#hollerwitch

⁀ ✉︎ ⸜      𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡 .ᐟ      (      @hollerwitch      ) | | |   ⤷   :   💐  (they're  wildflowers)

𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬  𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰  𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞,  ❝  what  .  .  .  ?  ❞  long  fingers  brushed  the  tops  of  the  wildflowers,  thumb  running  over  the  petals  soft.  ❝  see  this  one?  achillea  millefolium  —  yarrow.  named  after  achilles.  supposedly  used  to  stop  bleeding  in  the  trojan  war,  which  is  either  a  testament  to  ancient  medicine  or  very  confident  mythology.  thank  you.  really.  i’ll  take  very  good  care  of  them.  or  —  well  —  let  them  keep  being  wild.  that  feels  more  appropriate,  don’t  you  think?  ❞

throw a snowball at him!

The impact is sudden and harsh. A cold projectile nailing him square between the shoulders and sending him stumbling forward a step or two before he finds balance again. Ryder whips his head around, affronted by the sudden assault against him. The fact that part of said assault resulting in a wave of cold slowly crawling across him makes it that much worse. There is the tiniest hint of a smile at his lips, though. Amusement dancing behind his eyes and a sort of childlike excitement warming through his chest.

Snow had never been a common thing for him growing up in northern California. The few, concerning times that it had lightly snowed? It had been gone almost as quickly as it came. And it had never been enough for him to practice launching snowballs at his friends.

⁀ ✉︎ ˎˊ˗    𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝  𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲.   (      @hollerwitch      )   | | |   ⤷   :   how many fingers am i holding up?

𝐡𝐞  𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲  gently.  he  pushed  himself  up  just  enough  to  put  distance  between  them,  shoulders  rigid.  ❝  i’m  fine.  ❞  the  words  sounded  rehearsed.  an  overused  lie.  he  dragged  a  hand  down  his  face,  smearing  blood  across  his  cheek,  then  looked  anywhere  but  at  her.  he  flexed  his  fingers,  winced  despite  himself,  then  curled  them  into  a  fist  again.  his  breathing  was  uneven,  sharp  inhales  through  his  nose,  like  he  was  still  braced  for  another  hit.  ❝  i’m  fine.  ❞  he  repeated,  quieter  this  time.

when free food gets delivered to the er, no one turns it down. normally it's the like of a box of chocolates or some small treats, but today's a better day for it. a box of sandwiches, still fresh, the scent of fresh bread filling the break room. already a dent has been made in the box that arrived, a box that was full not more than twenty minutes ago, but it's disappearing and disappearing quickly.

⁀ ✉︎ ⸜      𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡 .ᐟ      (      @hollerwitch      )   | | |   ⤷   :   [  DANCE  ]  for  my  muse  to  ask  your  muse  to  dance  to  a  local  folk  band

𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝  𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,  the  fiddle’s  first  notes  made  him  wince.  ❝  i’m  not  stalling.  i’m  observing.  that’s  an  important  scholarly  skill.  and  currently  i  am  observing  that  the  floorboards  are  listing  at  a  thirty  —  mmm,  twenty  —  degree  angle,  which  is  conducive  to  slipping,  tripping  .  .  .  ❞  he  took  a  few  hesitant  steps  toward  the  open  space  near  the  band.  hazel’s  fingers  hooked  around  his  elbow,  urging  him  forward.  he  let  out  a  quiet  groan.  ❝  alright,  alright  —  fine.  i’ll  dance.  but  i  want  it  recognized  that  this  is  an  act  of  heroic  bravery.  historic,  even.  someone  should  be  chronicling  this.  ❞