So Sad, But True

! MARIE LAHAYE

At once she straightened her back, greeting Ursula with a smile both guilty and playful. ❛ Good to know your answer to the age old question: you’d rather be feared or loved? ❜ Marie watched as the woman settled into the seat across from her, looking as poised as ever. If fear was Ursula’s answer, she had no doubt it was the right one too. ❛ You are definitely watching me, ❜ Marie joked, bringing her fingertips to the aforementioned dark circles below her eyes. ❛ I am wearing the right concealer, but I haven’t been sleeping all that well. It’s hard to imagine anyone sleeping like a baby the way things are going around town. And yet… ❜ She leaned in with a bright smile on her face. ❛ You manage to look flawless. ❜

Before Ursula could scold her again, Marie leaned back into her seat. ❛ How are you doing? ❜ To say the woman was something of a role model to her was an understatement. Ursula was everything Marie wanted to become one day. Graceful aging included. ❛ Is this mess making things busier for you at work? ❜

~~~

“My dear sweet child, I thought I made the answer to that question clear ages ago.” A wicked half grin and a wink greeted Marie’s words. “Well now, don’t tell anyone but I’m secretly a sea witch and I garner all my youth from magical potions.” She played with a strand of dark hair, tucked it behind her ear, eyes appraising the girl with the closest thing to concern she was capable of feeling. “I’m willing to bet that whatever it is keeping you awake is entirely out of your control and depriving yourself of sleep does absolutely nothing to remedy the situation. Truth be told I sleep best when I’m anxious or worked up about something. Turning off your mind is like wiping the slate clean, waking up the next day with a fresh headspace better equipped to pick your problems and your enemies apart. You should try tea. Chammomile can do wonders. And the scent of lavender.” 

It had been a relatively simple day for the most part; just a couple of the usual deals that she carried out here and there until, soon enough, she found herself with absolutely nothing to do until her shift later that night at Royal Flush. Truthfully, the last thing she wanted to do was work on top of work ( especially when there were way more fun things to do ), but she figured she would just have to make do to the best of her abilities. Which is how she found herself hanging out just outside the casino, old, battered, and loveworn sketchpad balanced precariously on her knees from her place perched on a nearby ledge as she doodled away with some charcoal; dark stains smudged at her fingertips and one bold line across her cheek. What she was drawing, she hadn’t the faintest idea. It’d come to her later. Maybe.

She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been out there, lost in her own little bubble, when suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone approaching at her side. Thank god. Now she could not only get some company, but also some insight and answers to a question that was currently plaguing her. Once she made sure to shade in a bit more toward the top corner of the page, Madelaine lifted her head up from her sketch pad, shot the newcomer a beaming smile, and without letting them get a word in edgewise, quickly flipped her current work-in-progress over to face them with a little wave of paper and different hues of gray and black. “Quick! Tell me what you see when you look at this. First impressions only.”

~~~

Ursula had an appreciation for art. Those who could wield pen and pencil, paintbrush, clay, and make things out of it. You could learn a lot from artists, the way they took their ambition, their intention, and manifested it into tangible explosions of shape and color. She didn’t have the patience to make pieces of individual art, but Ursula very much tried to mold herself, to make art out of the things she did, out of the very world around her. Everything was a tool, a canvas, to be utilized. She’s got a particular love for charcoal. It’s an under appreciated medium, there’s something inherently dark about the smudges it makes on the paper, something raw and heavy.

“Hmm.” Her eyes take in the unfinished piece. “Looks like an ocean to me. Whirlpools and underwater chasms and shadows within shadows. It’s dark but there’s a comfort in the darkness.”  Anyone who knew Ursula wouldn’t be surprised by this interpretation. The ocean was her favored aesthetic, dark churning waters and toothy sea creatures that lived in the dark dark abyss. “You’re quite talented.” Compliments were as rare as snow in May, especially during a first meeting.  “Do you do commissions. I’ve rather been in need for a new piece for my home and I’ve yet to find anything I like.”

Frankie held her camera carefully in her hands, paying more attention to the view screen than the world around her as she walked backwards. She might’ve gotten the shot that Harriet needed, but there was something about the framing that wasn’t quite right. This job should’ve been easy, a few shots and then done, but Frankie could never quite take just one photo when she was doing things. She always ended up turning it into a mini photoshoot with anyone and everything around her. It had gotten her into trouble a few times, barely scraping by on the deadline, but she felt like she was doing her best. It wasn’t anything like she thought she would end up doing three years ago, but she enjoyed it. It allowed her to meet many different people around town that she wouldn’t have normally met–and she got to do small videos on the side when she wasn’t doing photos for the Chronicle. So intent on her camera, she didn’t realize she’d moved too far back and bumped into someone, spinning with an apology already on her lips, “Oh, shi–sorry, sorry! So sorry, you okay?”

~~~

“Depends on how you define okay.” The words shattered past tightly pursed lips, Ursula glancing down at the white blouse which was now tarnished by a spreading coffee stain. She didn’t like most people when they weren’t in her way...this...this was enough to make her temper begin to boil. “Have I lost a limb? No. Am I in mortal peril? Perhaps not. I do, however, have a meeting in twenty minutes which I no longer look presentable for.” You did not fuck up a meeting. Not when you were a woman, not when every other individual in the meeting would be a man looking you up and down for flaws, for signs of weakness. Sharks in the water, all of them, and if she wanted to survive she had to be ferocious and pulled together at all time. Her eyes flick up and down the girls shirt, not necessarily her style but they looked comparable in size and it would do the trick. “You ought to save yourself the whole tripping over sorry after sorry bit. I’ll make you a deal. Let me borrow your shirt for the next hour and I’ll absolve you of all moral discomfort and forgive you for costing me a three hundred dollar blouse.”

Johnny had never been the type to look a gift horse in the mouth and he knew that the hospital did its best to keep up with the café there in-house. They tried to make sure that pastries were stocked and there was coffee available for visitors and staff alike. He just…wasn’t fond of it. Sure, it did the job when necessary and there was nowhere else to go, but if he had a break longer than ten minutes, he was going to run away. That’s just how it was. Today was really no different as he had snuck away to a coffee shop down the street. It wasn’t exactly the tops either, but at least it was better than what the hospital café served and he had been good. He deserved the treat.

So, after purchasing his hazelnut latte and a scone – because he deserved a treat – Johnny was feeling quite happy with himself, somewhat lost in his own little world until he saw a familiar face. It wasn’t that uncommon, not when you worked at a hospital and saw all sorts of people day in and day out, but he always acted as if it were some level of amazement when he ran into someone around Grimmbrook. Outside of his hospital staff buddies, his own siblings, and the childhood bonds from his youth, Johnny couldn’t say that he knew too many people well enough to consider them friends. Yet, still, whenever he ran into a familiar face, he did his best to put on his brightest smile.

“Hey! Stopping to get your caffeine fix too? You should grab a scone too, they smell great!”

~~~

Ursula was inherently annoyed by people who were, in her opinion, obscenely chipper for no reason. Most people had to earn a smile-like twitch of her mouth, they had to earn a softening of the predatory gleam in her eyes. Come in preparing for battle with an enemy and don’t let down your guard until there’s something in it for you. Not the most moral of sentiments, but then she’d never claimed to be a moral individual. 

In any case she tolerated Johnny more than she tolerated most. Keep a safe neutrality with service workers, they were the backbones of any city or town. The hospital workers, the police, the people who could be intensely useful got your patience and acting skills first. It wasn’t quite a smile that responded to his bouyant greeting, but it could easily be misconstrued as one by people who expected to see their own good natures reflected back at them. “I am indeed here for my fix. I’ll have to pass on the scone though, Johnny, I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

          “Yeah, no, it’s fine,” she muttered to herself when another person walked by and left her on the curbside with more boxes than she could haul up to her apartment than she could take in one go. Most was her equipment, having put it in storage when she first arrived but after closing on the lease to her seemingly new apartment ― Alana planned to put everything in there. What she hadn’t planned on was being left on the street with everything that she brought with her to the country without any additional help. “I’ve got this. I’ve got all of this.”

She let out a small huff before giving up trying to figure out how to move everything as she ended up sitting on one of the boxes instead with her face in her hands. From there she could at least stare at the people that passed her by, wondering once more how she’d ended up here as she glanced out to see the rising mist in the distance that closed in not long after her arrival. “This might be first place in the world that I’ve been that has mist like that, but sure ― this is normal.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ursula had been watching the girl for a few minutes now. Long enough to watch the glares she shot after every passerby that didn’t offer a hand. It begged the question, where had Alana Lopez lived before Grimmbrook? Some rose colored town where you could ask any neighbor for a cup of sugar and expect to get it? Did you have people falling over themselves to offer her assistance? 

Do no help others unless you are also helping yourself. That was Ursula’s mantra. She had plans for Alana, plans that involved winning over her trust, which meant well...the Good Samaritan card simply needed to be played. Her manicured nails are not unfamiliar with a little physical labor now as she leaves behind the little cafe she’d been observing the girl from. Heels click clacked across asphalt, confident intention as she approached the brunette. 

“I assure you that no one in this town thinks this is normal. They’re just in an intense limbo of helpless denial.  Do you want some help with that? That’s an awful lot to try and move by yourself before the window closes on moving about outside safely.”

open starter 001. location: the streets of Grimmbrook

On her way home from the hospital, Edith’s body worked on autopilot as she moved down the street. Fuck it, the pressure in her head was increasing which normally meant the migraine would creep in any moment now. So she came to a sudden halt in her footsteps to tuck a cigarette between her lips and decided to speak once she sensed a pair of eyes on her. “Not my blood,” was all she absent-mindedly offered– not the best explanation there was but her exhaustion prevented her from providing some better reason as to why there was blood on her clothes. It was late. Or was it early? Edith couldn’t tell exactly as she rummaged through her bag looking for a lighter, but Grimmbrook with its empty and quiet streets briefly captured her attention. And honestly? A ghost of a smirk curled her lips at the irony of how peaceful Grimmbrook seemed. “Calm before the storm, isn’t it.”

“Don’t know, looks like the storm might have already hit you.” Ursula’s voice wasn’t chock full of the judgement that was her usual tone. No, curiosity was the far louder sentiment, her head cocked with interest as she surveyed the blood, took in the casual explanation. People who walked around covered with blood could be dangerous, and dangerous people could be exceedingly useful. “You need one of these?” She smoked occasionally but mostly kept a lighter on her for instances such as this. She pulled it out, a deep blue with the image of an eel wrapped around it. “I like to think of it less as the calm before the storm and more as the calm between storms.”

❛ Okay, okay! Fuck! ❜ And his arm gets twisted in a way that feels almost inhuman and for a moment there he fears that it has broken or at least sprained. The side of his face hits the hood of the car  and everything goes white for a brief period of time. His ears are also ringing but he can still hear the man call him a lying piece of shit. ❛ I’ll have it by tomorrow, I swear. ❜  Why is he still making promises that he knows he can’t keep? Most importantly, promises he has no intention of keeping. Everything is fun and games until you make those promises to dangerous people. “You said that two days ago motherfucker.” Fine, so he lied. Shocker.  ❛ Alright, grab what’s in my wallet. I’m-I’m sure it’s all there. Just - get off me man. ❜ 

“I’m sorry, did I ask for your opinion?” God, all these fucking entilted people around here made him want to explode. Or shoot someone. “I did my job,” He figured Ursula would know not to push her damn luck with this shit, considering who he was. “It’s not my fault he has nine lives,” Usually people died from getting shot, “I’m not forgettin’ that you owe me some money still,” She had only paid for half of his hit, and even if the man was still alive, he did his part. 

@ursulagallegos | URSULA GALLEGOS

IT HAD BEEN A WHILE SINCE THEIR LAST ENCOUNTER, but Ursula was the exact kind of woman Marie wanted to be and she took every opportunity she got to meet with and be around her. The fact that she was meeting her for brunch was just icing on the cake. Since making Ursula wait on her was a horrific thought, she made it a point to show up at the restaurant ten minutes earlier, and the hostess took her to a little table for two by the window that made for a great view. 

Grimmbrook seemed to be struck with a wave of bad luck, but since Underland wasn’t a place she frequented that often, Marie was able to hold on to her routine for the most part. There was no telling when all of that would be over — nature didn’t seem to be a fan of this town as of late — though she hoped sooner rather than later. Her father had chosen a strange place to settle into, but it was too late to pack up and leave. Her life was in Grimmbrook, and imperfect as it may be, she didn’t want to change it.

After ordering herself a cup of coffee, she checked her messages. Just in case Ursula had left her one. It was a nice day outside and she didn’t mind waiting on the woman.

Ursula was neither late nor early. She was decidedly and rigidly prompt, though she was far more likely to tolerate early arrivals from those around her than late. She was not necessarily the nurturing type, had never had those desires to mother and have wee squalling infants attached to her at all hours of the day. In the few rare instances that she was able to experience any sort of maternal instinct towards another human, they were always older. Like Marie. Not a child, a young woman, but in such a fragile and vulnerable state of existence. The angles in which she grew now would affect the rest of her life.

Of course she’d chosen an awful time to make Grimmbrook her home, everything bout the town in a state of strangely twisted. This was not a usual environment for a young woman to be finding her foundation within, but that just made it all the more clear that Marie needed to be molded by someone.

“Stop slouching,” she greeted with a firmly playful dance of her fingers against the girl’s shoulder. “Makes you look secretive or lazy or unapproachable and that is not how you want the world to see you. You want the world to feel watched by you, you want it to feel intimidated by you.” She claimed her seat, purse neatly settled beside her and assessed the girl across from her with a sharp gaze. “You look tired. You’re either not sleeping or you’re using the wrong concealer.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Carrie screamed from the back of the wheel after she felt the initial bang of her front bumper into the one before her. Perhaps she’d been in the midst of adjusting her makeup and hadn’t seen the individual stop before her but it was hardly her fault. Fuck, she should have taken her driver rather than insist on driving herself. Lifting the mirror up, the brunette placed her glasses upon the bridge of her nose and exited the car with a pointed gaze on the individual before her. “Would you please like to tell me why the hell you’d stop in the middle of the street?” She was in the wrong, but cows would fly before Carrie Pope ever admitted to such a thing. “Look what you did!” Carrie growled when she noted the initial scratch on her red Porsche. 

Ursula did not make time for people unless they were paying for it. Time was labor, time was missed opportunities with people who might have had deeper pockets and more interesting blackened spirits. Carrie though, she was an exception. The term ‘kindred spirits’ might have felt unfitting for two women who many claimed had no souls at all, but she enjoyed the other woman’s company. Found understanding and even levels of intellect and ambition. 

She watched the little fender bender happen, legs crossed while she sipped her vodka tonic. A smile curled at the edge of her lips because watching Carrie Pope eviscerate another human being was a goddamn artistic experience. She might have been tempted to join in, a shark responding to the scent of blood in the water, but watching Pope work alone was entertainment in and of itself. So Ursula waited, a patient voyeur, till the innocent soul was in tears and Carrie seemed to have aged backwards five years, the sheer satisfaction of destroying someone smoothing out her face, she was practically glowing as she finally joined Ursula at their table.

“I took the liberty of ordering your favorite cocktail,” she greeted, brows raised. “Figured you’d need the soothing bite of hard liquor stat.” 

Name: Ursula Gallegos Nickname: Bitch, Sea Witch, Soulless Harpy Age: 41 Birthday: June 2nd 1979 Occupation: Co Chairman at Triton Law Firm Sexual orientation: Bisexual, Biromantic Relationship status: Single Likes: Money, Power, Gossip, The Ocean Dislikes: People she deems weak, Small talk, Affection, Emotional Intimacy Pos Traits: Ambitious, Intelligent, Passionate, Decisive Neg Traits: Cold, Ruthless, Vengeful, Stubborn