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@avery-carson
Thanks Aves. You know you’re not as bad as people think you are, but I know you have your rep to protect. An on fleek whole, I like that. I suppose not, just heart and love for what you do.
Thank you, Oliver, that’s nice to hear every once in a while. And, of course, a smidgen of talent.
The twins had looked more like twins in college. Eli had no interest in filling out; he was long lea limbs and a shock of vibrant hair– it had been enough to make Rhett desire change just a little bit more. No one would mistake them for twins now, with the deep tan, tattoos and his build; they didn’t look anything alike. “I looked just fine, fuck you very much.” The drummer snorted, “What was your major?”
His defence pulled laughter from the blonde, her gaze then falling to the carmen terrain beneath them. "Economics. But, that's not the shitty part," She had actually enjoyed the classes, the few and far in between she attended, "I dropped out cause of this boy, we were more fooling around than anything, but I guess I was looking for any excuse to leave college that came my way. Anyways, long story short," She paused, "I walked in on him sucking a crew member off," A brow arched, glancing to catch whatever reaction, or possibly indifference, that would grace the male's features.
No thanks needed, it’s just good to know you have someone around. If you need help figuring it out, we can always be on fleek together. There’s only a few things I picked up in school.
It is, yeah. The same goes for you, Ollie. I’m here for you whenever. Yes! We’ll be two halves to an on fleek whole. Same, but you don’t need much being a musician.
Rhett would have swatted at Avery, instead he snorted. “Babes, you gotta watch what you say, I might start believing it.” The tents were coming up, and he straightened– half the problem with touring was finding your yurt in a sea of white tents. “I’ve definitely improved his college, I used to be so skinny. I discovered crossfit and now I’m the full package.”
"One can only hope." She didn't bother hiding her gaze roaming his broad frame, a brow lifting, "I feel like skinny Rhett would have resembled a coke addict. Good on Rosie for tolerating that, and thank God for cross fit." She paused, "My sad college story can beat yours six times over. Especially since I was only enrolled for like, the span of a heartbeat."
“It’s the easiest,” he said simply, rubbing at his shoulder. The contact with fabric was unfamiliar at best and Rhett pinched at the cotton, lifting it away from his skin before letting it pool back over tanned skin. “She’s a character, careful with her.” The drummer grinned, “Basically since first year in college. Met her because she was hot and we were both easy. The music thing followed after.”
She couldn't disagree with that. "Thanks for the warning," Avery spoke with a grin; truly, it had been appreciated. The blonde's own snark had gotten her in enough foul relationships, namely with boys; but it was the girls who mirrored her own flame that frightened her. "Were?" A brow arched, "You still seem sort of easy. Not as hot though, I'm sure," She glanced in his direction, "I think I can see some crows-feet forming."
I see, it’s none of my business so I won’t ask. But if you ever need anything, I’m around. I’ll be on fleek somewhere. You’re in America, we’re qualified to say whatever we like. It’s in our Bill of Rights for a reason.
There isn’t much to ask about. Thank you, Oliver. That’s really sweet of you to say. Oh, I’m sure you will. I’ve got to sort out what I can be on fleek for, and then I’ll come trailing behind. You’re right, I’m sure I learnt about that sometime in school.
Her fingers were decorated with more calluses than rings, the bass made her hands ugly, but her grip tight. “Grant’ll be too busy trying to figure out how to prop me up on stage so the cast will look fashionable to worry about your swift death.” She plopped down beside Avery, her own descent lacking the easy grace that the other girl had. Sky draped her legs over the other blonde’s, a mix of tanned limbs. “We could live here. All three of us, in a pretty little tent.”
The thought of such coaxed laughter from Avery, one that briefly interrupted the silence, "That's definitely heartwarming." Fingertips moved in circular motions against the red dust, creating small patterns as the other girl spoke. "Oh, we could for sure. We'd live off the land," She mused, glancing around their surroundings momentarily, "The grass here would easily fit into the raw vegan vegetable mice diet," The curve of her elbow dipped into contact with the girl's slim arm, the grin adorning her mouth making it clear that she was merely joking. "It'd be kind of fun," She concluded.
Rhett laughed, holding a hand up. “It’s not true anyways.” He shrugged, “Dunno what you’d wanna know. Google’s got most of it, I bet Rosie’d tell you the rest.” The drummer wasn’t known for being mysterious, he was known for being abrasive, that was where he shone; when he was very much in your face, baring teeth and daring you to make a move.
He was right, though Avery didn't quite agree. "Google isn't any way to learn shit about someone." Even then, the topics that intrigued her certainly wouldn't be plastered across the web; that just scraped the surface. "I don't think I've talked to Rosie before," She'd heard plenty about the girl, but an opinion of her own had yet to form, "How long have you two known eachother?"
Rhett looked at her again, as though to gauge if she was alright; it was hard to tell, he didn’t know what not alright looked like on Avery. Her question made him stop, he had to think, mulling it over. The drummer had to sift through memories like spilled ink, “I’m a lefty.” It was a joke, lapsed with the truth. “I don’t know if there’s anything that no one knows.”
Her gaze dropped swiftly to his hands, particularly on his left; attempting to recollect his prior actions and see if he was infact speaking the truth. "Anyone could know that," Though she realized that she too, was more of a stranger to the male than anything else. "That's comforting, though. It'd rather have that than anything else."
Her reaction was strange, he drew his brows together at her response, but didn’t say anything. There were times that warranted something cutting to be snarled out, used as a whip, cutting and branding where it laid rest, but tonight being cruel felt tiresome and he preferred to settle in silence, letting the discomfort of that linger rather than fill the void with words. Rhett began to walk again, “It’s just sharpie,” he noted, a last thought– it was already destined to fade away.
Lungs expanded as she inhaled deeply, the thick air taking brief residence before she exhaled, lifting knuckles to rub at the side of her face. "I know." Hands slipped into back pockets, the tips of fingers pressed against the bending seam. "Tell me something about you that no one knows." She needed the attention to be taken from her shoulders, clearly buckling under the pressure; Rhett pulling out a side she'd much rather keep tucked away, especially from him.
“I think the media would fucking love that, they’d swarm your funeral, make it a giant thing. Maybe you’ll become a trending hashtag.” Rhett tucked the pen into his pocket, forgetting that it didn’t belong to him. He’d find it later on and wonder about it’s origins, it wasn’t unlike him to be so unaware. Her apology startled him, he had to prompt, “Why?”
"Oh, good. As long as my legacy lives on." Fingers worked at her shorts, lifting them upwards to their previous position against her hip; desperate to get the smudge hidden from view. "I," He didn't deserve an explanation, she knew that now. Extending pieces of herself to someone who accepted them in a nonchalant manner was dangerous; she'd end up giving until there was nothing left, while having received nothing in return, "I fucked it up." She'd duck into the showers later that night, take a cloth to the mark and scrub it raw, until the ink was gone and then some. She didn't need any reminders.
Sometimes, the stars made the best listeners. With so much going on in the world, it was easy to drown in the disarray of voices and often, Scotty felt too small for comfort. He’d tell the night sky about his day, the burdens eating away at his mind and other times, he’d sing and play it a tune. If he was lucky, the stars would even talk back. Picking each string of his guitar idly, he inhaled, allowing the joint between his lips to fill his lungs generously. He sang quietly to himself, listening to the echo of the instrument and how it melted together with his own vocals. The percussion of footsteps soon joined in, and its off-timed beat caused him to stop momentarily, looking up towards the figure that’d approached him. “Didn’t expect it to get this overcrowded tonight.”
The Palm's had been coined loosely as the tangible form of Summer, but Avery knew that hadn't entirely been the truth; at least for two of the trio, Sunny managing to fit the part much better than the others. Avery found comfort in the shadows and the solitude of such, which lead her to be out traipsing her surroundings as soon as night fell more times than not. It was a quiet voice that pulled the blonde from her thoughts, curiosity pulling her towards the melodious tune with a timid gait. The moment was somehow intimate, the boy on his lonesome pressing lyrics to the stars, something she didn't entirely want to intrude on. It wasn't until the male spoke that he simultaneously became distinguishable, both by appearance and sound. "Who knew with an ego as big as yours you haven't become accustomed to that." Her tone didn't fit their surroundings, didn't fit the male's previous actions. She was intruding, and it made Avery uncomfortable.
“Rock funeral, how avant garde.” He looked down, catching her fingers against the skin. “You’ll smudge it–” Rhett said, perhaps just a moment too late, watching as the ink lifted onto the pads of her fingers. It looked now like the letters were moving, shifting across the skin, with the fade of a mark where they had once been. “Guess I’ll have to.”
"You and the Palm's can play. It'll be innovative." Her mouth parted at his abrupt warning, swiftly retracting her fingers as if her skin had lit them ablaze; a flinch. Alas, raven ink had nestled between the swirling divots of her fingertips, "I'm sorry." It wasn't a big deal, she knew that. But the apology slipped from her tongue involuntarily, once again fucking up something that had the potential to be good.
“I don’t sing,” he reminded her gently, tugging the waistband a little lower. Rhett laughed, “Don’t give me ideas.” For a moment, he hesitated, uncertainty as to what he should put on tanned skin keeping him from moving, before he proceeded, scribbling out his name in his rather distinguishable handwriting. “RHETT.” All caps, with a period on the end, he was tempted to add a smiley face before he stopped, capping the marker. “First decent tattoo you’ve gotten, princess.”
"I know that. Don't you think drums are suitable for a funeral?" Her palm lifted to curve his bicep, watching the male scribble his name against bronze skin. It had brought a subconscious, genuine smile to her mouth, gaze wandering over the inky trail once, then twice. "Liar." The curve of her thumb ran against his name before turning it upwards, checking for residue, "It'll be gone in a few days. Guess you'll just have to do maintenance."
He was faster than she was and he reached over, plucking the marker from her hands. In his grip it was a little more powerful and he grinned wildly. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” the drummer cooed, uncapping it and keeping the cap tight against his teeth. Rhett stepped closer to Avery, reaching for the fabric of her shorts, a brow lifting as he rolled down the band where the hip was– this time he’d ask permission.
"Play at my funeral, if not." Gaze dropped from the male's features to his hands, watching as the ebony tip hovered against the protruding curve of her hip. Her chin dipped downwards in a subtle nod, watching his movements carefully, fingertips bringing further heat to her exposed flesh. "If you draw a cock, Mackay, you're dead."
And just like that, she switched the subject, as easily as one flicks a switch. Rhett reached ahead of Avery as she paused, pushing the door open with the flat of his hand and letting her slip through, following into the night after her. The heat still lingered in the air and it was the sort that you could taste on your tongue and collect in your lungs, he exhaled, expecting his breath to show as though it was cold. The drummer wondered what he looked like on stage, he knew that he smiled more, that if there was a mic pressed to his kit one would be able to pick up his occasional crow– he was like Peter Pan at times, constantly amused at himself, refusing to grow old. “I still sign tits, if you’re open to the idea and have a sharpie,” he teased.
"Actually," She retrieved the marker from her pocket, rolling it between gangly fingers, "I do have one." Grant had insisted the trio carry one around in case a fan approached and hadn't brought a writing utensil of their own. "But my safety would be questionable as soon as some Rhett-crazed teenager caught a glimpse of your name across my chest," A mischievous smirk curved at her mouth, a brow lifting as she glanced at the male. There were few places the male could place his scrawl, considering the lack of material adorning her frame more often than not.
@averycarson: #OOTD... or lack of?
