#event; willow

[huntcrashes]

▸   ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ  ||   willow @vinemagic

Hunter  stood  near  the  edge  of  the  hay  wagon,  hands  shoved  deep  in  his  jacket  pockets,  rocking  on  his  heels  as  the  crowd  gathered.  Flapjack  quietly  nestled  in  his  hood.  The  lanterns  strung  along  the  path  didn’t  do  much  to  cut  through  the  creeping  darkness  of  the  fields,  and  the  fake  fog  machine  hissing  nearby  wasn’t  exactly  helping  either.

He  spotted  Willow  making  her  way  toward  him.  Hunter  straightened  almost  immediately,  trying  to  shake  off  the  nerves  prickling  in  his  stomach.  He  pasted  on  a  grin  that  was  just  a  little  too  wide.

“Hey!  There  you  are,”  he  said,  maybe  a  touch  louder  than  necessary.  “You,  uh--ready  for  this?  Haunted  hayride.  Totally  not  scary  at  all.  Just…  you  know…  hay.  And  rides.”

He  gestured  toward  the  wooden  bench  seats  with  exaggerated  confidence.  “After  you.  I  mean—uh,  you  probably  want  the  better  view  of  the  spooky  stuff  anyway.  Not  that  I’ll  be…  ducking  behind  you  or  anything.”

[huntcrashes]

▸   ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ  ||   @vinemagic

The frost-laced branches of the conservatory shimmered in the lantern light, casting long shadows across the greenhouse paths like spun silver. Inside the Botanical Gardens, winter had taken root in the most magical way, glowing paper stars hung from branches, potted evergreens dusted with powdered snow lined the walkways, and the air smelled faintly of pine, citrus, and magic. Somewhere in the distance, a string quartet played a slow, wintry waltz. Soft. Peaceful. Almost enough to quiet the noise in Hunter’s chest.

He stood by the frostbloom exhibit, gloved hands tucked into his coat pockets, watching the magical flowers shift hue in time with the music. Blue to lavender. Lavender to pale gold.

Hunter didn’t always do well in crowds, not these days. But something about the gardens tonight felt…different. Like a pocket of quiet in a city that had forgotten how to exhale. He hadn’t expected to linger long, just a walk, maybe a breath of fresh air, and then he’d vanish like a ghost before anyone could say hello.

He glanced sideways when footsteps crunched nearby. His eyes softened when they landed on a familiar shape. “Hey,” he said, voice barely more than a murmur. “I didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew tonight. But I’m glad it’s you.”