#hoco.potluck

yasmina couldn't stay anywhere forever, but she might choose marrow, if she could. ever sentimental, they liked how close-knit it was, how tight they all held onto each other. it was as bitter as it was sweet, but she could pretend, at least in their own head, that it was only sweet. wouldn't it be nice, a town of once-dead now-not, living together and taking care of each other? forever and ever? it was a fleeting fantasy, half-thought and not even really felt. yasmina had a role to play here, but that didn't mean everyone else did; they were just living their lives and those lives were theirs to live. even in a short life, people couldn't help but step on each other, and that was even truer in a long one. there was no reason that had to happen here, to any of them, and she felt an odd sense of responsibility for a town that had lost so many and had not truly gotten them back. there was no reason to push the knife deeper. it would already take so long for the wound to heal, if it ever truly did. the presence of someone else reminded them that they were at a party. her smile grew on its own as she stepped out of their way, realizing she was standing in the way of the plates. "oh, sorry!" they said, stepping to the side. "go ahead, please—have you tried the cornbread yet?"

an   internal   investigation   is   in   order.   after   worming   her   way   into   a   third   table   and   having   everyone   fall   silent   for   a   third   time,   aspen's   had   enough.   she's   retreated   to   a   quiet   part   of   the   church   house,   nose   buried   in   her   phone.   ❝   i   mean,   realistically—   ❞   hums   of   her   inner   monologue   escape   into   a   room   she   thought   to   be   empty,   ❝   what   could   i   have   done?   ❞

      all at once, everything seemed to have imploded in on itself, at least in bellamy's mind. too hot, too cold, too many voices, not enough, everyone was too close and yet, still far away, unreachable, despite being in their perview. never mind the resounding thud within their brain, pulsing at their temples with a dull ache, forcing their gate to transform into something closer to a stumble and eventual fall upon a stone bench. " i'm fine — i'm fine. " the repetition more so for themselves, but eyes had already been on them all day - the least they could do was provide some semblance of an explanation. " it was just ... too much, being there, everyone starin' like i'm some sort of ghoul. christ. i'm okay. " their fingers curled against the edges, the cool stone washing relief over a frazzled mind. " ——— did i take your hiding spot ? "

EVENT 001, THE POTLUCK.

i   shouldn't   be   here.   it's   all   kiwoo   can   think,   overlooking   what   may   as   well   be   a   sea   of   ghosts.   a   mirror   of   his   prior   thoughts;   they   shouldn't   be   here   either.   curiosity   lead   him   to   this   point,   but   self   preservation   threatens   to   spin   him   on   his   heels.   as   he   goes   to   make   the   turn,   he   is   nearly   nose   -   to   -   nose   with   a   familiar   face.   his   heart   leaps.   ❝   jesus,   scared   me.   ❞   he   presses   a   hand   to   his   chest,   willing   his   heart   to   stay   put.

ayana hated being on edge, but at least it was for a familiar reason, this time; her mom wouldn't stop piling her plate with food. she was always so worried to offend by accidentally skipping over someone's pride and joy and ayana loved her too much to not humor her. unfortunately, that meant her plate was overflowing before she'd been able to get away, and that turned literal at the worst moment, mashed potatoes slopping off of her plate and onto someone's shoes. "fuck," she said, then quickly realized that was another mistake, hurrying to correct with, "no, i mean—sorry. i mean sorry. i'm so sorry."