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Florence Marsh. 25. Somewhere In-Between How can you expect to fit in if you've experienced the worst of both worlds? How will you decide which is best if you don't belong in either?

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rosycheeks-rhi:

    Giving a shrug of her shoulders, she watched as her own match traveled towards her fingers. She didn’t really care why the girl needed a lighter, only that it would end up in her back pocket by the end of the night. If not, Rhiannon wouldn’t care to torture the girl for the next month. Grabbing the matches she moved to shove it back into her pocket before shaking her head. “not exactly, my aunt wanted me to make an appearance. i don’t really give shit about this.” she hissed as the flame had finally touched her fingers, leaving the air with a burnt smell. Dropping the match on a headstone she leaned back and looked up at the girl. “what about you?” 

❝At least we’ve got that in common.❞ A drag from her cigarette forced her shoulders to slack and her muscles to loosen. She’d never been a fan of crowds, especially not when they were gathered in a cemetery.   There were shadows in Bentley -- shadows that preferred to be left alone.  ❝This whole thing’s a little fucking ridiculous, especially since everyone’s just gonna scatter as soon as this papier-mâché bullshit goes up. Someone’s probably gonna have a Halloween party and cause everyone to forget the sentimental crap.❞ Not that she really cared for the sentimentality of it all.    With a look cast toward her companion, Florence changed the subject,  ❝You live with your aunt, I’m guessing?❞

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littleelizawinnick:

As Eliza was prone to doing, she wandered through the forest near Bentley with her mind full of daydreams and stories she’d never get around to writing. It was how she spent most of her time in the new world as she found much more peace out alone in the woods than in the rushing, strange place that had replaced the old, torn up town she’d known so well. Caught up in her thoughts of all she had left behind, she didn’t notice the trap on the ground until she had already stepped on it and metal jaws and clamped around her ankle, pulling a scream from her as she fell.

Florence heard the scraping of metal on metal before she saw the girl. The noise wasn’t a familiar one, but it carried the unmistakable timbre of a latch being triggered; that alone didn’t bode well, especially not when it mingled with a bone-chilling peal of agony. It was enough to set her in the right direction, forcing her to find the little blonde as quickly as she could. A general assessment of the situation was enough; Florence wasn’t going to be much help.

❝Oh shit.❞ 

It probably wasn’t comforting, but she crammed her hands into her pockets and approached. She wasn’t a hunter or any sort of outdoorsy person, so she had no idea what she was dealing with as she knelt down and looked from the trap to the girl. What the fuck? 

❝That looks pretty fucked up.❞ Never one for euphemism, she gritted her teeth and unsheathed a hand to reach toward rusted metal. Despite the fact that the contraption was likely for something small, it seemed incredibly large as it was clamped around a human being. Never in her life had she felt any sort of compassion for animals, but that started to change as she noted blood beginning to patch through. Heart racing, throat tightening, she offered the only words she could think to say:  ❝I’m Florence. Do you know how to get this shit off your leg, because I don’t really do...  rescue missions.❞ It wasn’t much -- especially not when shadows and voices were telling her to leave the girl -- but it was more than Florence would give to most people. It was something.

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ofphotographiing:

Shaun felt completely embarrassed as he stood in the female section of the clothes department. His twin sister had wanted to go and buy some things, dragging Shaun with her for some much needed bonding time yet it wasn’t long till he lost her as she ran off wanting to try on as much as she could. He felt it was easier to just stand and wait for her but he felt completely like an idiot. He wondered what people were thinking of him. Did they think he was some creep? or just someone buying lingerie for the girlfriend, which was completely far from it. He turned on the spot, and looked at the person that was browsing near him. “Bit expensive in here, am I right?”

Florence wasn’t one for lingerie or lacy things, but she did have to spend some time away from her home in order to make her grandparents think she had ‘friends’ or some other ridiculous bullshit. Rather than listening to them go on and on about her brooding around the house, she opted to hit every shop in Bentley’s very small shopping district (which was really little more than a shopping center that had been erected by a particularly delusional entrepreneur). A local boutique was enough to garner interest, but Florence found herself in some sort of mild discomfort as soon as she waded into the sea of perfume and pink. It was only natural that she’d seek out the one person was seemed more uncomfortable than her -- the person who couldn’t stifle their awkwardness like she could. Shaun was her target and, despite having never met him in her life, she sidled up to him with ease.

❝Expensive?❞ She bought time, surprised that he’d start a conversation before she could make an attempt. A small, nearly inaudible snort escaped her nose, ❝People are gonna think you’ve never seen a bra in your fucking life, dude. Are you here for your girlfriend or your cousin or some shit?❞ 

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rowanduvalmg:

Rowan couldn’t stifle a cough as Florence blew the smoke toward his face, and if her goal had been to make him even further incensed than he already was, she had succeeded. “Right,” he snapped. “The fact that I’m not doing construction twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week clearly means that I’m simply not putting any work into it at all. And it is going to happen, got it? You can tell the same to any of those other townspeople you insist are so interested in my life.”

❝You’ve got time to yell at a stranger, so I assumed you’d have time to fuck around with something other than whoever you’re shacking up with. Tell me about that shit all you want, but I’m not holding my breath until I see it.❞ Her half-smoked cigarette was abandoned, crushed underfoot to warn of her upcoming departure. Unless, of course, he had things he needed to get off his chest. Deciding to find out before she wasted the effort in moving, Florence rolled her neck so her gaze could land squarely between his eyes,  ❝You got something else you need to say, or am I free to go?❞

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spencercaine:

He was perfectly comfortable with silence. There seemed to be a kind of mutual, unspoken camaraderie between people determined to blacken their lungs.

Condolences? And people said Spencer was insensitive. “Might take a while,” he acknowledged, contemplating his cigarette. He knew an awful lot of dead people. Lighting a lantern for each of them could take all night. “Are you?”

❝Nope.❞ She didn’t light lanterns, didn’t care to and wouldn’t suddenly start. There was a time when her own grandparents had made their way to the cemetery to light candles for her father, her absent mother and even Florence’s half-alive, comatose form. Those days were long gone, and good riddance to them.   ❝Do I seem like the weepy, sentimental type? There’s no reason to toast the dead around here.❞ Not when they were so damn determined to come back.

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spencercaine:

He held the cigarette to his lips for a moment, smoke filtering out before he spoke. “I’m not religious.” If he didn’t approve of the ceremony, it wasn’t on religious grounds, and lighting the lanterns was the one part of it that didn’t seem particularly offensive.

 ❝Makes two of us.❞ Ever content to sit in silence, Florence took a few drags from her cigarette before realizing that she should’ve been playing nice with the person who was kind enough to offer his lighter. Fuck.   ❝Gonna light one of these lanterns? They’re going up soon. I hear you Caine boys have lost a shitload in the past couple of years.❞ That was as close to condolences as Florence was ever gonna get.      

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rowanduvalmg:

“And what made you think I was just planning on standing around waiting for the universe to give my cabin back?” Rowan barked in reply. “I’m actually working for it. I’m saving up for supplies and actually rebuilding it. The damn ‘universe’ has no say in it.”

❝The fact that you’re fucking around here instead of building your dream cabin, for one.❞ To add insult to injury, Florence released a jet of smoke from the corner of her mouth, not even bothering to point her direction away from Rowan in the mean time.  ❝And because you’re being so damn sensitive about buying new property. You don’t fucking believe it’s gonna happen, so don’t try to convince me.❞ The accuracy of her statement didn’t matter -- Florence could’ve been completely wrong, but she would’ve continued standing calmly, smoking like an idle train.

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rowanduvalmg:

“I don’t want a new cabin,” he snapped, more bitingly than he’d intended, but he figured the tone wasn’t undeserved. “I liked my old one, and I’m gonna rebuild it. End of story.”

So that’s how they were gonna play, huh? His tone may have been biting, but Florence met him with a calm kind of condescension. ❝Yeah? You didn’t want me asking about your sex life, but that didn’t fucking stop me. We don’t always get what we want, Duval, and the universe isn’t gonna yield just because you liked your old house. Last I checked, Bentley’s wrecked real-estate doesn’t come back from the dead.❞

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hellbentley:

“Good, let’s do it. Match-up of the century: the protestors versus Ethan Bentley and… I don’t know your name,” he said, trailing off for only a moment. “If I’m a fucking teeny-bopper, that makes you like a kindergartener.”

❝Marsh. Florence Marsh.❞ Her eyes narrowed, looking him over as if to confirm some kind of suspicion. ❝You’re in high school or some shit, right? There’s no way you’re older than twenty five, Bentley.❞  

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spencercaine:

“Those things will kill you,” he quipped, passing her the lighter.

❝Thanks mom, I’ll be sure to keep it in mind,❞ she  sneered, caught the lighter and held the produced flame to the cherry of her cigarette.  ❝You here to smoke or light a lantern? Or are you gonna complain about how fucking sacrilegious this whole thing is?❞

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insaneleax:

“Just hanging out. I thought it would be nice to pay my respects this way. You would? Why’s that? Surely you have another hangout.”

❝Nope. Been hanging out here since middle school. All my friends are here.❞ Friends. The idea alone brought a bitter, mono-syllabic chuckle.   ❝What about you? Don’t you have a different place to hang?❞

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insaneleax:

“Yeah, it’d probably be convenient to a lot of people if you didn’t. Including yourself, of course. I’m here for the festival. And you?”

❝Yeah? Mourning someone, or just hanging out? I’m here for the festival. Kind of. Even if it wasn’t going on, I’d probably end up smoking somewhere around here anyway. May as well watch a bunch of fucks torch some lanterns while I’m at it, right?❞

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insaneleax:

“I do, actually. It never hurts to be prepared.”

❝Yeah, thanks. Figured I should launch one of these lanterns or something. At least it’ll give me some fucking light so I don’t trip and break my neck on a grave. You here to mourn or just hanging with the festival crowd?❞

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rowanduvalmg:

“Rebuilding,” he answered immediately. “In fact, I’ve already begun the process. It’s - I’m not gonna pretend that it isn’t gonna take a while, and quite a bit of work - but I can fix it. I can fix it.”

❝You trying to convince me or yourself? It’s not a loss if you find a different house. I assume you’ve got some money if you’re building a new cabin, anyway.❞

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littleelizawinnick:

“I have matches. Does that help?”

❝Yeah, that works; it’s just to light a cigarette. You smoke?❞

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rosycheeks-rhi:

  “no but i do have matches.” Lighting one, she sat it on top of a headstone watching it burn out. Grabbing the box she tossed it to the girl, “knock yourself out.”

❝I just need one -- not lighting a lantern or anything like that.❞ With the explanation, Florence caught the matchbook as it sailed through the air. All it took was a few practiced motions for her to pull her last cigarette from the packet, shoving it between her lips before tossing the litter over her shoulder. Once it was lit and she had sucked down a little of its warmth, she tossed the packet of matches back. ❝You here for the festival or some shit? I think they’re giving out lanterns somewhere.❞  

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rowanduvalmg:

Lumberjack? he thought, raising a brow. Dear Lord, it seemed everyone in town had a different idea of what his occupation was. She ought to get together with Angela and speculate. He rolled his eyes. “Well, isn’t that just a dream come true,” he muttered. “Look, I think it’s safe to say that people here’ll have more important things on their minds than my private life - or lack thereof.”

❝Do they, John Wayne? Do they?❞ Her eyes narrowed, hands fishing from her pockets so she could procure and light another cigarette as she regarded him. It seemed that she was trying to make some kind of mental analysis, but eventually gave up with the first drag from her cig. ❝I envy you, Duval. Especially if you think like that. But how’s this new living arrangement working out? Gonna stay there forever or rebuild your cabin?❞