#thread: gerard

[storystartsanew]

Hadley sits in the middle of a pasture, a baby cow curled up on her lap. She looks up when she sees someone coming and waves, picking up the cow so that he can wave too. "Say hi, Gerard!"

[atcxic]

@irresistiibles + gerard !

the world offered little inspiration for the tales spun by nightmares and daydreams, and yet still, the archivist attempts to find solace in the unknown ; ever-changing variables had not yet served him well, often providing anxiety and terror rather than the comfort he'd dreamt, and yet still, hope finds a home in the crevices of paranoia ( spider-webs in an abandoned archive, stories fading into silence yet still, the world turns ; still, the sun shines ). this is why he supposed a trip to a bookshop would lift his spirits ; the day had, as of yet, proven itself dull and uneventful, and this meant that no writing would get done. he thinks of the current projects he's busied himself with -- the abundance of unfinished prose he's hurriedly typed at odd hours of the evening, the horrific details he's provided for villains even more absurd than he thought himself capable of. a bookshop would be a change of scenery, and perhaps, too, it would provide the necessary inspiration to tackle these projects he obsesses so feverishly with.

entering the bookshop, a strange fear begins to encase him ; why, he is not certain. he begins to doubt this bold move of spontaneity, his mind screaming at him to run, get away from this place, this is dangerous ; what danger could lie in a manky old bookshop, he reasons, aside from books untouched for decades and, at the very least, a few spiders?

trepidation aside, he approaches the nearest individual he believes to work here. jon must look shaken, bits of grey evident amidst the mess of dark hair extending well past his shoulders. scars riddle his body, and this is clear even despite his best attempts to hide them ( a long-sleeved sweater can do nothing to mask the scar across his throat, nor can it hide the burn that covers his hand ). this hand quickly flies up to wring the back of his neck as he speaks up, voice quiet and awkward. "ah, i -- i'm sorry if this is an ignorant question, but could you please point me in the direction of anything...horror, here?"