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@vallettarose
FULL NAME — Valletta “Valley” Cambridge FACECLAIM — Emilia Clarke GENDER & PRONOUNS — cis woman, she/her AGE — 35 BIRTHDAY — August 20, 1989 OCCUPATION — Independently Wealthy RESIDENCE — Ammil House Hotel, Lakeshore Crescent LENGTH OF TIME IN WILLOW PARK — Six months
BIOGRAPHY | STATISTICS
Time slowed to a stop, the background noise flickering out like a light as he stared at her, blinking hard like he couldn't comprehend quite what he was seeing. Probably because he couldn't.
His memory had preserved her to perfection and his eyes drank her in greedily, like a man on the verge of fatal dehydration, committing to memory the taste of a single drop of water he might never taste again. There had been so many nights in the six months since she'd left that he'd spent awake, conversing with her ghost, trying on conversations he never thought to have until she was gone. Saving up words like he might be able to spend them one day.
But he couldn't think, he could only look. Could only seem to stand there and blink and wonder how in all of the places and times in the world that they wound up right here and now, standing somehow too close and too far. His heart clanged madly in his chest, throwing itself against his ribs like it might leave him too.
And then he blinked one more time and shifted the weight in his feet, reined himself back into his own body. "I live here," he replied dumbly. But it begged the question what was she doing here? Had she known he was here? Had she come here for him? Was this the world's most unbelievable coincidence? He needed to know. "What are you doing here?"
This was so stupid. Actually nonsensical. Murph was standing right in front of her, literally surrounded by little pink hearts, and the butterflies in her stomach had awoken from their hibernation, and they were two seconds away from having the love theme from Romeo and Juliet start playing. If she were emotionally ready to examine herself closely, she'd realize how loudly her heart and body were screaming that she was still in love with him... but for now her brain focused on the fact that this was the least romantic situation in the world.
Murph hated her. She knew it. His eyes weren't exactly saying it - all she could see in them was pain - but he must feel it. She'd broken him, and broken the trust they'd built their lives on, and everything had consequently crumbled. And both of them had run into the snow to hide from any reminder of each other, and now they'd crashed into each other's lives again in a goddamn grocery store.
This wasn't how anything was supposed to be. Their Valentine's Days had always been perfect. They would get into cozy pyjamas (although Valley always wore a surprise underneath them) and watch one good movie and one very bad movie. They'd get takeout and have a picnic on the living room floor (before they got Fig, anyway). They'd attempt to make fancy cocktails for each other, and they'd usually turn out pretty bad. Valley's favorite of their traditions was the origami roses she'd make for him, each with a little love note inside.
There wasn't a day that went by that Valley didn't feel loved and appreciated by Murph. They'd never needed a designated day for that.
She was shocked out of her memories by the fact that he lived here. She shook her head as though she'd misheard. She wasn't really thinking when she blurted out,
"Simon didn't mention that when I saw him last week... I'm so sorry, I would have left town if I knew."
Who: @vallettarose Where: The Gilded Grape
Truth be told, Elliot wasn't much of a drinker these days. If anything, he had a beer or two at home or maybe when he was out and about with friends and that was about it. And the Gilded Grape wasn't exactly his scene either but he had won a gift card to it in a raffle at work and he didn't want it to go to waste. So with Sawyer in good hands and evening free to himself, something that felt like never happened these days, he decided to take himself out for the night. A little treat of sorts. And his first stop was the Gilded Grape and then maybe some deep dish pizza afterwards.
Pulling the door open, he stepped into the warmth, already undoing the scarf that had been tightly wrapped around his neck. His eyes scanning the place, phone already in hand as someone came over to greet him. Going through his usual spiel of not being able to hear and beyond glad when the worker looked at his phone, leading him over to a seat at a small table. Catching some of what was being said to him, Elliot nodded as he was handed a menu of wine, not for sure where to even begin or what to even try. So for a moment he simply looked around the place, that was when his eyes caught those of Valley and Elliot offered her a warm smile in greeting. He had met her a few times through Everett and really, she seemed rather nice, someone he could see himself becoming friends with as well. Not knowing if she was there with someone or on her own, he raised a hand and waved in greeting from his table, not wanting to bother her if she was in fact there with someone.
Valletta once had an entire group of friends whose nickname for her was 'Napa Valley' because of her obsession with wine. She'd lost touch with that group two or three divorces ago, but the love of a good Bordeaux had never left her. She was currently boring all the servers and sommeliers with stories of her wine tasting adventures (and adventures of other kinds) in France and Italy and Spain. She didn't notice the look of relief on their faces when she finally saw Elliot and went over to bother him instead.
She didn't know much sign language, and she was always messing it up, but Elliot hadn't seemed to mind the few times she'd met him. He was very patient with her, and didn't make fun of her mistakes nearly as much as Everett did. Anyway, she waved when she made her way over, and remembered the signs for 'sit' and 'okay' and hoped he understood the question. She also felt the need to explain why she was here alone, and racked her brain for more signs to help her. She attempted to sign "I'm meeting a friend, but I'm early."
Unfortunately, the sign for 'early' is a bit too similar to the sign for 'naked', and she ended up telling Elliot that she was naked instead.
“Don’t engage,” he mutters at Valley with a half-serious glare. “You’ll just amp them up.” In truth, Everett hardly thinks any time spent with Lily is time wasted or badly-spent — but that doesn’t mean Valley’s offer doesn’t sound enticing for a second. Getting a minute or two to himself wouldn’t be the end of the world, and it’s not like he couldn’t catch up to the two women later in the day to finish off whatever they want to do.
He’d definitely get a talking-to about it from Evangeline later, though. She’s always been able to see through his bullshit. “It’s not worth the trouble it’ll cause,” he huffs, glancing back at Valley. He eyes her carefully, deciding whether or not his next question is worth the trouble it might cause — then figures he doesn’t really care. “You ever plan on reaching out to Murph?” He knows it’s a little hypocritical of him to encourage that, considering he hasn’t reached out to Grayson since the cancellation, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t encourage it, but the lilt of his voice definitely infers encouragement. “Try and get him to hear you out?”
She caught a twinkle in Everett's eye as he briefly considered her offer of escape, weighing the pros and cons of an irresponsible adventure. "You used to love trouble," she teased. So did she. They'd been reckless and ridiculous back when they were barely more than children, getting up to all sorts of scandalous shenanigans. She felt old now, thinking about it. That was lifetimes ago.
She visibly stiffened at the mention of Murph, and then quickly downed her glass of mulled wine and poured another.
She understood why he was saying this; she'd been happy with Murph, he was perfect for her, of course her friend would want her to have that again... but surely he must know it wasn't that simple. "I don't plan on it, no," she said, a bit harshly. She took a breath and softened her voice. "I just... I don't know what good it would do. What could I possibly say to change anything? I lied to him. I will only ever be the woman who lied to him."
It was probably shameful how little Simon knew about the woman standing before him, and he didn’t fully understand the ramifications of that until she finally spoke and laid it all out there. He was a little stunned, and couldn’t even initially start formulating a response as he grappled with her tone.
He had been worried about Samuel even without context, in spite of their strained relationship. He couldn’t say he was the driving force behind Samuel’s move to Chicago, but he at least hadn’t been a deterrent, and that was a moderate improvement. All the same, he’d been glad for the closer proximity and the chance to work on a relationship he wanted to treat with more care.
He wasn’t sure if she was actually providing him with an opportunity. Even if the question was dressed up as a chance to support his brother, Samuel would also have to allow it. He figured she was probably correct in her estimation Samuel didn’t have anyone for overt support.
Silence stretched as he fumbled for something to say. There were several topics to consider at once and, while his loyalties and priorities were clear, the person directly in front of him deserved some kind of acknowledgement.
Didn’t she?
“I can try,” he agreed the stress on his last word careful and intentional. “I’m not sure what he’ll accept, but I can try.” His eyes darted over her, assessing carefully but getting nowhere, really. “I don’t need details, but is there any chance whatever happened could be reversed or forgiven?” Incineration didn’t seem like something that happened accidentally, so he didn’t venture into that space. “I’m not asking so I can encourage, I’m just trying to avoid landmines.”
Valley nodded. Her heart was still heavy and broken and dark, but some part of it lifted knowing someone might try for Murph. Knowing he was alone with all of this was the most painful part - she hadn't been able to sever what tied his heart to hers just yet.
"It can't be reversed," she said, after a breath. "He might be able to forgive me, but... I could never ask him to."
Words balanced on the tip of her tongue that she couldn't say.
I just want him to be happy.
I can't make him happy anymore.
"Thank you for trying," she said, annoyed with her voice for breaking. She shook her head and steadied herself. "Give my best to Kate, okay?"
WHO: estelle conner & open ( @willowpeakstarters )
WHERE: the bank, the loft district
WHEN: wednesday 12th february 2025
People who went out during the weeknights always intrigued Estelle. Of course, it mainly consisted of either college students and those who didn’t have typical 9-5’s and often worked shifts. Or, in some cases, people who simply didn’t give a shit about being hungover the next day. Usually, they were the types who managed to get working from home privileges, and whilst a part of the bar owner envied such a cushty deal, she also figured she’d be driven to insanity if her work life also happened to have the same setting as her home life.
She was pondering this whilst observing the quiet — but not exactly — dead crowd on the lower floors from the top. Not all of the levels of The Bank opened during the week so people weren’t too spread out, giving the illusion they were at capacity, but on some nights like this one, she had half a mind to open floor three, just in case.
About to head down to her own office, get some work in before letting the general manager run the place for the night, Estelle noticed a flickering shadow on the staircase, brows furrowing in curiosity.
“Closed up here. Does the little rope at the bottom step not give that away?” She addressed the shadow, cautiously making her way over to them. “If it’s getting that packed downstairs that people are running up here, it’s really making me question why half the city seems to be out on a Wednesday, and not just the usual sort.”
Valley was out. She was at a nightclub on a Wednesday, which was a bit of a lateral move from being stuck in her hotel room in terms of patheticness level, but at least she was out. She was socializing - mostly with the bartender, because the other patrons of this place tonight were... well, she couldn't exactly judge, but let's just say she wanted to.
So she sipped her drink and wandered. The music was at almost the perfect volume and tempo, and the lighting was just dim enough to be bearable, and the drink was neither too watered down nor too strong. She felt a bit like Goldilocks judging it all like this, but it was a Wednesday. What else was she supposed to do?
She wanted to see what the third floor was like on a Wednesday, but was immediately accosted upon approach. (Accosted was a strong word, but Valley was three Manhattans in and feeling ornery.) "If I can get around that little rope in heels like these, it's not much of a security system, is it?" Valley smirked, but obediently came back down the stairs anyway.
She nodded and looked around. It was surprisingly busy in here for a Wednesday. "Maybe everyone's scrambling to find a Valentine before Friday," she said, shaking her head. "I know at least a few of these men are looking for something adjacent to that, which was part of why I was trying to get away. Sorry for breaking your rules, though. Are you a bouncer? ...You don't look like a bouncer."
WHERE: a grocery store on valentine's day. if there is one listed in locations, then it's definitely that one. WHO: @vallettarose & murph.
Had Murph paid attention to the days anymore, he might have been prepared. But these days, the date didn't seem to matter. He had nowhere to go, no one to report to, and— though it sounded incredibly dramatic— nothing really to look forward to. So the full-on assault of hearts and flowers and little chalky candies with barely legible pick-up lines found him ill-equipped to process.
It was Valentine's Day.
Of course it was Valentine's Day. Of course the day he'd made himself walk here for dinner that didn't come in a takeout container, he would be reminded of how very alone he was.
The store was packed with people doing their last minute shopping. Murph's patience grew incredibly thin as he weaved through the hoard for one of those pop-in-the-oven meals he could set and forget. He'd never felt like such a Scrooge in his life.
Once his meal was secured— a nice little lemon and herb salmon with potatoes and asparagus— he came to a stop before the wall of alcohol. He'd gone through a period in the first few months of his divorce where he'd drink alone in their big empty house until he could forget just how empty it was. He'd come a long way since then, saving his indulgences until they could be considered social. Or a glass of wine with dinner in his new, big, empty house.
Tonight, though? It was a special occasion.
Murph pulled open the cooler and reached for a six pack of beer, his fingers slipping easily into its cardboard handle with a sigh as he lugged it out and let his arm fall to his side. It was only when he turned to go that everything stopped.
It felt like missing a stair on his way down, a swoop in his stomach that nearly made his legs give out. Because he was looking right at Valley. He blinked to clear his vision because he'd been seeing Valley for months. He’d see her on the couch beside him out of the corner of his eye, he’d hear the sound of her footsteps through the house they’d once shared, her ghost still lived in all of the habits that time had carved into his soul.
And every time, it was never her.
Except, this time, it was.
Millions of tiny conversations he'd dreamed up in his mind for if he ever saw her again and suddenly every single word left his brain.
All but one.
"Valley?"
As soon as she walked in, Valley was hit in the face by Valentine's Day. Metaphorically, but also literally when the wind whipped someone's giant heart-shaped balloon into the side of her head as they walked by. She stood still for a second, immediately regretting leaving her bed today. The woman who'd hit her with the balloon apologized, smiling and blushing, and Valley really didn't want to hate happy people today... but she did.
It wasn't their fault. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own that she was alone and miserable on a day meant to celebrate love. She'd had love - a perfect, passionate, silly, safe, indescribable love. She'd found her partner, someone who would always be on her team, and she would always be on his. They were each other's rock, and each other's priority, and they had everything that this day was supposed to be about. And she'd fucked it.
So now the pink and red cupcakes made her nauseous, and the pink and red streamers were blinding her eyes, and she was trying to dodge thoughts of him, but it was like trying to dodge raindrops in a downpour. He was making fun of the streamers with her, and smushing a cupcake into her face, and he was buying her flowers, and making her dinner, and kissing her under the stars, and he was everywhere, all the time.
And even when she couldn't get rid of him, she wished he were here.
That's probably why she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Of course, she'd run into a man who looks just like the love of her life on Valentine's Day. Of course he'd be the same height and build and would be wearing the same cologne and would be buying the same brand of beer that Murph drank. The universe was exactly that cruel.
She was wondering whether this trip was even worth the wine she'd come for, when he said her name.
And it was his voice. And she looked up, and it was his face. And the universe hadn't just given her someone who looked like the love of her life, it had brought him here, to this pink and red grocery store on a February Friday, a million miles away from where either of them belonged.
"Murph..." she said back.
She remembered meeting Simon last week, and searched the memory for whether he'd mentioned Murph visiting. He hadn't, she was sure.
"I... didn't know you were in Chicago," she said. Which was a stupid thing to say to the love of your life on Valentine's Day when you haven't seen them in six months, but... what are you supposed to say?
Simon had likely felt the inevitability of that question even as the conversation began. Maybe that had explained his complete dread at seeing someone he by no means hated. Something was pressing on him in the lapses of silence, and as soon as she said the question, all he could do was think 'this is it. This is what I was waiting for.' Or maybe he'd been thinking she would ask how or where Samuel was, two questions he would've been far more guarded about answering.
This one was almost easy by comparison. He still allowed himself the luxury of a breath out before he spoke. "Not much," was all he had to say, a two word story that could've reflected his brother's emotional state, or revealed the precarious relationship they'd shared for so long but never bothered to fortify. "To be fair, I... haven't asked. My divorce was so painful and messy, I haven't asked a lot of questions. I don't think he'd answer even if I did. You know as well as I do we don't have that kind of a relationship."
Valley pursed her lips. She couldn't be upset with him for not having a heart-to-heart with the brother he only really spoke to when forced together by parental guilt. She'd always known the brothers' relationship was complicated, and they were closer to being strangers than friends.
She could have stood here forever trying to figure out what exactly was her place to say, what would be the least awkward way to say it, and how she should word it so he might listen, but she gave up on all that and just said what she needed to.
"Our marriage didn't fade slowly away. It was... incinerated. It was my fault; Murph did nothing wrong, he was completely blindsided, and didn't deserve anything I put him through. I know I'm not in any position to ask anything of you, but I don't know if Murph has a lot of people left he can really talk to. I know you two aren't close, but if he needs someone... will you be there?"
I’m not hiding, Valley insists, and it sounds like bullshit even before she reaches the end of the sentence. Everett’s brows rise incredulously, a silent assertion that he does not, in fact, believe her for a second, but otherwise stays quiet about it. It’s hard to get snippy with her, anyway, especially when she looks at him so fucking fondly, like he’s someone worth being fond of. He gets little of those looks nowadays — is surprised when he gets them from his sister, even — and despite his best efforts in the past to push Valletta Cambridge away the same way he’d done everyone else in his life two or so years ago, she’d found a way metaphorically (and literally) flip him off and stay by his side.
He won’t say it out loud, obviously, but he’s grateful for it.
Glancing out the window, he grunts again, this time more noncommittal than anything. “There’s hot chocolate,” he replies flatly — not so much a ringing endorsement as a statement of fact. “Someone won a beard contest.” A beat. “It’s very loud,” he makes a face as he says this, clearly not a fan of this particular fact. He nods over to where Evangeline and Lily are still formed in a line to the bathroom, far enough away from them so that they’re out of earshot but near enough so that Lily grins brightly at the both of them, waves enthusiastically. Everett’s returning her wave when he adds, “I’m a hostage.”
She was about to counter that there was hot chocolate indoors too, and therefore no good reason at all to leave the warmth and serenity of her not-hiding place, when he mentioned a beard contest. "A beard contest?" she repeated incredulously. "What the fuck? Okay, I do maybe regret missing that," she smirked. "Love a good beard. You should grow yours out and enter next year," she smiled, tapping his stubbly cheek.
Valley waved back at Lily, smiled at Evangeline, and said "How absolutely evil of them to drag you out into the wretched world. Are you having any fun at all? Or should I fake an emergency to get you out of it?"
She was teasing, but she would absolutely do it.
While Simon generally considered himself somewhat observant about people, he couldn’t read Valley. Even if they’d briefly shared a last name and a common link, it only served to make his myopic state even worse. He also hadn’t made a completely sincere effort to get to know her because he had his hands full in those months and years with trying desperately to keep his primary relationship to himself. He had observed the way she interacted with Samuel, of course, but always at bit of a distance that was as much emotional as it was physical.
He had been shocked at the force of her outburst, the same one he had no way of knowing she was recalling, but not displeased in any way. Instead, he’d found himself thinking she was utterly correct for taking his parents to task. And maybe a quiet, but persistent part of himself wondered why he'd never noticed their attention or done the same. A louder rationale told him it shouldn't have been his job or his responsibility, and had him silently supportive of her at the time.
But now that her marriage with Samuel was over, his silent support was mandated elsewhere.
It was not in Samuel's best interest to know his haven of escape, if that's even what it was, had been compromised somehow.
Only visiting gave him a sigh of relief. But what to do with that relief? He didn't want to be terrible to her, because it was possible bordering on likely she was hurting, too. He'd never had that own clarity with his own split, but the distance from the couple involved made it easier to see this one clearly even with a distinct lack of detail. She didn't look well, but she had the polished appearance of someone who was trying to be well. He didn't want to damage whatever internal truce she'd made, and he didn't know her well enough to say much.
"You're not in the way," he said, his reassuring expression falling just short of a smile and his voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of the nearby crowd and action. "These things are never easy, and I recognize that. I just didn't expect to see you outside of the context I used to see you. I certainly hope you're doing okay. If that means you keep moving, I understand that feeling. If that means you're here, you have every right to be. We don't know one another well enough to say. I was just trying to manage my own expectations, I guess."
And trying to figure out what and if to tell my brother, he thought. But he also felt a protective urge toward Samuel and didn't know how necessary it was to share news of Valley.
He was being kind, and she hated that it annoyed her, but almost everything did lately. He was scanning her, as though taking in everything that was different now. She knew she was probably thinner and more tired and less vibrant and his pitying look only reminded her of that. He spoke to her softly, like harsh words might break her, and she was grateful for it, but resented it at the same time.
He should be shouting at her. Or scolding her, or telling her off, at the very least. He should be defending his brother, and demanding answers, and calling her horrible names, all of which she would absolutely deserve.
That he wasn't doing so just meant that Murph hadn't told him anything, or at least not the truth. Which probably meant that Murph hadn't told anyone. That he was dealing with all of this alone.
"How... much has he told you?" she asked, because fuck it, this was awkward anyway. "About why we broke up?"
“i am right,” but jasper didn’t say it to be pedantic or rude, he said it because he was right. there was a sweet smile on their chocolatey lips, a fleeting glance to their newfound company. “there’s … there’s this musical i like. hadestown. it tells all about how persephone comes up from the underworld for six months of the year and brings the spring. spring will come again. it always comes again, even when the wind is mean and scary and the cold tries to take everything away.” they had needed to develop a way to cope in a world that wasn’t built for them. jasper had their sister, they supposed — their other half, their twin — but solitude was inevitable, and so he had been forced to adapt. musicals were a way into conversation, something he could always rely on — even if others weren’t so sure. their cheeks bloomed a light pink, and jasper shook his head and mumbled, “me and … me and my sister went and saw it once.” wide eyed, fascinated like a new puppy, jasper watched the other test the wine. he couldn’t think of anything worse, a concoction of spice that was always different, that nearly burned on the way down. “i wouldn’t like it,” they confirmed, before doing the same with their hot chocolate — taking a mouthful, swilling the drink around in their mouth, swallowing it down. jasper was silent for a moment before replying, “a solid six. no powder, but it’s a still a little gritty. it’s a bit too sweet, and i would prefer some chocolate to dust on top … but i suppose it’s okay for hot chocolate they’re giving away.”
She smiled at his honesty. It was charming on him. For most of her life, all of her charm had come from lies. She lied to everyone in her life, including herself, until it was as easy as breathing. Her lies had drawn people to her like a siren song, and all of them had crashed and drowned. She much preferred his kind of charm.
The story of Persephone had always been a bit tragic to Valley. An innocent child of spring, snatched up by the dark looming god of darkness and riches who stole her sunlight. It hit a bit too close to home, actually. But she liked this interpretation - even when the cold tries to take everything away, spring will always come again. She wondered if they could tell that was exactly what she needed to hear right now.
"It sounds lovely," she said, genuinely. "I've never seen it. Do you know if it's playing around here? I'd love to go."
She nodded in understanding as he explained the pros and cons of this hot chocolate. It was very cute how serious he was about it - she'd never met someone to whom hot chocolate was this important. But he made it seem very much so, and she was interested as well, now. "Oh, I hate when it's powdery," she said, shaking her head. "I had a great hot chocolate at Morning Glory just before Christmas, have you been there?"
Aurelia, leaning against the counter with her own cup of mulled wine, offered a half-smile as she took a sip. The warmth of the drink spread through her chest, soothing the edge of the chill that seemed to follow her everywhere. She didn’t mind the quiet — the gentle hum of conversation around the room, the faint clink of glasses, it all felt distant enough to be bearable, but still enough to make her feel like she wasn’t entirely alone in the world.
“Freezing? Yeah, pretty much,” she replied, her tone light but with a knowing look as she glanced over at the door. “Winter’s been holding onto us a little longer than usual, huh?” She gave a slight shrug, then turned her gaze back to the newcomer, her voice softening. “But if you’re looking for warmth, this place does a pretty good job of it. Mulled wine helps, too. If you need more than just the heat, though,” she added with a faint smirk, “I’d suggest the hot chocolate stand. That stuff's practically a hug in a cup and makes the cold absolutely worth it. ”
Sometimes, if your brain was making enough of its own noise, you didn't notice the ambiance of a place until you saw someone else take it in. Valley saw the calm and comfort of Ammil House wash over the young woman she'd spoken to, and it was only then that she noticed it herself. Where it had been a grating clanking of cups and spoons and the irritating voices of strangers before, it softened and blurred into a gentle hum.
So she smiled a bit, in spite of herself. The woman said that winter was holding onto them longer than usual, and there was a bit of relief in knowing she wasn't the only one who'd thought so. "Seems like we haven't seen the sun for six months," she said, although that may have just been her very specific six months.
"The mulled wine is good isn't it? It's easy to mess up, but they've done it perfectly." She took a sip, and tried to appreciate the warmth of it as much as this woman seemed to. "Everyone seems to be huddled around the fireplace as well, if that's your thing. I'm not really... a fan of fire, myself, but."
though I know my heart would break i'd tell them put me back in it
@murphbloom
The Snow Frolic was likely the only time the riffraff like Alec would be allowed through its doors. So, naturally, Alec took that as a personal invitation to get his grubby little hands on anything he could reach. Like the true adult man that he was.
He pulled the gloves from his hands with his teeth and pocketed them, reaching for a cup to fill full of warm mulled wine. "It's cold as fuck," he confirmed, tossing one quick glance around like Buckingham Palace guard-wannabes might swoop and in forcibly remove him for his foul language. "Figured I'd set up camp in here until they kick me out. They don't skimp on the heating situation here." Which could not be said for the place he shared with Shambles, the heat set as low as they could physically stand in order to afford to run it at all. He turned back to the woman, gave her a quick appraisal with his eyes over his still-empty cup. Aside from her obvious beauty, she reeked of money. "You live here or something?"
This man's clothes were worn from necessary overuse. He needed a haircut, and it looked like the last time he'd had one, he'd done it himself or had a friend help. There was an effortless charm to him, though, and a natural magnetism, and Valley didn't want to see herself in him, so she didn't... but if he wanted to, he could probably become her, easily.
She'd long since trained herself out of finding comfortable familiarity with people like this. What if someone noticed? Her whole illusion would shatter and they might glimpse Cricket hiding underneath the Valletta mask. Not that that mattered at all anymore. But habit was habit, and she kept an emotional distance.
"They won't kick you out. Unless you break something. Or fall asleep on the couch. So don't have too many of those, and you should be okay," she said, smirking a little.
"I live here... temporarily," she said, as though six months was a normal length of time to stay at a hotel. "I'm trying to decide whether to move here or not. Do you live around here?"
He followed her easily, probably more willingly than he should have, but this seemed like the kind of conversation to be had out of the way without worrying about something like other people. Even if one of them bailed quickly, which was probably what should happen, it was better to be out of mainstream traffic. So he went, unable to do anything except follow, stunned into rare and uncharacteristic silence.
He knew about divorce. He knew a lot about divorce, and the way the legal landmarks could be such a sucker punch when you had at first convinced yourself something would become your life and then it just.... didn't.
And, for all their unresolved struggle, he knew his brother. Without having details, he knew Samuel wasn't coping particularly well. He also knew divorce was a difficult milestone, so he hadn't necessarily expected him to, especially because Samuel and Valley had seemed so.... compatible. So inevitable. In their case, at least to Simon from his limited vantage point, their split had seemed so sudden. It led him to believe something life-altering had happened between them, unlike his own years-long split, though he lacked details and would never ask.
Because the rest of his vantage point was still pretty awkward in a lot of ways, not an advantage at all even if the words sounded alike. He was still the reason behind Samuel's previous failed relationship, and he was married because of it. It limited his ability to ask or be well-received about any of it.
He nodded first, but having a single bone of social awareness in his body, quickly realized actual, out-loud words would be good even if he felt a little winded, a little stunned.
"Yes. Kate is from here, so we moved back here a few years ago, closer to her family even though they're sort of terrible. It was still better than...." rubbing my brother's face in it. Not feeling free to do what we knew in our hearts was the best fit for us. He was sure Samuel hadn't mentioned it, hadn't given them a second thought. He didn't really care about that, glad in a perverse way he could give his brother that space, still a little sorry for how it had all turned out but never able to really be sorry enough.
He cleared his throat and took a drink of his wine. She may have cut herself off befoer she could ask about his brother, but he wasn't going to bite. "What about you? Do you live here now?"
Valley didn't particularly want to look at Simon, but it would have been weird if she didn't. Not that there was anything either of them could do to make this situation even a fraction less weird. So she looked at him, and she was physically closer to him than she had been in a very long time, and yet... he'd never been further away.
Every day since Murph had found out the truth about Valley had been strange, and soupy, and dreamlike. Everything was kind of underwater and half-real. Nothing seemed to possibly have any serious consequences, because the worst thing in the world had already happened.
But this... seemed new. And sharp. And decidedly pretty awful.
She tried to remember Kate and Simon ever mentioning Chicago, and they must have done, but she so rarely listened to them. It was nothing against them, they were... fine. But whenever she'd been around them, her mind had been firmly set to monitoring Murph. His mood, his heartbeat, any change in his breathing at all, and she would have been ready to go to war for him. And she very nearly did, once... but she was sure everybody remembered that night.
She wondered who would go to war for Murph now...
Simon was asking if she lived here, and she almost said yes. She had, in fact, been staying at Ammil House for half a year now, ever since she'd thrown a dart and fled California. She liked it here - the hotel and the neighborhood - and had been thinking of maybe staying. But one Bloom was too many, and she now wondered how soon she could check out.
"No, no," she said, half-truths slipping out as easily as they always had. "I'm staying upstairs, but only visiting. It's a beautiful city, but... perhaps not the right time of year for it, you know?"
She hated the way lies tasted in her mouth, now, and sipped her wine to wash them away
"I'll be out of the way soon enough. You don't have to worry."
It’s almost a surprise, that Evangeline allowed him some respite indoors. Everett had almost thought he’d have to keep following her around in the cold — though, for the record, he’s most following Lily around in the cold, not Evangeline. Not that she cares either way; she’s got him as good as wrapped around her finger, with Lily in her corner. He supposes it’s a good thing kids need to use the restroom as often as they do — moreover, he supposes it’s a good thing that women’s restrooms have such long lines.
He’s sipping on some of the complimentary wine when he spots a very familiar figure walk over, joining him in his misery. For once, though, he doesn’t think that’s his own fault — figures it’s just something Valley does now, since her divorce. And what does misery love, if not company? He doesn’t think she notices whom she’s speaking to — tone is a little too airy, noncommittal. Works out fine for him; he offers her a grunt in reply, nodding as the doors to the hotel open up once again and they’re treated to a taste of the freezing wind for a second. “Just as cold as it was yesterday, and the day before that,” he replies, looking down to meet her gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Hiding out is my schtick, Cambridge,” he deadpans. “Trying to move in on my territory?”
She should have known him by smell, or by the shape of his hand on his cup of wine, or by the familiar height and build of him, but she was so unaware of everything lately. Nobody looked like anyone, nothing looked like anything, it was all just a blur of pointless noise. She hated feeling like this. She missed herself. But it took a lot to snap her out of it these days.
The grunt, though, was unmistakable, and she was smiling even before her eyes met his. Her eyes weren't exactly lighting up the way they used to - he'd seen them much brighter than this - but they softened, and focused, and warmed, when they fell on Everett's face.
She was so glad he was here. In Ammil House, now, but in Chicago, in general, too. They were both grumpy and miserable, but at least they could be so together.
"I am not hiding," she lied, "I live here. You come into my house and make accusations like this." She tsked at him, and shook her head, and smirked, and sipped her drink.
"Is there anything out there worth going out for? If not, I'll stick to my wine."
jasper wasn’t usually one for festivities. he would have much preferred to stay at home with a good book, cooped up in their apartment under the soft glow of a side - lamp … but if there was one thing that would coax the nervous boy out of the house, it was hot chocolate. they had bundled themself up in one of ruairi’s oversized sweaters and a jacket over the top, braving the cold to find their way to ammil house. all they wanted was to go unnoticed, to squirrel through the crowds and get what he needed before disappearing back into the cold evening air. he guided himself to the hot chocolate bar as though it was a beacon, standing on tiptoes and surveying the selection like a food critic — the consistency, whether he could identify any floating powder, pinching one of the marshmallows between his fingers to gauge the squishiness. the unexpected voice caused him to flinch. jasper caught the strong scent of spice and alcohol, and his nose scrunched at the wave of unfamiliar aromas. “it’s … yes, it’s very cold,” he gently nodded and picked up one of the styrofoam cups with both hands, “but we’re on the journey to spring. the days are getting longer, the sun is brighter in the morning.” they pressed their lips together and gathered their courage before speaking again, “does that … taste nice?”
Perhaps she should have vetted her choice in conversation partner a bit better - this kid seemed like they wanted to talk to strangers even less than Valley did, and she felt like she'd intruded on their thoughts a little bit by speaking. She wanted to apologize, but the way they held the little cup in both hands, to warm and comfort themselves, was so endearing, she regretted nothing.
This thought was affirmed by the optimistic reminder of the inevitability of spring - something Valletta had almost stopped believing in at this point in the winter. "I guess you're right," she said, unconsciously adjusting her voice to be calmer and quieter, like he were a little bird she was afraid of scaring off. "It's just hard to remember that when everything's so... grey, isn't it?"
They asked if the mulled wine tasted nice, in a way that sounded like they couldn't imagine it possibly would, and Valley smiled. "You know, I'm not sure, this is my first cup. Hold please," she said, lifting a finger as she took her first sip. She smiled and closed her eyes almost instinctively as she tasted it, and opened her eyes to inform him of what she'd learned. "It's sweet, but not too sweet. A bit of cinnamon and nutmeg, a bit of citrus and ginger. A splash of what I'm pretty sure is Grand Marnier. But if you don't like red wine, you might not like it. How's the hot chocolate?"
