#rebelclef

“riven?” stella asks, before sighing. “i’m not surprised. he’s so thickheaded.” the words might have been blunt as ever, but stella’s expression was soft as she settled down next to her friend. “boys. you would think they’d be a little more appreciative when they pull someone out of their league.” a shoulder nudge, a wink, the classic stella smile. “come on. while he gets his shit together, i say we go do a bit of retail therapy. my treat.” 

          ❛ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒,  you know.   is...  everything okay back home? ❜  bloom is carefully sketching kiko on her drawing pad as she says this,  her hair tied up and out of her face as she mindlessly incentives her bunny to stay still with small treats.  ❛  I know you’ve met my parents.  they’re quite a handful,  and sometimes a little embarrassing,  but they mean well!  would you ever let us meet yours? ❜

@rebelclef​

“Here you go, one freed flute.” A sigh came out with the words as bloom immediately began plucking leaves out of her hair. The ivy had put up a fight for it but after some threatening with Kiko, bribery with whatever the plant food thing Flora had on her desk and plain old wrestling with it Bloom had finally freed Musa’s instrument. “That Ivy really wasn’t playing around.” She loved Flora, of course she did, being roommates with her typically brought the redhead a sense of peace. At the best of times she was reminded of home and her Mom’s flower shop, surrounded by beautiful plants always pumping in a bit of joy into their room. However at the worst of times Bloom was trying to keep Kiko from gnawing on the beautiful plants and fighting sentient Ivy for her shoes and favourite skirts. Her fingers came across a branch, somehow tangled into a curls as she wondered how that was even possible considering ivy didn’t have branches. “I think I might be pulling out leaves for a week though, maybe a bit of soil too.” That stuff was definitely settled around her scalp much like sand after a long day at the beach back home.

stella averted her eyes at the question, hand nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. really, she should be used to the phone calls that filter through occasionally; she should be used to playing messenger between her parents since they were incapable of holding a conversation without devolving into a screaming match. she’s been doing it for as long as she can remember, even before the separation was official. but there were times where playing the messenger just got her caught in her parents’ crossfire. 

                   “     yeah     …     it’s     kinda     the     only     place     in     here     that     reminds    me     of     home     …     the     trees     here     look   a     lot     like     the     one     in     my     backyard.     ”

                   teeth    nibble     on     her     lower     lip,     there’s     a     pause     she     makes     and     silence     envelopes     them   again     (     Bloom     is     used     to     solitude,     being     the     pariah     at     school     made     sure     of     that,     which     is     why,     to     a     degree,     she     prefers     it     when     she’s     down     ).     and     this     place     is     just     vastly     different     from     anything     she’s     ever     seen     –    the     magical     energy     in     Alfea     is     sometimes   overwhelming,     as     it     is     the     fact     that     she     has     no     idea     who     she     is,     where   she     comes     from;     only     a     vague     clue     that    she     is     fearful     to     follow.     Her     mother     (     mother?     Well,     she     is     still     that     –    will     always     be,     no     matter     what     )     would     speak     of     the     importance     of     an    identity;     though     she     did     it     in     regards     to     not     fitting     in     with     the     in     crowd,     not     being     a     long     lost     princess     from     a     demolished     kingdom     that     now     lies     in     nothing     but     ruins.

                 Sometimes,    Bloom     doesn’t     want     to     think     about     it   –     would     want     to     pretend     everything     is     just     a     dream.     How     do     you     cope     with     your     entire     life     being     an     illusion?     How     do     you     cope     with     having     no          true     roots     at     all?

              “     it’s     just     …     a     lot    to     unpack,     you     know?     ”     she     finally     murmurs,     hiding     the     numbness     in     her     eyes     behind     grown     bangs     (   she     hasn’t     been     getting     sleep,     nightmares   about     Domino     seem     to     have     plagued     her     subconscious     ).     they     are     things     she   hasn’t     even     lived,     and     still,     they     feel   as     real     as     they     can     be,     “     a     year    ago     I     was     just     …     well,     bloom     peters,   local     freak.     Then,     I     was     not     even     human     …     and     now     I     don’t     even     know     who     i’m     supposed     to     be”