Discover Top Posts Tagged with #baarra

location. ⁺ the vintage store.

most of it felt like junk. piles left behind from those who once were here. the items that didn't prove useful enough to keep tucked away in the living spaces. yet, it all had a life. it all once was important to someone. some of the boxes smelled of decades reyna hadn't lived. some were all too familiar leaving an unsettled yearning in her stomach.

there wasn't any reason for the woman to be rifling through. most times she liked to tuck herself away where people didn't occupy the space around her. there wasn't many places to nestle without company. even when she'd been in the storage shop by herself, she still felt somewhat in the center of people with the memories that took form of discarded objects.

reyna pretended for a moment she had been the only person there - having not acknowledged nicks presence. being socially stunted left her often silent. reyna's hands busied themselves pulling out a box that had a light weight to it. an old tin, a few records. she pulled the records out curiously skimming over the artwork. it was a faded pale yellow with sketched drawings. the font read - 'the world we knew over and over. this town, this is my song, born free.' - reyna smirked at the irony. below the words read 'something stupid.' bingo.

reyna thought to herself that frank and nancy sinatra were probably onto something. " do you ever think about the people who traveled with all of this stuff ? " it was the first time reyna's voice cut into the air since nick and her had been occupying this same space.

closed starter. // @baarra

#( r. hendrix // interactions. )#( r. hendrix // closed starter. )#( r. hendrix // reyna x nick. )#baarra

location. ⁺ - common house.

“-not sure we’ll even find anything.” margot’s tone was flat, void of optimism. winter had stripped the land bare, leaving little to scavenge. at least the snow could be melted for water—a small mercy. that morning, as she made her way into town with phantom padding silently beside her, she’d seen the remnants of the storm. the damage itself didn’t faze her. what lingered in her mind, what tightened her jaw and stirred something raw in her chest, was the blood. streaks of crimson staining the pristine white snow. the sight of it had twisted in her gut, a visceral urge to do something, anything, just to unwind the tension building within her.

now, she sat in a worn chair at the common house, unable to find stillness. her knee bounced incessantly, a nervous rhythm that betrayed her discomfort. this place wasn’t somewhere she liked to linger. it held too many ghosts. too many memories of her brother, of the life they’d once shared here before it had all unraveled. the air felt heavy, suffocating. “are we leaving soon?” margot’s voice wavered as she addressed nicolas, her hunting partner, a tremor of unease threading through her words. phantom, ever-attuned to her moods, pawed gently at her leg, his dark eyes full of silent encouragement as if to say, breathe. be still. - but the restless energy gnawed at her, and sitting there felt unbearable.

“got any snacks?” she asked suddenly, the question tumbling out in a bid for distraction. food always had a way of grounding her, even when the gnawing hunger wasn’t real. she already anticipated what nicolas would say—food is scarce, we have to ration. she didn’t care to hear it. she already knew. what she couldn’t handle was sitting in that house any longer, the weight of its memories threatening to pull her under. fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, her eyes darting to the door every so often. she wasn’t sure if she could last another minute without spiraling, without bolting from the suffocating walls of the common house into the biting cold outside.

@baarra . // closed starter.

#( m. st. pierre // interactions. )#( m. st. pierre // closed starter. )#( m. st. pierre // margot x nicolas. )#baarra

location. ⁺ the ranch

"he's a beaut." her hand smoothed along the animals muzzle. the feeling traveled along the thick of his neck the hair feeling a little more course. a soft brush of bristles beneath the palm of her hand. stella's life had moments of therapy with the creatures. moments built for emotional strength within connection, trust, and the responsibility of care. a positive impact on her life where spots were splotchy grey. "ever ride ?" stella asked, but her focus was still on the tall animal.

how resilient. the animals untouched by the horrors of this town. a blessing. stella didn't know if she could withstand the harm the people took happening to the animals. her sensory cup was full. the horse evoked an escape from the horrors. a distraction for the mind— in a place such as arcadia, it was tough to pull oneself out of the dark depths. thoughts spiraled easily for most. "absolutely beautiful in the sun." how long had the town been swallowed in darkness ? a moment that felt terrifyingly never ending.

@baarra // closed starter.

#( s. copeland // interactions. )#( s. copeland // stella x nicolas. )#( s. copeland // closed starter. )#baarra

location. ⁺outside of rylee's home in town.

the winter air bit at rylee’s cheeks, painting them a bright pink with splotches of crimson along the bridge of her nose. bitter and unforgiving, the chill made her fingers stiff as she struggled to place her daughters’ recent artwork into the weathered wooden post at the edge of the lawn. the paint on the post was already chipping—expected, given the children's craft supplies and the lack of any protective glaze. still, it stood proudly, a small beacon of joy in a town that rarely offered any light beyond what its residents fought to create.

rylee had built the post to share small offerings with the community: books salvaged from her car, beaded bracelets made, vibrant paintings, and drawings—anything her daughters had busied themselves with in this bleak place. it was her way of carving out a pocket of peace, a simple gesture to remind herself and others that life could still hold bits of beauty, even here. she inhaled the sharp winter air, placing the last piece of artwork inside before shutting the door. movement caught the corner of her eye, and she startled, a quiet “chrissakes,” slipping out as a cloud of breath fogged the cold air. her pulse quickened. rylee had always startled easily—arcadia wasn’t the kind of place built for a heart like hers. it was fucking terrifying.

"oh—hello," she greeted, forcing a smile and exhaling the lingering anxiety. her breath steadied as she recognized the figure. "going for a hunt ?" the blonde asked, always doing her best to know the people she shared this forsaken town with. her lips curved into a warmer invitation. "want to come inside for a cup of tea ? 's a bit cold."

@baarra . // closed starter.

#( r. carnegie // interactions. )#( r. carnegie // rylee x nick. )#( r. carnegie // closed starter. )#baarra