@lotuskissed liked this post 💕 for a starter set in their main verse, angelic paradise !!
THIS IS PROBABLY THE HUNDREDTH missing poster she’s stapled up to boards like this; soggy, wet memorials of those who have vanished without a trace, thousands of gaunt faces staring out at the world, a silent plea to be found, to be brought to justice. Not many people are out in the pitter-patter of rain, but it makes for a quiet walk, and gives her plenty of time for reflection. Observing, Adelias notes some have details too worn and faded to make out fully, too torn, too mangled from the elements, while others, like the one the Texan woman holds in her hands, is freshly printed, a thick stack of them sitting under her large pink purse to stop them from flying away. Angling the staple-gun, she punctures through another set of metal teeth to keep the picture in place, planting the pretty picture of blonde curls and dark brown eyes in the centre. Rebecca is beautiful. She doesn’t use words like was or used to be — because in Adele’s brain, her friend is still alive. She simply has to be. To give up hope, to reject the idea that new evidence or information will be found is entirely unthinkable to the young woman; Adelias isn’t aware that the disappearance of her darling best friend has been caused by someone she vaguely knows. He was introduced to her briefly; taller than a skyscraper, draped head to toe in black. He had an accent like her own – was from somewhere South, but she could never quite put her finger on exactly where he was from. Funnily enough, now that she thinks about it, he vanished as quick as Rebecca did.
Turning to pull out another poster, Adele doesn’t realise someone is strolling the sidewalk, nearly hits the young woman in her effort to try and yank out a page, too stubborn to lift the handbag to slide one out, in case they all go fluttering down the street. “Oh — shit, sorry, honey! I didn’t see y’there.” Her usually flawless features, primed to perfection and slathered with make-up expertly applied, are porcelain pale, eye bags purple, vision bloodshot, mascara slightly smudged. She has cried herself to exhaustion, cried until her eyes are raw and sore from the exertion of her misery. Losing her best friend has been like losing part of herself, torn in two. The person she shared all her childhood with, the best parts of her twenties, gone like a ghost, a puff of smoke. It’s been several months now, and it still feels as raw as the day it made the news, the day she caught wind of it from Rebecca’s parents. The police may have slowed with their investigations, but wherever her modelling career takes her, whichever part of the United States, Adelias pins up posters in her spare time, hoping that whichever state she winds up, there may be someone, anyone, with a little information.
“Y’okay? I didn’t hurt y’, did I? I need t’get somethin’ t’put these things in, eventually, so they don’t run off on me.” It's a small attempt at some humor to try and bring some light to the scenario; but in the rain, in the veil of misery, it has been some time since Adele smiled properly. "Listen, if I spilled some ‘uv that drink ‘uv yours, I can getcha a replacement. It's no trouble.”
