She still didn’t open her eyes, it was easier to talk to Lana without the assault on her eyes of colours. “Doesn’t sound as complex as you’re making it out to be.” her eyes opened to see her neighbour standing above her, head tilting to the side she laughed “Darling if I was dead would I be speaking? Unless I’m a reanimated corpse of some sort, which in itself sounds pretty fun. Are you by any chance a talented necromancer with a perchance for raising the dead?” with a short groan she sat up and shook her head “Where do I start? Police chase or kissing in the bathroom with coke on my gums?” her legs drawn up, hands wrapping around her knees “is that a toy gun, Lana why do you look like a demented cowgirl?”
“They probably didn’t expect it to do so well, but look it launched a whole wave of fans across all ages and genders, it’s hilarious but also sort of inspiring.” she wrapped her hand around the drink she had placed in its holder, placing the straw in her mouth and sucking “Unfortunately I was cursed to like everyone, but it doesn’t make him any less of a good actor, and he’s probably one of the only people out there willing to do some insane shit in a movie, we need more of those.”
The copper taste in his mouth was unpleasant yet not unfamiliar. Accompanied by the sting of his lip, he could safely say that his night was going downhill, not that he’d expected it to go another way when he’d stepped out of the toilets with the girl who’d been making eyes at him from across the bar with her boyfriend right beside her. Touching his fingers to his lip and looking down at the blood now coating the pads of them, nearly black in the dim light of the streetlamp, shadowed by a figure coming to a pause near him. He braced himself for another round, though when he looked up it wasn’t the roided out brute from the bar. “Corn syrup,” he said with a slight wiggle of his fingers. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wipe would you?”
A white slip dress, strappy heels and her hair done up in a knot she was playing the innocent tonight. The virgin, the angel, someone to loved in a haze and gone in the morning, she liked these moments, bodies rubbing up against each other, she didn’t have to think about anything. Enya drew herself from the crowd for a moment, hands to her chest as she stumbled through the groups of people and turned a corner only to be met by a bloodied person. She raised her eyebrow and raised her arms giving a turn revealing that apart from her phone which she held in her hand, and a wad of cash stuffed between her breasts there was nothing. “Sorry, no wipes to be found here.” Enya leaned in towards the stranger “I know what blood looks like, so who did you piss off tonight, that looks nasty.” Her finger went up and she toughed the bloody lip before grinning. “Bathroom ?”
Tomislav was laying on a boat, flat on a towel, staring up at the clear blue sky, sun baking his warm skin. Music was somewhere, the solid notes of a guitar strumming away, and the elongated crooning of an accordion. He could smell the salt of the Adriatic, and the hear the purr of the boat’s murmur. Somewhere above him, his brothers were chatting in Croatian, and in his dazed state, he was only barely paying attention to what they were saying. Mumbling a response to them, his train of thought was interrupted by a strange thumping sound. And it wouldn’t let up. And then he woke up, frustrated that the dream about his homeland was disrupted by whoever was at the door, at… “It’s one o’clock!” he hissed, as he looked at his phone, sighing and finally throwing the covers off his body when it was clear whoever was needing his presence wasn’t going to let up. He shuffled over, in his Lockwood pajama pants and sweatshirt, fuzzy socks and all (he got cold at night), he slowly opened the door, only so that his face could really be seen. “It’s so late,” he told the other, softly. “Are you sure you’re looking for me?”
She was shaking, drenched from head to toe in rainwater. Her eyes were wide pools of darkness and God she had to stop doing this to herself. Which part of it she wasn’t sure, the wandering around lost in the middle of the night, or the drugs. Neither were habits that she planned on or could, kick so instead she wrapped her hands around her body, barefoot tapping on the ground as she heard someone reach the door ( Gods, please don’t be a serial killer ) she couldn’t even manage a smile, instead her teeth chattered and just as she was about to turn away, a person at the door. Squinting Enya tried to figure out who it was “Definitely not looking for you but you opened the door and it’s pouring outside so could you do me a solid and let me just dry off for a bit, I’m Enya. You don’t know me, yes I am on drugs, no I won’t change and I promise I won’t wreck your place I just need to get out of these clothes.”
“Wanna play a game?” Immediately, a freckled nose wrinkled. “Gross, that totally sounded like I’m about to sling you into a Saw trap, or something. Disclaimer? I don’t own a tricycle. Swear on the bible.” After saying so, Lana lifted the barrel of her red water pistol, aiming it dead between their eyes. She had a cowboy hat of the same colour on her head, matching her boots, and anyone would think she’d dressed for a costume party – she hadn’t, but Lana liked to set her own themes. “What’d you think your last words would be? Like, one chance to talk your way out of it. Schmooze your way to freedom. Verbally, like… suck on the teat of Michael Myers. What’d you think you’d say?”
She had been passed out on the floor of her room, head tipped up to the ceiling and arms stretched out on either side of her body like a star then, the door connected to her shared bathroom swung open with a bang. Enya didn’t bother to open her eyes, instead, she drew in a deep breath and waiting for Lana to speak, which she was expecting to be soon. Right on time. She waited for her to stop speaking and then “Lana. What in the hell are you on about now?” her voice was controlled, eyes opening to look at the upsidedown vision of her friend. “Nothing, I’d try to physically suck his teet, that gets me out of a lot of bad decision making.”
“excuse me -” she had slid out from apparently nowhere, low pigtails flying as she stepped into place - crumpled paper in hand, which she shoved unceremoniously into the other’s face, revealing a hastily drawn image of a - purple? - rat, big chunky letters spelling ‘MISSING’, “ - have you seen my rat? she ran out in a fit this afternoon,” the sky had darkened considerably - had been doing so, more and more every minute - her jeans were covered in dirt at the knee, and the streetlights hadn’t gone on yet, “i tried to follow her but she’s very fast, and very skittish - but she has a penchant for mystery, and i’m afraid she might’ve run into the old fidelis building.”
She had a joint hanging from her lips, waiting for the damn lighter to flicker for long enough for her to light it, she shook out her hand shaking the thing, about to raise it to her lips again she had paper into her face. Enya blinked several times and then took a fumbling step back dropping the lighter on the ground. “Oh for fucks sake.” her finger went up to pull the roll-up from her mouth before stooping down and looking up at the other. “Well, I’m not going to be able to see anything if you continue shoving that paper in my face, especially a picture of a bloody rat, which, why would you think I’d keep my eyes peeled for a bloody rat ?” she scooped it up the lighter and stood straight.
“Wouldn’t you?” she laughed softly, her leg crossed and then uncrossed on the other side, her elbow resting on the armrest “The entire thing is hilarious it’s like a parody of a movie and a mega fucking trip as well.” She peered up at her companion, an unfamiliar face, or one she didn't remember? She huffed a sigh and then turned back towards the screen, it was the infamous baseball scene, a smile crawled on her face. “Why are you interested in how Robert Pattinson smells anyway?”
“So, do you think that Robert Pattinson really smells bad?” Inna whispered to her neighbour, squinting as she stared at the screen where the first Twilight had gotten well-into the third act. The Audax building had put on a showing of all the films and she’d decided to make a visit. “He just looks like he’d — he’d just be one of those men that uses a little too much cologne,” she continued, prompting a shush from someone sat up ahead.
Eyes lowered but still somewhat focused on the screen in front of her. In truth, she had watched twilight so many times she could tell you the movies back to front and then back to the beginning again. Yet at the sound of the voice to her left only served to irritate, Drawing a breath followed by a short laugh before turning to glare at the person behind them who had shushed her new companion. “He most definitely stinks, and yet here we are watching a movie that launched his career, I used to be a Twihard for a bit”
BARBIE FERREIRA / CISFEMALE. — Enya Brent is really making a name for themselves as a tier 1 shepherd. I think that she is studying English Literature in their sophomore year at Lockwood, living in Alpha Nu. originally from Kent, England, Yaya is known to be imaginative & positive, but can also be materialistic & destructive.
–tw. drug missuse, overdose, death
Hi, hey hello! I’m Leti an 18 year old walking disaster, I live in kent atm and i'm trying not to fail my degree in the first year. This is my twenty one year old walking disaster Enya I'm sorry I have to bring her into y'alls lives;
A E S T H E T I C
pills on a pink tongue, fingers closing in around your neck, the moments of peace when you submerge yourself in water, closed eyes and an upturned head on a sunny day, the smell of perfume that’s been worn all night, lilac nails, blacked-out rooms with neon lights, the sting of your first tattoo, dancing in an empty house,the flicker of a flame on a windy day, kissing pressed against brick walls, phone lights under the sheets, blurred sunlight when you first wake up, cold coffee in a half-empty mug, empty wine glasses on top of stacks of books, pen ink smeared across fingers and clothes, singing in the rain at 2am.
H E A D C A N O N S
- born as the older twin by three minutes but the more fragile one by two months, Enya and Elden aren’t inseparable from the moment they’re born, but they understand one another better than anyone else in the world will and that’s the thread which holds them together as they grow older.
- they’re loved. well, what their parents believe is love, sprinklings of expensive gifts that mean nothing, freedom to do as they wish, family dinners that were cut short by nail appointments and gatherings.
- It was the pretty girl who rubbed cocaine on her gums that she blames for her life is like, her translucent skin and long fingers were the triggers, it wasn’t meant to be like this, that’s what she said at first, but it was always meant to be like this.
- it doesn’t take long for Elden to join in, to fall into the abyss they’re far too similar and she’s not one to hide things from him, they’re inseparable, just the two of them against the world.
- after that, she does a line a day, can't sleep without a Xanax bar, stumbles through classes high on whatever was in the bottom of her bag. she holds herself together by the thread that is her brother, but there’s not much keeping her together.
- everything in school was nuisance except for her English classes, where the things in her head came to life and seeped into the paper and she saw the colours in her mind's eye displayed in the words she wrote.
- that’s why as she grows writing becomes her passion, and then painting, people can never really understand why they’re so drawn to Enya's work, but perhaps it’s the unexplainable longing in each piece, the stark contrast to who she portrays on the outside.
- things never get better. not the way they do in stories she creates. instead, she digs herself into a deeper hole, it’s not until she’s sat by her brother's dead body on a warm may evening as an ambulance rushes towards them that she notices she’s not dug a hole for herself but instead the grave she will put her brother to rest in.
C O N N E C T I O N S
– a drug dealer
– someone who knew her after or during her brother's death
– an ex ( open to any and all )
– fellow sorority members
– a fellow drug user
– frenemies
– etc, I personally prefer to brainstorm and see where the characters best slot in together! so pls pls like this or slide into my dms if you want to do some plotting I’m legit open to everything
