✪ my muse seeing the ghost of your muse
There is a moment of complete silence as Sydney stands in front of the mirror. It is not the reflection of herself that shocks her. It’s no different than what she sees everyday. It’s the slight warping of air behind her that has her freezing in fright. She whips around so fast she feels a slight pop in her neck, only to come face to face with a very similar, familiar blonde in front of her. This time, it isn’t a reflection.
“Hello, baby sis,” the reflection smiles. Not reflection, Sydney realizes. Ghost. An actual, tangible ghost. She reaches out to let her fingers brush Carly’s hair - they go through the thicker, colder air, sending goosebumps up her arm.
“Carly,” Sydney whispers, eyes wide in both terror and awe. In Carly’s eyes remain a thousand emotions - love, tenderness, amusement and accusation. The older girl’s ghost simply smiles, holding out her arms. Sydney immediately falls into them, the cold wrapping around her - but air can’t be hugged, and she falls on the ground, hugging herself tighter and tighter, pretending it’s her sister.
When she opens her eyes, she’s alone, fingers clutching her own torso. As if she’s been alone all along. The words come back die on her lips as she closes her eyes once more.
❢ my muse has lost their memory, and at the sight of your muse starts to remember things.
There is a pounding headache that throbs behind her eyebrow as she walks down the familiar hallways of the building. The name on the perfect, white picket letterbox says ‘Sage’. She knows that is her name, but surely this is not her home. If this was her home, she would remember it. It’s just an old building. The insides of it have no signs of laughter or fun or anything a family is supposed to be. Everything is too composed, to sterile, too sharp and cold.
There are footsteps that come thundering down the stairs and she looks up as an older girl stops in the landing. She has blonde hair and brown eyes just like hers - identical. She has wide eyes, confused but happy.
“Syd? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Dad?”
None of these words seem familiar to her, and Sydney squints, taking a step back.
“I’m sorry - I think I’m in the wrong house.”
“What?” the older girl laughs, as if Sydney is joking. “Hilarious. I was going to get some smoothies. Want to come? Tell me all about the work he asked you to do?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Sydney continues, as the girl slowly makes her way down the stairs and stands in front of her. The headache pounds harder, and Sydney rubs her fingers across the bridge of her nose.
The older girl frowns, putting a hand on Sydney’s shoulder.
It’s a random flash behind her eyelids - laughter, two girls braiding their flaxen hair, one small girl and a boy, bubbles being blow and one name, one name. Carly.
“Carly?” she asks, tentatively, though in her heart she knows she’s right. “Am I home?”
“Yeah, kid,” Carly replies, still frowning, now worried. “Let’s get you upstairs. You’re home.”
{{ ooc - i am headcanoning this as Sydney being befuddled and confused after their Dad removes Marcus from their memories - and one by one, all the sisters went through the same thing and later brushed it off as lightheadedness or a migraine }}
〰 our muses are at the beach together
( mentions of robinhoodfinch , straniul and artandsass )
“Do you think I’ll stop being scared of it?” Sydney asks, her arms crossed over her body. She’s sitting under a giant umbrella, sunglasses over her eyes and a book on her stomach. In the distance, she eyes the crashing waves that send a wave of terror crawling in the pit of her stomach. In hindsight, getting married on a beach was the not the best idea for her. But she doesn’t regret it - because she’s got the people that count, she’s living in Italy for goodness sake, she’s got her daughter and she’s got Adrian. Who, as of yesterday, is now her husband. The word sounds amazing, even in her mind. Besides, it’s a beautiful place which now holds beautiful memories. She won’t let them ruin it for her.
“Not unless you face it,” Carly replies from beside her. She’s busy rubbing sunscreen on her legs, nose ring glinting in the light. “I mean, I get it. But if you seriously want to get over it, then you have to face it. Now, I’m not saying that you should take a high dive into the Pacific. But ease into it. And if you fail, then you have nothing to be ashamed of. We all understand.”
“I know, I know,” Sydney says, reaching for her mocktail and taking a deep sip. “But look at them. They seem to be having fun.“
Both the girls turn to look. There’s a half fallen sandcastle that the waves are barely touching. Adrian kneels beside it, a knocked over bucket next to him and a spade in his hands. Rowena stands over them, hands on her hips, light glinting off her shades. They both seem to be instructing Clara on how to properly sculpt a figurine, both artists at work. The two year old student in question squints at them, completely blank, scratching her hair. Suddenly, her eyes find something more interesting than her father and aunt and she runs off after it. Both Adrian and Rowena run after her. A wave crashes closer and Sydney sits up, heart in her throat. But the two adults scoop up the toddler, the wave dying around their ankles - all three of them burst into laughter.
"What are you two up to?” comes a deeper voice from behind them. Carly and Sydney turn around to see Marcus, who is staring at them with his eyebrows raised.
“Well, I was going to suggest we get some gelato,” Carly says, standing up and grabbing her wallet and phone. Both the siblings turn to Sydney. She takes a minute to let the thoughts of the water leave her head before she stands up and grabs her own wallet. She looks at both of the other blondes with a sly smile.
“Last one to the ice cream stand helps clean the garage.”
It’s an inside joke - something they used to do as kids. Little races they used to have, because as much as they adored working with the cars and their Mom, they hated cleaning up afterwards.
Marcus and Carly’s eyes widen as they stare at Sydney. There is a moment of silence. Then all three of them take off, sprinting in the direction of the boardwalk, their laughter drowning out the sound of the sea.
✆ your muse's name, ringtone, and icon in the muse’s phone
My Wish by Rascal Flatts (x) (the ringtone starts at 0:53)
