this was not the first time that mari had been surprised by someone at her door in the past few weeks, having recently played host to genevieve calloway, but this unexpected guest was far more startling. at some point after their initial blow-up, she and stella had come to a mutual, wordless understanding that they would each ignore the other, and for the most part they had kept a respectful (if cold) distance. there were no conversations at praeditus meetings, no eye contact in the hallways, their inside jokes were forgotten. for stella to arrive at her door, offering her an olive branch in the form of bear-shaped marshmallows, it felt as though an invisible line had been crossed.

part of her didn't want to question it. perhaps if she pretended that none of it had happened, if she let her in and gave her a glass of wine and put her favourite music on, the gap between them would shrink and the past year would fade away. they could be friends again, with no apologies necessary — only a silent acknowledgment that they had both been wrong, and too stubborn for their own good. yet the lack of trust between them was so prominent it felt like a physical thing, a third person standing with them who mari wanted to reach out and throttle. she looks from stella to the packet in her hand, considering, before stepping backwards to allow her inside.

"uh... sure, come on in." she shuts the door behind her and leads her through to the living room, flopping into a chair. there was still a familiarity between them, however faint, that meant that she didn't have to put on any pretence in front of her. "i wasn't exactly expecting this," she says, tone slightly blunt. "but i'm guessing you're here for a reason, not just for a social call. so... what's up?"

closed for @andthorns

though she hasn’t done it (intentionally) in nearly a year, stella could walk the few blocks from her home to mari’s in her sleep. she’s definitely not asleep now, thoughts tumbling over and over each other like balls in a bingo cage; she spends the entire trip turning them over and shoving them back in the cage, hoping for reassurance but finding none. she’s fucked, the whole thing is fucked unless they can figure out who’s after them and how to shut them up before anything actually incriminating gets out. that’s why she’s here, climbing the loudly protesting stairs to the third floor and knocking on mari’s door before she has time to second-guess herself. she needs all the help she can get, and loathe as she may be to admit it, stella’s known from the start that mari complements her — they’re both smart on their own, but together they’re sherlock and watson, batman and robin, mulder and scully. it’s just the smart choice, coming here. just practical. when the door opens and she sees mari looking up at her, stella forgets what she had planned to say. “i miss you.” the words are on the tip of her tongue, but she catches them just in time, shoving them down deep under the rest of her roiling thoughts. after a moment of awkward silence, fingers twitching intermittently at her sides, she tries again.

“heyyyyy... i brought bamsemums.” she fishes a bright red packet out of her bag and holds it out like the peace offering it is. “can i come in?”

mari paused briefly at gen's suggestion, then nodded slowly. "that could work, especially if we ask her to start being deliberately louder from now on." mari liked and admired tallie a lot, but she didn't strike her as someone who could be the most considerate neighbour. "the dinner party idea works too. we just can't say we ordered food or had someone else cook, so we'd have to come up with something conceivable menu-wise. it feels like something we'd be asked about." she had a strong suspicion that at least half of the members of praeditus didn't even know how to boil an egg, but it was unlikely that their combined culinary skills (or lack thereof) would be investigated too thoroughly.

"i think we both know that between the two of us, you're the one with the most power to get people to fall in line." it was both a judgement and a compliment — gen had undeniable influence that could be used for both good and evil, and mari had to admit that it was a useful tool to have onside. "i think everyone needs to understand how serious this situation is. i know they're more concerned now that marcel's died, but some of them seem to think we're untouchable, or that no one will look at us. we need to prepare for the worst."

“  i’ve  thought  about  that  too,  i’m  hoping  that  tallie  is  just  a  loud  enough  neighbour  that  no  one  could  possibly  recall  which  nights  the  noise  was  unbearable  during.  ”  if  any  of  them  would  be  able  to  successfully  fill  that  role  it  would  be  tallie.  “  maybe  we  should  say  it  was  a  little  dinner  or  something  though,  that’s  practically  the  truth  anyways,  just  the  location  that’s  different.  ”  and  of  course,  the  presence  of  the  recently  deceased.  gen  watches  from  across  the  room  as  mari  works  through  her  thoughts.  though  she  may  not  always  approach  mari  with  the  best  of  intentions  she  cannot  deny  her  intelligence,  eyes  taking  in  the  her  pensive  expression  with  a  degree  of  admiration.  

“  random  works,  ”  genevieve  confirms.  her  expression  shifts  into  a  frown  as  they  move  on  to  the  next  part  of  their  scheme.  “  but  how  exactly  are  we  going  to  get  everyone  to  go  along  with  it.  and  more  importantly  how  are  we  going  to  make  sure  they  don’t  completely  screw  it  up  ?  ”

what bothers her about fitz's arrival isn't his presence alone, nor the fact that he is talking while she's trying to listen to the speeches. it's not even his snarky asides, or his eyeroll. it's the blatant factual inaccuracies. mari stares ahead for a few moments as though she hasn't even noticed him, eyes firmly on the professor at the lectern who has the grim expression of a man being held at gunpoint. then she speaks, the annoyance having burned a hole in her chest through which words seem to be coming out. "i disliked him as much as you did, you know that. i'm only here out of obligation." her tone is measured, calm, but a muscle in her jaw jumps, giving her away. "do you really have to start on me about that right fucking now, fitz?" for the first time, her gaze moves to him, albeit briefly. "if you're so repulsed by me, there's plenty of other places you can stand."

@andthorns

it's not fitz's first funeral, but it's the first one that he cares exactly a medium amount about. he never would have wished this upon marcel, but it's no secret that marcel and fitz weren't exactly the closest pair (and in fact, marcel threatened to strangle him a few times) - so fitz feels a passive sadness, the way you do when your local mailman dies. it just so happens that at the funeral procession itself, once fitz has been rearranged and shuffled in the haphazard crowd, he ends up standing next to none other than mari for the actual speeches. "of course you're here," fitz whispers to mari with a roll of the eyes, quiet enough to not be noticed as the eulogies begin. "what, do you need marcel to proofread something from beyond the grave? what are you working on, 'the secret life of a french snitch: an autobiography'?"

mari listens to chan's progress report with growing dread, worry forming a crease between her brows. his question feels a little like a jibe, needling her and making her flinch involuntarily before she relieves him of the ice cream. "i don't know," she answers darkly, digging through the tub with force. the two of them are in the same sinking boat, both faced with a problem that their expertise should allow them to solve, yet struggling to do so. it makes her feel a little better that she's not alone in her frustration, but not much. "a few days ago i thought this was all about marcel, but now i think they must have a grudge against us, too. my gut says there has to be a reason behind it, but it's conceivable that it's just someone fucking with us for fun."

she draws her knees up to her chest and rests her head on the back of the bench, eyes turned upwards as she licks the spoon in thought. "it has to be someone who knows about the existence of praeditus," she continues, voice low, "but the only people we know for sure are aware of the group are former leaders and members, or i guess their children if they were trying to continue some family legacy." her head lolls towards chan, and mari considers him for a moment. "the overlap between those people and the people who can build a firewall this complex can't be that big, right? or do you think it's more likely that they hired outside help to do it?"

though chan can usually speak to the drugs-to-junk-food comparison conversion, he's actually never tried crack, so he has no way of knowing how similar ben and jerry's is to the real thing. "yeah, i'd never tell a local, but sometimes i prefer it to the homegrown gelato. american sugar content really resonates with me like no other," he agrees. then, he takes the container back from mari and it's silence between them again. it's quite remarkable, how two brilliant minds can struggle to say much to each other, unless they're discussing mari's father or dom and aileen's spit-to-kiss ratio.

he looks up from the next scoop of ice cream at mari's follow-up. "right, well, i'm still working on it," he says. what he doesn't say is how much he's been working on it, sleepless nights under his eyes and keyboard-inflicted bruises on his fingers. he's never been comfortable with problems he can't solve. "but it's not supposed to take this long, so that's an unpleasant sign. we might have to resort to educated guesses from a gillian flynn blueprint." he offers another round of b&j's to mari with a raised eyebrow. "you don't have any writerly hunches about what this might be about?"

her father had once told her, at the wake held for of one of his aunts, that if it rained on the day of a funeral it meant that the spirit of the deceased was happy. mari had liked this idea, and had always chosen to believe it. until that day. standing in the drizzle among a crowd of mourners, thinking about the events of the past couple of weeks, she felt that she knew for certain that the spirit of marcel dupont was livid. had circumstances been different, mari might not have attended — after all, she had always had serious objections to some of his opinions and did not particularly want to listen to people talk about what a great man he had been for god knows how long. but she was intrigued, and more than that, she was mindful of the fact that killers often attended the funerals of their victims. at least, they did in books.

she's scanning the faces around her with interest, looking for suspects, when the sound of her name being called makes her turn her head, a little startled. but she's immediately grateful when she spots who was trying to get her attention. "oh thank god," she says quietly, relief painting her features as she presses close to emilia's side. "i feel better now that you're here, this is so weird. can we sit together when we get inside? i don't know who else even came and i really don't want to be on my own." her eyes flicker around again, wondering if any other praeditus members are nearby but failing to locate them if they are. "how are you doing? other than the heebie jeebies, i mean."

when: the start of the funeral as everyone gathers, waiting for it to officially begin where: outside the cathedral who: @andthorns

there weren't many things that would convince emilia to come to this man's funeral, but after hearing even just a few names of those who would be in attendance, she knew she'd have to be present. she'd spent the morning practicing what she'd say to them, how to best represent herself and her studies. the elevator pitch on her research was thorough, concise, and well-rehearsed. she'd be tasteful, of course. this wasn't exactly the time to be handing out business cards and whatnot, but you can never be too prepared when running in these social circles. she felt confident, sure of herself - and then she arrived, and all of that confidence fell away.

now, here she is, meandering alone through the dark pool of mourners, the misty rain lightly dotting her hair and eyelashes. meandering alone, that is, until she comes across the back of a head that is quite familiar. "mari," she calls softly to the other girl, not quite loud enough to cause a disturbance but clear enough to alert her coworker of her presence. she hurries over, relieved to find someone she knew. "hey," emilia greets her friend, looping an arm through mari's elbow. "i'm glad i found you - this is giving me the heebie jeebies, and we haven't even heard the speeches yet." as if her nerves were once again taking root, emilia rocks back on her heels, shifting her weight. "how are you feeling about... all this?"

mari shrugged nonchalantly at the criticism of her evening. she was french, and she was a writer. getting wine-drunk and writing poetry was how she spent a lot of her time, and she didn't expect gen to comprehend that. she forced herself to bite back the sarcastic remark she wanted to make about gen's own poor alibi, and merely nodded, understanding. "i believe you," she repeated back to her. and for the purposes of this strange alliance, she was choosing to mean what she said. despite the many, many differences between the two of them, in some respects they also seemed to make the perfect team. they both apparently shared and valued the same traits — logic, intelligence, focus — and their combined skills of creating fiction and pr spin complimented each other nicely for the task at hand.

"i think you're right. believably vague, not so watertight it looks planned." abandoning her casual posture, she shifts so she's sitting cross-legged, back straight and alert. "what worries me is if they try to verify it. if they talk to one of tallie's neighbours and they didn't overhear anything? it looks bad. i doubt the police would believe that twelve students were playing music at a respectful volume and speaking in hushed tones all night." mari took another thoughtful sip of coffee. if this were something she were writing, how would she plot this? how could twelve seemingly disconnected people come together at just the right time, in a way that didn't seem suspicious? "i think we need to make it seem as random as possible," she says finally. "tallie wanted a small get together to celebrate the start of term. she invites the people she's closest to, so that's... you, fitz, aileen, maybe stella? only her invitees also invite their own guests, because tallie is basically friends with everyone at meraviglia, and she won't really care about the party growing. so aileen invites dom, obviously, but she also invites me. dom brings emilia. you invite gemma and richard. fitz brings his sibling and chan. it was all word of mouth, nothing via text, and we can use the fact a lot of us aren't close to sell how unplanned it was."

“  a  bottle  of  wine  to  yourself  and  all  you  did  was  write  ?  ”  the  question  was  presented  with  very  little  intent  behind  it.  digging  into  the  𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬  of  mari’s  lifestyle  choices  wasn’t  of  particular  interest,  especially  when  they  had  more  important  things  to  discuss.  “  but  i  believe  you.  i  doubt  you’d  have  the  stomach  for  𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫  anyways,  in  real  life  at  least.  ”  their  eyes  remained  intensely  locked,  as  if  even  in  their  shaky  truce  they  were  each  waiting  to  see  the  other  flinch.  “  of  course  i  have  an  alibi,  i  was  with  —  ”  the  true  details  of  her  evening  involved  mari’s  cousin,  and  gen  wasn’t  interested  in  sharing,  “  —  someone.  my  personal  life  really  isn’t  any  of  your  business  but  they’d  certainly  be  able  to  confirm  if  it  was  𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲  necessary.  ”  as  she  says  it  she  knows  it’s  a  weak  alibi,  the  two  of  them  both  equally  likely  to  be  suspects  in  a  way  that  dilutes  the  value  of  their  shared  word.  but,  that’s  what  mari  was  for,  a  partner  in  constructing  a  far  more  solid  story.  

“  we  need  a  𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.  one  that  works  for  everyone,  that  no  one  is  going  to  mess  up.  the  last  thing  we  need  is  for  anyone  to  find  out  that  we  were  the  last  ones  to  see  dupont  alive  and  catch  us  in  a  𝐥𝐢𝐞.  ”  she  bites  her  lip  while  she  thinks,  a  sign  that  she  was  less  steeled  than  usual  or  that  she  was  taking  pains  to  appear  natural.  “  i  think  the  gathering  at  tallie’s  could  work,  but  it  needs  the  right  amount  of  details.  what  kind  of  music  was  playing,  what  were  people  drinking,  but  nothing  too  concrete.  it  should  be  𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐲,  incomplete,  an  inconsequential  night  we  could  hardly  be  asked  to  remember  weeks  later.  ”  a  pause,  “  and  of  course  we  need  a  reason  why  all  of  us  would  be  spending  our  night  together  that  doesn’t  find  it’s  roots  in  marcel  dupont.

mari had once read that when relationships end, it often isn't the fault of one person in particular. sometimes things just don't work out. however, if she were completely honest with herself, the blame for the end of her relationship with gemma should mostly fall at her feet. the decision had been mutual, and they had parted with the agreement that they would remain friends, but it had been her that began to pull away first. their relationship had been comfortable, easy. too easy. mari had read too many novels (the root of most of her problems, she feared), and the quiet contentment of their feelings began to make her restless after a couple of months. every great romance she'd ever read about had push and pull, some kind of agony with the ecstasy, and she wanted the same. she wanted a love that would shake her, challenge her, one that she could write hundreds of poems about and never fully manage to capture the magnitude of. gemma was wonderful, their relationship was wonderful, but it was not the earth-shattering romance she longed for.

was it the healthiest mindset to have? of course not. she knew that. perhaps it was why she always felt so guilty around her, the undercurrent of their every interaction that mari always tried to ignore. she was still grateful for gemma's presence in her life, however, and still appreciated the friendly face at praeditus meetings whom she could sit in a corner and ignore the chaos with when the others became too much. "gem," she greeted, her tone warm and her smile fond. "yeah, i'm good. i mean, i'm coping." another reason they would have never worked out — her complete lack of ability to be honest about how she was feeling, especially around gemma, who had always seemed particularly sensitive to negativity. "how have you been holding up? i know the past few weeks must have been hard on you, and now... all this."

for @andthorns

they didn’t end on BAD terms, yet there’s still that slow & sticky awkwardness you feel around somebody who has seen you intimately, has known you in ways others haven’t and someone who you once desired a future with. and because of this, gemma will usually avoid mari in the corridors of meraviglia, keep her head down & eyes low as if she hadn’t clocked the other coming from a mile away. and gemma couldn’t possibly still have feelings, but her soul is plagued with softness and her birthday cursed with the tendencies of a virgo - ruminative, pedantic and & faithful. 

but once upon a time there had been comfort, and comfort was exactly what gemma needed after monday evening,, cold sweats skimming her spine at the thought of the group snooping through stacks of books & files,the thought of emilia’s revealed secret, the thought of what was yet to come. sees mari from across the courtyard and approaches tenderly, building up courage which each step closer. “hi - mari - i was hoping to see you today!” she’s never known how to play it cool, has always drowned in sickly honesty. “how are you feeling? are you okay after.. you know.. what happened the other night?”

her nose was buried in an overly floral piece of prose written by one of her classmates, critiquing it with a red pen ahead of a workshop the next day, when the tall shadow fell over the counter. she looked up, prepared to have to fix on her customer service smile, only for a real one to suddenly form, eyes lighting up as they landed on tallie. "hey! for me, really?" the enthusiasm in her voice made her want to throw up. mari fished out the pain au chocolat and took a bite, doing her best not to scatter flakes of pastry everywhere. "thank you," she mumbled, hand over her mouth. she tried not to read too much into the fact that tallie was bringing her breakfast and somehow knew when she worked, reasoning that she herself brought food for emilia with no romantic intention behind it, and that it would not have been difficult for her to ask aileen to confirm her work schedule. but that stupid spark of hope ignited in her chest anyway, and she took a long swig of coffee to try to drown it.

the manager was off doing something 'important' in the back office and likely wouldn't resurface for a few hours, so mari pulled out a chair and indicated for tallie to sit behind the counter with her. "i'm fine. just, you know... dealing with it." it's a lie, and a shitty one, but with a few days to settle down after the unpleasant surprise that had befallen them, she was now more than a little embarrassed about her angry outburst and didn't particularly want to linger on it. "it's quiet in here today, so i'm getting some work done." she waved the sheaf of papers in her hand. "how about you, though? how have you been?"

a starter for @andthorns

“oh! so sorry, sweet girlfriend.” tallie gasps when she almost knocks down a first year girl exiting bernardi books with her oversized lavender telfar as she enters. the student brushes her off with an apology of her own and makes a quick exit, tallie shrugs and struts toward the counter mari is stationed behind, setting down a drink holder balancing two drinks and a pastry bag. she grins warmly at mari and lets out a breath as if the journey to bernardi was tortuous and long instead of incredibly easy and only about a half mile from her place, “hi,” tallie’s not entirely sure when she started remembering mari’s working hours, but as someone who has never had a part-time job in her life, tallie decided that now is the right time to check in on the other, “brought coffee and a snack. there’s pain au chocolat and some sort of raspberry cheese danish in there, pick your poison.” she plucks one of the drinks from the holder and sets it in front of mari before gripping her own, “i just wanted to see how you were doing. the other night was… kinda crazy,” and mari had seemed a little shaken at the whole ordeal, “what’s up? how’s business?” she asks, her gaze on mari laced with curiosity and concern. 

MEAN GIRLS ( 2004 ) dir. Mark Waters

at tallie's wink, mari had the distinct feeling that she was out of her depth. for as long as she'd had a crush on tallie she had made attempts at flirtation, but always floundered when this was reciprocated. a more confident person would take it as a cue to do something, to make a move or ask her out, but mari almost stubbornly refused. she could see how it would end — her stumbling over her words, any plans of appearing casual gone, and a polite but emphatic no in response. people like tallie, beautiful and adventurous, didn't date people who stayed home on saturday nights to listen to leonard cohen and read mystery novels. they just didn't. it was a fact of life. hope bloomed in her chest every time she received one of those impossibly perfect smiles, but her scepticism always trampled it out. "that's high praise coming from you," she replied, and meant it. "i know i'm not wearing whatever designer labels you and emilia and dove wear, but i like my clothes."

she didn't really know what tallie meant by saying it was hard to pay attention sometimes, but then she was too inquisitive by nature, too eager to sit attentively and hang on to every word someone said in the hope of learning something. she nodded along anyway, wanting to please tallie, before grinning at the half-compliment. "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." she placed a hand theatrically across her chest, eyes turned heavenward. "speaking of which, though, i think i need to go and see my own ninety year old white man trying to explain prose composition." a glance at her phone confirmed her suspicion, and she downed the rest of her coffee. "i'll text you about all the lessons you're going to give me," she said, knowing full well that she wouldn't, and with a final smile, hurried out into the street.

"oh really? that's good to know. i'll keep that one in mind." her lips turn up into a half-smirk and she winks at mari playfully as she leans back in her seat, braiding a strand of her own hair absentmindedly. tallie finds herself amused, and endeared, at the thought of the other trying to balance in high heels (still short than tallie without heels, to be clear) and replies, "well, as it's another one of my skills, i'd be happy to supply lessons. but i have to say, i think you serve looks quite well without the heels anyway." she's a shameless flirt, yes, but she'd never say something she didn't mean — except for that one time when fitz wore a really ugly hat that she pretended to like, but she was a first year and wanted him to like her, who could blame her. she finds mari's style cute and so very her, which is tallie's favorite part of fashion anyway, the self-expression of it all.

tallie shrugs then, "well, sometimes it's just so hard to actually pay attention, you know what i mean?" and maybe she doesn't. tallie is sure mari's grades are eons ahead of her own, "sometimes acting like you're paying attention is a good skill to have in your toolkit." then she flashes a grin, "i would never do that to you, though. you're much more engrossing than a ninety-year-old white man trying to explain a graph to me."

gen had smiled at mari before, but those smiles had been cold or mocking, and almost always accompanied by some cruel jibe designed to irritate or offend. this one was different. it wasn't warm, exactly, nor friendly either, but there was a genuine quality to it that she wasn't used to from her. it was unnerving, but mari returned it, unable to deny her own vague amusement. whatever this was — an agreement, a truce, a partnership — it would only work if they were honest with each other. whether gen would hold up her end of this, she wasn't sure, but she certainly wasn't going to be the one that caused it to fail.

"i don't have a good one, to be frank." she stretched out her legs, propping them on her coffee table with ankles crossed. "after leaving the meeting, i bought a bottle of wine on my walk home and spent the rest of the night here writing. the cashier could say he saw me, maybe my neighbours heard music playing, but nothing solid. i guess it's up to you to decide whether or not you believe me." taking a sip of her coffee, she kept her eyes locked on gen's, trying to simultaneously convey calm, rational honesty while searching the other for any flicker of deceit. "what about you? do you have an alibi?"

she  eyes  the  seat  as  mari  tidies  it  up  for  her,  briefly  considering  the  power  move  of  simply  standing  before  she  sits  in  it.  perched  on  the  plush  chair,  legs  carefully  crossed  and  posture  rigid,  she  looks  almost  unsettlingly  out  of  place.  an  out  of  place  genevieve,  though,  tends  to  evoke  more  of  a  sense  of  fear  than  of  pity,  like  a  lion  in  the  lamb  pen.  luckily,  mari  didn’t  exactly  seem  like  a  lamb.  she  takes  a  careful  sip  of  her  own  coffee,  a  double  shot  americano,  extra  hot,  while  the  other  speaks.

“  nothing  is  scarier  than  us  being  in  agreement,  it’s  twisted,  ”  it  sounds  bitter  on  her  lips  but  her  sly  smile  shows  that  it's  meant  as  more  of  a  shared  joke  than  anything,  their  camaraderie  unusual  (  even  unsettling  ).  even  before  their  group  dynamics  started  to  unravel,  mari  and  gen  always  seemed  to  end  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  things,  dinner  discussions  and  friendships.  “  you  made  a  good  point  about  alibis  last  night,  i  think  we  should  start  there.  before  we  do  you  do  have  your  own  right  ?  i’m  not  helping  you  cover  up  the  fact  that  you’re  a  psycho  killer  or  anything  ?  ”

"i... don't know," she replied, eyes turned towards the ceiling in thought. "i don't have the highest opinion of their sanity or intelligence either, but it's difficult to imagine any of them actually murdering someone." mari tried to picture each member of praeditus brandishing a weapon or slipping poison into marcel's wine, but every scene seemed rather comical, bordering on the absurd. "the lovechild idea isn't a bad one though, i'm sure he has several across europe. or maybe it was me," she joked, her sense of humour regarding the whole situation not entirely gone. "maybe i finally got sick of his god complex and insistence on ignoring the opinions of everyone who doesn't treat classics as the pinnacle of serious scholarship and snapped. got advice from one of my dad's books and hid his body." even in jest, she felt a sort of sick pride towards the idea that if she had murdered him, she would be the one most likely to get away with it, but she didn't express this, and merely chuckled at the thought.

"really? i know she'd be selfish, but pillow princess? kind of think she'd be the opposite, so in control that she won't even let the other person move without permission in case they mess it up for her." the smile prompted by her amusement over the speculation of genevieve's sex life tightened only slightly at the corners as aileen turned the conversation to the prowess of her real partner. in some ways, she thought that dom was the perfect match for her friend. his calm, solid presence seemed to balance out her more turbulent one, in a similar manner to that which mari had witnessed between her own parents. and yet she knew that the old myth of opposites attract was just that — a myth, with her parents being the exception that proved the rule. mari would never say as much to aileen. not only because the inner workings of a relationship were only truly known to the people directly involved, but because she wanted them to work, wanted them to make each other happy. "well, good, i'm happy for you both. as long as the colour scheme of your wedding isn't peach. it makes me look ill."

"of course i'm right. it's me," she reminded her in a teasing tone in an attempt to lighten the mood. in comparison to everyone she knew in praeditus, mari had been the one with the most sense. "do you think one of the others made him disappear? they're not exactly known for being the smartest or sanest people," she commented before she took another lengthy sip of her wine, adding as an afterthought, "maybe he had to tend an illegitimate baby of his? he strikes me as someone who have an unknown, bastard baby somewhere." she shrugged at mari, not really trying to be sensitive to the situation. it was just her and best friend in private. there was no need to dress up her thoughts or worry about her words being twisted around as a form of revenge; something she was sure genevieve or fitz would do for shits and giggles. aileen trusted mari, which was something she couldn't say about the others.

aileen snorted at the other woman, not bothering to stifle her own laughter at mari's reaction. then, her eyes widened slightly at her words, more specifically the playful suggestion to ask genevieve out. she almost choked on her wine at that notion. "so not interested. she strikes me as a pillow princess. there can't be two selfish lovers in a relationship. there needs to be a balance or else we'd end up killing each other," she half-joked, as if she and genevieve weren't always one moment away from maiming each other anyway. "that's why dominic and i work so well. i want something and gives it to me, no questions asked. he's basically every woman's dream. mark my words: i'm going to marry that man one day." that could have been the wine talking, or simply her own comfort with talking to mari about anything that came to mind, no filter needed. mari was her safe space. "we're okay. he knows what he has. he wouldn't fuck it up for one night with her." even if she had her own indiscretions with tallie to hide.

It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind.

Nagulb Mahfouz, Sugar Street (via perfectquote)

task 01 — living spaces

mari's apartment is a sacred space to her, one where she can write undisturbed and be alone with her thoughts. she lives alone for this very reason, needing her own space where she can bask in the creative process without anyone disturbing her by asking her to clean the kitchen or go out to pick up milk. with its somewhat eccentric and cluttered decor, the apartment reflects mari perfectly, and she has built it to become a place where she can draw both inspiration and comfort in equal measure.

BUILDING. mari lives in a top-floor apartment in a three storey building closer to the side of town where the local residents live rather than her fellow students. her landlady, an ancient italian woman who is perpetually in a terrible mood, lives on the ground floor. the building is an old one, complete with creaking stairs and groaning pipes, but mari loves its character and many strange residents.

LAYOUT. the relatively humble apartment consists of a hallway, one bathroom, a small kitchen, one bedroom, and the living area, which is where mari spends the majority of her time — mostly due to the fact that this is the room containing her desk. the living space leads onto a tiny, rickety balcony overlooking the street below, and she has managed to cram a table and two chairs onto it so she can sit there in the evenings and watch the world go by with a glass of wine.

DECOR. mari has lived in the same apartment since the beginning of her sophomore year, and it shows. the decor is, to put it generously, eclectic. much of the mismatched furniture was there when she moved in, but she has put her own touch on the space with several second-hand items, framed prints on the walls, and a plethora of trinkets (see below). the resulting effect is bohemian and slightly chaotic, not helped by the fact that it's more than a little disorganised. mugs, papers, and clothes are scattered across every available surface, and books are stacked precariously in towering piles on the floor. though she makes efforts to tidy it all up every once in a while, she actually quite enjoys the mess, as it makes her feel like a real writer.

TRINKETS. since her family was cut off from her grandparents, mari has become something of a kleptomaniac. she never steals anything too valuable (with one notable exception, of course), usually just small items that people might not notice are gone, but over the years she’s amassed quite a collection. pieces that were stolen years ago — a little china elephant, a green glass ashtray, an enamel box that she now keeps supplements in — are displayed around her apartment like trophies. more recent acquisitions — a gold bracelet belonging to aileen, an engraved silver lighter that was formerly fitz's, a fountain pen taken from one of her professors – are kept locked in a drawer of her desk.

DESK. her desk is, to her, the most important piece of furniture she owns. it's the place where she does most of her writing, and so it took mari a long time and several discarded pieces before she found the one that was right for her. the heavy wooden desk sits under her window, and is piled high with books or items that she's using as her current inspiration, though a vase of flowers and a few half-empty coffee cups are usually present as well. the drawers are mostly filled with stationery, with the exception of the bottom drawer, which is filled with the treasures she's collected. the marchesa diamond also lives here in a small velvet bag, pushed to the very back so she doesn't have to think about it.

GUESTS. though mari is an introvert and sees her apartment very much as a place both to create and recharge, her door remains figuratively open for anyone who might need refuge. the couch is always available as a place to crash in emergencies, and closer friends (namely aileen) are welcome to share her bed. she doesn't often have romantic visitors, but once in a blue moon there might be someone she stumbles back with after a party.

mari couldn't pretend that chan was the person she would most like to run into, generally speaking, and she immediately felt this hesitation reflected on her face when he stopped to greet her. it wasn't that she didn't like him, it was that the two of them (whether due to too many differences or too many similarities, she wasn't quite sure) had absolutely no rapport whatsoever. they had, on occasion, been united — usually when accidentally third-and-fourth wheeling for dom and aileen, and could exchange amused glances when the other pair broke out into either a fight or a heavy make-out session, depending on the day. but more often than not their interactions descend into uncomfortable silences, broken by stilted questions about classes, family, and chan's cat, who mari could never remember the name of.

where ice cream was involved, though, she was more than happy to endure a little discomfort. "sure," she replied with a shrug, moving her bag so he could sit next to her and accepting the spoon he presented, not particularly concerned with the idea of sharing germs — chan seemed clean enough. after a mouthful and a satisfied sigh, she handed the spoon back, letting him take his turn. "thanks. i swear ben and jerry put crack in their ice cream, it's so good." a characteristic silence fell between them, during which she wished she'd had another spoonful so that she didn't have to be the one making conversation. "i forgot to thank you, last night," she said finally. she actually couldn't remember if anyone had thanked him. "i know we didn't figure out who was messaging us, but thank you for trying. you did a good job."

location: grounds of meraviglia for: @andthorns

inside chan, there are two wolves. at least one of them is copious amounts of cocaine, but the other one currently seems to be half a pint of ben and jerry’s half-baked, which is the only food that’s entered his body in the last twenty-four hours. chan is truly something of a medical anomaly, a man who will go without eating a normal meal one day and then buy one of everything from san carlo piemonte the next – sleep is somewhat of the same, a constant fluctuation between none at all and far too much. don’t do drugs, kids! 

as he eats the aforementioned pint of ben and jerry’s half-baked, he walks in circles on meraviglia’s grounds. when he’s stuck at a particularly aggravating part of a code, getting nothing but ERRORERRORERROR until he feels like one himself, pacing tends to help. he’s on his second circle when he’s about to pass one of meraviglia’s many park benches, only to realize there’s a familiar face sitting in it this time around. “hey,” he says to mari. “odd week.” he’s not used to being alone with her, and in truth, their dynamic usually relies mostly on who else is in the room with them. here, just the two of them, his first instinct is to ask: “can i offer you half of a half-baked?”

mari's first thought when she opened her door to genevieve calloway was that the communion wine she'd drunk the night before must have caused her to hallucinate (though given that the wine had been blessed, logic would suggest that she should be seeing angels rather than demons). her second thought was that whatever this was about, she supposed she should be grateful that she hadn't arrived ten minutes earlier, when aileen had still been there. before she had time to register the thickly veiled compliment and the idea of the two of them working together, her guest had marched inside, leaving mari blinking by the open door, which she shut with a sarcastic come right in under her breath.

it was such a stark contrast to see pristine, composed genevieve in her cluttered apartment, trying to find a home among the potted plants and various curios. she moved a pile of books from an armchair so that gen could sit down, before arranging herself carefully on her couch, coffee in hand, and finally allowing herself to speak. "i have to admit, you were making some sense last night too. and we seemed to be in agreement for the most part, which is more than can be said for anyone else." her gaze raked over gen, trying to work out if there was a trick she was missing, but she seemed to be perfectly serious. "i don't think it's a bad idea. where do you want to start?"

“  listen,  ”  gen  says  in  lieu  of  a  greeting  the  second  mari  opens  her  door.  “  i  know  we’re  not  exactly  best  friends  or  whatever,  but  some  of  what  you  were  saying  last  night  before  the  whole  poor  aileen  thing  actually  was  making  sense,  and  i  think  if  we  don’t  figure  this  thing  out  we’re  all  fucked,  so,  ”  she’s  come  bearing  two  cups  of  coffee,  which  she  leads  with  as  she  enters  into  mari’s  space,  not  really  paying  attention  to  whether  she’s  invited  in  or  not.  her  eye’s  wander  over  the  edges  of  mari’s  apartment,  an  address  she  was  only  able  to  find  because  of  tallie.  the  space  is  decidedly  unlike gen's apartment,  books  and  mugs  and  stacks  of  paper  scattered  around,  it  feels  deeply  lived  in,  distinctly  like  mari.  curiosity  fulfilled  her  eyes  snap  back  to  the  other  girl,  “  complete  honesty  i  don’t  really  care  about  how  the  rest  of  your  night  went  and  i  really  don’t  think  you  care  about  mine,  so  why  don’t  we  just  get  to  work.  we  need  a  plan  for  what  we’re  all  going  to  do  about  marcel,  and  i  think  if  you  and  i  can  come  up  with  something  there’s  no  reason  we  can’t  get  everyone  else  to  agree  with  it.” 

( @andthorns )