#violatile.

[odeitte]

♡   for   @violatile​   , 

duffle   bag   tucked   tightly   in   her   arms,   odette   lets   out   a   huff   as   she   drops   it   down   on   the   table,   nearly   collapsing   with   it. "   i'm   TELLING   you   —   the   guy   was   𝚊   𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎   𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛,   he   just   walked   up   and   gave   me   the   bag.   "   unzipping   it,   stacks   and   stacks   of   kruge   flood   out   and   she   reaches   out,   shoving   it   all   back   in.   from   the   looks   of   it,   𝗶𝘁   𝘄𝗮𝘀   𝗻𝗲𝘄   but   she   hadn’t   a   clue   ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ   it   had   come   from   or   WHO   it   belonged   to,   there   wasn’t   a   𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓁𝑒   indication.   even   if   he   were   running   from   the   stadwatch   or   trying   to   frame   her   for   a   crime   she   didn’t   commit,   there   would   be   ｎｏ   ｗａｙ   to   track   where   the   money   had   come   from.   it   would   be   absurd   to   part   with   it   in   such   a   way.

“   it   MUST   be   stolen.   ”   it’s   the   only   reasonable   conclusion.   but   𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚗𝚘   𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚜   about   holding   on   to   someone   else’s   money.   “   the   man   who   gave   it   to   me   had   a   tattoo,   dime   lion.   ”   she’d   done   work   for   them   before,   but   she’d   done   work   for   𝐀𝐋𝐋   the   major   gangs   before   and   she’d   completed   no   job   that   would   entitle   her   to  𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝   𝙖   𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚   𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩.   it   wasn’t   payment.   she   smirks,   lifting   a   stack   and   running   a   manicured   finger   through   it,   “   i’m   thinking   we   spend   it   all   and   plead   ignorance   when   someone   comes   looking.   ”

[odeitte]

@violatile​​​   :  ‘  if   she   pukes   one   more   time,   i   might   just   scream   .  ’   -   accepting   !

“   i   could   encourage   one   of   the   girls   in   my   cabin   to   puke,   make   us   EVEN.   ”   odette   𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚜   𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜,   surveying   the   cabin   and   scrunching   up   her   nose   when   she   gets   a   whiff   of   𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩   𝙝𝙖𝙙   𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙   of   last   night’s   meal.   they’d   already   stripped   the   kid’s   bed   (   multiple   times   )   and   while   odette   knew   she   didn’t   need   to   be   doing   this,   it   wasn’t   as   if   it   were   LIV’S   FAULT   she   had   a   chronically   sick   girl   in   her   cabin.   “   but   only   if   𝚢𝚘𝚞   𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙   𝚖𝚎   clean   it   up.   ”   pulling   on   the   bright   yellow   cleaning   gloves,   she   does   a   little   twirl,  “   what   do   you   think   ?   do   they   𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽   𝓂𝓎   𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒻𝒾𝓉   ?   ”   odette   grins,   “   i’m   thinking   of   calling   it   camp   chic.   ”

[odeitte]

@violatile   :    ‘  why   do   parents   not   fucking   listen  ?  ’   -   accepting   !

she   finds   liv   behind   one   of   the   cabins,   having   followed   a   rather   familiar   yet   pungent   smell   that   was   often   passed   around   the   shadyside   counselors.   despite   the   complaints   of   others,   𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙳𝙸𝙳𝙽'𝚃   𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳   𝙸𝚃,   convincing   herself   it   was   an   integral   part   of   the   ‘   camp   experience   ’.   she   leans   up   against   the   wooden   cabin   (   was   this   even   real   wood   ?   )   and   slides   down,   squatting   next   to   liv   with   𝙖   𝙗𝙚𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙   𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚   tugging   at   the   corners   of   her   lips.  “   well   i   imagine   it’s   because   it’s   quite   difficult   to   hear   when   we’re   all   SO   MANY   miles   away.   ”

in   truth,   the   distance   was   a   reprieve.   these   days,   odette   would   do   most   anything   to   get   away   from   her   mother.   she   playfully   bumps   liv’s   shoulder   with   her   own,   a   weak   attempt   of   ＥＮＣＯＵＲＡＧＥＭＥＮＴ   before   her   grin   fades,   “   what’d   she   do   this   time   ?   ”   she   knows   she   doesn’t   need   to   clarify   who.   the   faces   changed   in   shadyside,   but   the   stories   never   did.

[odeitte]

for   @violatile   ♡

auradon   was   beautiful.   filled   with   flowers   dusted   with   gold   and   rivers   clear   as   glass.   everything   she   had   dreamed   of   as   a   young   girl,   quaint   little   shops   lining   the   streets,   filled   with   opportunity   beyond   WILDEST   imaginations.   there   was   nothing   worth   missing   on   the   isle,   and   yet.   .   .   hands   reach   up   to   the   necklace   she   wears   around   her   neck,   a   gift   from   her   mother.   the   intent   of   which   was   to   remind   her   of   a   goal   :   bring   back   the   world.   strolling   through   cobblestone   streets,   a   derelict   sign   pulls   her   attention   —   𝐔𝐏   𝐈𝐍   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐂.   the   click   of   her   heels   hesitates,   pivoting   with   curious   eyes.   certainly   it   wouldn’t   hurt   to   browse.

bell   chimes   as   she   lightly   pushes   open   the   door,   gentle   smile   tugging   at   her   lips   at   all   the   items   collecting   dust,   lost   to   time.   music   can   be   heard   from   behind   the   counter   and   she   moves   to   the   front   of   the   store,   leaning   on   the   glass   counter   and   ringing   the   BELL   with   a   light   tap,   “   excuse   me   but   i   have   to   ask,   what   do   you   have   for   jewelry   ?   ”