𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹,　𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔢

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [...]               ꗃ               𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌.

named.         ───         milo   jackson   cain. nicknamed.         ───         his   name   sounds   like   a   nickname   all   on   its   own,   so   he’s   never   earnt   one. aged.         ───         twenty3. date   of   birth.         ───         june   the   eleventh,   2001.   6.47   pm. place   of   birth.         ───         sydney,   new   south   wales,   australia. occupation.         ───         cashier      @      driftwood   records,      +      planetarium   projectionist      @      tanya   b.   heady   museum   of   natural   history      +      planetarium. nationality.         ───         australian. gender      +      pronouns.         ───         cis   man,   he/him. orientations.         ───         bisexual,   biromantic. zodiac.         ───         gemini   sun,   aquarius   moon,   capricorn   rising.

mother.         ───         alicia   danielle   cain,   née   davidson.    father.         ───         robert   paul   cain. siblings.         ───         jacinta   jasmine   cain,   older   sister.    marital   status.         ───         single.    children.         ───         none,   thank   god. pets.         ───         a   three   -   year   -   old   blue   heller,   called   patsy.   his   sister   currently   looks   after   pat,   given   the   whole   ‘impulse   move   to   the   middle   of   nowhere’   thing   he   pulled   off. notable   extended   family.         ───         lots   of   aunts,   uncles      +      cousins   on   both   sides   of   his   family,   which   leads   to   rambunctious   family   get   -   togethers.

visually.         ───         stands   at   six   foot   tall,   all   lithe      +      lean.   very   much   a   sleeper   build         ;         unobtrusively   muscular,   almost   non   -   threatening   until   you   look   a   little   too   hard.   freckles      +      moles   are   a   constellation   across   his   entire   body.   prominent   adam’s   apple,   which   seems   to   grow   whenever   he   nervous   swallows.   a   head   full   of   jet   -   black   curls   that   have   a   tendency   to   fall   into   his   eyes.   speaking   of:   big,   brown,   baby   calf   eyes.   forever   crinkled   at   the   corners   as   a   result   of   a   mischievous,   toothy   grin   that   lights   up   his   whole   face.   truly   unfairly   long,   beautiful   lashes.   littered   in   patchwork   tattoos   all   over,   no   rhyme   or   reason   to   any   of   them.   dimples   punched   into   both   corners   of   his   mouth,   frustratingly   charming.   one   piercing   in   his   ear,      +      a   simple   silver   chain   hangs   around   his   neck,   a   la   connell   waldron.   in   terms   of   clothing,   he’s   very,   very   casual         —         almost   averse   to   formal   clothing.   reckons   he’d   have   a   reaction   if   he   had   to   wear   a   suit.   certainly   hasn’t   made   friends   with   an   iron   in   the   past   few   years.   favours   oversized   t   -   shirts,   graphic   button   -   ups   that   he’s   allergic   to   doing   up.      (      everybody’s   gotten   very,   very   used   to   the   first   three   buttons   being   undone,      +      a   stretch   of   skin   being   exposed.   good   thing   jack   isn’t   here,   she’d   whack   him   upside   the   head.      )      favours   jeans,   dickies   or   uniqlo   trousers.   owns   far   too   many   pairs   of   vans,   but   that’s   neither   here   nor   there.        

education.         ───         graduated   his   local   high   school,   obtained   a   bachelors’   degree   in   media   from   the   university   of   new   south   wales. religion.         ───         agnostic.   knows   he   believes   in   something,   but   he   doesn’t   quite   know   what   yet. socioeconomic   standing.         ───         thoroughly   middle   class.    current   residence.         ───         a   three   -   bedroom   house   shared   with   two   roommates.      (      give   him   his   roommates      !!!      )      a   genuinely   decent   place,   albeit   littered   with   their   collective   shit      +      an   unholy   amount   of   takeaway   containers      +      ashtrays      +      instruments   in   places   they   shouldn’t   be.   his   room   is   decked   out   in   posters      (      framed,   he’s   a   grown   -   up,   or   so   they   tell   him      )      +      fairy   lights   are   strung   up   around   the   room.   his   sister   bought   him   an   oil   diffuser   before   he   left      +      he’s   usually   got   that   going,   mostly   because   it   lights   up      +      casts   a   neon   glow.   vinyl   player   is   forever   going   in   the   corner,      +      he   has   several   crates’   full   of   records.

personality.         ───         shit   -   stirrer   extraordinnaire.   there’s   a   halcyon   joie   de   vivre   that   glows   off   of   milo,   infectious   in   the   way   he   smiles      +      the   echo   of   his   laugh.   it’s   impossible   to   be   down   around   him,   not   when   he’s   forever   making   a   quip   or   an   off   -   colour   joke,   syllables   always   lifted   with   the   ghost   of   an   amused   little   chuckle.   it’s   hard   to   get   him   to   take   anything   seriously         —         eternal   stoner   philosophy   of,      ‘it’s   all   good,   man,   nothing   to   worry   about’.      not   a   single   wukka   to   be   had,   even   when   he   probably   should   have   several   wukkas.   he’s   delightfully   easy   to   get   along   with,   annoyingly   talkative      +      determined   to   make   friends   with   everyone   he   comes   across.         (      also:   local   whore.   again,   neither   here   nor   there,   but   once   a   tremendous   flirt,   always   a   tremendous   flirt.   he   claims   he   can’t   help   it,   but   he   definitely   can.      )         he’s   just         …         a   remarkably   chilled   -   out   person,   whose   life   goals   appear   to   be   coasting   along      +      making   shit   up   as   he   goes.  

mbti.         ───         esfp. enneagram.         ───         type   7w6,   the   entertainer. element.         ───         air. temperament.         ───         sanguine. vice.         ───         lust. virtue.         ───         diligence. inspirations.         ───         nathan   young,   misfits.   jess   mariano,   gilmore   girls.   seth   cohen,   the   oc.   lip   gallagher,   shameless.   richie   tozier,   it.   james   potter,   harry   potter   series. anthems.         ───         dial   drunk,   noah   kahan.   that   sound,   sam   fender.   fortune   favours   the   bold,   gerry   cinnamon.   trouble,   cage   the   elephant.   crush,   ethel   cain.   glamorous   indie   rock      +      roll,   the   killers. likes.         ───         natural   bodies   of   water,   preferably   salt.   loud   live   music,   the   kind   where   you   can   feel   the   kickdrum   in   your   chest.   getting   stoned      +      wandering   through   museums,   galleries   alike.   bonfires.   all   kinds   of   liquor      (      not   keen   on   american   beer   but   he’ll   still   drink   it      ).   skateboard   stickers. dislikes.         ───         supersized   meals.   being   landlocked.   the   engine   warning   light   on   his   car,   which   refuses   to   leave   no   matter   how   many   times   he   gets   the   damn   thing   serviced.   kale.   the   smell   of   cheap   sunscreen.   kombucha.    last   watched.         ───         frasier,   s1   ep   8:   ‘beloved   infidel’. last   listened   to.         ───         the   greatest   view,   silverchair. last   read.         ───         heavier   than   heaven,   charles   r.   cross. last   social   media   post.         ───         an   instagram   story         —         a   short   video   of   a   guitar   riff   he’s   been   playing   around   with.   half   -   thirst   trap,   it’s   posted   from   the   comfort   of   his   bed,      +      he’s   very   clearly   shirtless   behind   his   guitar.   dickhead. favourite   colour.         ───         green. favourite   food.         ───         burnt   butter      +      sage   gnocchi,   with   a   goddamned   enormous   rainfall   of   parmesan. favourite   drink.         ───         if   he’s   in   the   states,   diet   coke.   if   he’s   back   home,   a   crisp   crown   lager. favourite   animal.         ───         dog.

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [...]               ꗃ               𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒.

again,   cannot   b   fucked   with   something   big   so   here   we   go   pt   2      !!!!

born   in   redfern,   sydney.   grew   up   in   the   suburbs   with   his   parents      (      a   tradesman      +      an   english   teacher      )      +      his   older   sister      (      an   insufferable   know   -   it   -   all,   but   his   best   friend   regardless      ).   there’s   nothing   remarkable   to   note   about   his   childhood         —         he   was   a   good   kid,   half   -   decent   at   school   once   he   was   diagnosed   with   adhd      +      medicated   for   it.   very   athletics   -   focused,   despite   a   natural   aptitude   towards   humanities   -   based   subjects   that   he’ll   come   to   fall   in   love   with   when   he’s   a   little   older.   class   clown   but   not   in   an   obstructive   way         ;         everyone’s   best   friend,   blessed   with   an   irresistible   charm.  

he’s   a   little   shit   as   a   teenager,      +      his   sister   spends   entirely   too   much   of   her   time   trying   to   corral   him   into   being   normal         —         to   no   avail.   weekends   are   spent   with   his   friends,   jumping   the   turnstiles   on   the   train      +      flirting   his   way   out   of   any   fines,   charming   his   way   into   discounts   on   drinks   that   he   shouldn’t   be   buying,   sneaking   into   concerts      +      calling   jacinta   to   pick   him   up   when   he’s   blackout   drunk.      (         quite   frankly,   it’s   amazing   that   their   relationship   is   as   solid   as   it   is         ;         he   refers   to   her   as   his   rock,   the   anchor   that   steadies   him   when   he’s   bobbing   through   waves,   unbuoyed      +      unbothered   by   what   crashes   over   him   sheerly   because   he   knows   she’s   there.   she   simply   rolls   her   eyes      +      affects   an   annoyed   tone   when   she   refers   to   her   kid   brother,   eternal   dipshit.      )        

high   school   is   no   challenge   for   him,   especially   when   he   bothers   to   apply   himself.   ends   up   as   school   captain,   captain   of   their   afl   team      +      the   editor   of   the   school   paper.   he   shouldn’t   be   able   to   juggle   it   all   as   well   as   he   does,   but   it   just   sort   of      …      happens.   at   the   same   time,   he’s   fallen   head   over   heels   in   love         —         childhood   sweetheart,   drifted   away      +      turned   adolescent   devotion.   when   he   passes   his   driving   test,   his   first   solo   drive   is   in   his   mum’s   holden   commodore   in   the   middle   of   the   night,   to   go   see   his   girlfriend.      (      side   note:   loses   his   virginity   that   night.   couldn’t   wipe   the   golden   glow   off   of   his   face,   even   when   his   mum   was   giving   him   the   third   degree   about   fucking   off   with   the   car.      )      when   they   graduated,   he   was   privately   convinced   he   was   going   to   marry   her         ;         dreams   of   neat   fences      +      the   smell   of   freshly   -   mown   grass,   kids   giggling   in   the   pool      +      his   arms   around   her   shoulders,   chin   buried   in   the   mess   of   her   hair.  

what   happens:      they   make   a   decision.   he’ll   go   to   the   university   of   new   south   wales   for   journalism,   she’ll   go   to   monash   for   medicine,   they’ll   see   each   other   where   they   can.   love   professed   in   bedrooms      +      the   backs   of   cars   alike,   kisses   pressed   to   the   sweaty   tangle   of   her   fingers   through   his.      (      we   can   do   this,   right      ?      long   distance      ?      couldn’t   imagine   anyone   i’d   rather   do   it   with,   babe.      )      he   browses   jewellers   for   three   years,   sets   his   eyes   on   an   eye   -   watering   diamond      +      starts   a   little   fund.   casual   jobs   worked,   childhood   bedroom   still   inhabited   so   he   doesn’t   have   to   pay   rent.   facetime   calls      +      trips   to   melbourne   where   he   can,   shamelessly   charming   her   roommates   so   they   go   out   on   the   town      +      leave   them   alone   for   the   night.      what   happens:      they’re   twenty   -   two,      +      he   notices   a   hickey   on   her   neck.   it’s   faded,   but   it’s   there.   it   opens   up   a   world   of   observances   that   he’d   had   his   blinders   on   to:   an   unfamiliar   shirt   draped   over   the   back   of   a   chair,   the   rushed   goodbyes   on   phone   calls,   the   distance   that   had   grown,   ivy      +      rust   through   telephone   lines.      “what’s   that?   on   your   neck?   don’t   lie   to   me,   please.”      he’s   a   little   choked   -   up   when   he   asks,      +      she   has   the   dignity   not   to   lie.      “i’ve,   um.   fuck,   milo,   this   is   so   hard.   i   love   you,   i   always   will.   but   i’ve   m-”      (      your   call   has   been   disconnected.      )

diamond   ring   fund   be   damned.   shattered   pieces   of   his   good,   broken   heart   lie   on   the   floor.   gold   -   limned   dreams   are   burst   like   bubbles,      +      in   a   moment   of   desperation,   he   throws   a   dart   at   a   map.   the   first   one   misses,   lodges   itself   in   a   polaroid   of   them   together,   his   mouth   pressed   to   hers.      (      you   said   forever   and   i   almost   bought   it      /      i   miss   fighting   in   your   old   apartment      /      breakin’   dishes   when   you’re   disappointed      /      i   still   love   you,   i   promise      /      nothing   happened   in   the   way   i   wanted      /      every   corner   of   this   house   is   haunted.      )      the   second   one   is   more   expertly   aimed,   lodges   itself   in   some   bumfuck   town   in   rhode   island.   three   hours   later,   he’s   formed   a   plan.

kilmer’s   cove   is   nothing   like   sydney,      +      he   falls   in   love   with   it   for   exactly   that   reason.   he’s   worlds   away   from   his   broken   heart      +      the   life   he   thought   he   wanted         —         what   he   has   now   is   a   degree   that   he   doesn’t   know   what   the   fuck   to   do   with,   an   apartment   with   a   collection   of   roommates   that   he   thinks   might   be   the   best      +      worst   people   he’s   ever   met.   jacinta   keeps   asking   him   when   he’s   getting   over   his   tantrum      +      coming   home.      (      not   anytime   soon,   jack.   sorry.      )

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [...]               ꗃ               𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌.

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [      ...      ]               ꗃ               𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌.

named.         ───         cyra   clemency   forrestal. nicknamed.         ───         none   available. aged.         ───         thirty. date   of   birth.         ───         february   the   first,   1994.   3.51   am. place   of   birth.         ───         dungloe,   county   donegal,   ireland. occupation.         ───         current   rector   at   st.   james’   chapel. nationality.         ───         irish. gender      +      pronouns.         ───         cis   woman,   she/her. orientations.         ───         bisexual,   biromantic.    zodiac.         ───         aquarius   sun,   libra   moon,   sagittarius   rising.

mother.         ───         aoife   marianne   forrestal,   née   o’flannery. father.         ───         sean   donal   forrestal. siblings.         ───         none. marital   status.         ───         single.    children.         ───         none. pets.         ───         none,      +      that’s   probably   for   the   best.   she   does   feed      +      care   for   a   colony   of   stray   cats   that   live   near   the   rectory,   though. notable   extended   family.         ───         none   of   any   note.

visually.         ───         stands   at   a   modest   five   foot,   five   inches.   instantly,   her   eyes   are   her   most   notable   feature         —         big      +      wide,      a   beautiful   chocolate   brown   that   always   look   glossy,   like   she’s   on   the   verge   of   tears.   high   cheekbones      +      a   strong   jawline,   usually   tensed         /         there’s   always   a   muscle   ticking   somewhere   on   her   face.   long   hair   that   reaches   her   mid   -   back,   naturally   curly   copper   that’s   either   left   loose,   woven   into   a   braid,   or   up   in   a   meticulous   bun      (      stray   tendrils   will   always   find   their   way   out   to   frame   her   face      ).   curves   at   her   bust      +      hips,   very   much   an   hourglass   figure.   one   piercing   in   each   earlobe,   nothing   more.   no   tattoos.   no   notable   scars.   almost   always   seen   wearing   a   gold   crucifix   around   her   neck,      +      a   claddagh   ring   on   her   left   ring   finger      (      position   flip   -   flops   depending   on   the   day,   whether   she’s   prayed   yet,   or   whether   one   of   her   lovers   has   just   left      ).   in   terms   of   clothing         —         when   at   work,   she’s   almost   always   in   starched   collars      +      immaculately   -   ironed   slacks,   always   black.   she’s   very   neat,   very   typical   rector   in   the   way   she   carries   herself   at   work.   outside   of   that,   she   favours   flowy   clothing   in   earthy   shades      +      natural   materials.   lots   of   cottons,   linens      +      wools,   skirts   that   end   up   hitched   around   her   knees,   bell   sleeves   that   drape   over   the   fine   bones   of   her   wrists.      (      she   won’t   ever   admit   to   a   collection   of   what’s   best   described   as   scraps   of   jewel   -   toned   lace   in   her   bedside   drawer,   but   it   sure   does   exist.      )

education.         ───         graduated   her   local   high   school,      +      obtained   a   bachelors’   degree   in   religion   from   trinity   college,   dublin.    religion.         ───         catholic.   incredibly   strange   relationship   to   it,   but   her   faith      +      devotion   are   unwavering.   it’s   just   that   she   struggles   to   keep   her   hands   entirely   clean   of   sin. socioeconomic   standing.         ───         middle   class.   no   real   aspirations   to   wealth   or   success. current   residence.         ───         the   upstairs   residence   attached   to   st.   james’   chapel      (      very   hot   priest   from   fleabag   -   esque      ).   it’s   quite   a   comfortable   little   home,   neatly   decorated   with   secondhand   knickknacks      +      trinkets   she   finds   at   various   markets.   her   favourite   spot   is   the   kitchen      +      living   room,   which   is   bathed   in   glorious   sunlight   in   the   summer.   lots   of   posters   on   the   walls      +      rugs   on   the   floor.   you   very   much   get   a   sense   of   her   personality   scattered   throughout.

personality.         ───         upon   first   meeting   with   her,   there’s   a   delightful   sparkle   in   cyra’s   eyes.   she   comes   off   as   warm,   inviting,   compassionate      +      genuinely   interested   in   the   minutiae   of   your   day   -   to   -   day   life.   she’s   talkative,   offers   advice   that,   prima   facie,   sounds   like   it   might   actually   work.   there’s   an   unrelenting   charisma   about   her   that   oozes   out   of   every   pore,   from   the   lilt   of   her   accent   to   the   way   she   throws   her   head   back   on   a   boisterous   laugh.   in   quieter   moments,   you   get   the   sense   that   something’s   not   quite   right   with   her.   that   glint   is   gone   from   shimmering   hazel,      +      she   seems         …         unfocused.   unsteady.   a   little   sharper,   a   little   meaner.   canines   catch   the   light,   caught   on   an   almost   -   unfriendly   grin.   ignore   the   faint   scent   of   gin      +      nicotine   on   her   breath,   she’ll   assure   you   that   it’s   just   a   strange   new   perfume.   ‘dr.   jekyll      +      sister   hyde’,   someone’s   whispered   once,   when   they’ve   caught   her   on   the   tail   -   end   of   one   of   her   worsened   moods,   likely   still   smarting   from   a   barbed   comment   thrown   unthinkingly.   maybe   all   is   not   well   with   kilmer’s   new   rector.      (      maybe   there   never   was   anything   well   in   the   first   place.      )

mbti.         ───         infp. enneagram.         ───         type   2w1,   the   servant. element.         ───         air. temperament.         ───         phlegmatic. vice.         ───         lust. virtue.         ───         kindness. inspirations.         ───         tba.       anthems.         ───         ethel   cain’s   entire   discography.   tammy   faye,   nicole   dollanganger.   punisher,   dollie   rot.   the   secret   history,   anyone’s   ghost. likes.         ───         petrichor.   the   dusty   smell   of   old   books.   persevering   for   the   best   possible   outcome.   cozy   blankets.   bed   socks.   hot   drinks   of   all   varieties.   wandering   around   nature   for   hours   on   end.   antiques      +      secondhand   belongings,   anything   with   a   story.   crusty   bread.   hard   work.    dislikes.         ───         instant   gratification.   uncomfortable   clothing.   the   back   pews   at   st.   james’   chapel         —         close   to   the   heater,   sure,   but   fucking   uncomfortable.   mindless   television.   overconsumption.   hot   weather.   any   mustard   that   isn’t   wholegrain.   soggy   bread.    last   watched.         ───         bridget   jones’   diary. last   listened   to.         ───         this   mornings’   news,   playing   while   she   made   breakfast. last   read.         ───         the   virgin   suicides,   jeffrey   eugenides.    last   social   media   post.         ───         none.   whilst   she   has   profiles   on   social   media,   she   doesn’t   actively   post   on   it. favourite   colour.         ───         green. favourite   food.         ───         pad   see   ew. favourite   drink.         ───         tea,   taken   white   with   one   sugar. favourite   animal.         ───         panther.

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [      ...      ]               ꗃ               𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒.

tw:   heavy   doses   of   religion + religious themes. 

cannot   b   fucked   writing   something   proper   here   so.   have   the   run   -   down   :3

born      +      raised   in   dungloe,   ireland.   only   daughter   to   the   local   pastor      +      his   wife,   who   taught   sunday   school.   wherever   she   goes   as   a   kid,   god   follows         /         both   comfort      +      nightmare,   she   cannot   run   from   him.   she   develops   a   crick   in   her   neck   at   a   young   age,   from   being   bent   over   the   dog   -   eared   bible   that   she   was   gifted   the   day   she   was   born.

weird   kid   in   school.   lovely,   bubbly,   friendly   to   everyone   but   had   a   real   carrie   white   thing   about   her   that   she   didn’t   really   shed   until   she   went   to   uni.   got   a   bit   preachy,   which   didn’t   tend   to   end   well   for   her.   forever   lingered   on   the   outskirts   of   every   conversation,   everyone   a   bit   too   awkward   to   invite   her   in   for   fear   of   ending   up   with   an   unsolicited   sermon.  

fucks   off   to   dublin   to   study   religion   at   trinity   when   she   turns   18.   classic   uni   experience         —         when   marianne   sheridan   says,      ‘classic   me.   came   to   college   and   got   pretty.’      she   was   always   pretty,   yes,   but   all   the   sheepish   awkwardness   of   her   adolescence   falls   to   the   wayside   like   a   costume   that   doesn’t   fit   anymore.   she   embarks   on   quite   the   juxtaposition   of   a   life:   in   daytime,   she   commits   to   her   studies,   almost   always   in   the   library,   straining   the   shit   out   of   her   eyes   as   she   pores   over   endless   tomes.   at   night,   she   ditches   her   books   for   bars      +      bedhopping,   sins   of   the   flesh   don’t   feel   quite   so   impious   when   they’re   trailing   fingertips   along   her   exposed   spine      +      when   teeth   are   grazing   over   someone   else’s   pulse   point.   father   would   be   horrified,   wouldn’t   he      ?      father’s   not   here   right   now.

she   graduates,      +      kind   of         …         flounders,   for   a   while.   she   doesn’t   really   know   what   to   do,   it’s   not   like   anyone   is   really   hiring   pastors   back   in   dungloe,   given   that   her   dad’s   still   kicking,      +      there’s   a   part   of   her   that’s   reticent   to   move   anywhere   else.      (      she   knows   she   can’t   stay   in   dublin,   though.   deems   it   bad   for   her   spiritual   health.   probably   her   physical   too,   given   the   caning   she   gives   her   liver   in   the   4   years   she   lives   there.      )      in   any   event,   she   moves   back         —         starts   taking   over   teaching   sunday   school   with   her   mam,   gives   a   sermon   here      +      there.   mostly,   she   picks   up   work   in   a   bookshop   owned   by   her   childhood   best   friend’s   pa.

+   that’s   life,   for   a   good   few   years.   she   languishes,   she   rots,   she’s   devoted   like   nothing   else,   her   faith   strangles   her      +      the   rebellion   of   her   college   years   dies   a   quick   death.   god   is   always   there,   passenger   princess   when   she   drives   to   the   next   town   over   for   a   plastic   bottle   of   vodka   that   she   keeps   under   her   mattress   in   her   parents’   house.   disapproving   tut,   she’ll   have   to   deliver   something   really   rousing   to   the   elderly   masses   that   polish   a   patina   into   the   front   pews.      (      jesus,   what   kind   of   life   is   this      ?      yours,   my   darling.   relish   in   it.      )

she’s   browsing   the   internet   one   night   when   she   sees   it.      hiring.      rhode   island   is   a   world   away,      +      she’s   half   -   cut,   miserable.   she   applies   on   a   whim,      +      when   her   phone   rings,   she’s   shocked   in   a   momentary   silence   but   she   takes   it   anyway.      we’d   like   to   invite   you   to   an   interview.   does   zoom   work   for   you      ?      no,   doesn’t   know   how   to   use   the   feckin’   shite,   but   she   manages   it.   gets   it.   creases   her   parents’   brow   when   she   says   she’s   moving   to   the   states,   kilmer’s   newest   rector.      may   god   be   with   you,   darling.      christ,   i   hope   not.

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲   𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀:         [      ...      ]               ꗃ               𝗍𝗂𝖽𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌.