whisper or a daydream

[plantedfreya]

promqxeen

Staring over the rim of her glass, she wasn’t even sure how many she’d had now, but it was taking the edge off. Staring at the people packed into the lounge as the faint delicate of the ice tapping on the edge of the glass was drowned out. There had truly been a mix of emotions tonight in the aftermath of funeral that never happened. There was fear, panic, anger, grief, confusion. But the one that no one else seemed to share was amusement. 

She’d done as her mother and father had asked, she’d shown up, she’d even gone as far as to pretend to care ( that was her own theatrics not suggest by her parents ), but now the novelty of the whole night was starting to wear thin and she just wanted to return home. Her head turned ever so slightly as the glass drew nearer to her lips, this one didn’t smell as strong as the others she’d had, it was probably because her flask was now empty. Reaching down to her bag she felt around for her flask only to find it was missing. Shit. Rocking her body forth she was about to get up to retrieve the thing when a flash of curled hair collapsed next to her, pulling Vi back down into the sofa.

“Certainly not a dull moment in this ridiculous town. Where have you been?” It was a unique relationship she had with the oddity sat beside her, not friends because she didn’t really have them, but she supposed this was the closest thing to it. It was the first time that Vi had seen Freya all night, had she been here at the bar? Or was she perhaps at the funeral home earlier and been at the lounge as long as she had herself. Gods she should stop drinking. It’s not like anyone was going to stop her, between who she was and the fact that she could claim she was grieving, it was a free pass.

   “Gettin’ high with Patch,” Freya admitted with a light giggle - unable to help herself, despite the situation. When he’d swooped in with the promise of semi-cold beers and bud, the redhead hadn’t hesitated to skip out on the chaos and the drama, enjoying her habit of over-indulging. If it wasn’t chasing Mason around the town, competing to see who could flirt with the prettiest girls, it was Patch urging Freya down the path of bad influence. And the redhead loved every moment of it - but she liked the chance she got to stare adoringly at Vi, too. She liked the way being around the blonde made her feel, like she was apart of something exclusive, elegant. 

   The giggle was short-lived as Freya allowed herself to sink further into the couch, close to Vi as her friend would allow it. Sometimes, you had to be firm with Freya, and her chatty, clingy ability to take up space and the energy of a room. “I’m glad you’re here,” She admitted, peeking around at the others in stages of partying, or grieving. Freya easily felt lost in crowds, but someone like Violet prevented her from losing too much of her awareness in a room of people. “Are you okay? Like, after everything? Did it freak you out, too? I don’t even know what to think, but if I didn’t believe in ghosts before, I sure as hell do now.” 

[plantedfreya]

oracleurchin

Frankie nodded at the other girl’s assessment – she understood bored and restless plenty, though couldn’t say that she had felt the former anytime in the past twelve hours. Restlessness, though, was what had driven her out of her house and out onto the road. 

When Freya questioned whether or not Frankie would be going inside the funeral home, she frowned. Her immediate thought was to say no, of course she wouldn’t be going inside – but she couldn’t get herself to say it out loud. What was she doing there, if not looking for some kind of an answer; a way to rationalize the irrational?

“There can’t be anything in there that’s worth looking at,” Frankie said, rather than answer Freya’s question. “I mean, what would there even be? Funeral cards?”

   “- A trap door, ectoplasm, pictures that watch you as you pass by,” Freya continued, knowing her imagination often allowed her to get carried away. Earlier that day had been the first time ever stepping foot in the funeral home, and she was quick to leave soon after. Truth be told - she was curious about what was there, what could be discovered, but wouldn’t dare go closer than she was. However, she was not opposed to... standing guard, playing lookout, maybe. 

   Freya glanced around at the quiet lawn, the empty street. It was as if the whole town decided to rest, just as Josie was, or could be doing. Sure, as everyone said, the body didn’t just get up and walk away, but the redhead couldn’t help but at least consider - what if it did? After all, Freya knew miracles existed. She was walking, living, breathing proof. 

   An eyebrow rose. “It don’t seem like you’re tryin’ go ghost huntin’ though. None ‘a this makes any damn sense. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m ‘bout over the weird shit in this town. One thing after another, ‘specially lately.” 

[plantedfreya]

jasmineaxiong

“That movie that she was in with Brad Pitt. Holy shit. I’m sure that’s when I realized that I was not 100% straight. She can seriously get it any day. Hell I’d let her be in a threesome with me. Like that would ever happen,” she laughed. “Or her as Maleficent. That latex suit just fit her like a glove. It’s so unfair how one human being can be so attractive. I can’t believe that we live in the same lifetime as her.”

“Have I seen Grease? Are you kidding me? It’s one of the greatest movie musicals that have ever come into existence. This guy at my high school dressed up as Danny and I swear I nearly became a teen mom,” she joked. “Yeah I’d probably lock my doors and ban you from ever entering my apartment if you made me stay up even later. I had to freaking remove my retainer,” she sounded like a grandma in that moment.

That was the one thing she loved about Freya, the fact that the other knew her so well without words being spoken. It had really been a stressful month and though she wouldn’t admit it to Freya, she really needed this. “Fine, only because you brought me dessert,” she joked. “How’s your week going? Anything fun happen?”

   At the mention of a threesome, Freya’s cheeks burned a bright pink - suddenly remember her confession to Mason weeks earlier. Her dream threesome, Mason excluded, would include Jasmine 100%. Is that something that is appropriate to tell your neighbor? Freya didn’t think so, but swallowing her giggle was harder than she had imagined. “Is that so?” The southern girl drawled, an amused smirk written deeply into her features as she gazed over at Jasmine. Oh, if she only knew the dirty thoughts in Freya’s mind at that moment. 

   “You could’a done that this time,” Freya informed her - but they both knew Jasmine was just bitching for the sake of bitching. Now, as comfortable as she was on the couch, Freya honestly didn’t intend to move until she was quite literally forced from her friend’s home. “C’mon, musicals aren’t even that great - and I’m sure, neither was Danny. I saw the new Grease, with the chick from High School Musical. God awful. Both of ‘em.” 

   With her blue eyes trained on the TV, Freya shrugged. She came over to Jasmine’s like this, so late at night, to ignore the events of the week - to avoid reality. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it, and for a girl with a mouth that ran a mile a minute, her silence would be explanation enough.

[plantedfreya]

rozwhite‌

She took in a large breath once the other invited herself to join, knowing she should have expected as much. Freya — the patient who was most certainly not hers — had a way of making herself aloof to Rosalyn’s otherwise perpetually sour mood, which apparently was a skill in itself. “I suppose there’s nothing I can say that would make you consider other dining options?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Of course, she already knew the answer.

Continuing on with their walk to the cafeteria, Rosalyn hiked the strap of her bag further up her shoulder, maintaining a careful distance from the woman as she typically did with most people. “Well, for one, there’s less sick people and stressed out medical workers running around. I also assume that you have a television, or at least something to keep you better company.” Anything for me to get some peace and quiet, she almost added.

“‘The doc’ only seems to be concerned about your well being,” she reminded Freya sternly as they entered the cafeteria. “It’s not about how you feel, it’s about keeping you alive and healthy. It’s reckless to think otherwise.” Rosalyn gave her a once-over. “Did you bring anything to eat? The food they serve here is…sub-par at best.”

  The redhead barely took pause at the question - almost as if she didn’t notice the icy chill that radiated from the doctor. Or noticed, and didn’t care, which was the more likely explanation. “Well, I’m broke, ‘n already here - so it seems to me I’ve got my best option already.” To be fair; it wasn’t an illogical answer. 

   “Just ‘cause I’ve got a TV doesn’t mean I’ve gotta use it, and hey, aren’t you supposed to be against the damaging affect that screens ‘n couch potato behavior gives people?” Freya challenged, familiar by now with the route to the cafeteria from the front lobby enough that it felt like second nature to wander through the hall. She could almost imagine she, too, was a stuffy doctor waiting for labs or anticipating the next code red. Freya did a lot of imagining. 

   The light scolding didn’t surprise Freya, but it also wouldn’t be enough to change her mindset. At this point - she had exceeded her life expectancy, and it seemed with each passing year then on, more issues arose and more limitations were enforced. She was a ripe 25 year old, and after so many years bouncing down similar hospital walls and hearing ‘the worst’ - it took a lot to get her to really care anymore. “Reckless, so I have heard,” She mumbled, trying hard not to roll her eyes; it was childish, and she knew Roslyn wouldn’t approve. It may seem she cared little for what the other woman thought, but she did - somewhere, deep down. “Actually, I like the food. Makes me think of what school is like, like the public schools, with lunch lines and mystery meat life. Or- well, maybe that’s prison, but... either way. It’s fun. You don’t seem the type to pack a lunch everyday.” 

[plantedfreya]

starcrossedjude‌

He turns to the girl who responded to his question and he tries, he really does to listen to the directions she’s giving him. She must have caught onto the blank stare on her face, because she gave up on directions not soon after starting.

He’s thankful for this, because Jude is certain he never would’ve found the grocery store based on the directions. It’s not that her directions were bad, Jude just doesn’t have the best sense of direction in general. He can hardly tell East from West and North from South, landmarks are what enables him to locate where he is. Unfortunately, he has’t really lived in Wade long enough to have any landmarks.

He sighs when she offers to walk him there. “Thank you!” It’s a soft exclamation, to express his gratitude. “I’m not the best with directions, so I could definitely use someone who knows the way.” He gives her a smile. 

   “You’re in good hands,” The redhead promised with a chuckle, jerking her head in the way they’d be headed, and got started. It wasn’t like there was anything else in Wade to do, anyway. The device was tucked safely under her arm, the free extremity swinging as she began to lead the way. “Well, get a move on then,” She added, sending a smile his way - hoping to ease any of that new stranger weirdness and make the walk a pleasant enough one. 

   Not that Wade didn’t do a decent enough job of that on it’s own, from the outside. The more time spent in the city, Freya realized, the stranger it become; but that wasn’t going to be anything she spoke with him about. “I reckon you oughta tell me your name, if I’m to be one of you first friends ‘round here,” She began. Freya would be willing to talk an ear off, if allowed. “I’m Freya - Freya Suarez, haven’t been here for too long myself, a couple years or less, I’d say. It’s not a bad place to be but - where did’ya come from? And, no offense meant, but why?”

   Freya couldn’t help but gaze curiously at him. She loved the stories of newcomers, hearing where they’d come from, how they blew in through the Wade streets, and if they’d be staying. 

[plantedfreya]

ettaromero‌

      There’s a slight uptick on Etta’s lips, hinting at her amusement over the brunette’s comment. “Doubt big Red would appreciate me whipping out an Ouija board right now.” She doesn’t know how long she has till police start rolling in and sniffing around. Though considering how useless they’ve been so far she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re late. She makes a mental note to break in later tonight, check out what files they have on Josie and get a full list of employees. “She might not answer anyway, might’ve she got up and hop skipped herself outta here.”

   “Well, you got me there,” Freya agreed - though she would’ve probably jumped at the chance to involve herself in a seance. It was hard to keep your head on straight, so Freya was choosing to deal with the unexplained events with some sort of interest and humor - like a story unfolding, not reality. She’d become an expert at this habit, by now. “Ah, so, you’re thinkin’ zombie more than ghoul? I could buy that. Hell, wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing ‘bout this place, now would it?” 

[plantedfreya]

patchjones‌

     He takes out one of the beers and holds it out to the other and hums. “Well since I don’t own a car- I was thinking the recreation centre. Cops are too distracted with the funeral home right now so we can toke it wherever.” Though Patch didn’t really care if he was caught, he has been in the Wade holding cells so often he has stuck a harmonica under one of the slate beds so he can get it out and play it to annoy Fletcher. He cracks open his own beer and takes a swig, brown irises darting around and seeing no one to worry about. “Or we could go to my place, I just figured out how to turn an old guitar into a bong.”

  “Even better,” Freya grinned, not even feeling embarrassed for her childish suggestion of hot boxing - hell, she was only just now getting to live the life of a rebel, so eventually, she planned on checking off all the boxes of ridiculousness. In all honesty; Freya wouldn’t care if she wound up in a jail cell either, not really. It seemed like a small price to pay for a good time, and with her mindset lately, who knew how long any of them had left... especially here in Wade. Freya follows suit, opening her beer and drinking as she follows behind her fearless leader, directly into what she hoped would a thrill one way or another. “A guitar bong? That is an interestin’ one. I saw the other day on Reddit somethin’ where they took a lightbulb ‘n do-hickied it into a bong, but that just seemed dangerous to me. A guitar is much more interestin’... much more you,” Freya gave an approving nod, looking him over, and taking a second long swing of the beer. “Lead the way, Patch, I am at your command for the time bein’. Gonna head over to the Conifer Lounge at some point, but I’m hopin’ to get good ‘n faded first.” 

[plantedfreya]

agirlnamedmason‌

Though Mason could very well stay in the wilds of Freya’s hair forever, it was not exactly conducive to conversing. She let her head fall back against the bed, leaning into Freya’s touch like an adoring and receptive house cat. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she said automatically. 

But as soon as the words came out of her mouth she began to wonder… was that true? Of course, she’d never leave her friend in the dust – as she so eloquently phrased it – but Mason had always figured there’d come a time when her passage in Wade would end. There’d always be a new mystery beckoning her, a case that needed solving in Wyoming or Maine or wherever the hell else. She had been on the road for so long now, it was what she had grown to expect. The leaving. But never had she made friends like this anyway else in America. Only in Wade. 

Thinking about this was starting to really harsh her mellow, so Mason shoved these thoughts back into the deep dark corners of her mind where she stored all the other icky things she refused to think about. 

“Where would you go?” Mason asked. “If you could go anywhere in the world. No consequences, no restrictions. Just… anywhere.” In the absence of those less than ideal thoughts, Mason found that she was feely nostalgic. Almost dreamy. 

   Freya smiled - though she, too, wondered deep down about the truthfulness of the statement. One of the things she’d enjoyed most in their early friendship, and even now, was Mason’s stories of other places she’d been. Aside from the peach orchid in Georgia, the stuffy hospital walls, and now Wade; Freya had no stories of her own, only imagination. 

   But oh, the places she could dream of... the places she wrote of, created. Many times Freya could picture whole worlds and universes, bursting with activity, and none of them contained any sleepy cities like Wade. Then again, without the little suburbs that Freya currently called home, she’d never have found her place here on the bed with Mason. 

   Little blessings, come by surprise - every so often, her mom’s voice surfaced, and Freya sighed. Happy for the distraction that Mason proposed with her question. “Anywhere... in this world?” The writer had to clarify, for if given the choice, she would leave this reality entirely. 

  “Barcelona, maybe,” She answered, without having to put much thought to it. “The colors, the festivals, the foods - the football,” She added with an eye roll, lacking any interest in sports, but loving the drama of it all. The parties that sporting events created. Plus, she had a whole family there in Spain - her father’s side, dozens of cousins she’d never even met. “Or Brazil. I think I could do well on the Brazilian beaches. I could model. Get fat off of passion fruit and guarana.”

   The difference between she and Mason, Freya believed, was that the opposite woman could make something out of nothing - Frey felt much more limited in her happiness. Maybe it was the ticking timer in her chest; a heart set on failure, slowly but surely. Freya couldn’t fabricate excitement in real life like Mason could do for her, so she created it with words, yet never quite felt she had wings. Maybe that was half the appeal of Mason - what she stood for, represented. A wanderer, a nomad. Freya could only dream of such lives. “Where you choose to be when it all comes to an end? Everything. Life, the world, whatever. Where are you going, like - what is the destination?”

[plantedfreya]

oracleurchin

When Frankie had initially turned around, she was simultaneously dismayed and relieved to find that there was no one waiting in her shadow. She’d started to turn back around to make the jog back to her car when she heard a distinctive voice, and turned back around again. 

“Freya?” Frankie called out, her bunched shoulders relaxing with recognition. “What are you doing out here?” She recognized, after the question had left her, that she didn’t really have any business inquiring. After all, what the hell was she out there doing? When Freya insinuated that Frankie had come out to try to find the person responsible for the disappearance of Josie’s body, she huffed and shook her head. “No – no, that’s not why. I just…”

Again, Frankie was at a loss. Why had she come out there? What reason was she there, if not to try to find some kind of an answer? “What are you doing out here?” She repeated, preferring instead to put it back on the other girl.

   “Just me,” The redhead promised, arms uncrossing as she stepped closer with a half-sigh. “I’m bored. Restless,” Her eyes left Frankie and drifted to the funeral home, looming in the moonlight - a usually somber, peaceful vision, now shrouded in mystery and intrigue. 

   And intimidation. 

   It would seem neither of them had a very good answer for the fact they both had popped up long after hours, so soon after such a startling experience. At a loss, Freya just gave a helpless shrug. “Same as you, I reckon. Curious, concerned - I’m sure as hell not goin’ in there though. Are you?”

[be-artistic-deactivated20230306]

[plantedfreya]

ettaromero‌:

     A body can’t just vanish and Josie can’t simply get up and walk away after having enough bits of her cut out for lab testing. It should scare Etta, should at least strike some fear within the brunette but if anything it lights a fire instead. Watching people filter out, Etta decides she’d rather stay and snoop around. She darts her eyes around as she moves to the coffin, peering inside at the white silk insides and hums. Putting her hand inside she knocks on it as if looking for a trap door. Maybe someone flipped a switch and Josie slid into the basement. But why would someone do that? Who would want her body gone? There has to be someone behind this, someone covering their tracks, someone with enough power and money to pull all of this off. Etta is furiously scribbling down what she can, what she hears, taking pictures of the coffin, and having a million different thoughts running around in her head. “Where’d you go Josie- who took you?” She whispers it more to herself than anyone in particular.

  To make Freya feel as if she were plucked from reality and dropped into a scene of a Nancy Drew novel, she caught sight of someone sleuthing. Intrigued, Freya hesitated, eyes glancing from the coffin to the door, as she weighed her options. Funerals... they just weren’t her thing. She lingered a moment, lurking really, until the tiniest of curiosity appeared at the hypothetical questions - “I reckon if you hold a seance, you could ask her yourself,” Freya offered up lightly, eyebrows raising, and her tone both serious and joking enough at once that one could assume she could be teasing or legitimate. 

[plantedfreya]

status: closed for @promqxeen​ location: conifer lounge  time: enough drinks in, it doesn’t matter

   Before arrival, Freya was already half-baked and half-minded, her pretty styled hair and black dress clothes less perfect and more ruffled when she slid into the somber celebrations at the lounge. A time for a party in Wade was any time, especially around here - which is why, of course, Freya had opted to show up now. 

   Death was not a topic of comfort for her, though it wasn’t something she feared, either. Having been surrounded by it her whole life, and the haunting of it being her all-too soon future remaining, Freya was all but diplomatic towards the notion. However, missing bodies and panicked neighbors was something to fear, and so she had smoked, drank, and giggled herself above and beyond the negativity, 

   Spying the familiar blonde head nearest the secluded sofas, somewhere in the back, Freya made a beeline to Violet. Without a greeting, the girl let herself collapse into the plush cushions behind her with a huff, pushing back her wild hair and blinking out into the assorted evening crowd. “Well, fuck all today,” She stated simply, resting a cheek against her arm as she leaned in to look at Violet. 

[plantedfreya]

oracleurchin‌:

TIME/LOCATION: around 10 pm, post “funeral services;” kane funeral home. STATUS: open for all!

Like every other lifelong Wadian – and probably like most of the short-termers – Frankie had come out with her Grams in tow to pay respect to Mrs. Johnson. When Fred Kane had come out and told everyone to go home, the Abbot women hadn’t resisted – Grams had remarked that today wasn’t the day with a kind of finality that had drawn a peculiar stare from her granddaughter, and had requested that Frankie drive them home. 

When Frankie had grabbed her keys a few hours after dark and told her grandmother that she would be out for a little bit, Grams hadn’t batted a lash. “Behind all things are reasons,” the old woman had remarked to herself, before looking up at her granddaughter with a smile. “Don’t stay out all night.”

Frankie had told herself that she was just going out for a drive to get some air, and to clear her thoughts. She’d ignored the pang in her gut when she’d found herself driving in a familiar direction, up until that uncomfortable feeling sat like a lump in her throat. When it finally became unbearable, and Frankie felt like she couldn’t breathe, she pulled the car over and killed the ignition. After a few minutes of in four seconds, hold seven seconds, out eight seconds, Frankie felt the suffocating feeling start to dissipate. When she finally looked up and out her windshield, she could make out the distant red door Kane’s Funeral Home about a quarter mile up the road, illuminated by a porch light.

Why she’d gotten out of the car, Frankie didn’t know – she’d told herself that maybe it was because she could breathe better in the fresh air. It didn’t account for why she’d started walking – just to calm down, she decided – or why she’d found herself dangerously encroaching on the funeral home’s property. By the time that she’d decided it was stupid – not to mention inappropriate – for her to be there, she’d already stepped foot onto the perfectly-manicured lawn surrounding the place. 

“Idiot,” she mumbled to herself, shaking her head and turning promptly on her heel to head back to the car. No way the cops aren’t all over this place, she thought to herself, and what the fuck would you even say? “I don’t know what I’m doing here either,” she whispered out-loud to herself, trying out what her response to local authorities would be. Huffing, she shook her head and repeated: “idiot.”

Frankie had made it off the lawn and back onto the street when she’d heard – or maybe just felt – another person nearby. She tried to ignore the sensation until it became undeniable, and with a harshly whispered fuck, spun around to see who (or what) was there.

  When death, an all-too familiar concept for the recipient of two heart transplants, was introduced once more into her life, Freya had chosen to close both eyes and ears to the drama of it. She’d known Josie and Red both - worked for them, very briefly, when she first skipped into town with her parents a couple of years ago. The rumors now felt like they had been ripped from one of the mystery novels she liked so much - so Freya played pretend with herself, wishing away reality as she was so keen on doing. 

    A funeral, however, is a bit too obvious for comfort, and wishing that a dead body wasn’t missing was clearly not going to solve the problem very easily. Instead, she sat at home, picking at the bland left-overs she’d heated up, watching as her checked-out mom napped in the couch. Had she even moved in three days? 

   And it’s not like there was anyone for Frey to call, anyhow, No, tonight she was alone and stuck in her thoughts, with a growing pit in her stomach, and after all she’d been through... nothing affected Freya so negatively as feeling powerless. 

   So, she was there, leaning against a tree with her hands shoved in her back pockets, eyes on the funeral home as if she stared long enough, from a safe distance away, she could piece together the puzzle. What she hadn’t expected was another figure to bumble out, hesitant and unsure, and Freya stayed quiet as she watched with narrowed eyes. When she saw it was Frankie - just Frankie - a relieved smile came over her expression and she pushed off from the tree, arms crossing. “Comin’ out here to catch the culprit all on your own?” Freya drawled, stepping closer so she wasn’t so hidden in the shadows. “Think you’ll find somethin’?”

[plantedfreya]

patchjones‌:

     With the funeral and the missing body, Patch definitely does not want to be sober right now. He has two beers in one pocket of his dressing gown and a couple of spliffs in the other. Patch has a well known inability to take serious situations- well seriously. He was drunk for his own graduation for God’s sake. And he knows one person he can unashamedly smoke with. Spotting the curly haired brunette, Patch whistle to get her attention- sounding like Rue from The Hunger Games. “Hey, you, me, the devils lettuce and good vibes. You in?” @plantedfreya​

  What business had Freya at the funeral home? Little, if not none - but she’d worked under Red & Josie briefly, years ago, fortunate enough that they had taken a chance on her when the wind blew her family in town. Now, she regretted not having been a better employee -a better person. Even if the whole shebang had gone without a hitch - but then, it wouldn’t be Wade, would it? - Freya would be needing a little pick-me-up. And fortunately for her, before she even had to endure much of the torture of the evening, her saving grace appeared before her. “Well, well, if it isn’t my sweet savior,” Freya smiled immediately, giving a nod, though Patch should know by now she’d never decline such an offer. “What’s the plan? Gonna hot box in your car again? Cops are crawlin’ ‘round everywhere tonight.” 

[plantedfreya]

agirlnamedmason‌

Mason had swapped spit with a rather large number of people in Wade at this point, but no more meaningful than Freya. Huh. Weird way to phrase that, she thought through the haze. But true. She scrunched up her nose as Freya bopped it, a small giggle escaping still parted lips. She was in rare form; Mason was not a giggler, nor did she usually let people bop her on the nose as though she were some dumb puppy. But there was something freeing about letting these minuscule forms of vulnerability to slip through the cracks. The fact that she only allowed this when she was high out of her mind was something she wasn’t yet ready to confront. 

“Well,” she said, “it’s not just me. Takes two to tango, babe.” 

While she would never ruin what she had with Freya, there were times when Mason wondered if something more serious was possible, with her beautiful friend and in general. During the wee hours of the morning when Mason had just retired from the radio station, feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted, she wished more than anything to be able to have someone. To not just come home to her grubby motel room and find that she was irrevocably and unavoidably alone. That was the one consistent in all her years of travel and adventure. No matter where she went, how many motel rooms she found herself occupying, at the end of the day Mason would always be alone. And so she drank. Smoked. Kissed pretty girls. And sometimes it was enough to make her forget. And sometimes it wasn’t.  

Mason buried her face in the wild expanse of Freya’s curls, breathing in the calming scent of her shampoo and weed. “Wish I could just live in here,” she muttered contently. 

   “I already know I’m the American dream,” Freya’s reply was playful, if not a bit narcissistic - she hadn’t ever suffered a specific lack of confidence, even when she was still a quieter, reserved form of herself. She had not grown up with any feelings of inadequacy - instead, just a fight to live, to survive. 

   Now that she had done that, and was still on the path of acceptable health, Freya had little to worry about - even with the madness surrounding Wade’s most recent horrors. What the two of them shared, here, hidden away in a smokey motel room with lazy eyes, was something special and secret. Like a different universe, fitting on the palm of their hands - regular rules did not exist here. 

   They could be in love, in lust, the best of friends, trapped in those suspended moments of hazy bliss. When they left the doors, reality set back in. Two girls against the stark backdrop of Wade’s city streets, and the weight of their chosen paths preventing anything from blossoming outside of stolen kisses in different worlds. 

   Freya’s fingers began to tangle gently in Mason’s hair, smoothing it out slowly, running her nails lightly through the stands with a deep, contented breath. You could almost forget anything in here - in their safe space. “No one is stoppin’ you, you know,” Freya answered after a moment, eyes closing as she relaxed further into their snuggle. She often thought, too, of bailing on her parents; finding something of her own. “You could live wherever you want, ‘n do whatever you want. So long as you ain’t plannin’ on leavin’ me in the dust, of course.”

[plantedfreya]

starcrossedjude‌:

Well, Jude’s lost. There’s no denying it. Even in a small town, he managed to get himself to a part of the town he’s not yet familiar with. He had decided that on his day off he would walk to the grocery store rather than drive there. Better decision have been made.

The streets have gotten to a point where they all blend together. He can barely identify landmarks and he’s never had the best sense of directions. He’s been walking for about 40 minutes when he decides it’s time to set aside his pride. It’s time to find someone who knows their way around this time. 

“Um, excuse me?” The question is hesitant, as if he’s not sure about asking the question. “I’m sorry, I seem to be a little bit lost. Can you point me in the direction of Walker’s Family Market?”

   There was once a time when Freya herself would be found half-aware of her surroundings on the Wade small-town streets, but now after fully settling into her Illinois home, she’d become something of an expert on the place. 

   Now, with dusty knees and a mess of curls in her face unbothered by the breeze, Freya’s sunkissed skin straight from the Georgia peach groves may be mistaken for a Wade native herself - though when she spoke, the undeniable southern twang to her words gave her away. “We’ve all been there, hun,” She smiled sympathetically, closing the cover of her iPad and standing from her spot on the bench. If he asked, Freya’s excuse would have been she was working, but it wouldn’t be entirely true. 

   “You walkin’? It’s ‘bout another 10 minutes, down to the East, that-a-way, and you’ll wanna...” Freya turned into the sunlight, starting to gesture with a pointer finger, when she stopped short. The poor man seemed lost and confused enough already. “How ‘bout I just walk with you a ways, I’ll show you where it’s at.” 

[nomediocre]