#thread one.

“zeke !!” the brunette jumps on the bed, taking the pillow next to him and grabbing it. “wake up, it’s 12pm.” she hits him with the pillow lightly and then tosses it to the floor. “c’mon, mcsnore --- we have a water park to go to.” she muses, rolling over to plop her head on top of his back. 

Lucky Kratos, he found Zelos first.  The Chosen an an iron grip on his own shoulder, to shield what parts of it had begun to crystalize.  It was so unsightly, and it just had to start where it could be seen, for how covered up Zelos actually dressed.  Terrible.

Victims. Her eyes scanned through the dark and gritty bar, looking for her next victim. It was all they ever were. She wanted drinks and a good fuck, use and abuse them until the first rays of sun reminded her of a new day, new opportunities. Everyone and everything in her life were fleeting, specks of dust that she could wipe clean. Charlie didn’t want to be anything but a quick fix. One night of euphoria. Her fingers clasped the glass of pure vodka before she tossed it back and slammed the glass against the wooden counter. There were prospects, a blonde man who seemed so pure that it’d be a chance to corrupt him or the man already amidst a deep conversation with another woman. Both which give her a high unlike any drug could reciprocate. All thoughts that shattered the moment her eyes found him. She was shallow and he was beautiful; looked like he was cut out of marble. Just like that she had found her victim for the night. 

Someone had once informed Charlie that the best way to seduce a man was with patience, that she was supposed to treat it like a dance where she’d let him lead. All obscure nonsense that belonged to a society that she didn’t care for. When she wanted something, she made sure that it was hers for the taking. She tapped the counter for a refill before she waited for him to find the hazel eyes fixated on him. There was no subtlety in her actions, she was a sharp blade that cut through flesh without any hiccups. When he finally caught her gaze, Charlie raised her hand and slowly turned it into a finger gun, aiming for his heart without flinching. “Bang,” she mouthed as she fired her make-believe gun and then she waited for his move. 

They were arguing. They were always arguing over insignificant things or something out of their control. She didn’t want to go out for dinner with his boss and his wife but rather stay at home in sweats, eat popcorn in front of a silly film; it was ungrateful. He couldn’t support anything she did without whining; he had worked, didn’t she understand that he was tired? In general it was what he wanted that caused each argument. Now they were standing by the side of the road with a flat tire and no signal. Even if they had, Celia was no longer sure who to call. She knew it had been a mistake to return to the home and people she left behind in pursue of what she thought was a necessary factor for her happiness. Her current boyfriend was a spoiled brat, born with a silver spoon hanging in between a sleazy smile and didn’t know how to change a tire. Celia did. But he didn’t have the tools they needed and she was, well, she was a version of herself who didn’t know how to change a tire. Someone who cared more about her manicure and designer heels, would never be caught with dirty feet after a day of walking around without shoes. She was no longer the girl wearing cotton dresses with flower prints and a pair of boots, chipped nail polish and unruly curls framing her face. 

Truth be told, she had no idea who she was.

“We would already be on our way if we weren’t stuck in a place God forgot, who would ever live here by choice?” She would. With careful steps, Celia walked around with her phone up in hopes of a signal so they didn’t have to stay in town longer than necessary. She was terrified and wanted it all to be over. Her eyes glanced over at Nate, leaning nonchalantly against a car that cost more than her parents house. “Will you please help—” Her sentence was cut short when she heard a car approaching and diverted attention to wave for it to stop, and hopefully help. “Be fucking nice,” she hissed over her shoulder as the car came to a stop behind theirs. There was a naive hope buzzing within in hopes that it was someone she didn’t know. Nate didn’t know that her real name was Celia rather than Caroline. She had no intention to spill the truth to someone she wasn’t sure she liked. “When am I not nice?” His voice was nails chalkboard and she turned abruptly to face him, teeth gritting. “Don’t start with me right now, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” 

As she headed out toward the the main city, Charlotte found herself visiting an old coffee shop that she used to frequent. Before she had come here with dozens of friends - however, everything was still so tense, and so she found herself standing in line by herself. After waiting a short moment, she had finally ordered the coffee then began to turn around. It was then had the blonde felt herself gently crashing in to another. “Shit!” She yelled out and pushed herself backward. “I’m so, so sorry! I should’ve been paying attention…” The words fell from her mouth before she even caught a glimpse of who it was before her. But as her light hues peered up, she almost choked on her own breath. - First loves were things that were supposed to be in the past, and for awhile that’s how it was… But what in all hell was he doing standing right in front of her? It was like a blast from the past, although she wouldn’t really consider it to be that great. “Mason…?” Not even worrying about the potential of coffee splashing on the person or anything else, Charlotte couldn’t focus on anything but him.