iii. farah burnam‌.

a deep exasperating sigh left her lips whilst her shoulders slouched forward, rolling in as she inaudibly groans from the current frustration. her features were quick to pull a look of disgust, eyes rolling to the back of her head like she’s been possessed by the devil at the other’s suggestions. “i’d rather not,” she responded, her gaze refusing to make contact with any of the usualy group of rowdy males seated at the next booth from theirs. they do not deserve any recognition, not from farah at least. the dark haired brunette’s not afraid of them, or in any way intimidated by them at all — hell, if anything, they should fear her, for forgiveness would be an awfully hard thing to compromise or give, if they ever dare to lay their filthy hands on her. “ask men for favours, no matter how big or small, and they’d expect you to get on your knees.”

a light shake of her head with a breathy chuckle.  ‘  who said anything about asking –– let alone talking to them?  ’  simple-minded, finding pleasure in the wrong places.  farah seemed like she’d be more fun.  ‘  i’d say they DESERVE to lose their lighter in a place like this.  you wouldn’t even have to waste more money by buying a new one.  ’  with raised brows, amity makes her eyes wide, demure.  ‘  and you’d get to see their reaction to your rejection.  really, it’s just a fun fest all ‘round.  ’

iii. simon crail‌.

Lips fall apart at THE HORRORS coming from the manifestation of beauty, god’s grace shaped into a golden shell of a girl he’s always taken to be admired by everyone around her. He sees the age of innocence in her stare, wondering how it feels like to have it all, to be able to reach for the stars and grab them with ease. Had he valued those kind of things, sure, Simon’s act around Amity wouldn’t have differed from the one of all the boys’ he couldn’t quite understand. But at the end of the day, pretty or not, he remains unbothered. Right now, he feels a bit uncomfortable. ‘ OKAY — I mean . . would we actually, though? Because I ‘dunno how I feel about animal cruelty. I don’t like talking to cops, either. And if someone catches us killing their beloved weasel, they’d call the cops on us, wouldn’t they? But if you’re interested in biology like that, we could try dissecting a frog. Or a snake. I . . don’t like those. ‘, Simon rambles, shuddering at how slimey some of earth’s creatures are. ‘ Not really. Though he did stink. Soccer player, I think. ‘

visage defaults to a muffled ease.  jaw still clenched, yet her eyes bloom with life.  ‘  of course not, i would NEVER make you do anything you didn’t want to do.  you know that.  but they don’t know that.  and that’s what really matters.  ’  this will fly over his head.  it’s endearing.  a note about learning a new mask which would help him understand better.  ‘  you should say that same spiel if they ever talk about their snakes though.  ’  amity knows of men with snakes and hopes simon speaks to one of them.  then something swells in her chest, entwines with her ribs, spirals up to her throat like vines.  suffocating.  scarlet lips form syllables of atonement before she can stop them.  ‘  if we get in trouble with the cops, you let me do the talking.  your inability to decipher euphemisms will just get you into trouble.  and i don’t think papa would be too happy about that.  ’  her thought process stops there, thinking back to what he said before.  this happens around him: not fully thinking of her response.  and yet, annoyance doesn’t thrum through her veins.  odd –– just like him.  her father wouldn’t approve.  she won’t let him discover this friend.  ‘  would you do it if i asked you to do it?  ’

iii. caoimhe walsh‌.

the tightening of her jaw could only be detected by the small twitch present at the sharp corner of her jaw line. leave it up to her of all people to switch an insult on its head and directed it back in a borderline positive light. if the undeniable anger bubbling up within the centre of her chest, kiv would have been amused. given her some credit. but all the words left was a sour taste in her mouth. she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it, but it wasn’t as simple as that.‘ if only it was you that had given you what you wanted. anyone could do exactly what they wanted if they had daddy’s last name and money behind them— they should really be circling your daddy to pick clean. never settle for second best right ? ’ her eyes flickered over towards amity once more as a sickening false smile was flashed over lips as eyes settled upon the smile pulling across the other’s lips. could she grace her question with an answer? most definitley, but she allowed it to slip past and settle in the air as rhetorical. though if she was honest, the attempt at relieved moments spent together had pressed buried memories to the forefront of her mind. hours spent in rooms with someone she’d regarded as a friend. but last night she checked, friends didn’t create fictional stories about one another. turning, her hip rested against the counter top as eyes focused the girl head on, ‘  i’d suggest buying a dog.  — — —  that way there’d be something completely under your control and dependent on you, seems the type of thing you’d revel in.  ’  a pause came as her head tilted to the side. ‘  maybe a poodle ?’

amazing to think of how the american dream TAINTS you like this; how it deludes you into thinking people are lesser because they didn’t work as hard.  hard work smells of cuban cigars and rich mahogany.  not blood, sweat and tears.  perfecting the veil of innocent simpers and hymns of pliancy?  apparently, that doesn’t qualify as hard work.  so that’s what kiv is.  deluded.  a slow head tilt.  ‘  but they can’t do those things, can they?  they’re stuck scavenging; they’ll always be scavenging.  and they’ll have to scavenge from me because i am better than them.  i must be special like that.  my papa just LOVES me so much to give me his name.  ’  cadence holds no inflection; alabaster features frozen in indifference.  she wants to scratch this scab raw.  an indulgent grin, like a sneer that bears her maw.  ‘  you could have my last name, if you wanted.  i’d love to share it with someone.  not having a sibling is exhausting.  ’  now, it’s a litany of  ( or a mother )  pooling against her lips.  THAT melts her disposition a fraction.  untapped grief flows to her eyes, never spills.  a twitch.  ‘  now how could i, not the best person, control someone?  i’m woefully disadvantaged in that regard, i’m afraid.  ’  then another twitch.  fuck.  no, make this about her –– about her emotions.  she can still easily coo like a dove, taunt this beast of strident tones.  ‘  what if you taught me?  just like you taught me to make those... crosses.  from a saint.  ’

iii. penny hollebrook‌.

Penny couldn’t help but roll her eyes dramatically at the other. “Like you’d have the guts to vomit on my favorite combat boots.” She replied coolly. Still, she backed up just a step, just in case the other decided to prove her wrong. She couldn’t afford new shoes at the moment, and she bet the other knew that, too.

beady eyes follow her step backwards.  funny.  it spurns a chortle, sharp and mocking like an impatient heel incessantly tapping.  amity raises a hand to her mouth, disguising it as a cough.  ‘  you don’t need guts, penny, just a large breakfast and an overactive gag reflex.  ’  serenity becomes her; a tranquil softness eclipses her cold eyes.  ‘  i thought you learned that, years ago.  i might’ve even been there to witness it.  ah, those were the glory days.  ’

iii. abel boucher‌.

It wasn’t Abel’s fault that the bathroom was full. Because of this, he was pacing back and forth, up and down the small section of area in the grocery store where the small rooms were located. The blonde stranger he hadn’t even noticed started speaking and Abel slid to stop next to her. “I – I wasn’t trying to bother you. Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the linoleum floor for a moment. “Are you alright though? You said you were going to throw up…?” His voice raises upwards as he poses his question, eyes lifting – alike the sound – to look at her eyes only for a moment before looking away slightly, not wanting to make solid eye-contact anymore.

scared witless, by an INNOCENT woman like her.  wouldn’t even maintain eye contact.  interesting.  he doesn’t even know her.  rigid figure melts into docility; lips already forming the syllables of pleasantries.  mother raised her with proper manners.  it’ll make his surmounting tension all the more entertaining.  ‘  thank you for stopping that pacing, it was just going to make me sick.  ’  her voice bounces, all musical and soft.  all TENDER and mild.  she decides bleating about horrid conditions will paint her the sympathetic hero.  ‘  just like those bathrooms.  horrible stalls, even worse smell.  i’d hate to get an infection down... well you know.  ’  she tries to breathe life into his embarrassment by emulating her own.  her vacuous stare never wanders.  ‘  i’m sure the men’s are much more clean though.  ’  now how could that be, she thinks bitterly.

iii. farah burman‌.

“oh, fuck me.” she curses quietly as the joint moved in between her lips, only to remain dangled in place, her eyes simply fixated on its tip as she attempts to, yet again, flicker a spark with the lighter in hand. she admitted defeat after another try and with desperation whirling inside her, she was left to hope the other was able to provide her with the help she needs. “got a light?”

‘  i’m afraid i left my matches at home, dude.  bummer.  ’  a jest.  people never really laugh at them.  though, it does spark a malignant smile; a glint in her eye like the smiling edge of a blade.  ‘  why don’t you just –– borrow one from one of the guys?  i assure you, they will not notice a thing.  ’

iii. valerie brown.

“I can make your life a living hell, so I would not mess with me ever again!” Valerie shouts aloud in the practically empty building.

John’s Bakery was the location, a certain annoyed blonde is who most of the setting’s attention is on. Not that this is anything new in Mansford; Valerie is used to the whispering and the judgemental comments that people don’t think she hears. An eye-roll is prompted while the woman carries her basket of sweets. Eventually, when Valerie finds herself in the ‘salad’ area, a mumbling coming from beside her causes her to snap. “Look, I don’t talk shit about all of behind your back, so it’d be fucking nice if I didn’t get it every day, too.” When she sees that they’re doing something completely different, her eyes widen just slightly in surprise, but there is no apology. “Maybe if you didn’t mumble your words, then I wouldn’t be confusing you for doing something else. As in, dragging my name through the dirt.”

valerie –– always the visibly conceited one.  doesn’t she know you have to settle into talking about yourself?  she sounds like a bellowing boar.  how unattractive.  and in a public store, no less.  no wonder the reputation precedes her.  still, malign derision swathes itself in playful mirth, with a careful smile on her face.  ‘  i do not mumble, i perfectly enunciate my words.  i was raised right like that, weren’t you?  ’

iii. julia hanson‌.

“you treat me like an airhead.” julia finally tells amity, never before being able to speak up to the girl that sat in front of her. “you act like you’re my only friend – like i should just be okay with you telling me that i’m owning up to nothing.” she’s not sure what to expect as backlash from finally stating her opinion. the blonde knew nothing good was about to come from this. 

now, hurt unfurls into comfort.  now, you care more for her emotions than yours.  she’s in trouble, YOU’RE going to help her.  yes –– and she hopes julia doesn’t disappoint with those retorts.  that brain of hers could rival amity’s.  if only she would learn to use it like a SCALPEL, instead of a hammer.  ‘  what would make you think that, lia?  ’  soft and muffled; she speaks like a blush.  it’s how comforting works, isn’t it?  amity inches closer, stare wide and alert.  ‘  tell me, i want to be a better friend.  you deserve a better friend.  and i’m just so...  ’  finally, she looks away.  people shy from their flaws.  pathetic.  ‘  obtuse sometimes.  ’

iii. beau thompson‌.

“i’m not demanding shit.” beau tells the girl, inhaling deeply as he listens to her speak. he crosses his arms against his chest, attention still focused on the blonde as he glances away. “bring what up? what the FUCK are you talking about? you think i’m stalking you?” 

not the outburst she was hoping for.  boring.  ‘  of course not.  just wondering why you asked if i’m going out tonight.  ’  doe-eyes never stray from his form.  maybe she should turn up the volume; have HIM make a bigger scene than just an inability to maintain eye contact.  she leans back against the table with a smile impish enough to seem teasing.  ‘  so, which one of your parents taught you how to be a burn-out?  ’

iii. lucy frear‌.

      chapped lips press together in a pout, she’s all sunken shoulders and depleting verve. if only she were a decade younger, or maybe two, then maybe she’d be allowed to throw a fit. instead, she’s left to suck in her breath, so that her cheeks go all gaunt-like, leaving her to respond with a modicum of dignity. ‘   it’s the principle, amity. i can’t - you can’t claim that you’re self-made if the money ain’t your own.   ’ she sighs, frustrations exposing inflections of a southern drawl. 

you.  she’s talking about you.  faint crinkle of her brow and CHANGE in her heart beat register as hurt.  amity decides it’s a malfunction in herself.  lucy would never speak about her like that.  she’s just confused about how the world works.  yeah, that’s the problem here.  ‘  what does it matter whether you’re self-made or not?  money is money.  people who talk bogus are just jealous they couldn’t do it too.  ’  why wouldn’t she help her even if lucy says no?  that never stopped her before.  ‘  like you said, it’s just a raise.  just a little bit of help, from your friend.  the beatles would be proud.  ’

I never meant to annoy anyone.

iii. harriet clancy‌.

hattie blinks at the sudden outburst , eyes fluttering to look at her doc-marten clad feet. “ well , i’d prefer it if you DIDN’T. these are brand new. ” she replies with a small smile growing on her lips. “ i wanted to check that you’re alright. you look kinda… ” she trails off , suddenly aware that what she’s ABOUT to say might land her in trouble. “ lonely. ” she says instead , leaning against the wall opposite her.

a muffled loathing INFECTS her mask of insouciance.  a blemish on her perfect visage.  disgusting.  she needs to dig it out.  she needs this bitch gone.  ‘  i’m fine, quite shocked actually.  ’  her smile doesn’t stretch as languidly across her face as it should.  fucking bitch –– who does she think she is?  ‘  would you like to learn about lot and his daughters?  the bible really is grody to the max at times.  ’

iii. simon crail‌.

Immediately, his motions come to a halt. Eyes squint, combined with his scrunch of nose it soon manifests his feelings toward vomit on his shoes, out for the world to see. Images of green and beige glibber flicker across forest tones, if he continues to allow for more to come, he’ll have her beat in the act within MERE MINUTES. There’s nothing worse than vomit, he takes a mental note, perhaps snot, as it adds a degree of stickiness that urges a sudden, audible, gag. Her previous comment goes over the boy’s head, comparisons aren’t exactly his forte and he wonders whether he should inform the girl that mankind derived from mammals and apes. ‘ No. ‘, Simon simply states, tone quiet and monotone. ‘ I just — some guy asked me about you. Asked if I knew you, said yes. Went on and wondered if I was burying the weasel when you’re around and . . I told him I only have a dog. No weasel. People are gettin’ weirder. ‘

watching his expression contort from impassive to disgust amuses her.  it doesn’t hold the same malice, like when she elicits yet another match of clenched jaws and grit out insults –– if you could even call them that.  does she mind this?  the move from malicious glee to just... GLEE.  ‘  you always have such interesting conversations.  ’  her head tilts downward; eyes frosting over in a swell of hatred.  it bleeds into her cadence, harsh and sterile like a full stop.  ‘  next time, tell him you love dissecting weasels.  cutting them open to see how they work.  i’d have to help you too – just to make sure you don’t throw up.  tell him it’s almost HIS turn, then leave.  i’m sure he’ll leave you alone after that.  ’  men.  and now it’s her features that distort into revulsion.  ‘  did he do anything else to you?  ’

iii. caoimhe walsh‌.

a mere moment spent hovering by a counter and suddenly she’s turned into a borderline stalker—it wouldn’t surprise her if that little false claim ended up floating around town later. apparently no one could dare be within 5 meters of the blonde without it having something to do with her. always so conceited.  a small scoffed breath left her lips as her head shook slightly, ‘  if that means you could be on your last leg then — wish i was.  ’ though words weren’t projected, she hardly tried to hide the ill wish via muttered words. eyes wandered over to where the girl once called a friend was perched before her head tilted to the side before her eyes flickered over amity’s figure, ‘ can’t stomach anything other than caviar now, huh ?  pity. poor debbie, she’ll miss your smiling friendly face around here——can’t say the same thing for anyone else though. ’

a heavy pause; an intentional pause.  it hangs like a lonely apostrophe, lingers like a stifling blush.  harsh bites that never try to hide themselves as itchy band-aids.  cute.  she misses this one.  gentle inflection gorges upon the silence, like flesh in soil.  ‘  i always wondered if scavengers would pick me clean after i died.  ‘cause they don’t know any better on how to get what they want.  i guess now i know.  ’  now she smiles.  condescending.  c’mon kiv, c’mon.  bark louder, the neighbours can’t hear you.  ‘  that’s awfully presumptuous, kiv.  i know i would appreciate a smiling face around –– keep me from falling into horrible thoughts, right?  ’  blank stare breathes out with her sigh; nostalgia nestles within her chest.  ‘  i do miss when you would come to my house liv.  it’s awfully lonely in those spacious, cold rooms.  ’

iii. harper rowe‌.

      harper scowled at the young woman – she was used to people like her from high school and her intolerance for said people didn’t grow over the years. quite the opposite, in fact. “i’m not circling you, you’re in my way. and please do us all a favor and keep your acid gunk inside your body.” 

‘  so eloquent,  ’  she remarks.  indifference paints a SUBDUED smile on her face.  ‘  i would recommend speaking with the same eloquence next time, instead of just pacing around them.  you’re so small, i’d hate to see you hurt.  ’

iii. lucy frear.

       harsh digs fly straight past her. well, almost. ‘   they’re canvas too, they’d soak it all up. just imagine it. really think about it. fucking disgusting.   ’ she nearly gags at her own mental image she’s so expertly procured. blue eyes squeeze together, blink it away. she fails to stop circling. ‘   i just really think i should be paid more. you can’t get fired for asking for a raise right ?   ’

everything falters – the blonde’s NERVES are making her pace.  amity’s poised stature relaxes; her jaw unclenches.  would lucy reprimand her arched back?  lucy’s posture is the same.  hunched and loose.  yet she’s so tense.  ‘  luce i could help.  you know i could.  will you ever let me?  ’  the smile is in her eyes rather than upon her lips.

iii. julia hanson‌.

a blank stare follows amity’s comments – she didn’t quite understand why the girl was being so H A R S H. but, that was the way she often showed her love. “it’s called the color purple. you probably wouldn’t like it. you’re too narrow-minded for it.” and she shoots it all right back at the girl, facial expression lightening as she grins. 

she wrenches surprise from the depths of her mind.  a heady cocktail of a faltering smile and an open mouth of hurt.  it even rouses a catch in her throat.  PERFECT.  amity cares about this blonde, just like she cares about her father.  ‘  what’s the problem, lia?  ’  eye contact.  the brunette means this, she means this.  she means––  ‘  are you stressed?  i told you that you could come talk to me if you’re stressed.  ’  maybe another soft touch.  no.  shy away from it.  you’re hurt, she tells herself.  this is emotion.  emotions don’t touch; they fly away like a BALLOON at a child’s birthday.  ‘  you’re such an inspirational person, lia. i’d hate to see you go to waste.  ’