#threads. julia wicker.

[godblooded]

I’m not interested in caring about people. / Julia.

 “no one’s interested in it. it just... happens.” julia speaks frankly and from experience. she and q? yeah, they have their differences, but what they share in common is a yearning to be understood and nobody out there to hear it. hell, a lot of the time they pass each other-- like boats floating by, illuminated only briefly by a lighthouse, and then gone. there’s something q never got about you and what he, and everybody else, underestimates: hunger.

now hunger is marina’s core trait. julia’s always seen it since moment one. and it’s a hunger for excess, but more than anything it’s just hunger. marina’s like a black hole that wants to take in everything around her radius but so is julia, who is more like a nature disaster all at once; julia’s an earthquake that swallows everything up all at once. the theme here is always: consuming. 

“you can be as uninterested in it as you want. the better idea is just to accept it. is it really that bad?” 

[godblooded]

Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he’s god. / Julia.

“he is the keyword there,” you stress it. do you need to explain it? usually when women get drunk they have the good sense to know they’re impaired. men are just impaired by default? “he’s not even worth the confrontation, marina. just wait until he passes out and we can pickpocket him. that’s just.... petty theft.” which they do. all. the. time. 

[godblooded]

Vikings used to execute Christians by breaking their ribs, bending them back, and draping the lungs over them to resemble wings. They used to call it a ‘blood eagle’. / Julia.

cruelty and savagery aren’t really who you are. there’s no malice in you, no unkindness-- in fact, you’ve probably been far too kind before. you eventually had to grow into realizing not everyone would be good about it. but you can feel-- you can feel where that kind of anger would come from. and that kind of zest. that kid of wildly alive taste like someone else’s blood bubbling in your throat.

in sympathy, somehow, your fingertips slide to your ribs right under the black crop-top you’re wearing, press against them just once. you count them mentally with touch alone. you wonder if marina would get any pleasure out of it, and you think it would depend--

--just like you--

--on who it was. 

“you know there’s a lot of scholarly debate on whether or not they did that or it was just hype in their storytelling, right?” 

[godblooded]

That’s enough small talk. What do you want? / Julia.

it’s rushing through your brain and going down the tubes so rapidly that if you could feel neurons and synapses and axons and everything else firing it would sound like a machine gun in your head. your eyes blink. they blink very hard, like they’re too dry. it’s the opposite problem, almost. but the tears gave out a good, long time ago and now you’re left-- aching. empty.

“i don’t know,” you say honestly, your phone half dangling from your fingers like it’ll just fall into some vortex, “i don’t know, marina.” 

[godblooded]

I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work. / Alice to Julia

A MEME IN WHICH MY LOVE IS VERY OBVIOUS. 

STATUS: YEYEAHHHH.

“come on. that’s the opposite of you.”

julia’s expression has that same dreamy look she’s always got in her eyes, the look that tempers her every feeling, but there’s an edge to it, now. it’s a fear. it’s a worry. it’s a concern. it’s the kind of thing that makes her forehead crease– her mom always whines about wrinkles– and her nose wrinkle– the kind that’s freaked out, not cute. the cute nose wrinkle is a lot more obvious. 

julia should probably say i don’t mean to sound like i know you better than you know you. she should probably follow up with if i sound judgmental, i don’t mean to. she should likely tack on talk to me. 

she does exactly none of these things. she does still look openly worried, and the dreamy julia look widens her eyes enough to slope her brow fearfully. 

“you love work. nothing is too much work. –we can quit and be sad for tomorrow, okay? but we have to pick up and try after that. –al. please. please.”

she wants to touch her hand but she won’t. so juia does the second best thing. slides her hand over just down between them, palm up. like a spell with no words and just hands that still manages to say let me be the roots that keep you grounded. 

“i can’t do this without you.”

[godblooded]

[drunk text] Please don’t hate me I’m too tired and too dizzy to be hated / alice for julia

GET TEXTY WITH IT.

STATUS: YEAHHHHH

[ SMS: ALICE ] I could never hate you.

[ SMS: ALICE ] If I ever said it I’m sorry and I bet I was insanely pissed.

[ SMS: ALICE ] Are you okay? 

[ SMS: ALICE ] What’s up? 

[godblooded]

@neitherworldly (x)

[ SMS: ALICE ] the Internet definitely doesn’t know half of what you do

[godblooded]

@neitherworldly (x)

magic’s made of all the most dangerous things imaginable— everything has a price, everything has a consequence. but julia wasn’t designed to truly give a shit. the pursuit of knowledge matters a lot, a lot more than what it affects. it’s her discipline for the strongest reason. the need to learn and understand pumps through her veins so constantly it’s probably more mana than blood.

and this doesn’t stop at magic. that’s the thing. this keeps going on and it doesn’t hit a wall. not usually. curiosity killed the cat but then the cat reanimated twice as pissed. curiosity leaves her wanting to learn more about everyone. and curiosity leaves her curious about alice, who notably says so little. and everything is better with the sugary junk eliot serves, including the conversation. if only because she can be more honest.

and she really is close, anyway, so julia lets her bare arm lean against alice’s, shoulder to shoulder, and she asks in that— genuinely concerned somehow but also very emotional but also very soft voice of hers, “when would you go back to?”