USER LOGIN:@graveyardtrees | marianne von edmund. RECEIVED MESSAGE FROM: hilda valentine goneril.
a shock of pink obscured her vision, heavy with its sheer thickness and mussed and knotted in the throes of fitful slumber. she hadn’t normally slept so terribly --- in fact, hilda found herself so rock-still most nights brushing her hair out with her fingers would have worked in a pinch. things had gotten a lot more complicated in recent weeks and the pressure to perform held her against her bed by the throat. if it weren’t for marianne’s position of equal peril and resulting relocation to a shared rent housing situation hilda was liable to be held there for the entire day.
and yet the scent of------what was that? gently scorched granola?------pulled her from her covers; a reminder that she wasn’t in this alone. rearranging her hair on her scalp and pressing the heels of her hands to her stinging eyelids, hilda rose and shone... in her own way. as her heels carried her out into the kitchenette, her ravaged hair found itself pulled up and away from her face into a hair tie with no concern for how ridiculous she may have looked.
when it came to marianne appearances weren’t everything---maybe they weren’t even anything.
( the idea of anyone else but her seeing hilda looking so unkempt made the surface of her skin feel like the inner workings of a massage chair. )
with hands positioned on her hips in a way that reminded her far too much of how holst would scold her, hilda’s voice rung out. “whatever you’re trying to cook i can smell it from my room. and if i’m being really honest... i think i’m a little terrified.” she felt the knit of her brow unstitch, voice softening the way it’d always do when it came to her room mate’s blunders. “is everything okay out here? you need any help?”