❋ —— 「ɴᴜʀᴛᴜʀᴇʀ 」

florence athanas. twenty six. they/them. ❝ they're the type of 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 that can still ɢʀᴏᴡ after a 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊. ❞

[xflorences-blog]

I actually spent the night at the residential treatment center I work at-- I'm not a night attendant there or anything but one of the kids was having a rough time so I was with them trying to help in any way I could. It's a couple of hours away from here; it's called Rite of Passage? I have the number for them here if you need it?

FLORENCE’S ALIBI // 04.04.19.

[xflorences-blog]

cassia.

“It’s good to see you too, I missed you,” Cassia admitted as they leaned against the counter. Which was true, they really did miss each of their siblings all for different reasons.  But most of all Cassia missed their family unit, the one that continually shattered the more that everyone left.  And while, they were aware that their family wasn’t anywhere near normal, Cassia had to admit it was somewhat comforting to have everyone under the same roof again.  “And it’s alright, I get it.  Plus…I wasn’t really the best at communicating either, so I think that we’re even.”

Being back was such an odd sensation-- for a split second, looking at Cassia as they leaned against the counter immediately brought Flo back in time. The small signs of age would only present themselves upon closer inspection, reminding them that time had, actually, passed. Again, Florence found themselves caught in a weird state between memories they were convinced they'd forgotten and experiencing things they'd never thought they would again.

Nodding gently, as if Cassia admitting also not reaching out would somehow relieve some of the guilt mounting in their chest, they began pouring the tea with a slight shrug. "Well, we're both here now," Florence forced a small smile; they didn't want to be here, but they knew it was important for them to say goodbye, to not only Dad, but also the others as well. "So I think it's easy to just wipe that past clean; a clean slate if that's okay with you? Let's just agree things will be done better the second time around."

[xflorences-blog]

belva.

Relief washed over the girl as she realized who it was at the door. Florence was one of the few Athanas children that seemed to radiate light, a positive force that Remy had seemed drawn to. In turn, Belva viewed them as an ally, even if they’d never really been that close when they were both living in the house. With Dad around and his constant reminders to be seen, never heard, she supposed it was no surprise that she had never really clicked with her siblings the first time around.

“It’s okay, Florence. I know you weren’t being mean,” she smiled, noticing the pink in their cheeks. Their words reflected her own thoughts, and her gaze briefly settled on her favorite bed sheets before she continued. “Mom made sure everything would feel like home when we came back. It’s…odd, but if it helps her,” a shrug was all she offered up, fingers lightly tapping against her bedpost. 

Florence’s question was one she didn’t give much thought, not the best at self-reflection. “I’ve been doing well, yeah.” It was only as she went to return the question that she realized just how long Florence had been gone, their departure following the loss of Pacifico. “It’s been quite a while since you’ve been back. How are you doing?” 

Home.

The word felt foreign as it rang in their ears; like a lie that they were all told to believe since the moment they stepped foot into that house. Dad didn't really try to make it feel like one, or maybe he tried (to the best of his ability), but the real homemakers of the family were Mom and Pacifico-- and everyone knew it. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise at all when Florence left, even if it was based on pure emotion and the grief of losing someone that they were closest to. No, the second he'd died, that place was no longer their home. "I worry for her," they spoke honestly, "with recent events and us leaving one by one over the years... it must've been very lonely. At least she gets to see us all again." Death was a hardship, Flo wouldn't sugarcoat it, but they also believed it had a purpose-- pushing others closer to where they needed to be; be it emotionally or physically.

"You know, being away from here... it's freeing." A small smile crept onto their lips as they thought back to the recent years. "I did miss all of you, to be fair, and wish I had left time for proper goodbyes." Sighing softly, they casually leaned against the doorframe, pausing in contemplation before pushing forward with their next question. "Did you get a final message from Dad, too?"

[xflorences-blog]

who do you suspect killed dad?

“I’m not sure.” The three words rolled quickly off their tongue; it wasn’t a LIE. Surely, most of the siblings had their own varying theories on who’d done the deed, and Florence was no different. Unable to completely shake the last words they’d overheard exchanged by the twins, Flo believed that even if they weren’t the murders, perhaps they were somehow involved otherwise. But then again, they weren’t entirely convinced that all of them didn’t have some role to play in Dad’s murder, one way or another.

[xflorences-blog]

erebus.

     the night had come quickly and soon the house grew silent. erebus dreaded the thought of staying around longer than he needed, and spending the night was longer than he needed. nothing but distant memories of his terrible past flooded his mind – all those countless nights of being alone in his bedroom. alone. despite emilio being there. it never made a difference regardless. he wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, not when it consumed him, but he also did not want to go near his old room. 

     his feet dragged lightly through the halls and without realising, erebus had reached an all-too-familiar door – the frame still worn out and dark like he remembered, and the floorboards beneath bent from years of wear.

     they were in there, he could hear their voice call out for mom. erebus had to keep himself from smiling as he leaned against the doorframe. “no, not mom,” he said as florence spoke. nimble fingers reached up to play with his bottom lip out of habit. “you’ve outgrown your room – the bed looks a little small.”

As their attention fully scanned the man nonchalantly propped up against their doorframe, they couldn't help but exhale a small chuckle as they agreed by echoing his words, "not Mom." Florence could recall countless conversations exchanged between the two in this very room all within a split second, his slightly aged features making them feel both as if nothing and everything had changed since then. Even though Emilio had vouched for his innocence upon her arrival, a strange sense of doubt clouded their mind as they looked at him. Was he capable of MURDER? Pushing the thought down deeper as opposed to actually pondering it, they shifted their gaze back to the bed as he spoke of it, gladly delving into the lighter conversation.

"Me? Have you seen you? You’ve sprouted so tall that I'm surprised you can even fit through that door anymore." The playfulness that nipped at their words was accompanied by a bright smile as they mindlessly kicked at the bag of clothes at their feet. "I hope Mom got you an extra bed or you just might have to slum it on the floor tonight."

[xflorences-blog]

december.

December wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about being back in this house. He’d missed Mom, missed Graciela  — but seeing them again may not have been worth the return. The nostalgia didn’t bring happy memories the way it should. It didn’t bring sad memories, either, or many powerful memories at all. He felt… nothing. He focused on forgotten details. The color of the walls, the way the furniture was arranged, the sound of the door closing. He would’ve been content with no refreshers. It was strange, how the tables had turned. How he hadn’t wanted to leave and now, he didn’t want to come back.

That wasn’t all of it. He had wanted to leave, of course. He’d never wanted to be there in the first place, and the idea of getting out from under that roof and into the real world had been so appealing he stayed up many nights thinking about it. What he’d do when he was free. But when he’d been forced out with nowhere to go, alone — nothing but his shadow to keep him company — he’d tasted fear. For the first time in his life, he’d been afraid. He’d realized that in the house, at least, he’d had safety. Stability. Not in the ways he would have wanted, but at least he’d had something. Now he was here again, and that feeling had vanished. It struck him that everything he thought he’d had, had been delusion all along.

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” December didn’t miss a beat. “Damn it. I told my barber, ‘whatever you do, don’t make me look like a middle-aged woman’, but they totally botched that one.” He leaned against the doorway, trying to remember just how long it had been since he’d had a conversation with Florence. “Ah, well. I suppose if you’re paying less than ten for a haircut, you take what you get.”

A brow micheviously arched in response to December's immediate amused retort, a smile spreading across their lips as his comedic aura circulated the otherwise stuffy room. "I must admit, expensive cut or not, the curls suit you-- I dunno, you might just be giving Mom a run for her money for the one with the best hair." A lighthearted shrug rolled off their shoulders as they quickly scanned him over, hoping for signs that life had been treating him well since they'd last spoke. As Florence had Pacifico, December had Mom, and it was a slightly soothing feeling that washed over them knowing that he still had her around, if need be.

"It's been... a while." Their playful demeanor diminished to some extent as they immediately huffed a soft sigh and told themselves to keep it somewhat light. "It's good to see you." Even though they'd never been the closest, Flo did find their mind shifting to each of they’re so-called siblings from time to time, hoping they were somehow able to rise above the box Dad tried to keep them in. "It's weird to be back, isn't it? It's so similar?? I feel like Dad's voice is going to echo down these halls any minute and beckon us somewhere." Lightly biting the inside of their cheek, they quickly adjusted the topic to something more pleasant. "Or Mom telling us a pot of her famous tea is ready."

[xflorences-blog]

cassia.

Cassia just shrugged at all of the questions, not really sure how to answer them.  They didn’t like the feeling of helplessness that came whenever those sorts of questions came up, considering that it felt like people weren’t really sure if they could handle things themself.  And yet, Cassia also had to admit that tea sounded amazing.  “How about we both go and get cups for ourselves,” Cassia offered, figuring that it was a good compromise.  That at least made them seem a little less helpless. 

“It’s weird in the sense that Dad isn’t here,” they admitted, shrugging a little bit, “But I had been meaning to visit before all of this, so I think I just mostly wish that Dad was here.  And that I’d gotten the chance to see him one last time.”

"Deal." Keeping a respectable distance-- but not far enough behind to make it seem Flo was trying to avoid them-- they followed the other to the kitchen, finding their gaze cast downwards as Cassia spoke of having wanted to visit Dad before. They could understand why, even if they, personally, hadn't put much thought into revisiting this place themselves. Although Dad might have treated Cassia as well as he could of, part of Flo was relieved that they hadn't returned earlier-- Dad loved (in his own way) most of the kids, but Florence worried about the effects his methods had on the faint of heart.

"I'm sorry it's not under better circumstances, but it is good to see you again." They started softly as they reached the cabinet and retrieved two mugs. "I wanted to apologize for leaving as abruptly as I did, and for not doing more to reach out..." A part of them felt responsible for most, if not all, of the others. They were meant to guide and protect-- to help them all grow in the way they had. Instead, they LEFT. Florence let themselves be so overcome with the grief and the need to get out that they'd abandoned those who may have still needed them.

[xflorences-blog]

emilio.

“I know, you know, Flo.” She stood there and she watched them. Where the wind blew, she had gone. For years. For months she disappeared and materialised again only to torment the people who had loved her the most and she did not see what she was doing at all. Not that she would have stopped if she did. Dad had taught her only to be a challenger and she had spent her entire life so far challenging everyone she had ever met in ways they would never understand and were unable to respond to. Emilio had long ago stopped being Dad’s little challenger, a rival in chess and mind games, and become Dad’s challenge. “Or at least you think you do.”

She slammed the door of her car shut and walked past them, leaning against the wooden doorway of that grand old door that had welcomed them in when they were younger and more foolish. She looked at them and her voice was gentle and ever. Emilio did not lie. She was the first to admit to all her sins because the part of her mind that told her what was right and what was wrong had seemed to always have been tipped on it’s head, upside down and topsy turvy. “I didn’t kill him,” she promised Florence, as if this should be the most comforting thing of all, “I could of but I didn’t. And if I had then I would of taken all the credit.”

She knew what the warning about her siblings meant but she had never been afraid of them, she had never been cautious or known how to walk on egg shells. She was the one child that even Dad had never been able to gain an advantage on, even when she had been locked up. Some strange light flickered in her eyes as she wedged the door open a little more, “It wasn’t Erebus either,” she confirmed, knowing all too well all along that her twin had not committed this crime. She didn’t think him capable. She would never admit it but she knew she was the one who was uninhibited, able to do whatever she wanted. Erebus was crippled with a lust for revenge and that was his downfall. He was not cold blooded like her. He was not truly as dark as he thought. She imagined the blood spilling from Dad’s fractured skull, the way he must have suffered and gasped for breath, and she felt nothing, “He’d never have gotten away with it.”

Maybe they'd been subconsciously holding their breath as they waited for some sort of reassurance that she wasn't as involved as they'd imagined. After all, who didn't say things in heated anger that they didn't mean? So as she matter-of-factly denied killing Dad, air rushed through their lips in a sigh of relief. "I believe you," they breathed out much quieter than intended with a soft nod. She wasn't completely absolved of any guilt, as not being the one to physically hold the murder weapon didn't make someone innocent, but they found some weight metaphorically lifted off their shoulders.

Trailing behind her after a moment, Flo was slightly surprised when she'd brought up her brother's innocence, not that they should have been. Where there was one, there was always the other-- Erebus would follow her anywhere, and maybe that made her feel like her brother's keeper; so of course, in absolving any guilt on her part, she'd include him too. They didn't offer any words of gestures of affirmation this time, though they felt it wasn't needed. If they'd trusted she was telling the truth before, they'd trust she'd tell the truth now.

Had they been one of the others, they probably would have asked who she'd thought was capable of not only committing the murder, but also able to begin to get away with it; much like Erebus couldn't. But honestly, they weren't here to play detective... they were not only here to say goodbye, but also hoped they could help the rest do so as well. This house on the hill had held them all captive for long enough, and they hoped-- even if it sounded somewhat heartless-- that Dad's death could help release them.

As they entered the not-so-humble abode, the foyer brought back a million memories instantaneously and another line of chills ran up their spine. Maybe for some, they would have found the fact that everything staying exactly the same was comforting, but not Florence. “Honestly, I told myself I was beginning to forget this place-- forget the way it smelled of the cleaning supplies Mom always uses, or the way the sight of Dad’s open study doors down the hall always makes it feel as if your stomach has turned upside down... or even that there was a scuff mark right,” their foot gently moved the small end table aside to reveal a small black smudge, “here. But the truth is, I’m not sure I’ll ever truly forget... it’s like this place as a way of embedding itself into your mind.”

[xflorences-blog]

The rhythmic and soft ticking of the clock on the nightstand echoed through their otherwise quiet, empty old room as they stood in silent contemplation. Besides Mom's stamp of fresh linens and dust-free surfaces, the room seemed otherwise untouched-- either left there waiting for their return or maybe just because Dad was too lazy to clean it out. Oh, how so much had changed since they'd last step foot in this room. It all seemed... smaller, or more accurately, Florence was simply larger; they'd long since outgrown the room and everything in it. Pushing away the thoughts of Pacifico that threatened to climb to the center of their mind, considering it was his death that sealed the fact they'd never again step foot in this room (or so they'd thought), they instead found themselves casually tugging each of the drawers slightly open to catch a peek at the clothes that were now far too small.

It all felt far longer ago than it actually was-- almost as if it was from another life. Not only had they truly believed all of this was behind them, but they'd gladly accepted it. Then again, Dad always did have plans of his own and it was only fitting that he somehow dragged Flo back into this tangled web, one way or another.

A shift in the floorboards peeked their attention as they began calling over their shoulder. "Thanks again for the clean sheets, the old ones were fine, you didn't have t--" finally turning to see different company than they were expecting, they cleared their throat lightly. "Oh, I thought you were Mom...”

[xflorences-blog]

belva.

It was strange returning to a place that you were supposed to have left behind, especially under such gruesome circumstances. The Athanas house, the house upon the hill, was never really the childhood home anyone would expect to return to. Belva had visited, of course, for it had taken her a while to be comfortable stepping outside of Dad’s control influence, but even she could tell that this was different. Her favorite sheets were on her bed, a soft pink with little red rose buds everywhere, and a new dress in her closet. It was pressed neatly, a soft pastel pink, more suited for a child than a woman who had just turned twenty four. Even after his death, she could still feel Dad’s fingertips perched upon her shoulder, a reminder to play her part. 

The sound of a knock on the door broke her from her thoughts, a raggedy teddy bear falling from her fingers as she flinched slightly. Even the hustle and bustle of photography studios wasn’t enough to keep the blonde from getting startled at just about anything. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you before,” she called out, teddy bear left behind as she turned to face the person, wondering which of the others it would be. Empty hands now went to smooth down her simple white dress, forever primping, forever trying to look picture perfect. Her smile was soft, pleasant, but the rest of her face gave very little away as she looked over at the person who had just entered her room.

Immediate regret washed over them as she jumped at their knock-- even though it was gentle, they should have known that given recent events, everyone was on edge... Florence included. "I'm sorry, I heard rustling and just figured I'd stop by and say 'hello'," their cheeks flushed with a faint pink hue as they kept a respectful distance and remained in her doorway. Lightly clearing their throat, they glanced down the halls before beginning conversation. "Everything looks exactly the same... it's a bit... unsettling.” Chewing on the inside of their lip, they turned their attention back to her and offered a small, and perhaps sad, smile. “I was so convinced I'd seen the last of this place." 

Belva had always been beautiful, but they decided against complimenting her on how well she presented herself. She'd undoubtedly had her fair share of such flattering remarks and they didn't want to make her believe they only saw her for her beauty. "I hope you've been well?"

[xflorences-blog]

emilio.

A long drive, even if it was only four times around the city, just to come back to the doorstep. She wanted to be one of the last to arrive. She didn’t like being first and she definitely didn’t like coming last, the entire journey a repeated CD of Christmas hits. It may have been the end of Dad’s life, but it was just a pit stop right in the middle of hers and she hadn’t taken a single second to think about the fact that someone was DEAD. Being dead, after all, didn’t seem like the worst thing that could happen. Truth be told, she was excited. Excited to find out what had happened, to hear every gory tearing detail about how Dad’s body had been laid there on the ground with his head bashed in like in a graphic novel. She was excited to come face to face with a murderer, to be able to look them in the eye and share the same breath, to feel how it felt to be in their shoes. She was excited and she didn’t try to hide it, she had no comprehension of how twisted that was. The grin on her face hadn’t left in years and that night when she had seen December running from their lovely little home, she had been interested but now she was simply obsessed. Nothing surprised her, but that had. That had shaken her and now she was thirsty to find out why. The car screeched as it stopped, sun roof popped off, license plate dangling off the front as if it had been part of a war and came out a tormented survivor. She was the war. Nothing had ever survived. The sound of Driving Home For Christmas echoed cheerily into the cold afternoon air as she kicked the door open, stepping out and turning to the first of the people she saw. A curious look was on her face, perhaps one that would have been comforting from a sibling that you knew and loved but from Emilio was only eerie, “It’s awful, isn’t it?” She yelled over her own loud music, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

It wasn't difficult to hear her approach, and Flo was entirely convinced that that was done on purpose. Having a flair for the dramatics was a trait most of the others have around here-- almost as if it was a requirement in the children Dad took in. Motioning their hand in a soft downward motion as their head gestured toward her car when she stepped out, they stepped out from the doorway and closed the front door behind them. A 'welcome home' felt polite, but this place had long since felt like one and who were they to roll out the red carpet for a place they'd left behind many years ago?

Simply nodding at her sarcastic-laced remarks, they made their way closer in search of bags they could carry in for her. Ignoring the small wave of chills that rushed up their spine as they fully saw her again, they forced a small smile. "Christmas music? Really?" They sighed softly, though not surprised.

Flashes of Emilio being dragged kicking and screaming down this driveway tugged at the corner of their memory as their attention flicked between her unnerving expression and the pavement behind her. So much had changed since then, or had it? Was she just as unstable as she was before? Was she even trying to hide it??

"Erebus is inside," they finally settled on, though they weren't too sure it was the wisest idea to immediately reconnect the pair. "I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’ve arrived." There was an awkwardness, at least on their end, that left them unsure of how to proceed. Part of them wondered where’d she’d been or what she’d been doing... wanted to know if she was okay, or at least as okay as SHE could ever be, However, they were just as sure that their other part didn’t want to know anything of the sort.

“Be careful around the others,” the warning leaving their lips before they had time to think about it, “this whole place is a power keg just waiting to explode and I, for one, would like to avoid witnessing such an explosion.”

[xflorences-blog]

cassia.

Cassia had to admit that it was strange being home.  They’d thought about coming back a couple of times, whether it be for a short visit or just because they couldn’t handle things on their own and figured that their parents would be able to help.  But it had never actually happened.  Either they’d start a new job, or have to move and start over.  Excuse after excuse until now…it was entirely too late. 

Dad was dead.  Murdered. He wasn’t coming back.  And it was a lot more than Cassia was prepared to handle. Not when they were already struggling enough on their own.  Grief…it just made everything heightened and muted all at once.  

They were alone with their thoughts, standing in the middle of the hallway, just enough in the way that nobody else could get through.  It wasn’t until Cassia heard someone clear their throat that they snapped back to reality and moved out of the way. “Oh….sorry,” they instantly apologized, their voice quiet as their eyes stayed glued to the floor. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Florence's tone instantly took on the softness it only ever did with Cassia-- seemingly no stretch of time would make their subconscious stop treading lightly around the slightly-younger Athanas. Though Cassia looked relatively okay, Flo knew better than to comment on it and instead attempted to make themselves useful. "Did you need any help putting your things away, or did you already get all of that taken care of? I'm pretty sure Mom made a fresh pot of tea for our arrival, I could go get a cup for you?"

Silently exhaling after a brief moment of silence, they realized how babying they were coming across, and even if they'd yet to make eye contact, they knew treating them like a delicate flower did little to actually help. "I'm sorry," they apologized again, "I guess it's just... really weird being back. Personally, I can't say I'm much of a fan." Relearning how to hold themselves, to talk to the others, was a skill that would come back to them in time, but honestly, they hoped they wouldn't be there long enough.

[xflorences-blog]

ace.

The door to the study was open, for a short minute his mind supplied that dad had left it open. Sometimes he did that if he was going to be right out. Too quickly realization hit him. Dad was gone, someone else was in there. No one was supposed to be in there, not even him.

Futy filled him as Ace walked into the room, “What are you doing in here? This was the last place dad had been, the last place he’d been alive. Until one of them decided to end it. He couldn’t prove it yet but he knew. There was no one else brazen enough to hurt him. Ace would prove it.

They'd be lying if they said standing in the empty study didn't feel forbidden. Even as a grown twenty-six-year-old, they felt slight anxiety at the thought that someone was waiting in the shadows and ready to grab them at any moment to forcefully remove them; this was DAD'S room. They were sure a few of the others had been allowed in here briefly by personal invite only, but those were only the children he felt closest to and that definitely wasn't them.

Hearing another's approaching footsteps, they remained still, their gaze trailing over the empty study chair. When the other spoke, though, they were genuinely surprised it wasn't Horatio-- who else made it their life mission to keep the others out from where they didn't belong?

"Ace," they breathed as they peeked over their shoulder. "It's been... it's good to see you." In their time away, they did genuinely miss each of their "siblings" from time to time. Ace was always a bit much, but who could blame him, for becoming the puffed up man he was when Dad endlessly blew smoke up his ass? "I was just-- I don't think I ever really saw the study... it's smaller than I imagined."

[dollhouse-rp]

YOU WERE THE ONLY ORGANIC THING…

A flower blossoming from between the cracks in the floorboards, a weed that a child plucked from the ground while they still saw it’s beauty. You were everything that your siblings were not, you were allowed to be everything and anything. You grew from a wide eyed child to a care giver to all, you were the one who held your siblings hands. Their pain was your pain, their tears broke your heart, and you swore that you would help them as best you could. Your heart was full of love and compassion, you spent hours upon hours by Mom’s side until you began to realise her compassion was just the absence of love too. You were all flesh and bone and you had all suffered. You grew up and you grew tall but your heart was always soft and you thanked Dad for that. He had taught you that hard hearts made hard lives, and you were sure, one day, yours would be simpler for it.

BUT NOW DAD IS DEAD…

He was dead. You know better than anyone that your family were never really a family at all. You were the only one that ever managed to grow and blossom, you were the only one that seemed able to find compassion in your heart. Death is sad but sometimes it is necessary. You won’t lie and pretend that you’re surprised that someone killed him. And you know who you suspect, it weighs heavy on your heart, because when you saw Erebus and Emilio last you heard them arguing about how to get rid of him once and for all. You keep your mouth shut, you will not continue the suffering of all those that you love. You think, maybe one of these days you can drop your last name completely and finally everyone can grow past all the suffering you see when you look at them.

WE’RE ALL FAMILY HERE…

EREBUS. suspicious of. you wanted them to be good but now you fear the worst.

EMILIO. cautionary tale. something was always off, something was missing in them.

REMY. ally. he was the closest thing to a true paternal figure, and you, to someone who truly cared.

JULY. trusted. the pretty words they spout, you are too willing to believe.

[flomock]

▬ CHARACTER POSTERS ↳ Florence Athanas [1/?]

EVEN IN A ROOM FILLED WITH DARKNESS, THEY ARE A LIGHT. THEY’RE UNLIKE OTHERS, YET THEY’RE NOT NAIVE. THEY’RE AWARE HOW CRUEL THE WORLD IS, THEY JUST REFUSE TO B L E E D.