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@imprisonedlight. - ray set the mug in front of rosalie and joined her at the table. a heavy pile of paperwork was perched on the counter, which he was steadfastly ignoring. rose’s presence was his current excuse for not thinking about it, though earlier it had been laundry and a malfunctioning laptop. “thank god for coffee,” he said, and took a sip. “nah, i take that back. tastes like death. how’ve you been, rosie?”
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and, imprisoned here, is the light. the only little bit of hope left in her soul, barred from shining too brightly. ( clarissa lafont and eloise jones )
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rome / rosie, jewelry.
[ jewelry ] your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine
Chin angled up, Rome let childlike fingers float over the face of the charm hanging down the center of her neck. If she were able to remember her mother, Rosie would probably remind Rome of her. Her qualities certainly are maternal, the way she fusses, it’s something that resonates with Rome. She turns, eyes almost black, but distinctly bright as they look into the blonde. “–Well? I have no reflection anymore, you’ll have to tell me how it looks.”
spencer / belle, possessive.
[ possessive ] your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg
The room throbs with music which unfurls like the spindly arms of a vine from somewhere else in the building. Spencer barely registers the girl’s phantom touch on his knee. He nurses his bottle, brow eternally knit. Sequestering himself away in Belle’s dirty, little corner of the world is meant to distract him, pull his mind away from an even dirtier reality, a harshness he’s become partial to. Tonight is harder than it’s been before. He wants to tell her to be careful, that this town is a danger to her now more than ever. Spencer wants to protect her. But the darker, more selfish impulses that live deep inside him are like a cloth over his eyes. A wide hand finds the curve of her jaw, pulls her lips into his.
jimmy / rosie, lean.
[ lean ] your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together .
People watching is a particularly favorite pastime, most especially in a town like this. The light of day lessens the variety of creatures which trawl the main street, but certainly doesn’t degrade the fun. A brilliant joker smile overwhelms his features, his shoulder knocking gently into her’s. “Real sweet of you, Miss Widoghast, but I think me leaning on you just might finally kill ya,” Jimmy laughs kindly.
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jimmy / belle, rest.
[ rest ] your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder .
“--Long day?” Jimmy laughs around the crunch of the candy cane that sticks out from the corner of his mouth. As the sun has left the sky, so have the customers that typically haunt Marilou’s. It’s quieter, he’s caught her during a break. “I know exactly what’s gonna cheer you up. The best Christmas present ever.” His tone is laced with hyperbole, only further illustrated when he presents with a flourish a still-wrapped candy cane of her own as if it were solid gold. “No need to thank me,” Jimmy grins, winks playful.
jane / honey, read.
“‘a woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgment, solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen.’” she paused for a moment, reaching for a glass of water that wasn’t there; her hand rested on the table where she’d imagined it. it seemed she was often haunted by memories of water, or cigarettes, or coffee, or teacakes. “you know,” she said to honey, to fill the silence, “i think i love her writing. shame i’ve never bothered with it before. i didn't really think it was the sort of thing i was allowed to read, when i was younger. i only read magazines and shakespeare and the occasional jane austen. because of school, you know.”
jimmy / honey, groom.
[ groom ] your muse adjusting mine’s appearance .
Despite the huff that he airily exhales, Jimmy’s rather amused by Honey’s fussing over him. “--Y’know, we all wear our hair like this these days. I know you’re used to top hats and canes...,” he boldly teases her. After catching the expression on her face, he mimes zipping his lips, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Well? Am I acceptable to be seen with you now?”
