#samara-blackwell

[cara-turner]

location. ⁺ - the apartments.

"mmm—yeah, love what you've done with the place, sami-samwise," cara hummed appreciatively, her voice carrying a playful warmth as she stood in the middle of samara's apartment. her silhouette - felt tall - framed against the window, she gazed out at the sprawl of arcadia—a far cry from ocean views or a picture-perfect panorama of central park. still, it held its own peculiar allure.

"you can almost see all the terrifying stuff from up here," she mused, her tone wry, eyes tracing the tiny chaos below. "like little scary ants crawling around." her sigh was heavy, tinged with the lingering disbelief that arcadia had become her reality—a jagged pill she had yet to fully swallow. turning on her heel, cara let her gaze sweep over the space. despite the constraints, sami had clearly tried to carve out a corner of personal comfort, a place to make her own. the effort didn’t go unnoticed.

"sooo—did you miss me ?" cara’s lips curved into a teasing smirk as she sauntered toward the couch, claiming the far cushion with feline ease. she stretched out languidly, her posture as confident as it was casual. "can’t imagine waking up in a space without me is something you’d ever actually want," she quipped, eyes gleaming mischievously. "but hey—this is nice."

@samara-blackwell . // closed starter

[cloverdavis]

location. ⁺the bar.

“man, this is really what counts as entertainment for us ?” clover exhaled, shaking her head with a wry smile. a feeling of climbing that hill. age. even at twenty-nine, her body carried the aches of someone much older, a grandpa, a stiffness in her joints. “not exactly… bumpin’, you know ?” at least it was a change of scenery. she clung to the small positives, mentally checking them off like a list—fresh air from the walk over, a different view, something beyond the same four walls of the apartments.

her gaze flicked left, then right, scanning the room for signs of life. a man sat slumped over a table, lost in a drunken stupor. the rest of the place was near empty, a few scattered souls chatting quietly with the bartender. there was them—clover and samara. she turned to the woman she’d promised a good time, though the term was starting to feel like a stretch. “i don’t know… would it be weird if we danced ?” lips twisted into something between amusement and genuine consideration. no music, no rhythm, just movement for the sake of it. "might be cringe, but i dunno." clover breathed out. shifting in her chair, she winced at the way the hard seat pressed into her tailbone. eyes dropped to the untouched glass in front of her. “nothing like potato vodka straight up on a wednesday afternoon, am i right ?” the words came with an uneasy laugh.

@samara-blackwell . // closed starter

[interstellarsx]

location. ⁺ antique shop.

things. objects all once belonging to people who were unfortunate souls stepping into the horror-led town of arcadia. a role no one took willingly. lives taken, yet their things remained. "ever wonder how many people have ever been here ?" stella's mind easily dipped in morbidity, but it'd been a harmless question. curiosity that would always be left unanswered. so unaware of everything. her hands picked through a box. dust tested the air threatening one of them to sneeze. "and what people travel with ? the places they were wanting to go? it's all interesting." mere thoughts spoken out loud.

"in need of a sweater?" oversized. "looks pretty comfy." the fabric was held out, the woman sat on her legs upon the floor. this wasn't really a moment of stella needing more clothing options. this was a moment for her to get out of the house. to calm down from the latest torment of the town. she was just happy to have company. "it's probably approaching spring...don't you think?" the break of winter air. little stiffness. a slight rebirth of the soil cracking. the daylight lasting a little longer....minus that moment. jesus fuck, that was terrifying. stella thought while her hands rifled through.

@samara-blackwell // closed starter.