#empirelines

[ofhowls]

October air nips at naked legs and pins her cheeks into a bright pink. Goosebumps are spread evenly across bronze skin and the floral sundress worn offer no warmth. She should’ve gone HOME ; tucked herself into a duvet and rinsed off the remaining of her make-up, but she doesn’t. Instead her inebriated and emotional self is driven in the direction of a friend. FRIEND  - -  she could use one of those right about now. Darkness surrounds the Holstad residence and it seems it breathes it as well. But even as the lights are dimmed within the suburban, and the porch light switched off, Sawyer Kinney has her hopes up. Frozen and unsteady movements leads her around the building, kicking un-raked leaves of autumn, and into the backyard. Frostbitten grass illuminated by a singular lit window, and she huffs a breath of relief that solidifies before her as an opaque cloud of remaining warmth. Pebbles collected from below are now tossed at glass between impatient pauses until a boy shows up in the brightly colored frame. A smile is mustered upon the sight, numb fingers wiping off the dampness of her cheeks before he can catch a proper look. “ What are you doing up? It’s late. ”  / @empirelines

[glcryborn]

— a starter for KYRA SPARKS ( @empirelines )

Javier avoids coming to the club as much as he can — most of the business there falls under Ed’s responsibility anyways but tonight, duty calls for him ( some sort of meeting about the latest finance reports, he’s not quite sure ). As he seats himself at one of the more secluded booths in the club, Javier suddenly realises that his habit of being an early bird backfires on him in this particular situation. He’ll have to sit out here much longer than necessary and the thought makes him shift uneasily in his seat. A waitress pulls him out of his thoughts by asking him if he’d like a drink and for a moment, Javier hesitates — after all, he is here on business. He looks down at his fingers that are nervously tapping against the table and quickly, he gives a nod. ❝ Scotch. Neat, please. ❞  

[ofhowls]

Summer’s coming to its end : days spent celebrating everything from birthdays to the break itself were now coming to an end, forcing Sawyer to enjoy every last second of it. The semester start was a few weeks away and she was bound to go lost in the heaps of homework handed out. School, work and practice … little time would be given to her friends, thus : the brunette was now making out for future time lost. Few drinks, okay, many drinks in her system and she was nowhere near calling it the night. Sawyer had first spotted him an hour ago, maybe two, and she’d made a silent vow to herself to let it be. To let him breathe and to let their interactions be limited to those taking place at work. That was sober Sawyer. Buzzed Sawyer didn’t care much for the decisions made by her coherent self. Boy seated on the living room couch and the brunette drops down next to him, two cups in her hands; near spilling over the rim with careless movements. “ Drink up, buzzkill. ” Drink offered to the younger, her own brought to glossed lips in the process. / @empirelines

[ofhowls]

           A skateboard broken by her best friend and MJ was without proper transportation for the summer. It’d been a pain finding alternatives, and though she thought to have found one in the form of her old bicycle, the tumble she took with the thing implied otherwise. She didn’t break her arm but a wrist wound up fractured and her head bandaged from her non-decision when it came to wearing a helmet. Arm tucked into a sling, for whatever reason; she hadn’t paying the nurses and their acts much attention, and IV stuck into non-affected limb, the last thing she’d expected was the face of a particular officer. Did he have a freaking tracking device on her?

With a mind clouded by a heavy dosage of morphine and eyes fixated on the older, little attention was given to answering the questions spoken by a mean-looking nurse. She repeats it one more time, throat cleared and form in hand; pencil rapidly tapping the paper. HOW OLD ARE YOU? MJ thinks to herself that it’s an absurd question to ask, and even absurder that feel she feels the need to. She isn’t too big on all the things she’s attached to, either. Maybe she can rid herself of it when the lady isn’t looking. “ Sixteen, ” MJ finally concludes, a drugged blonde content with her response. But the strangers brows crease in what she presumes to be confusion, and so she speaks once more to clarify. “ Sixteen. ” She’d kill for a glass of water right about now. / @empirelines

[ofhowls]

It’s a process. First, there’s her initial reaction. Butterflies swirling in the bottom of her stomach and cheeks flushing. Second, there’s her suppression of the aforementioned symptoms. Third, there’s her attempt to convey apathy. And finally, fourth, a forced curving of full lips, concealing the authentic one, that she’d perfected through her years of suffering through Rachel’s crap. Friends, more like acquaintances who she seldom see outside of non-drug related scenarios, are waved goodbye with little care and a heel is turned. “ What’s up, stalker. ” The brunette issues, long strides taken towards the man on the opposite side of the road. Looking both ways suggest she cares, so instead MJ simply crosses to the other sidewalk with little caution for whatever car could come rushing down the street. She’s careless like that. And thought is only ever put into these supposedly spontaneous acts whenever the older is around. As if impressing is synonymous with annoying. “ I’m clean, swear -- ” She continues when space is eradicated to an acceptable extent. She was still young, baby-faced and all, and he was still a detective. And broad daylight didn’t do them any favours. “ Wanna pat me down … make absolutely sure? ” / @empirelines

[ofhowls]

She stands in the dairy isle ; heart set on one thing and one thing only – a bottle of Quik’s chocolate milk. It was as delicious as it was refreshing and for some reason, unbeknownst to Kevin herself, she’d been craving it since her first class that morning. It’s lunch now and she figures it’ll go down easy with the turkey sandwich in her basket. Yellow packaging spotted on the top shelf, and she’s forced to get on her tippy toes to reach it ; grabbing it, right before a familiar face makes an attempt for it, as well. “ Oh, sorry … I think it’s the last one. ” There might be more in the back, though in Sheffield ; what you see is often what you get. “ But, uh, you could have it -- if you want. I can just get something else. It’s no big deal. ” / @empirelines

[ofhowls]

They’re not friends. Barely acquaintances. Though Sheffield is small and the party scene even smaller. The same people are found at every event directed towards the town youth, and the two boys just happened to be a few of them. However, it didn’t really justify Lou’s need to bring up a dream had about Julian that previous night. He sits on the couch opposite of the younger, and nose wrinkles at the confession. Brows following suit as Lou attempts to defend it. “ I don’t care if it’s TRUE or not … You don’t say that shit to someone. ” Pause for a chug out of cheap beer. “ It’s weird. ” / @empirelines

[ofhowls]

Aren might not believe in the supernatural, and prior to moving to Sheffield, Wolfie hadn’t been so convinced either. But three years had passed and all doubt had gone out the window after one near fatal encounter with Leslie Vernon himself. Of course, he hadn’t actually seen the guy and the second he'd realised his presence he became occupied with kissing his longtime crush, instead. Though the point still stood. He brings a crappy camera out of his pack, and eyes the abandoned hotel up warily. “ Sure you’re ready for this, Holzer. There’s no backing out now. ” Wolfgang dares, not that his best friend was likely to agree to packing up and going home. At least not out of fear. / @empirelines