she's the S M O K E, she's dancing fancy pirouettes; swan diving off the deep end of my tragic cigarette. she's steam laughing on the windowpanes, the never-ending swaying haze - oh, that ever smiling M A Z E.
Paying more attention to his phone than anything else, Leo had been texting his eldest brother about plans he would probably end up cancelling when Philly was jumping into his space, causing Leo to skid to a halt with a gasp, “Jesus - fuckin’ Christ, Philly, are you trying to give me a heart attack? I could’ve burned you,” he grumbled, waving his cigarette around for emphasis. Brows furrowing, he shoved his phone into his pocket before grabbing at the paper while still muttering to himself under his breath, no actual heat behind his complaints, “Which one is she? You have, like, a lot,” Although Leo had had the pleasure of meeting all of Philly’s rats - that he knew of - merely once, he’d already forgotten most of their names, holding the missing poster back towards Philly, “Want some help looking? I’ve got an ex in Fidelis, I can tell her to keep an eye out while we scour the streets.”
Philly blinked, taking a second to adjust to his initial tone before replying, “You’re too young for that, Leo. And I wouldn’t mind.” She had opened her mouth, again, to say more - a story, maybe, about how Juno used to singe the hairs off of her arm for fun, the flame of her lighter never managing to burn her skin - but Philly had instead reached forward with her free hand and plucked the cigarette from Leo’s, stealing a drag. “I only have seven - she’s the oldest. Marshmallow. I named one of my ants after her.” She offered the cigarette back up as he handed the poster over, rolling the paper into a tube and sticking it into her jacket pocket, “I’d like that, thank you.” Despite the fluidity of her movements, there was still tension - from her grip on everything she held onto to locking herself in place, knees a little too straight. Philly hardly ever worried, didn’t like how she felt when she did - could never shake the uneasiness from her stomach, unfamiliar emotions that only added to what was already there. “I’ve already been down this entire street, so we should look elsewhere.”
Elias was stood there absently at first before finally catching up with her, trainers scuffing against the pavement as he kept with her pace. “Uh — Yeah, everyone has a flashlight, no?” he questioned, brows furrowing as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if we don’t find him? Has he ever been in the wild? Maybe — I mean, maybe this is for the best. Think of all the corpse he might get to gnaw on.”
“Not mine, but I have this,” she replied, digging out her keychain from her jeans’ pocket and singling out a green finger light she had forcibly attached and added to her collection of keys and charms. She shined it against the sidewalk - it was a weak light, one that flickered no matter how hard Philly pressed down on the button, but one nonetheless, “I stole her, so I never got the opportunity to ask. I don’t think so,” Philly had ignored his question - but she also had stopped shining the green light, trinkets jingling as she held onto the keychain still, “Corpses are not part of a healthy diet, she lives too pampered a life. Do you think we’ll need to break a window to get inside?”
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.
It took a few moments for Philly to realize she’d ought to apologize, a quiet sorry escaping her lips as she folded the poster back up and took a step back, “Did I frighten you? It’s not a real rat, only a drawing.” She made a vague rat-like shape in the air with her two pointer fingers as if to emphasize her point before hugging her arms close to her, paper tucked underneath her arm. “I don’t know. I like to be aware of my surroundings, it can be very helpful.” It hadn’t meant to come off as some sort of remark - but it was always hard to determine the way Philly had meant her words, her tone never alternating from the usual deadpan that it contained. “Is smoking weed allowed on campus?”
“its a rat.” he tells her simply. “i don’t think they’re going to notice one is missing.” he says a shake of his head given. “no. because i don’t give them a chance to escape. perhaps that’s what you should be thinking about here.” would finding said rat be safe for the rat if care for the rat did not change to keep it safe? “in truth, miss…?” he left a moment for her name if she wished to offer it. “i’ve never had a pet so i have never given one the chance to run away.” his reason clearly being in his admittance. he had never had one.
“she’s family,” she repeats, lips pressed into a thin line, “rats are meant to live in packs.” her eyes drop sure enough, towards her hands and their attempt to straighten out the wrinkled poster, “accidents are inevitable. if not now, then later. bucket is growing surprisingly adept at opening doors,” without further explanation of who, exactly, bucket was, philly gives a halfhearted shrug, gaze flickering back towards slade, “muffet. miss muffet,” it’s not her name, but it’s a name - given after a quick moment’s consideration on whether or not she’d share hers, a decision decided after his reaction towards her missing pet, “that’s an awful shame. why not?”
holly was on her way out of class when something was shoved at her face and it took her a second to figure out what the person in front of her was even saying. “i — i don’t think i’ve seen any rats, no,” she said slowly, examining the drawing with some concern, the idea of loose rats making her uneasy. “you know when cats get lost people go outside with their, uh, their food bowls, to try and lure them out? that might work, if you have — i assume you were feeding this rat, right? does she have a name?”
with a ‘swear’ beneath her breath ( it’d been fiddlesticks ), philly lowered the paper, “that’s a shame,” she said simply, chewing her cheek - it wasn’t a usual habit of hers, but an exception for the day; an exception that would’ve led to a bloody mouth if she hadn’t stopped again to speak, “yes, her name’s marshmallow.” with her spare hand, philly dug out her phone - a flip phone, pink, with puffy stickers all over, “i don’t have her food, but my ringtone is her favorite song - would it still work?”
The campus greenhouse was so great in the colder months, because it was a nice little warm reprieve from the outside. Plus, all the plants hanging around made everything smell so good, and look so green and wonderful, so even in the coming winter months when there was a constant concern of snow, her green favorites would thrive. Beverly sat on a stool, facing a small plastic plot of pea plants sitting atop a wooden table, scratching numbers and measurements down on a piece of paper. “I mean, they’re growing,” she murmured, looking up at Philomena. “They look like shriveled testicles, but they’re growing. Slowly but surely.” *// @philcmena
"They will be big and strong, one day,” Philly replied, end of her pencil poking a leaf and elbow leaning against the table. Despite the cold weather, she’d only worn leggings and a sweater - of which had been tied hastily around her waist, the pattern of furbies distorting every time Philly moved in her seat. She’d always been particularly warm-blooded - enough so that she had had more than a handful of doctor visits as a child for alleged fevers. “I don’t mind legumes,” she paused there, twitch of her nose betraying an otherwise blank expression - before continuing, “but I’d prefer fieldwork. I feel more productive outside than inside.”
Bram cocked his head, a strand of dark hair falling over his forehead as he studied the crude drawing. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I did see a rat downtown a couple hours ago. I can’t say it looked like it had a penchant for mystery, though. It was loitering in the gutter, watching the food truck that illegally parks in front of the mall. I would have tossed it a piece of carne, but I made a deal with the birds over at high falls.” A streetlamp roared to life overhead, turning the purple rat soft pink. “I don’t have the hook up to get us into the old fidelis building, but I think a missing rodent is justification enough for a little B and E.”
For a moment - a single moment - Philly had looked hopeful. It’d only been a brief look passing through her eyes and contrasting with her usual, distant expression - but it passed, quickly, the more Bram had spoken, “Oh, no - that wouldn’t be her. She’s never been near downtown before. Nothing like The Country Mouse and the City Mouse biography, which I suspect is actually highly fictionalized.” Blinking under the sudden light, with a swipe beneath her eye ( a slight pull at the darkened circles beneath them - she hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, though that was neither here nor there ) and a folding of her missing poster, Philly tucked the paper underneath her arm, “Are you alright with committing a misdemeanor - without hesitation?”
he stood there, just watching her putting up the poster of some disgusting rodent. “its gone.” he says simply. “best to get yourself a new rat. yours is dinner for a cat.”
if she had been hurt by the comment - philly hadn’t shown it besides the drop of her hand, paper crumbling further beneath her fist, “i can’t get a new rat, she’s part of the family. the others will be lost without her. i’ll be lost, too, i’m afraid.” she paused, just for a moment - brows furrowed, “have you ever lost a pet before?”
presley isn’t expecting to be accosted, let alone by somebody trying to find a rat of all thing. he shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head. “i don’t know, it’s a college campus, there’s a lot of rats around this place.” he’s fixing the hat on his head for a moment, holding onto his skateboard in his other hand.”then why don’t you go check the old fidelis building? or near some dumpsters or something, rats like trash, yeah?”
her nose twitches, almost mouse-like herself - brows tensing as she clutches the paper back towards her chest. there were a lot of rats - which meant rat territories and rat lords and rat wars to go with those lords, and she had been awfully strict on teaching her rats to be pacifists, “they locked it up after the murder, so i’d have to break a window to get inside. and - marshmallow has a very pristine diet.”
“Philbert! I almost dropped it!” Lana exclaimed, pushing her sunglasses onto her head and blinking wildly at the ice lolly in hand, checking for scrapes or bumps with all the intensity of a high strung soccer mom. Then, in the skip of a beat, she couldn’t care less. Lana gave an idle suck at the end as she eyed the homemade poster – anyone sane would probably opt for a hot drink, on a day as cold as it was. “Your rat’s epileptic?” Catching a snippet rather than the full picture, Lana pinched her eyebrows in a bid to concentrate. Slowed a lick against the melting strawberry, and pulled it from her mouth. “Maybe she’s busting it down with Remy outside that one French restaurant, downtown. Like, gnashing at the air, to the rustles of the trash cans, with her pointy little teeth. They’re up in the club. Grinding and bumping uglies. Everyone needs to release their inhibitions, sometimes. Natasha Bedingfield taught us that,” slipped out with poorly contained amusement, smile inching wider before she attempted to get serious. “Want me to help you look?”
"Oh -” Philly hadn’t even noticed the popsicle, eyes drawn towards the sunglasses instead, “ - are you doing a total darkness simulation? I like to train my eyes to see in the dark, too - it’s very useful, and I’ve always envied species that could. Night vision goggles are very expensive.” turning the poster back towards herself, she skimmed the contents with pursed lips, as if checking to see if she had included ‘epileptic’ in the description details beneath the photo. She hadn’t - just things like, ‘large teeth’, ‘skittish’, ‘fan of the baroque era’ - though the spelling had been butchered for that one, instead implying that there had been an era of barbecue. “No - she just collapses under pressure, especially with our circus practice as of late. But outside of that - Marshmallow is perfectly sound, save for a little more chunk than usual,” she’d been about to protest the idea of her rat escaping to go on sex escapades with a rat chef - which was, arguably, the worst type of rat to be involved with, in Philly’s opinion, only tied with rat musicians - when realization had struck her rather harshly, eyes widening, “I do leave them all alone quite often. They could be having rat orgies, and I’d be none the wiser. I could be a grandmother within days.” She couldn’t afford that, not in the slightest - she’d been wearing herself thin enough as it was with all her side-projects. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d be very grateful - we have to find her soon, she’s the ringleader.”
Taking the photo, Elias squinted at it. “Looks like something I might see in my toilet after a meal with beets on the side,” he muttered, handing it back. He had to laugh, despite himself, shaking his head as he glanced back in the direction of the Fidelis building. “Well,” he started. “Don’t really think it’s considered a crime scene anymore. We could go look,” he offered, patting his jacket pocket. “I carry a pocket knife.”
“Oh my,” Philly blinked, folding the paper haphazardly and sliding it inside her jacket pocket - it was striped, black and white, just like the cartoon robbers on tv - a relatively normal fit if it hadn’t been for the Kool-Aid Man’s beady yet all-knowing eyes staring out from where the jacket’s zipper had gotten stuck, halfway up. “I do, too, but they won’t be very effective against the spirit - if it remains, that is.” She had already begun walking, tugging chunks of her ponytails to tighten them in preparation - head turning to look back at him, expectantly, “Does your phone have a flashlight?”
“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.”
NATALIA DYER / DEMI GIRL. — philomena carmichael is really making a name for themselves as a sheep. i think that she/they are studying wildlife science in their sophomore year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from woodside, california, philly is known to be whimsical & patient, but can also be apathetic & unpredictable. — james / 20 / est / she/they.
hllo !! 2/5 intros so far, ur almost there !! like saige, there has been slight alterations to philly bt they’re not very extreme uwu
wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.
general info !!
full name: philomena brontë carmichael
nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.
b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!
label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.
height: 5′4″
hometown: woodside, ca
sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.
pinterest
stats
biography !!
a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.
the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.
so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.
they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.
hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.
it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.
it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.
they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.
and life continues as normal.
her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.
she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.
they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.
philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.
elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.
naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.
it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.
it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.
philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.
during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.
she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.
it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.
she gets medication, and life is normal.
three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her GED and applying to a local college in a town halfway across the country.
staying rooted pains her - pains elektra, stuck in a midwest state for no good reason. by the summer before her sophomore year, philly deides to transfer to lockwood. elektra can travel up and down the eastern coast and philly goes too, sometimes, on the weekends. it’s a compromise that favors her parents’ wants above all.
school has caused philly’s disorder to flare up - a small rift in her day-to-day life even when she doesn’t realize it.
things were fine for a while - they have to be fine, because philly is always fine - because elektra is always fine, because they’re always fine and happy and content with their situation. but years of negligence had caught up with philly - and now she’s not quite sure what to do.
it began with a phone call from juno - angry juno, hurt juno - juno who has called every week for four years and has only gotten a handful of answers - and many, many handfuls of answering machines. juno who doesn’t understand why philly is like this - when she’s so hurt, all the time - when things are so much, all the time. the call ends with a reminder that they are the same - that they’ve experienced the same thing, the same thing that nobody else in their family had experienced.
juno, of course, refers to the dead body in the woods nine years ago.
to backtrack - philomena was ten and juno was thirteen when they had decided to go on a hike - a nearby trail that had been walked countless times, in a town they’ve always felt safe in. it should’ve been safe - it should’ve been fine. but philomena liked going off the trail, making her own - insisted on it, in fact. she was the one who skidded down the slope first, curiosity drawn to a dirty, fraying red scarf - but juno had been the one who had tripped and fallen, who had landed besides decaying flesh and maggots. philomena had seen the body first - but juno had touched it. juno had touched it.
after the police and the sirens and the years of therapy, juno had always wanted to talk about it - always wanted to address it, vent to the one person who would maybe, could maybe, understand. philly had already blocked it out of her mind.
back in present day - the phone call with juno had attracted elektra, who then in turn called juno and marched away, screaming match from across the country (supposedly). philly, always a little too curious, had only overheard parts of their argument. but she heard the one thing that left her bothered - a rare experience, and a sickening one. elektra had called her a child. just a kid, to be exact.
philly had stopped considering herself a child when she turned eighteen - and she certainly never thought she acted childish. confrontation led to a rift, and philomena determining that they needed time apart - that elektra should go, now, please. and she did. and philly was alone. no elektra, no florence - no more depending on her sister, just philly. alone.
personality !!
she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.
often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.
has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.
believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.
she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.
philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.
her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.
is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.
is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.
she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)
has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.
she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.
keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.
her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.
will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.
the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.
has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in rochester - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.
currently living in audax while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.
they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.
it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.
really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her.
will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.
listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.
loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.
owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.
has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.
also, juggles.
also, accordion.
the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.
dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.
everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.
connections to the victims !!
tatiana samuels & george craig iii / philly was not attending lockwood university at the time of their deaths, and has never met them.
hana williams / they were friends, but didn’t hang out together often. they sometimes ate lunch together, or went on walks at night together. hana had wanted to meet philly’s many pets.
christoph wainwright / philly and christoph had met through a mutual friend, and though philly hadn’t been expecting kindness from him - he had given her it, and in turn she found him interesting. a little too interesting, maybe - and they had kept talking since their initial meeting. they met and spoke often at night, for hours at a time - where nobody would see them. philly never understood why he had wanted it that way, but she respected it. even now, their ‘friendship’ with each other isn’t known by others. it’s a secret, one could say.
wanted connections !!
random encounters - she’s new to rochester and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)
alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.
someone whose couch / floor she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.
people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.
people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.
someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.
a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.
people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.
someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.
late-night walking pals.
a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.
someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.
somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.
??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!
thrifting pals.
m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.
something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is … a hard egg to crack.
maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.
god … someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme.
i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)
“Sorry what?” Tired eyes dragged towards his companion, hand coming up in an attempt to rub the sleep away from them. The last week had fucked with his sleep schedule, not that it was exactly an ideal schedule to begin with. “I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t heard a word of what you’ve said for the last five minutes.”
“Oh - has it been that long?” Philly blinked at him from across the table, only once, a considering scrunch of her nose and a concerned tilt of her head. “I was wondering if you knew the time - I don’t believe in watches and someone broke the only clock in here. Now the hands only droop down towards six. It’s an alright number, but it’s often wrong.”
Beverly was quite often restless. Coney Island had been a much appreciated break - save for the circumstances - to go exploring in new places, meet and talk to new people, skinny dip in a hotel’s pool only to hop the fence right after… the good stuff. What youth is made of. It was because of this same restlessness that she found herself sitting on the stairs of the campus center after dark, way after classes had finally ended for the night, texting her brother and playing with a glow stick she had found in the hallway this morning, that she had quickly stuffed into her backpack to keep as a souvenir for the day. Hearing someone walking out of the campus center behind her, she turned, her blonde locks whipping over her shoulder as piercing green eyes stared down the newcomer. “Sorry, these stairs are taken, I’m afraid you’re going to have to either jump the distance or find a new exit, because I don’t share,” she said, mostly joking, but lifted an eyebrow, curious to see the reaction.
Travelling had been odd without Elektra - one would even go so far to say that it felt wrong, almost, to go anywhere without her sister - Philly felt slimy, the entire day, on the inside. Like her body had been injected and pumped full with the Nickelodeon slime and it had coated all her organs, squished her bones - it was an odd sense of guilt, a full-body experience, one that made her spit several times throughout the day to ensure that it wouldn’t come out green and goopy. Elektra had traveled plenty without Philly - she was in New Orleans at that very moment, matter of fact, probably drunk in the French Quarter. Did she feel the same guilt? Did she feel anything about it at all? That’d been Philly’s job - not feeling, having her emotions so limited that Elektra’s made up for both of theirs - she’d even gone to the clinic about it, laid across the plastic and paper covered examining bed and proclaimed, loudly to the nurse, that she felt gooey. Horribly gooey. Philly had stayed there for exactly 23 minutes and 17 seconds before the nurse had told her that she had to go - that someone had actually needed medical assistant - and off she went, face scrunched in contemplation - thoughts broken by Beverly’s voice. “Oh,” she blinked - two times, because it felt right - before nodding with something one could assume was respect. “Okay,” Philly took a few steps back, winding herself up like a toy car - before springing forward and flying, nearly, almost, across the steps - it was more like being flung, wildly, through the air by some invisible force, than flying - but she had been in the air for at least two seconds before her feet made contact with the concrete, and then her knees buckled - and down Philly went, falling flat on her ass. “That wasn’t so bad.”
