prophet girl

lettie devaux.

[prcphetgirl]

fate. a word meaning destiny. fate. a word meaning doom.

skeleton ✸ application ✸ pinterest ✸ playlist

[prcphetgirl]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: olivia – the crow @nevcrmourn 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: elderberry bakery, july 20th, 11 am

one of the many benefits of being one of only two librarians in their small town was that when someone decided to write a book about said small town, she received an arc. for better or for worse, she's already halfway through it, and lettie has questions.

"i got you your usual," she drawls, using her good hand to dog-ear the page that she's on. usually, she wouldn't dare, but gordon shivers doesn't deserve her bookmark. gaze lifting to her friend, she smiles before pushing a plate towards her. "saved you half of the last morning bun, too. hold the applause," she teases.

[prcphetgirl]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: lily – the pyre @pyreburn 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: outside of the pryde family home, july 18th, 7 pm

maybe it was naive to have hoped that the mayor's address would make her feel the slightest bit better. in actuality, it wasn't even his lack of answers (because could they really blame him?) that had bothered her so much. it was the worried looks on the parents of her students, the marks she'd seen on little clover's wrist.

"lily?" she calls, using her good arm to tap at the door. then, remembering her friend's ankle, "if you're in and it's unlocked, just yell! don't move if you've got your ankle up...you better have your ankle up!" the brunette probably sounds like a nagging grandmother, but knowing her friend, lettie doubts that lily has been taking it easy as her wound heals; she doesn't want to contribute to that pattern if she can help it.

[prcphetgirl]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: xingyu – the beacon @enhaloes 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: xingyu's apartment, july 27th, 2 pm

the summer festival was a distraction, but it was also an opportunity to observe the behavior of the rest of magnolia creek, especially the little ones. she's heard whispers of them wandering from bed and waking up with strange markings. it was bad enough waking up to such things herself, but picturing the little third graders who had cried when she'd read casper the friendly ghost: ghost stories last halloween makes her feel ill.

lettie closes her book a bit louder than intended before her gaze shifts to xingyu on the opposite side of the couch. "what do you think, should we give it a shot?" she raises an eyebrow playfully, gaze shifting briefly to where she knows his ribs must still be hurting before returning to his face. "i promise i won't ask you to go on any of the scary ones."

[moralcompcss]

where:  summer festival.

when:  july  26th,  7:15pm.

lights  dazzlines,  the  sound  of  children  tailing  off  into  the  funhouse  where  walls  turned,  the  world  fell  off  kilter...  oblivious  to  the  way  the  town  had  already  turned  everything  upside  down.  there  was  a  time  when  he  would  have  been  in  a  booth,  makeshift  purple  velvet  falling  hopelessly  as  he  sat  there  pretending  that  he  was  going  to  read  a  fortune;  predicting  a  fate  that  had  the  right  balance  of  optimism  to  add  tips  to  his  marker  stained  jar.  now,  he  knew  too  much  about  fate  and  too  little  about  what  came  next. the  sound  of  the  buzzer  causes  him  to  blink  out  of  his  haze,  the  punch  back  knocked  back  by  one  of  his  nephew's  classmates.  a  new  high  score  registered  and  cheering.  he  can  barely  muster  an  expression,  abandoned  as  they  run  off  to  celebrate  with  an  ice  cream,  a  handful  of  coins  left  behind. he  doesn't  know  how  long  he's  been  standing  there.  it  could  have  been  a  few  seconds,  a  minute...  perhaps  even  an  hour  in  the  trance  that  lay  somewhere  between  consciousness  and  slumber.  sleep  had  became  so  foreign  to  him,  the  idea  of  not  being  present  in  his  body  a  mortal  enemy  that  he  had  to  make  sure  he  could  strike  back  at.

[prcphetgirl]

while a festival as the town fell apart was almost painfully ironic, for a woman who'd spent the majority of her time in magnolia creek denying her role there, it felt just right. an opportunity to briefly unwind, if only long enough to enjoy some funnel cake.

she spots lucky just as his nephew and his friend run off, blissfully unaware of anything other than high scores, game tickets, and sweet treats. lettie doesn't like the look of the dark circles under her friend's eyes, of the way he stares ahead without seeming to truly see anything.

"help me finish this?" it's phrased as a question, but the brunette is already pushing it towards him with the hand that isn't currently restricted by a cast.

[scythebcrn]

“deal.” he immediately hands the extra treats to the dogs, almost smile turning into a subdued but real one. despite the way lettie, as he read her name tag for the first time, initially reacted to his presence, this was not so bad of an interaction compared to others who’d reacted similarly.  “how much—” alistair… there was something about the way she says his name so suddenly that jolts his heart; a horse ready to run. a vague knowing that sat uncomfortably inside him, but before he even has the chance to ask her why she said his name, she gives him the answer. i dreamt of you, when you were… away. alistair’s guard comes up with enough force for the dogs to sense it, each one coming in close and pressing their bodies against him as if he needed the comfort. scratching behind each their ears for a moment, alistair slowly rises to his full height, holding himself stiffly. he didn’t have to ask what she meant. he questioned it for a moment, analyzing her with carefully detached eyes, but he knew without asking. “witch.” a seerer; slayer instincts rusty but still there enough to tell him what she is on deeper analysis. the realization of what her words truly mean only sink in after this deduction. she’d seen him in the void. it didn’t matter how much or how little she saw— no, it did, but he didn’t want to know in this moment; right now all that mattered was that she saw him and that knowledge turned his stomach. body flashing cold then hot, alistair knew he was on the verge of a panic attack, and tries to control it; not show it, but the signs are still there. eyes darting around the room, over her, fists clenching tight by his side, throat swallowing more frequently than normal trying to combat his suddenly dry mouth.  five hundred. five eighty-nine. six hundred. two hundred. nine ninety. eight. ten. twelve. two. what had she seen? how much? for how long? eight ninety. what did she know? what did she see? eight ninety-nine. ninety— counting doesn’t do it’s job as he stares past her for what’s only a few seconds but feels like forever. he was in the void. alistair where are you? ali we’re here! where are you? i’m right here! this way! i’m coming! we’re coming! ali is that—  no. he comes back into himself when this stranger named lettie says she’s there for him. he can hear how genuinely she means it, her earlier reaction now making sense in his mind, but in this moment it doesn’t matter because it feels like he’s been stripped naked.  eyebrows creasing down, he means to make a joke, to laugh. you’re not the first crazy to say they dreamt of me. let me guess, you saw me get kidnapped into a cult where i was forced to perform ritual murder? or was it that i saw the person who killed everyone on halloween and was locked in their basement until i escaped? i ran away because i thought people would believe i was responsible for the murders, but not you? you know i’m innocent and want to marry me because i deserve a woman who will take care of me?  he’d heard it all before, and he wanted to make a joke about it. deflect. but, none of that is what comes out of his mouth. instead, slipping past his lips without permission is a disgustingly small, “don’t tell anyone.” and shame hits him like a truck. shame of any version of himself that she may have seen. shame that she may have seen him becoming what he is now. shame that made him angry more at himself for feeling it, than her for drawing it near. “did you enjoy the show?” a cover up for the quiet slip up he hadn’t meant to say.

[prcphetgirl]

in truth, the word shouldn't sting as much as it does. witch. and she was, wasn't she? for all that she tried to deny it, to push it down, the label was one that she couldn't escape. her mother may not have told her what she was, may have tried to hide that part of their family history, but the visions would not be pushed down. alistair's voice in the dark was proof enough of that.

the dogs press closer, alistair's body stiff and tense, and lettie's grown familiar enough with the indicators of a panic attack to tell that he's either teetering on the edge or already spiralling. for a moment, she considers grabbing a glass of cold water from the bubbler behind her desk and encouraging him to take small sips. ultimately, she just averts her gaze in an attempt to give him some privacy.

lettie looks up at his plea, and his voice is so small that she wants nothing more than to comfort him. when she'd first seen him curled into himself in the void, she'd tried to rest her hand on his shoulder, to hold his hand, but her fingers had fallen right through him. all she could do was watch and listen, and there was a cruelty to having to see him in so much pain without having the power to alleviate it. and now here he is, only feet away, and her words and what they mean are the reason his voice sounds so small.

"i won't tell anyone what i saw of you in there." her gaze is direct, because although she's technically a stranger, she needs him to see how serious she takes this. "i promise."

[griefbound]

the  squeeze  around  his  arm  is  weak,  but  it’s  enough.  enough  to  tell  him  she’s  crawled  back  behind  her  own  eyes.  matteo’s  grip  loosens  by  inches,  fingers  leaving  pale  dents  in  the  meat  of  her  arm,  though  he  doesn’t  let  go. not  yet. “there  you  are,”  he  mutters, thumb  pressing into  her  skin  once more, hard  enough  to  feel  the  bone  beneath  it.  making  sure  she’s  still  in  there. it's watching us. his  head  lifts  before  the  rest  of  the  words  make  it  out  of  lettie's  mouth.  the  laundromat  looks  exactly  as  shitty  as  it  did  thirty  seconds  ago—yellowed  walls,  rows  of  dryers  with  their  black  mouths  hanging  open,  one  fluorescent  tube  twitching  itself  toward  an  early  grave—but  matteo  scans  it  anyway.  front  windows.  back  hall.  the  dark  slit  beneath  the  bathroom  door.  every  reflection  trapped  and  warped  in  the  washer  glass.  looking  for  something  with  a  face  he  can  hit. “yeah?”  his  jaw  works  once,  chipped  tooth  catching  briefly  against  the  inside  of  his  lip.  “then  it  can  quit  jerking  off  in  the  dark  and  come  say  hello.”  there’s  nothing  in  the  room,  which  doesn’t  mean  shit  in  this  town. “waiting  for  what?”  he turns  back  to  her,  eyes  dropping  over  lettie's  face.  she’s  got  some  color  in  her  now,  but  not  enough.  still  looks  scraped  hollow.  like  whatever  climbed  inside  her  skull  wiped  its  boots  before  leaving.  “don’t  choke  on it  trying  to  spit  it  out.  breathe.”  his grip  shifts  around  her  arm,  easing  without  disappearing.  “what  did  you  see?”

[prcphetgirl]

lettie's vaguely aware of the way that matteo scans their surroundings, of the courage to his words that some might mischaracterise as brazenness. at his reminder to breathe, she clears her throat again, before doing just that. "sorry," she exhales before pressing a hand to her temple. "it takes a minute for my voice to sort itself out." thankfully, the difficulty speaking and ache in her throat have been replaced with the typical dull headache.

"i think it's waiting for us. all of us," she starts, answering his earlier question, tone flat. "the earth's dark, and there's a weird bitter smell to it, almost like a bonfire." oddly enough, some of the discomfort of having a witness to the vision has eased; perhaps having another person there to talk through it would lead to more than her usual confused frustration. "i can't see it, but i know there's something beneath the ground. except, i don't think it stays there," and here she trails off, gaze dropping to her hands for a moment. "i know that it doesn’t. and it's so pleased with itself."

[dusktildcwn]

odette follows silently, wondering what warnings this girl was given as a child. was she told not to speak to strangers? to never let them coerce you into their home or care? did her mother go as far as to tell her never to allow someone into their home and to always leave a line of salt between every doorway? to always keep herbs like wolfsbane in your home, and both items of silver and iron near your bed? or were those items of protection kept a secret from dear little lettie?

as they walked, the location they ended up in was a disappointment to the blonde. she had hoped to follow the girl home, not to a bench near the coast. she did not let out the sigh as she sat, but she expelled it internally. taking the bottle handed to her, odette nods at the 'cheer's before taking a long sip. "you come here to drink?" odette asked, curious if the girl was smarter and more perceptive then she first gave her credit for.

[prcphetgirl]

the wine is cheap, something that she'd picked up at the gas and go because the grocery store had been closed by the time she'd locked up the clinic. still, she swallows without complaint, the sweetness refreshing after the walk and a rather long day. "to drink, to think," she shrugs, taking another sip. "mostly, it's a good place to read."

the house she's slowly been turning into a home isn't far, although the darkness makes it impossible to make out. lettie would forever be grateful for the home that her relatives had provided, but even all of these years later, she feels a bit odd bringing others into the space. "where's your favorite place in magnolia creek?" her gaze shifts to the other woman, curious to hear her response.

[scythebcrn]

“didn’t they teach you not to judge a dog by its cover at vet school?” he leaned down and scratched the chihuahua behind the ear; the animal instantly rolled over to expose his belly. “he looks mean, but all he wants is belly rubs and her attention.” he nodded to starfire as he stood to let lettie take them back. in the time it took the dogs to get their checkup done and lettie to bring them back, alistair had closed his eyes in his chair and dozed off. sleep was something he didn’t enjoy doing, so oftentimes, when his body was tired enough or was given a small break, he’d find himself dozing off somewhere random. a booth at fryday’s, against a tree in the park, and the veterinary’s waiting room.  caught off guard by lettie’s sudden arrival, he all but jumped out of his seat, barely stopping himself from leaping at her directly as he snatched back the leashes. “great, yeah; told you they didn’t bite…” he shook his head out, trying to dislodge sleep from his mind. grabbing one of the treats, alistair crouched down and held them out to both the dogs. “you know they’re not supposed to have treats before meals; shelter’s strict about that. which means I should give them two.” he glanced up at her almost smiling while he held out one hand as a question for more. “they’re begging.”

[prcphetgirl]

in her haste, she hadn't realized what she had interrupted, and lettie feels a bit guilty for having woken the man up. they didn't have another client for another hour; perhaps she should have let him get some rest? lettie tried not to let her mind wander to that dark place she dreamed of, but she finds herself wondering if he'd ever been able to get any rest there. what must it be like, six years with nothing but nightmares for company?

"i won't tell if you don't," she smiles, handing over the treats. there's something about the gentleness, the almost smile, that breaks her heart. her visions had never shown her his face, but his voice. it had revealed so much pain, hurt, and loneliness. it's difficult to reconcile the man before her with the one she'd seen curled into himself, calling out for those out of reach. some of the things he'd cried and screamed had stayed with her even after she'd woken, echoing in her head. the anger was palpable, of course, but above all else it was the loneliness that had made her feel ill.

"alistair." his name has passed her lips before she can stop it, and maybe now isn't the right time but was there ever a right time for what she felt she needed to do? "i dreamt of you, when you were...away. i know you couldn't hear me, but i just...i thought that you should know." i thought you should know that you weren't alone. that even if you couldn't hear me or see me, i was there, wishing i could do more than just stand by and watch. she clears her throat, unconsciously fiddling with her mother's ring which rests on her right ring finger. "and i know that you have plenty of people here who would be happy to be there for you, but if there's anything you need," she trails off, the adrenaline-fueled words finally fizzling out, "well, i'm here too."

[enhaloes]

HE CAN’T IMAGINE THE WEIGHT OF IT ALL. how disorienting it must be for her, to see things you can’t place, can’t explain until it’s too late. how heavy it must be to carry the knowledge, to be the first to experience it before anyone else. how lonely. he wouldn’t know how to hold it, what to do with it all.  “that must be…” it’s said softly, barely audible as he can’t finish the sentence, can’t find the right words, can’t convey how much he is trying to understand her and feels like he’ll only come up short. instead, a soft touch to her shoulder, keeping steady eye contact. as if to say, i hope you know that i’m here for you. you don’t have to do this alone. because what else can he do for her? “by him you mean…” he begins to ask, hesitates to say the name, flashes of memories from the last time he saw him. “...alistair? in the void?”  he tries to process what she means, that she had seen him before he had crawled onto the banks and everything started shifting. he’s not sure he’s ready to ask what she’d seen, to know what his choices—or lack of choices—led to. he’s watching the way her face shifts as she talks about all her visions. maybe it’s not fair to ask to begin with.  “have you told him? that you saw him? or… does everyone else know, about your dreams?”

[prcphetgirl]

such a simple form of comfort, and yet at her friend's soft touch, at the way he meets her eyes and doesn't look away, lettie lets out a small breath. a burden shared is a burden halved, her mother used to say, only the one person she'd wanted to talk to about all of this hadn't been there to share it with. perhaps the burden isn't halved by sharing it with xingyu, but as she leans her head down, her cheek briefly resting on his hand, things do feel lighter. she blinks back tears, and for all of the darkness and anxiety leading to tonight, having xingyu on her side is a cherished bright spot.

straightening up, lettie nods. "yes, alistair." the man in question's gentleness with the animals the day they'd truly spoken for the first time comes to mind. "he knows. not all of the details, but it didn't feel right not saying anything."

the woman thinks of her cousin, of the way they would sometimes linger at her doorway following a particularly taxing dream. they've never spoken of it, but she knows they at least have some understanding. "lily knows. matteo, too. i'm not sure about the others."

[griefbound]

the  scream  rips  through  the  laundromat  just  as  he’s  watching  his  blood  swirl  pink  in  the  drum.  matteo  jerks  so  fast  he  slams  his  hip  into  the  coin-op  door,  white-hot,  stupid  pain  shooting  up  his  side  hard  enough  to  wring  a  hissed,  “shit—”  out  of  him,  but  his  hand  is  already  on  her,  fingers  locking  around  her  arm.  one  look  at  lettie's  face  and  whatever  curse  was  coming  dies  behind  his  teeth. because  she's  not  looking  at  him. she's  not  looking  at  anything  in  the  room. eyes  wide  open  and  fixed  somewhere  else,  parked  on  something  that  sure  as  hell  isn’t  here. matteo’s  seen  men  knocked  stupid  in  fights.  seen  bar  drunks  go  glassy  while  the  whole  room  pitched  sideways  around  them.  seen  his  ma  sit  dead  quiet  at  the  kitchen  table,  cigarette  ash  falling  soft  as  snow  over  overdue  bills,  gone  somewhere  mean  and  far  down  inside  her  own  skull.  he  knows  that look.  knows  when somebody's still standing there but ain't all the way inside anymore. this  is  something  else—  not  a  fit,  not  panic.  one  of  those  goddamn  sight-things.  “hey—hey.  eyes  on  me.” he  yanks  her  hard  enough  to  rattle  her.  matteo  doesn’t  know  shit  about  gentle.  gentle’s  for  people  who  got  room  for  it.  his  free  hand  hovers  stupidly  near  her  cheek,  like  maybe  there’s  something  useful  in  it,  like  maybe  he’s  the  kind  of  man  who  knows  how  to  do  comfort.  he  isn’t.  he  knows  pressure.  impact.  how  to  keep  something  from  coming  apart  by  throwing  his  own  weight  against  it  until  his  bones  start  to  ache.  so  he  drags  lettie  closer  instead,  keeping her upright before  whatever  has  hold  of  her  can  pull  the  rest  along  with  it.  behind  them,  the  machines  keep  up  their  idiot  racket,  wet  denim  hammering  steel  like  locked-out  fists. “come  on.  i’ve  already  dealt  with  enough  shit  today.”

[prcphetgirl]

it's difficult to identify the end of the vision. one moment, she can feel the ground crumbling beneath her feet and the next she's aware of strong arms holding her up. the pressure isn't suffocating; it's the firm press of a hand over a wound, necessary and vital. she allows herself to relax into it slightly, to take a moment to get her bearings. blinking, her gaze settles not on scorched earth, but on a bulletin board filled with yellowed posters and adverts. the last sense to return is her hearing, screaming replaced with the sound of an old washing machine fighting a losing battle against bloodstained clothes.

usually, there was no one to witness the aftermath. lettie could process or not process it however she saw fit, safely behind closed doors. she could sit with the ache in her head, the burning in her throat, the tightness in her chest, and close her eyes until it wore off. there's something shameful in being seen like this, the little voice in her head hissing strange, wrong, abominable.

a shaky hand reaches up, squeezing matteo's arm, trying to signal that she's present. lettie always struggled to speak after a vision, the way you'd try to cry out in a nightmare but be met with only silence. after another minute or so, she's able to clear her throat, words tumbling out after as if of their own volition. "it's watching us. it's...waiting, but i don't," she trails off, struggling to clear her throat again.

[cluts]

who cares?? me. so much

[scythebcrn]

if alistair and lettie had one thing in common, it was their preference for showing animals kindness before people. granted, it may not have been as solid a preference as his, lettie’s in greeting them and not on a whole, but it was a common ground he was not unhappy to see in the woman’s attention to the dogs; a faint expression of approval on his face. but, then she dropped her pen and looked at him like he was a ghost, and his expression dimmed back into the one of apathy he usually wore. of course.  it was a look he was used to now, even if it annoyed him to no end. usually it came from people he knew before he’d “died”, but occasionally, such as the current case, it came from people who knew him through the rumor mill or news clippings, as if they’d seen an urban legend come to life and didn’t know how to process that. usually, alistair would let this kind of reaction to his presence change the course of his day, give people something to react to, but he was having a good day. he wanted to have a good day; it was a dog day, and he wasn’t going to let this stranger's reaction get in the way of what he wanted. “are you afraid of dogs? they don’t bite if that’s what you’re nervous about.” he handed her one of the leashes, but held onto the other, not letting go until he dryly joked. “neither do I.”

[prcphetgirl]

his face changes, something closing off, and a feeling of guilt creeps in. alistair had seemed so light when he'd first stepped foot in the office, and lettie hates that her reaction has dimmed things. if anyone deserved peace, it was him.

the brunette takes the leash he offers her, leaning down to scratch behind the larger dog's ears. the position allows her a moment to collect herself, to try to scramble together the composure she draws on when her abilities try to make themselves known.

"i don't know, nightwing looks rather vicious," her tone is artificially light as she grips the other leash, gaze shifting from the tiny dog to the man in front of her. how strange it is to finally put a face to the voice she'd been hearing, to the figure she'd seen curled up, all alone. while she dreamed, she'd have given anything to be able to reach out and touch him, to provide some form of comfort, and now here he is, his fingers only inches away.

she clears her throat, shaking her head slightly before her lips quirk up. "dr. camber is expecting them. i'll be right back and then they can get some much-deserved breakfast."

it doesn't take long for dr. camber to collect the vials needed for their bloodwork. starfire is a bit nervous, so lettie steps in to help, rubbing gentle circles in the dog's fluffy ears to calm her. ten minutes, fifteen at most, and then she's returning to the lobby, leashes in one hand and treats in the other.

"they did great," she responds with a small smile, handing over the leashes. "dr. camber will get in touch with the shelter once the results come in." she reaches out, offering alistair the treats.

[enhaloes]

xingyu just nods quietly, at first, the mention of her mother causing his eyes to drift in the direction of the neighborhood, roofs jutting out over the trees. he grew up hearing rumors about the devauxs, that he shouldn’t go near the house just down the road. whispers that they were cursed, or that the house was haunted. that a daughter ran away and never looked back. he had figured by lettie’s last name that she must be related in some way. but xingyu had never been one to put stock in the town gossip, so realizing the fact never changed that much for him, never made him question her before. eyebrows raise at the new information, then knit into slight concern. he shifts on the bench to face her better. “dreams?” he repeats, more to himself as he processes it. he shouldn’t be too surprised, he supposes — with friends who grew up as slayers their whole life and he was none the wiser; with a werewolf and vampires joining their circle; with the knowledge that something unfathomable lurks underneath town. and as much as he tries to understand it all, in truth he doesn’t know anything else except being human. “when did you start having them?” he asks, tries to contain all the questions he has but another spills forth. “are they… about random things? about our group? about…” he trails off. he means the hunger, but he’s unable to finish the sentence, like speaking about it directly will conjure it before them.

[prcphetgirl]

catharsis. it was a term her favorite college professor had used when talking about why they needed to address the ugly parts of literature, of history. there was a phrase he had shared that lettie would never forget; sunlight can be antiseptic. bringing things to light, allowing them to be seen, could be cleansing—healing, even. unfortunately, no part of this feels cathartic. if anything, it's making her skin crawl. strange. wrong. abominable. what if xingyu and the others started seeing her the way she saw this part of herself?

"it started a month before i moved here." three days before her mother died, before her life split into before and after. "sometimes, i'll hear the name of the book a student wants read for story time. other times, it's this awful feeling in my chest and then i'll see that thalia's written an obituary for a name that i recognize." for the first time since she started talking about her abilities, lettie looks over at her friend. "this summer, it's pretty much been the same thing, over and over. this...void and then him." it had been so dark, so cavernous, so lonely. lettie could tell that the man was hurting, but there was nothing that she could do but watch. "i didn't know who he was until he came back."

[moralcompcss]

"the  first  graders  have  to  wait,  they  don't  know  what  it's  like  to  have  a  sleepless  night  in  the  bad  way  yet,"  tone  light  as  he  springs  backwards,  the  motions  fluid  as  he  turns  so  they  can  make  their  way  out  of  the  front,  various  balls  bouncing  in  the  netting  with  each  cheery  step.  you  would  have  never  guessed  he  barely  slept  a  wink.  "it's  shaping  up  to  be  a  pretty  good  summer  around  here,"  met  with  some  surprisingly  in  tune  whistling  as  he  heads  towards  the  makeshift  coaching  trailer  (put  in  place  when  the  gym  was  undergoing  work  to  hold  barely  15  kids  at  a  time).  he  opens  the  door  to  lead  her  in,  ridding  himself  of  his  sporting  goods  as  he  releases  the  pink  floral  furnace  and  two  travel  cups,  splashing  the  tea  into  it  with  barely  a  glance,  "they're  getting  a  new  maths  teacher.  that's  what  i  heard,  apparently  she  finally  retired."

[prcphetgirl]

the brunette shakes her head at her friend's comment, a short laugh following. "you have a point," she responds, falling into step behind him. it's an easy routine, one they've settled into since second semester last year. lettie looks forward to these little breaks and the levity that usually comes with lucky's company. as the door closes behind them, she sinks into her usual spot, a stool that looks as if it probably spent some of its life in the science lab. "really? i thought ms. crowe would be here until the state finally decides to shut us down," she half-jokes. once kaden has passed her the cup, she takes a sip before letting out a pleased sigh. "so," she continues, shifting in her seat, "another sleepless night?" there's a hint of concern in her voice, in the way her brows furrow.

[moralcompcss]

where: magnolia school @prcphetgirl

when:  june  17th , 10:45am.

it  was  that  time  of  year,  the  fleeting  jokes  when  he  signed  a  yearbook  with  lucky,  the  good  byes  to  those  that  wouldn't  return  next  year,  streaming  sunlight  through  the  window  earlier  and  earlier.  there  were  moments  that  he  could  almost  forget  the  signs,  overlook  the  circling  crows  and  the  wilting  greenery  that  should  have  at  least  had  chance  to  turn  to  the  sun,  open  armed.  the  first  break  is  in  place  and  he's  wandering  into  the  library,  net  of  footballs  thrown  over  his  shoulder  as  his  hip  slings  against  the  library  desk,  a  knock  of  his  fist  to  catch  her  attention.  "i've  been  having  visions  all  morning…  it's  hazy  but  i'm  pretty  sure  that  i  saw  you,  me,"  raise  of  an  eyebrow,  "an  amazing  chamomile  tea."

[prcphetgirl]

summer was so close she could taste it on her tongue. like most educators, lettie was counting down the days. she loved her students, their curiosity and quirks, but there was so much that she wanted to get done this summer. devaux house had spent too long in disarray, and she was determined to continue breathing life into it.

tapping her pen against the table as she reads through a list of books to be weeded, her gaze shifts to the man in front of her. "good morning, mr. brightman." perhaps there was a potential suggestiveness to his words, had they been heard by another library patron, but lettie's mind doesn't even go there. she stands up, tucking in her chair before stepping around the desk. "lead the way. i have," she trails off, checking her watch, "about fifteen minutes until the first graders arrive."

[dusktildcwn]

she couldn't help but allow her smile - at the idea of ridding magnolia creek of creepy paul - fall when the girl before her denied her offer. it was a chance to indulge in her deepest desires and if it were approved of... then she would not have to worry about backlash.

but her focus was soon elsewhere. the witch before her instead propositioned the idea of odette joining her for glasses of wine. while it was not her preferred beverage, she did enjoy the idea of perhaps being invited into lettie's home. how beneficial could that be down the road, she wondered? "lead the way," the vampire said, motioning for the girl before her to start walking. she took one last drag of her cigarette before stomping it out on the pavement and following in her direction.

[prcphetgirl]

lettie hadn't grown up on stories of magnolia creek. calla had never warned her not to open the door if a familiar voice called her name at night, never told her not to follow pawprints into the woods. if the lights went out while she was telling a story, lettie probably would have just lit some candles and kept talking. even now, after six years, there is folklore the young woman isn't privy to. she knows that there is something about odette that ties her to the darker parts of magnolia creek, but the specifics are out of reach.

it's dark, but the path has become familiar over the past year. not quite bright enough lampposts line the pier with seldom-repaired benches on either side. at first glance, none of it looks entirely stable, but lettie has spent enough time here to know that it'll hold their weight. once they reach the end, the brunette takes a seat on the sturdiest-looking bench and reaches into her bag. it's too dark for her to see the waves, but they are loud below them. lettie hands one of the bottles to the other woman before unscrewing the top of her own. "cheers," she offers, bottle raised.