#splitrivers

Chrissy blushed a bit as she realized she had in fact been staring at Sydney. She always admired Sydney, how seemingly comfortable she and Will were together. Even in death, they had each other and sometimes Chrissy wished she had someone like that. Someone who knew you, inside and out and still loved you despite your flaws. She craved something like that. Even though she had been dead for almost forty years, the girl still didn't consider herself a part of "the group."

It seemed like almost everyone had someone in the afterlife but her. Will and Sydney had each other. Rhonda had Quinn. Wally had Maddie and Charley, who had Yuri. Matt had....well, Matt was still a mystery to her, honestly. But Chrissy? Chrissy had herself. Had she been alive, she would have had her brother to confide in, but that ship had long sailed with her untimely accident.

SIMON DIDN'T NEED a Wally-sized ruler to measure how much he cared about Maddie. Hell, being stuck between the veil of life and death should've soothed his worried mind like a balm. The worst part was that the nagging thoughts had split his mind open. An open laceration of the mind to match the one in his palm. Wally was reactive and loud, always taking the most space in any room. Obviously not a bad thing since the big lug went out of his way to make space for Maddie. That was all that mattered to Simon, but it made him doubt whether he was making enough space for her.

He hung out at the bus stop like before, waiting for her. Always waiting for her. At least he had that constant in his life as a grounding tempo. The line of cars in the pick up area thinned out. The buses were all deployed and left Simon with his leg half hanging off the bench's edge.

will grips her hand like a vice, the prop skull tucked into the crook of his arm. they stand on stage – a place they've haunted for the last fifteen years with dozens and dozens of reimaginings, turning full productions into two-man shows and judging the living theatre kids like the harshest critics – and they are bathed in a blood-red spotlight. he's already been in his scar once and he does not want to go again.

he hadn't thought death could get worse. nearly twenty years stuck at school, working through the trauma of his guilt, killing time because they had literally nothing else to do... at least, not until maddie had showed up with her little murder mystery. but to find out his own personal hell was waiting for him in the exact spot he had died? it's sick, a fucking nightmare, and not even the presence of his best friend is helping assuage his fear of it.

wally regards charley, then, trying to find that sweet spot between solemnity and sympathy as he offers a smile. as he breathes in, he tries to channel everything mr. martin had imparted on him in the last decade, lands a solid pat to charley’s shoulder and says, “ who knew someone could be allergic to french fries, right? ”

"Ah-ah-ah. That's one of the things you don't ask, y'know?" The better part of the morning had Cherry jogging around the track to blow off steam, but by now she'd migrated to a seat at the edge of the field. "Same thing as weight or politics. It's, like, a faux pas."

She squints up into the sun. Ignoring Gemma was never the intent. Her nay-saying only serves to buy more time to put together an answer.

With a small grunt, Cherry falls back, limbs spread wide, ready to make a grass angel. If she keeps her eyes on the sky, it's easy to pretend she's somewhere else. She doesn't have to try to escape the campus to go on a vacation in her mind.

"Sure you don't mean it that way, babes, it just sounds kinda accuse-y." Her nose wrinkles. It comes off more harshly than she'd meant it. "I'm not a mustache-twirling villain, and I'm not an actress. I don't have 'plays'." Not anymore, at least. There was no popularity contest for the dead, and anyone who would have shunned her if they'd known her true colors back then had long since graduated. Maybe some of them were even so blessed as to eke out a ghostly existence beyond the school. How far could they roam? If being caged was her punishment, it was surely deserved.

She pats the turf beside her. It's an invitation.

"Right now? I'm vibing. Sky's so big. Could be the sky here, then I close my eyes, and it's the sky back home." She closes her eyes to demonstrate. "First home, I mean." One eye opens. She turns her head toward Gemma. "Brazil." Back to the sky. "Didn't miss it so much when I was alive, but now that I'm stuck here? Wisconsin has a serious lack of samba." Her sigh is wistful, if exaggerated. It's probably okay to admit this much, if only because it's too late for her to admit that she never understood the question in the first place. It had caught her off-guard, the words so startlingly pointed from someone so gentle and so genuine.

"That's my play," Cherry decides. "I've spent decades subliminally messaging everyone, and eventually, we'll all band together to have our own Carnaval do Split River." She almost feels bad, twisting the sentiment around, but a vague question gets a vague answer. That's how the game works, the way it's always been. "I'm also scheming to get everyone on board with The Hidden Fortress for movie night. Squint and use your imagination, and it's totally Star Wars."

She props herself up on an elbow and leans toward her curious companion. "You must have a play if you're asking about mine." Sorry, Gemma. Cherry can't show her hand that easily, but there's all the time in the world to break down barriers.

simon and maddie — send me ‘♡’ for a ship aesthetic of our muses/alternatively ‘ ♫ ’ for a friendship one. (secret third option)

Send me ★ + a name of another muse / character in my muse's canon and they'll talk about their relationship with them / @splitrivers

"When I think of Rhonda, I think of all the ways she's sharp and quick. She's sort of like a papercut. Sometimes innocuous. Other times it hurts like heck, but nobody ever dies from one. Not unless you let it fester and it gets infected. I think that's the special thing about her. No matter how frustrated I get with myself or our situation, she always reminds me to let things go or I'll let it infect my mind. She is really kind in that way.