# THUNDERSTORM .

[  ✰  ]     STATUS:     closed    [  ✰  ]     TIME  &  LOCATION:     helltown  public  library  ,  morning [  ✰  ]     WHO:     emiko  &  rowan  (  @thvndrstorm  )

[     PROMPT     ]      “  if  you  got  mad  and  killed  a  guy,  i  would  be  your  alibi.  ”

               the answer she receives is a punch to the pitch of her stomach,   it hurts like that,   and it leaves her breathless like that.   she couldn’t even phantom the pain a person could feel—   a mother could feel at such a loss,   so she doesn’t even try,   only silence,   reverent and understanding,   permeates the ambiance for a long moment.     "  i’m truly sorry,  "     is the only thing they mutter after it,   wanting to say more yet being interrupted by their destination unfolding in front of them.   they feel reluctant to go in,   however,   scarlett’s company gives a sense of strange security that encourages them to go on.     "  uh,   huh.   here we are,  "     a small smile,   still tainted by the sadness left by their previous conversation breaks its way into rowan’s features.     "  are you ready to face this madness ?  "     because she’s sure nothing short of it they will find in there.

               everything about diwata is intoxicating at this point,   which is unnerving,   since the touches had been so mild,   so innocent in the eyes of another.   yet rowan baker knows better,   she’s been here before,   she knows the game even if she fails at playing it every time.     "  yes,   you are,  "     the reply is a breath,   heady and low,   akin to a rumble full of desire.    and then her body is arching into the new caress,   into the way diwata’s hand moves southward and rowan’s entire body aches.   in a desperate attempt to contain an undignified noise,   she bites down on her lip and shakes her head,   slightly,   silky locks of ashen blonde bouncing with the motion.     "  i—   i’m not…   i’m not mean.  "     she tries,   she really,   really tries to be coherent,   but the way she’s lead into the wall,   the way diwata handles her is ending every single one of her braincells,   leaving room for one thing and one thing only in the confines of her head.

               diwata’s voice is suddenly like a siren's song,   it calls to her in a way she can’t resist,   it makes goosebumps erupt in her skin,   under the scarce layers of her skimpy clothes,   and all she can do about it is bite her lips and lean into the touch that’s driving her mad.   god,   at what moment before all this started she thought she would have the upper hand ? they’re not able to speak,   not when diwata does it so close to them,   lips brushing the shell of their ear sinfully,   so alluringly they’re afraid the grip in their glass,   the only anchor they had found,   would turn the vessel into pieces if they keep closing their fists around it.     "  never.  "     she finally replies,   and it’s almost a whine,   but she has enough dignity left still,   and it only comes out raspy and low,   breathed against the skin of diwata’s cheek.   said dignity,   however,   is thrown out the window at the order falling from the mechanic’s lips,   because the moment it is uttered and diwata gets away,   she scatters to follow her,   legs shaking and lips swollen under her teeth.    it’s infuriating,   again,   to find them there,   as if they hadn’t made a mess out of her,   yet her pride is a powerful thing and she manages,   somehow,   to look composed when she speaks again,   the chill breeze of the summer night putting a slight damper on her quelching need.     "  you are…   really mean.  "     she utters huskily once she’s close again,   not as close as before yet enough to tear the cigarette away from diwata’s hands,   letting it rest loosely between her lips.     "  i think i need it more than you do.  "

everything else quickly disappears from rowan’s mind at the contact, a touch that even over the flimsy fabric of her high thighs can make her feel dizzy with want. diwata’s hand is clearly, achingly not cold, and the heat it emanates moves up the length of her legs, settling aggravatingly between them. " i notice… " she barely manages, tongue suddenly thick and heavy in her mouth. her hands grip the glass between them tightly, knuckles turning white for a second before relaxing. " i don’t mind, no. as long as you know what you’re getting int— " their words are curt short in a silent gasp, suddenly and embarrassingly the moment diwata’s hand squeezes, and their thighs clamp together on instinct, a soft, breathless god falling from lips so dry they can’t help but keep wetting them, biting them so slowly it manages to look sensual. " careful, boy, " even short of breath, she teases, legs relaxing once more, enough to open a little. whore, her mind whispers in a voice that’s not hers, but she’s too gone to care about slanders engraved on her mind through the years. " you really think you can handle where you’re going ? "

               "  oh,   i appreciate your faith in me,   that’s so thoughtful of you,  "      immediately,   rowan replied with a painfully evident sarcastic lilt,   the beginnings of her smirk turning into a gentle smile when the bartender approached with her order.   she shipped from the glass moderately,   tongue darting out to catch the rebellious drop of beer threatening to slip past her lips.   then,   smirk back in place,   fully this time,     " please,   as if you weren’t doing it already.  "     which was exactly what rowan had intended to happen when they chose their attire for the evening   —   the not so subtle glances,   the barely contained desire,   the promise of something more they weren’t able to ask for yet,   but that it was granted to them anyway every single time they aimed for it.   breath hitching in her throat at the sudden contact she felt,   rowan’s gaze fell to her thigh,   tongue peeking out once again to wet her suddenly very,   very dry lips.     "  what is wrong,   darling ?   is your hand cold or something ?  "     after clearing her throat,   she asked,   somehow managing to sound unbothered and teasing simultaneously.

               it’s infuriating,   truly,   the way diwata gets under her skin.   how her behavior annoys her but also tugs at the corner of her lips in a knowing gesture she’d rather keep to herself.   it gets worse when they get caught with their guard down and their brain barely keeps them from stuttering an answer.     "  you’re insufferable,   you know that,   right ?  "     they retaliate with a huff,   gingerly sitting down on the stool right by diwata’s side.   a raised hand calls for the bartender at the other side of the counter and they order their usual black beer before turning to their unexpected company again.     "  what if i wanted to appreciate the view a little longer ?   don’t i have the right to take my sweet time doing so ?  "

Asa stands like a corpse reanimated just slightly wrong - a tattooed man in an oversized collared shirt with eyes as dark as brackish water. Some fictional scientist's necromantic mistake that fits in just a bit too well in Helltown, Ohio. Despite the Irish lilt to his voice, the eyes that jitter as if he's waiting for someone to tell him he doesn't belong here, what's he doing here, he shouldn't BE here... he is here. In the skeleton of an old mall. And somehow, it feels like home.

The food court is empty, but there's tables, and he's decided to sit for a moment. "How many people d'you think actually... come in here in a typical day? Think you an' I are the only ones I've seen. Well, besides that Nepalese shop's lovely cashier who said I smelled nice."

               amusement colors rowan’s countenance slowly,   it creeps from the base of her jawline to the rest of her gesture hidden behind a handful of soaked fries.   she knows her reply to this and it makes her chuckle before she can even verbalize it.     " look,   man,   i wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you,  "     if it weren’t to keep him company in this strange arrangement of partners in something they have.   even back in the day,   before she left town,   the only reason she came around the place was to get tattooed   —   she’d always hated capitalists symbols with a boiling passion.     "  but i don’t know,   sometimes it’s like this,   empty as an abandoned town in the middle of route number-number,   and others days it’s bustling with… well,   at least back then,   when i still lived here,   it was.  "     they’re erratic in their answer,   not truly interested in the topic,   so they decide to go for something that actually picked their attention.     "  but what about that,   uh,   lovely cashier,   is it the first time you see them ?  "

[  ✰  ]     STATUS:     closed    [  ✰  ]     TIME  &  LOCATION:     helltown  public  library  ,  midday [  ✰  ]     WHO:     theo  &  rowan  (  @thvndrstorm  )

“Tillie!” She snaps back into the moment, twisting in Josh’s arms as Poppy struggles. “Put me down, I have to go home! My daughter, they know, somehow they fucking know and I need to get to her, help please!” @thvndrstorm

               to say everything was a mess would’ve been an understatement because everything around them undoubtedly was.   what put rowan’s nerves on end,   though,   was the fact between the four of them a mess was unraveling too   —   austin was too drunk, too focused on poppy and josh for a reason rowan couldn’t pinpoint.   and poppy,   a few seconds ago silent and lost in the shock,   was now screaming for tillie,   making it harder for josh to drag her away,   to compel her to move along them.   tillie,   rowan thought,   right before processing the rest of her words.     "  tillie ?  "    she asked,   confused,   although still managing to drag austin’s bulky body along.     "  wha— what—   poppy,   who’s tillie ?  "     they already knew who tillie was  (  my daughter!  ),   yet the question fell nonetheless,  almost at the same time their gaze did on josh.     "  what the fuck is she talking about ?  "       /       @austinparker .

"guess you could put it that way." diwata shrugs in response, giving the woman a small smile, for a moment, eyeing her from head to toe before she goes to analyze the source of her misery--that's what the impression the woman was giving, and understandably so. of course, diwata took notice of the woman, perhaps, stared at her from time to time while they were both at the hellcat's den moments ago. this was somehow a small town, not that they know everyone, but the other was someone she hasn't seen before, or at least, encountered once. the mechanic immediately rolls up her sleeves and fans the remaining smoke before leaning down, checking on the source of what could be the problem of the camaro. then they had this idea to strike up a conversation, small talk, curious as to who this person is. "so, you liking this shithole of a town so far?" she asks, chuckling lightly. of course, she'd say that, but for the past couple of years, it was a place she considers her home, for now, given that she doesn't really have anything to come back to when her mother passed, and perhaps...it was the stubbornness in her that doesn't want to give in to what her father wants.

               shadows cover rowan’s countenance for a moment,   digesting devin’s words,   her mind drifting to helltown and its peculiarities   —   he’s right,   joyous and this town have never been synonyms,   and that’s exactly what puts her so on edge.   a soft,   low hum of agreement is the only answer she gives to it,   expression slowly turning amused once more at his input.   a chuckle shakes her throat,   and a nod adds to her agreement before it becomes verbal.     "  yeah,   i was thinking more or less the same,  "     stone slabs and candles and blood sound a lot like her idea,   gruesome at it is.     "  maybe we’ve watched too much television or read too many books,   but seriously,   if it isn’t like that,   i don’t even wanna be sacrificed.  "     they joke,   taking a new swig from their beer.   they feel dizzy already,   eyes engrossed in the fire for long periods of time,   limbs slightly numb.   exactly how they need to feel to bear whatever this shitshow is.     "  but seriously,   devin,   if it comes to that,   you need to get out,   you need to,   you know,   survive to write that book about all of it,   become a best-selling author,   and all that fancy shit.  "     she can see him making it,   sacrifice or not.   there is something inside rowan that simply envisions it in him   —   the success,   the recognition.   things,   in her opinion,   he and his talent vastly deserve.

the more days she spent in helltown, the more she found herself sucked into an endless cycle of trials and errors, decaying the hopes she'd had of this being an easy task. not that it was ever going to be ; coming face to face with her brother had been the single most daunting thought that's ever burdened her mind. but the frustration is growing, an unfamiliar feeling coming from within a girl with the patience of a saint. it's not the first time in her short stay that she's felt things foreign to her. something about the way the buildings seem to sway on foggy air, a pair of eyes looming in her back even though she is completely alone . . . she doesn't like it here. and all she has to go on is a town and a name no one seems to recognize. every business she enters, door she knocks on, it's the same answer again and again. she doubts it will change today, but the destination on her list at least brings her a sense of solace she's been missing for weeks. paper and ink, this is where she feels most at home when away from michigan. the library is filled to the brim with this, stepping in and away from the street already making the dread of a negative response fall from her shoulders. maybe she'll rent out a book or two about the history of the town, help her pinpoint landmarks austin might be attracted to. ❛ pardon me, this might be sudden, but could i ask you something ? i promise it won't be long. ❜ she accosted the first employee she can see working their craft, heart pinching in embarrassment as she hopes she's not disturbing them too much. the work does catch her eye, however, and she can't help the follow up question. ❛ wait, is that a first edition you're refurbishing . . ? that's really impressive. ❜

               rare  were  the  days  rowan  baker  worked  outside  her  office  ,  the  calm  there  was  soothing  ,  and  her  raging  need  for  loneliness  quenched  .  yet  there  were  moments  when  the  silence  was  too  much  ,  when  being  alone  with  her  running  mind  became  a  chore  more  than  a  deliberated  action  made  to  relax  herself  .  in  those  days  ,  particular  as  they  were  ,  she  usually  made  her  way  into  the  open  library  ,  found  a  place  away  from  students  and  scholars  and  sat  down  with  thread  and  needles  and  glue  ,  and  a  worn-out  book  full  of  pages  barely  hanging  from  the  spine  .  without  a  fail  ,  they  always  took  the  time  to  love  the  piece  ,  to  trace  the  lines  of  its  history  with  gentle  ,  ringed  fingers  ,  and  scarce  were  the  occasions  they  got  interrupted  while  doing  so  .  however  ,  not  uncommon  .  as  the  voice  reached  their  ears  ,  their  focus  reluctantly  left  their  craft  to  look  at  the  woman  ,  and  a  barely  noticeable  scowl  adorned  their  features  despite  the  gentleness  in  the  opposing  tone  .  she  doubted  at  first  ,  feeling  particularly  reluctant  to  agree  to  the  request  .  still  ,  when  the  visitor’s  focus  shifted  from  her  unasked  question  to  rowan’s  work  ,  she  couldn’t  help  but  reply .     “  not  a  first  edition  ,  no  ,  you’ll  rarely  find  one  of  those  here  ,  but  it’s  a  very  old  one  anyway  ,  as  you  can  see .  ”     her  fingers  caressed  the  spine  once  more  ,  before  finally  opening  it  to  reorganize  the  loose  pages .     “  what  did  you  need  to  ask ?  ”     they  reminded  them  with  a  question  ,  always  guarded  about  people’s  interest  in  her  businesses  ,  in  her .