LAUREL.
“Thanks, baby. I like to believe I’m always beautiful, still I appreciate your words…” Her lack of notion towards a playful tone being offered at Laurel, caused the witch to actually look down at her clothes, while mumbling. “I’m wearing my coat now because it’s freaking cold, but–” And it took actually looking at Violeta and noticing her expression to make Laurel chuckle. “I hate you, except that I really don’t. I love you.”
The sober state was the greatest shield to keep words that accused others to worry about Laurel to herself – after all, everything else in her life, she’d gladly share with anyone she was talking to. Alcohol became her great friend that night, but also the arranger of her following words. “I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I thought: why not? A couple of friends wanted to head to the club, Miles wasn’t heading to my place and after almost dying, you always think that you should seize the moment, right?” She chuckled, shrugging at her own words before mimicking Violeta’s action and sitting over the sand, taking a moment to exhale the smell of the ocean and the beach, in general. Such a peaceful and mesmerizing place. “It must be nice leaving so close to the beach. If I didn’t love my apartment that much, I’d consider moving here.”
-
It had always been quite apparent that Violeta had a huge soft spot for Laurel. She couldn’t help it. Almost as if by fate, they had entered each other’s lives when they were both going through traumatic experiences with their families -- and instantly learned to cling onto to one another. Truth be told, Laurel was probably the closest thing to family Violeta had in Astoria. Besides her dog, of course. Upon hearing her reaction to her teasing, Violeta could simply laugh and reach out to gently pull at Laurel’s leg, “Don’t hate me! I can’t afford to have you as my enemy.” she whined, looking up to wink at the brunette above her, “You know too many of my secrets.” Laurel was like Violeta in the sense that they were both very reserved about their feelings, preferring to deal with them quietly by their own rather than opening up. And although that was fine for Violeta, she hated that trait in her friend. She just worried...a lot. So when Violeta asked if Laurel was okay, she had kind of expected her to lie. But she didn’t. This was her chance to prod a little further, and she wasn’t about to miss it. “You haven’t been sleeping? Nightmares?” she guessed. Death was vengeful that way. You could escape it...but he always made sure to leave little remnants and traces of his scent wherever you went. “Have you been able to find out anything more about what happened?” she asked softly, scared of pressing too much and risking Laurel to shut her out again. Violeta rested her head on Laurel’s shoulder, allowing the sound of waves she couldn’t see hitting against the shore. “Well...you can always use my house whenever you want. Don’t you have keys?” she asked, trying to remember if she had ever needed to make an extra set of keys. The smell of vodka on Laurel’s coat became strangely soothing, a reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in this moment. “I’ll make you your own set.”

















