@mdhvre | ashley | the white rabbit | middle of the week
they came by every month, occasionally more often, looking for salves or drinks or smells or something for things that they would never admit having. nightmares, scars, insomnia, bruises, memories, the sensation that they were pulling apart at the seams and their head was too loud.
that
they had stumbled across the white rabbit in the way that most people did, by complete accident, and found something for most of their ails.
it had been over two years at this point, coming in for top ups or adjustments to the collection of ingredients cause they’d just been drinking too much. (a bandaid for a bullet wouond, but if it worked, it worked)
the bell above the door lightly chimes as they open it, stepping in with wide eyes casting quickly around the space. cares taken to not be noticed, not be followed, but there never was anyone else in here. just the rabbits, staring with such piercing intensity that they shifted, pulling down their plain black face-mask and stepping towards the counter.
“ ashley? “