#offscot writings

and im ready for you.

Phil is June. He's longer, brighter days when spring is bordering on giving way to summer. He's the feeling of knowing you made it through-- the year is half way over, you've made it through the darkest days of winter and the awkward new beginnings of spring. You're settled, and you're enjoying the feeling of sun on your skin and wind in your hair. Summer might be unbearable, summer might bring too-hot days or too-heavy rainfall. But summer isn't here yet. Right now, it's june.

He isn't the dawn chorus, but he's the birds that chirp as the light of day is beginning to bow. The night owls are up a little too early, it seems-- but that's okay. So were you. He's waking up at 6am to lights creeping through your curtains to shine into your eyes.

But he's also salt. A fine, gritty flavour enhancer-- salt never demands to be the star of the dish, yet it always ends up centre-table, spilled, thrown over your shoulder in superstition. It's an intrinsic part of dining, one that no one seems to fully notice until the shaker is running on empty.

He's forgotten tea. Steeped for too long, so long that the water is running a little on the cooler side. But it's fine, you can make another pot, we've just been chatting for so long we both forgot it.

he's also, very predictably, a shade of green

I don't know either of them super well but i can try !

Baghera is soap. She is the feeling of freshness your skin feels after washing your hands, your face-- a little cool, and you're feeling a little bit more aware of the slight chill in the air. She's not just the feeling, but the smell of it. She's more chemical-ly than natural, but it's not unpleasant, those are more the undertones. On the surface, she's rich, a mimic of expensive luxuries.

She's the first light of spring. The first sunrise, the first chorus, the first glimmer of life born from months of dark winter. You think of that chill again, and there it is-- winter hasn't quite slackened it's lingering hold on the world just yet. It's a reminder of what came before, and what will come again. But you turn, and Spring is waiting. Maybe you'll last another year.

Baghere is assorted berries and granola. Sweet, light, and perfectly crunchy. A perfect start to the morning. She's fresh, crisp water from a bottle that keeps crinkling no matter how you try to set it down. And she's this very light peachy colour :)

Étoiles is fine dining when you've never entered such a fancy restaurant in your entire life. He's the slight itch in your collar, the tie you struggled to remember how to knot-- a half-windsor is fancy, right?-- and the slight off-sizing of the suit you spent half a fortune on renting. But you look good, you feel good, and you know half the people in here also have no clue what they're doing, so you don't feel as much anxiety when you sit down to what feels like a dozen pieces of cutlery. He's good wine. Really good wine, the kind that pairs well with the medium-rare steak on the porcelain in front of you, and he's the far too loud conversation you're having with the person you're dining with. He's the feeling of not caring that others might be staring. You'll never see them again, anyway.

He's 2:24am. Witching hour is on it's way, and Étoiles is the feeling of the dark embracing you on an impulsive walk. He's loose stones underfoot, the brightness of street lights that pollute the sky. One day you'll see stars. Not tonight.

And oh, Étoiles is adrenaline.

(and he's also this teal-y kind of green)