#neitherworldly

It’s been a few weeks and a lot of favours in the making, but Abby drags Ellie out with a hand wrapped around her wrist and the ease of a very hush-hush borrowed boat. There are the usual precautions -- Scars here or there, trespassers, clickers hiding in the fold, but for the most part, the journey is stress-free and the knowledge that they’ve both been put in for a couple of rest days on the trot is pretty fucking liberating. (Rather, Abby’s swapped hers with Manny and Nora to put the whole thing into motion, along with some extra protein bars and a night shift for their help with moving some shit over and sourcing some much needed equipment. She might regret it at 4am next week, but for now, it’s fine.)

Ellie doesn’t shut the fuck up. She never has -- that damn kid likes to run her damn mouth, as has been said many, many fucking times, but Ellie asks where they’re going, why they’re going there, what she’s got planned and what’s going on, whilst simultaneously trying to guess what’s happening, and Abby only offers a wry smile out of the corner of her mouth as they draw closer to the aquarium. She figures Ellie’s about to burst with curiosity, so it’s fitting that she kills the engine and eases them in to the side of the shore.

“Here.”    So maybe it’s not so exciting from the outside -- they go to the aquarium pretty regularly, in between fretting about training and keeping an eye on the clock ‘cause they have to be back by six (from Abby), but it’s different. She slings her backpack over a shoulder and tugs the rope into an easy loop around the port-side cleat and ties it before offering out her hand.

       Alumni Week is rife with desperate first years and a marathon welters game that’s as painful as a three-hour seminar on the do’s and don’t’s of Ecclesiastical Transvergence in a seat that she’s pretty sure was designed to start making her back ache after twenty minutes. She’s not entirely sure why she’s here -- the past year away from BrakebiIIs has seen late nights and new challenges, and one in particularly being what exactly you’re supposed to do after three years of immersive magical teachings of one Henry Fog.g’s restrictions and his band of merry fucking minions. She doesn’t stay idle for long, and the final fuck you of stalking around an otherwise delightfully-unpleasant ass-licking convention was just a little too much to resist.

            “You always were the quiet one.”    Specifically when she’s pissed -- Alice spent the majority of third year holed up in the library with a stack of open books, wearing a high-collared shirt and a scowl that reads I just think it’s funny how -- Jesus fuck. Marina is fully accustomed to the wrath of Alice Quin.n’s silence, and an accidental excusal that leads them both to the mouth of the maze. 

Marina’s been silent since graduation, and this is purely opportunistic -- or, it was supposed to be, if any of those fucking morons could cast anything that didn’t look like it’d been ripped straight from an unreleased Harry Potter book. And now, her fingers click and the end of her cigarette kindles, and the unspoken tension between the two of them is palpable. Fuck.

“Did they stop playing welters after we left, or did Fog.g just take a massive, steaming shit on the upperclassmen?”

❛ it’s not about wanting or not wanting. ❜ -- @neitherworldly ( fe & peter )

she’s so tired of the bullshit, so weary of the crap, so exhausted of the nonsense but she’s dealing with it anyway. all the fucking time. at least she’s a little calmer than calm. at least her eyelids are kind of up and then drooping down. languid. she doesn’t figure in a place like this high fucking society’ll try anything. they’re kind of pathetic, anyway. lot of fat guys in plaid suits that make them look like butterball turkeys with microdicks but plaid’s daring this season. for men, anyway. she scoffs about it. all the time.

at least there’s a hot girl here. and she looks her up and down, so trish returns the favor with what can only be called a kittenish smile. three xanax and a relatively okay self. for now it’s alright. she’s got a week of no responsibilities. that’s like spring break for pa-- trish walker.