swallowing her whole seconds ago. ❝ Didn’t expect to see anyone else out this early. ❞

hera was just like that taylor swift tune—getting older but never any wiser. Her head-melter of a depression always fancies a night shift, and she knows rightly she shouldn’t be left to her own devices. yet there she is, having a cry and putting the blame on this grand reception, dwelling on what she lost while watching them win. it leaves her properly bitter because she realises, as an afterthought, that she’s the one at fault. she’s the anti-hero of her own story, brave enough to stare at the sun but never in the mirror, haunted by the ghosts of folk who aren't even in her life anymore. there’s no one else to blame but her own self.

she scurries across the garden, the blue ribbon bracelet on her arm looking completely out of it against her floral dress in those fairy-like shades. she isn't really taking it in, though; she’s just replaying the past, wondering if she was the one who’d buggered it all up. was it her doing, or were they all just too young and thick? she could honestly say she regretted every time she’d shoved them into the back of her mind just to let them haunt her later. she perched in a corner, lonesome as a magpie, knowing there were bits of her soul that needed handling with care—and right now, her head was doing a total number on her.

“ oh, you lot are here too? ” she gasps, sounding a bit choked up as she dabs her eyes and lets out a weak laugh. “ the flowers are spot on, aren't they? everything’s so lovely it looks like it’s come straight out of a storybook. can you even believe this is actually happening? ” she wiped away the tears as best she could and turned her face toward them. “ joel’s speech was massive—so touching, don’t you think? bloody hell, i look like a total soft lad crying like this. ”