#serendpitous

༄.° HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE. ( accepting! )

❝    Hm.    ❞  For  effect,    he  sighs  again.    Toni  Morrison  sits  open  in  front  of  him,    spine  cracked  and  pages  well  -  loved,    but  he  isn’t  any  closer  to  perfecting  his  syllabus  than  he  was  when  he  started.    Has  it  been  four  hours  now?    Edward  makes  a  show  of  yawning,    the  knuckles  of  one  fist  pressed  politely  over  his  gaping  mouth,    the  breath  expelled  all  for  the  sound  it  makes  whistling  against  his  teeth.    They  might  have  grown  wet  with  venom  if  he  hadn’t  fed  the  day  before.    Or  if  the  library  didn’t  smell  like  anxious,    unbathed  freshmen  during  hell  week.    Rory’s  watching  him  carefully;    he  blinks  at  @serendpitous  when  their  eyes  meet.    ❝    Oh,    are  you  really  concerned  for  me?    ❞  Edward  leans  back  in  his  chair  and  closes  Song  of  Solomon.    ❝    I  thought  you  had  a  synthesis  to  write.    How’s  it  coming?    ❞

what character(s) do you think i could write well? accepting.

* continued from here! ━━━━ with @serendpitous.

silence settles between them for a heartbeat,   or two,    an old friend that is not entirely unwelcome.     she does not rush to fill it.     instead,    she studies allison,    gaze steady,    brown eyes glinting in the dark.     a void.     the word settles inside her chest,    sinks down to the pit of her stomach.     she remembers the void,    knows it intimately,    not as a mere idea but as something tangible,    real.     the kind of experience which both comforts and terrifies.     that emptiness which had followed death     —     it had brought peace,    had it not?     had released her from her anger and her desperate need for revenge.     though she has built a life since then,    some dawns she yearns for the simplicity of oblivion,   quiet in the spaces left behind by the moon.        

harvey stops walking a few feet behind her, the leaves of the forest crunching under his boots. his soft eyes follow the winding path ahead, a faint flicker of candlelight can be seen in the distance between the trees. it's a trap and a stupid one. she's right and the subtle nature of it is all the more irritating. very on brand for greendale. very on brand for the weird witch girls or whatever they called themselves. sabrina's response is enough to get a small laugh out of harvey, if maybe a bit dry for his usual self.

“ i mean . . . it feels a bit on the nose even for them, doesn't it? ” he lets out a sigh. “ mysterious path in the woods. check. creepy candles. check. some smug, snarky comment probably waiting for you. ” harvey slides his hands into his jacket pockets, an attempt to stay warm from the cold breeze near sweetwater river. despite her courage, he can't help but show his concern. “ . . . but you're still going toward the danger, brina. ”

his gaze turns to her and he takes a step closer, reaching for her hands. if he can't convince her to turn back, harvey was willing to join her. “ and we both know i am not letting you walk in there alone. so are we doing this or what? ”

walk with me here....

allison argent + trinity santos

rory gilmore + spencer reid

sabrina spellman + edward cullen

sabrina spellman + blue sargent

tashi duncan + patrick zweig

But today there is silence. An absence, a void. The future is closed off and Mantis is left with the unpleasant sensation of having to wait. How human, how normal, like an old habit one would've thought they'd long grown out of.

She hasn't looked back in so long, so wrapped up in visions of tomorrow. Perhaps it would do her some good to remember that before she'd been touched by the stars, she was raised here on Earth.

@serendpitous: “I don’t like you nervous. It’s unsettling.”

Lois is Earthly in her speech, in her thoughts. Mantis thinks of Vietnam. Thinks of the sun. Thinks of how quiet it is in her head when it is just her and Lois' thoughts alone. “You don't like a lot of things, Lois Lane. But there is no need to worry. Yet. A silent universe can mean many things.” She presses a fingertip to her temple, as if the touch can alleviate the silence, can bring the galaxy back into her head. “Peace.” She still can't feel the threads of time, of what lies ahead. “Or else an approaching storm.”

i let out a short laugh and grab the mixing bowl back from her. utterly, completely, playfully offended by her actions. “ okay, first of all . . . rude , ” i say, starting to whisk the mixture inside the bowl like i've got something to prove. i have flour all over my face and hands and the batter looks . . . questionable but i ignore all of that for the sake of my dignity. “ i happen to know exactly what i'm doing. i just don't believe in being tied down by the burden of measurements. ” a moment of genius or defensiveness? “ it's called instict, bells. ever heard of it? ”

i lean over the counter, focusing on the recipe that was handwritten by some distant relative of mom's. it doesn't do much good to help the situation. i decide to pour a bit more milk into the bowl either way. “ besides, this is how all great chefs start. ” a mischievous grin. “ a little chaos, a little risk . . . ” i trail off when the batter splatters onto the counter a bit too much. ugh.

the color of the batter doesn't look promising. still, i push forward hoping for the best. “ worst case scenario, we just tell everyone it's supposed to look like this. ”