#hollowick.starter

[irenejng]

        Popping more frozen honeydew and ice into her mouth and basking in the sugary, chilly comfort of the condensed milk that coated her plate of fruit, Irene leaned back on the park bench, silently thanking the nice woman on 1937 Cheshire Road for her generous contribution to Hollowick — Korean shaved ice. She didn’t think she would see this delight within the borders of her hometown. Certainly beats a stodgy bowl of porridge.

        Suddenly, she jolted up, not realizing in the moment that her paper plate had slid off her lap and onto the ground. Moments like this were common, when she needed to seize some crucial thought that crossed her.

        Well, she seized it. Irene’s eyes finally drifted to the concrete where her lunch transformed into a visually unappetizing splat. She was much more disappointed than she seemed, and only expressed her discontent with a sigh.

[jihasbest]

(  open starter  .  location  ;  the rusty acorn  .  time  ;  too early in the morning  )

a black tea sits idle between jiha's cupped hands as she stares out the window , at a small group of curious & awed faces. it isn't often that she catches the tours in action up close ; it doesn’t matter how few new residents know her relationship to one of the reaper’s victims , it still feels like a neon sign. perhaps she would have rolled her eyes , scoffed years ago when the renowned horrorwick first debuted in her hometown. but over the years jiha has learned simply to look away. she doesn't fancy introspection , anyway.

and now that she has indulged in such , if only slightly , a sarcastic comment is far past warranted from a passive aggressive extraordinaire, "like we’re animals in a zoo.”

[river--moore]

The Green Dragon was buzzing with people – chatting, drinking, having a good time with friends. It wasn’t the busiest she’d seen it before, but to have so many people as an audience was certainly exciting, and they seemed to like her set,  too; singing along, clapping and dancing to her covers. She’d had a few drinks herself, provided by the bar staff as a kind gesture for playing there that night, and she was getting a kick out of their reactions to her songs. But then, as quick as started, her set finished and it was time to head off. 

The comedown from a gig at least didn’t hit as hard as her usual comedowns, and she enjoyed the praise as she made her way from the small stage they’d set up for her in the back corner of the pub. She manoeuvred her way through the many groups of people huddled together as best as she could, but with a stick it wasn’t as easy to concentrate on everything around her when she was trying not to jab people’s toes with it. Unfortunately, as she tried to squeeze past someone, she wound up bumping into someone once she got passed the body of people, and knocked the drink in their hand all over their chest. 

“Shit!” she hissed, panicking as she watched the drink soak the person’s torso, “I’m so sorry, here–let me.” She reached over to the nearest table and grabbed a handful of napkins and practically threw them at the person, pressing it against their damp clothes frantically. “Shit, shit, shit, I just... I should just go–yeah? I’m sorry.” It was probably the comedown of adrenaline that was making her so nervy, or just the fact that she’d been drinking in a social environment that she wasn’t used to, but she knew regardless that she looked like a fool, and just wanted to tuck her tail and run away.