#nbeclosed

“Look, unless you’ve got a pack of smokes in your pocket or a bottle of something worth my while, I’m finding you just about as useless as that sack of garbage over there.”

                                                     ( @elijah-santos )

              Home was a feeling. That was one thing Charlotte knew the very second she moved out of the little house her parents shared in Georgia. The walls of her childhood home were torn to shreds. Piles of heroin stacked against the walls while the DEA cleaned it out. The night her mother was arrested was the first slap of reality. Her mother taught her how to bite down her teeth. Her father taught her kindness. Both she took hand in hand. It was the only thing that really helped her alive. Biting down and getting the job done right.

             Giving kindness to others because they were in a world that needed it the most. Somehow lost in the restraints of this new reality, Charlotte still possessed a home. Corvo was her come for the longest while. He remained by her side as they walked through what seemed like a hopeless end. Others fell into place the more they traveled. Now, everyone was gathered together. They were alright. It seemed bright almost, despite the shattered haven. 

              Rather than forcing herself to rest, the brunette was out. Her curiosity begged the larger part of her. It took her a while to really see Elijah. His stance was tall, already taking charge of the few survivors they had. Leaning against the wall with her hand, the brunette used it as support - not quite yet calling out his name. Reunions. This was what they were like, wasn’t it?

               Eyes wide and lips curved into a dimpled grin, Charlotte wrapped her arms around the man from behind. It would be easy to tell who she was - seeing that she was the only person short enough to barely wrap around his waist. Burying her head against his spine, a sigh of relief fell against her lips. “You’re okay.” It was a confirmation. That was all she needed from him.  

“You wanted to talk?”

@lori--taylor

Her hands tied against her own. Head tilting up, Charlotte found her eyes meeting an ocean blue. There wasn’t a sense of waves that faded over her being. The tide pulled her in, tightening around her chest. There was nothing she could do but stare and allow it to happen. She wasn’t even sure how Lori had found her in such a large place. Then again, it was her nature to pester the shit out of people until they give -- so long as it involved someone she cared for. Charlotte had found herself in this very bed for the past day. Rest is what she needed. Maybe then, she would feel less like an asshole to her friends.

It had been days since they spoke. Feet trudging against one another and they stood next to one another in silence. Neither was giving up. Charlotte half expected her friend to break within the first few hours. She didn’t, much to her surprise. The tension between the group was enough to smother them all. They moved slow. Most of the group arguing within itself to decide their next step. Turing her head away from the blonde, it was cowardice that cloaked her features. She couldn’t even look her in the eye.

                       “Look, I don’t know why you came in, but I don’t want to fight.”

Locked in her room, the brunette felt as if the world was dwindling down around her. She was trying to keep Lori’s advice in her head - keeping herself off of her feet. She was no use to anybody. That was the harshest thing to handle. Her gaze flickered towards the white walls. At her side was a forgotten book, fingertips still holding onto the page she last left on. Her leg was throbbing in response, becoming a steady rhyme that extended across the room completely. A throb. She blinked up to look around the room. A tap on the window. A throb. Charlotte’s gaze whipped towards the window with knitted brows. A throb. A dark mass cloaked itself over her window, seeming more like a ghost than anything human. Her lips quivered, knowing that the window was barely closed. It was cracked open for the simple feel of cool air through the house.

@corvoscrime

               Crimson. That was the color she found on him the most. It was a color that suited him really. It made it clear that the man before her crawled with the wolves rather than the people  that littered the town. The sheep. Her hands traced on his jaw, knitted brows and pursed lips. This was such a normality for them that it was barely even questioned any longer. It was how they first met. It was surely how they would continue whatever friendship they carried. Part of her wondered on his behalf. What made him so unbearably bored with the life around him? Why hadn’t she ever felt such a rush that he did in flaring with others emotions?

                It was just something she was sure she would never understand. Charlotte shook her head towards him. “Sit.” She said, as she always did. The brunette turned, making her way into the kitchen where they kept ice packs. A washcloth was laced around it before she walked back into the room. With that, a bowl of water and peroxide was in her grasp. Placing it gently on the table, the brunette glanced up towards him with parted lips. “Well, you definitely pissed someone off. It looks broken.” 

@lori--taylor

Her fingertips laced around the door. The handle was unsteady, but alas - she was alive. The brunette hadn’t seen Cole for the majority of the night. Part of her always assumed he was with Gwen despite her preference to stay at their house. She didn’t worry simply because she never needed to. He took care of himself regardless of whatever the world threw at him. When the door knocked, her mind felt furrowed. The possibility of who could have been at her door at this hour was endless.

Was it Rico -- approaching her after the disaster of a conversation? Was it Dexter -- approaching to meet a friend with some late night talks and their legs tangled together? Was it Lyra -- coming over as she always did? Or Ivy -- looking for the two people that placed almost parents in her heart? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she really could know.

The door seal snapped open, causing a brief gust of wind to flow into the house. Her arms were lit with goosebumps. Her eyes immediately drew to the cause of her visit. A splint - one almost mocking her own laced around her leg. Brows furrowed and lips parted - the sudden signs of worry tracing across her rose budded cheeks. “Whoa -- Are you alright? What happened?”