#shadowedvales

She didn't understand why she was drawn to this place... it looked like a bunch of the other towns she had passed through. Tried to settle down before her mother would find her... every. single. time. Bridget always found her, but she always ran away once again. By the third time, she knew she needed a disguise; by the fourth, she made it permanent. New red hair, the colour of the enemy, but to the rest of the world, she was just another freak in a world of bright neon pinks and greens. Hypocrites, the lot of them, that's another thing Red had learnt.

How adults would look at her with pity, until they realised she was a runaway from somewhere, then they suddenly thought she was troubled, a danger. The letter on her wrist, Rho, was an example that she was a last-ditch hope of a failing program, one of the few success stories... and being the director's daughter had come with perks. Access to some level of schooling, some understanding of speech, and a sympathetic teacher, a teacher who had helped her escape. 'This is for you maddox.'

Her eyes looked around the forest, trees dancing with the wind, birds chirping and that once-familiar pull. Did this place lead to a town? a city? Those always meant trouble... It meant more people... the same tired routine.... till she spots a cabin, though it does not exactly look... comfortable. She was like that nursery rhyme... Little Red Riding Hood.

how's my portrayal ? accepting.

nancy  looks  up  from  her  spot  on  her  bed  ,  jane's  voice  breaking  her  free  from  a  memory  .  she's  clearing  her  stuff  out  of  her  room  ,  getting  ready  to  go  to  college  ,  figuring  out  what  should  stay  and  what  should  go  (  damn  jonathan  for  forever  associating  the  clash  with  that  phrase  )  .  it's  a  bittersweet  day  ,  looking  around  at  everything  that  has  changed  in  her  room  over  the  years  versus  what  has  remained  frozen  in  time  .  her  wallpaper  ,  her  bedspread  ,  the  standing  mirror  .  .  .  her  reflection  ,  her  reputation  ,  her  thoughts  ,  her  attitude  ,  her  very  sense  of  self  . 

what  letters  could  they  be  ?  maybe  her  college  acceptances  ?  the  only  one  that  had  really  mattered  was  the  emerson  letter  ,  but  maybe  her  mom  had  kept  the  rest  to  remind  her  she  had  options  ,  or  to  reassure  her  of  what  she  was  capable  of  .  as  nancy  reaches  out  for  the  letters  ,  she  can  immediately  see  what's  on  them  isn't  typed  out  ,  wasn't  printed  .

they're  handwritten  ,  in  blue  ink  ,  and  breath  immediately  catches  as  she  reads  the  first  sentence  :  nance  ,  you  have  no  idea  how  much  i  wish  i  was  having  a  boring  hawkins  summer  instead  of  bible  camp  .  she  can't  help  but  laugh  ,  holding  the  letters  against  her  and  trying  not  to  cry  .  “  these  are  from  barb  .  back  when  she  left  the  summer  before  high  school  .  we  were  so  mad  at  her  parents  for  sending  her  ,  and  my  parents  said  they'd  send  me  because  i  was  so  up  in  arms  over  it  ,  my  first  friend  leaving  when  we  needed  each  other  desperately  .  it  seemed  so  dire  then  ,  to  be  together  before  such  a  big  event  and  spend  it  getting  ready  ,  finding  the  right  clothes  and  having  the  right  make  up  .  ”she  rolls  her  blue  eyes  ,  finding  it  so  ridiculous  now  .

“  i  was  too  late  to  go  ,  and  her  letters  made  my  summer  .  after  what  happened  ,  i  tried  to  find  them  but  i  never  did  .  ”but  @shadowedvales has  ,  somehow  .  “  you  truly  are  magic  ,  jane  .  thank  you  .  " 

Send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has/has taken of your muse(s)

A POSITIVITY MEME  :  The past week has been rough on the RPC, and sometimes we all need a little reminder of the good that keeps us here. Whether it’s friends, writing partners, or just a safe place to create, let’s celebrate the positives!

🎨 : someone whose creativity you admire

i think @shadowedvales is so creative and talented, her writing should be on display in a museum. frankie could ressurrect me from the worst writers block. she is crazy talented and pours so much love and depth into jane and all her muses. even if we aren't actively writing, just chatting to her about muses has me !!! hyped af !!! i am in constant awe at the beauty of her writing and her dedication to her muses, especially jane (shoutout to terry too, i'm biased) i remember being so scared to make any contact back in like 2023 but now i am so glad we did bc amazinggg. i feel like words don't do enough justice to explain how much i admire ur writing frankie!

✨ : a blog whose energy makes the RPC brighter

nancy quickly moved a stray piece of hair behind her ear before allowing her eyes to re-focus on the papers in front of her. she enjoyed the tutoring and wanted to make sure jane was doing her absolute best. honestly she fully believed they were, but the determined part of her felt like double checking every line just to be thorough. if someone had looked at her eyes they'd most likely see them both glued to the papers and darting back and forth. every now and then little 'hmms,' 'uh-huhs,' and 'yes' sounds would leave her lips.

▪ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ @shadowedvales sent: i've told you everything i know.

Face went into his hands to hide the annoyed expression that he felt beginning to dominate his features. He had to recall that Jane wasn't an informant that he could grill for information, and this wasn't an interrogation. No, she was a girl who'd had her entire life turned upside down by a demented government that saw her as little more than a tool. And while she'd probably seen dozens of small things that could be important, she'd have no way of knowing their significance just because he'd started asking questions. Questions she'd allowed him to ask in the first place.

After a few moments of reprimanding himself, he relaxes back in his seat, hands running down his face before falling into his lap. “I'm sorry, Jane,” he begins, sincerely, “I'm asking you a bunch of stuff because part of me thinks you're the only person who can really share with me things I've always wondered. It's unfair to lay all that on your shoulders when you probably already carry more than you should. Curiosity isn't on the list of deadly sins, but sometimes, I wonder if it should be.”

“One more question,” Mateo stresses the words so she knows he plans to wrap this up entirely. Maybe down the line they'd do something like this again, but he felt both of them could do with a break. “Are you hungry? Because I could eat.” He could always eat.