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@ssaharper
@ssaharper || LIMITED EDITION, DASH-ONLY and low-commitment 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔯 of capcom's resident evil 6. run by emrys; info can be found at @ammobox. exploring such tropes as action genre hero guy (lesbian), the knight in sour armor, and the scapegoat.
exclusive to lou's sherry, not accepting other sherries.
calvaried·:
Sherry thrives here. Helena’s dazed reticence goes unnoticed by the older woman, who’s already in her element in this domestic battlefield. Her enemy was the very chaos of Helena’s apartment, and she would not lose. Of course, it’s only after she begins her hunt for the proper equipment does Sherry realize maybe she should ask before her hostile takeover of the cleaning situation.
Sheepishly she turns from the closet, duster in hand, and waved to Helena with it. “Is this the same dust cloth that was on it when I gave it to you…?” Not what she meant to say. God. “Sorry. Also totally not why I came over… I know you eat,” Sherry said, forcing herself to slow down, meander back through the apartment to place the duster dow. She should stick to the kitchen, for now. “I‘m not sure you eat as well as you should… You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
helena doesn’t usually make any sort of concerted attempt not to be a total bitch, but for sherry she’s trying. even when sherry puts her foot in her mouth just like that. she contents herself to step back and lean against a cabinet, watching sherry’s well-intentioned berserking. it’s a little endearing, but honestly right now it’s a lot. she chews on the inside of her cheek until sherry pauses long enough for helena to decide that she’s actually expecting an answer now.
a huff. “ i eat just fine. ” this is the kind of thing her autopilot works for – in one motion, she pulls up the sleeve of her sweatshirt to give sherry a flex, showing her just how good she eats. the picador isn’t the only gun she’s carrying, and other such charming jokes. and the levity dies about as quickly as her sleeve falls back down. “ no, i’m not vegetarian, ” she adds, choosing not to reply to sherry’s first question. she knows her rights.
i need to take like. a reverse hiatus. i’m gonna keep working through threads and starters but i won’t be keeping up with my dash or probably posting much ooc. i feel like i’m developing unhealthy patterns of behavior and starting to get wrapped up in stuff that isn’t what i enjoy, and i need to take a step back and focus on doing what i’m here for before i get involved with everything else lmao. it’s kind of challenging because i didn’t realize how much of the activity in this community is ooc and i’m worried that it’ll be hard for me to get interaction if i’m not consistently establishing myself ooc but basically my discord is cho time!#5542 and my dms are open, feel free to reach out and talk to me about your character or ask to plot or anything you want anytime. i :heart: you
calvaried·:
Sherry gets a look inside her apartment, which is Helena’s first mistake. She heads to a counter to place her bags, grimacing at her surroundings as a whole; dusty, dark, a little… damp? Ew. Why was the counter wet? Sherry was quick to grab a cloth to dry beneath her groceries before turning back to acknowledge Helena with a smile, opening her arms and walking towards her for a hug.
“Merry Christmas! Nothing’s wrong. Has it always got to be an emergency when we see each other?“ She asks, wrapping her arms around Helena tight before releasing her to look back around the room. She sucks on her teeth, trying not to look too much like she‘s judging the place as harshly as she is. “Well… Let’s get a little light in here. Do you have that Swiffer duster I got you last Christmas?”
Sherry moves quickly away from Helena over to the blinds, opening what she can and peering outside. No wonder Helena was depressed if this was how she was living. “I helped Leon made this awesome roast beef for Christmas. And there were mashed potatoes, and carrots- I should’ve thought to invite you. Have you been eating alright?” She asks, going through her laundry list of thoughts one after another , expecting an answer to each. Where is the duster? How are you eating? Keep up, Helena.
forget fresh air, sherry’s a whirlwind. maybe helena’s more drunk than she thought, because she’s left trying to keep her feet under her in sherry’s wake. she wanders after her, half-dazed, as her mind buffers through all of sherry’s questions. ( suddenly hyper-aware of the stains on her FLETC sweater. ) “ the duster…? um, it’s in one of the closets. ” she thinks she’s used it a couple times. god, this is embarrassing.
“ i eat. ” she clicks her tongue and turns her head dismissively. “ ... thanks. but i wouldn’t have felt like coming, anyways. ” she blinks at the light that floods the space, stirring up dust. really, really embarrassing.
pleas don’t look at my horrible formatting i’m too lazy to fix it.
the ·knock ·on ·helena’s ·door ·cuts ·through ·the ·haze. ·the ·headache ·she’s ·been ·nursing ·since ·christmas ·eve ·twinges ·painfully ·and ·she ·grabs ·her ·gun ·from ·the ·couch ·cushion ·beside ·her ·as ·she ·lurches ·to ·her ·feet. ·taking ·the ·safety ·off ·her ·picador ·is ·a ·well-practiced ·movement, ·subconscious, ·and ·her ·footfalls ·are ·carefully ·silent ·as ·she ·approaches ·the ·door. ·the ·next ·sound ·is ·that ·of ·helena ·sliding ·her ·chain ·lock ·into ·place, ·then ·a ·thick ·slide ·bolt ·opens ·with ·a ·thunk, ·deadbolt ·disengages, ·and ·her ·finger ·rests ·on ·the ·picador’s ·trigger ·as ·she ·pulls ·the ·door ·open ·a ·crack.
oh, ·it’s ·sherry. ·it’s ·sherry ·with ·alcohol. ·helena ·grunts ·blearily ·and ·slams ·the ·door ·shut, ·removes ·the ·chain, ·and ·then ·opens ·it ·fully. ·her ·picador ·finds ·a ·place ·in ·the ·waistband ·of ·her ·sweatpants ·as ·she ·tries ·to ·blink ·the ·blurriness ·away. ·maybe ·it’s ·just ·the ·light ·from ·the ·hallway ·spilling ·into ·her ·apartment ·or ·the ·literal ·breeze ·that ·finds ·its ·way ·in ·before ·sherry, ·but ·it ·feels ·like ·helena’s ·first ·breath ·of ·fresh ·air ·in ·weeks. ·she ·presses ·her ·back ·against ·the ·wall ·to ·let ·sherry ·through ·and ·exhales ·through ·her ·nose. ·“ ·is ·everything ·okay? ·”
@calvaried || closed
holidays are rough. at least, that's what all the distressed self-help books on her coffee table say, somewhere under the blank post-it notes and scribbled-out lists and ripped-apart envelopes. helena's sister always said she opened mail like a raccoon going through the garbage. deborah doesn't say much of anything anymore, of course. so boxing day finds agent harper sprawled on her couch with a third bottle of miller lite held loosely in her grasp, and a boxing match on the tv just for the noise. that's funny, at least. boxing on boxing day.
not that she needs noise to fill the air in her apartment. a cigarette rests on a plate-turned-ashtray, and the wisp of smoke rising from it curls into the clouds of smoke and dust and general neglect that keep her nice and cozy in her wallowing. the blinds have a telltale skin of dust over them-- they haven't been opened in a long time-- and the whole scene is lit by the television and one dim yellow lamp. she sighs, glancing at a christmas card on the table, then focuses on the cracks in her wall. some fleeting, angsty metaphor comes to mind about foundations crumbling and is anything worth saving? but that's too pathetic even for her, so she thinks instead about nothing, letting the thick air bring her into its haze.
