mun speaks. i flirted with the goddess of death in my campaign. also, i have a massive headache but i did TWO replies. which isn’t a lot, but i’m so excited it happened twice. thank you guys for sticking with me through my slowness. love y'all!
He’d come to visit her out of the blue. To be fair, out of the blue for Seth is more a weekly occurrence. He would find times to visit her if she wasn’t able to trek to visit him at La Push, make those silly cute puppy dog eyes at her when asking if she knows when she’ll be up next and that he’ll wait to see her then, only to show up two days later with a board game and blueberry muffins that are almost the size of her head (made by someone who Seth was close with? Emma doesn’t know all the details but she knows that apparently his friend really likes to bake.)
This particular visit was of course during one of her less than stellar health days. Her eyes appeared more sunken in and her energy was not on par with her completely one hundred percent days. She wasn’t completely sick, not in the sense that she would need to isolate to battle a cold or something off, but more in the sense that if she didn’t rest it could lead to complications in the future. She’d burned herself out, is what she thought to herself, not that she was coming down with something. She was well enough that her father wouldn’t turn Seth away at the door, so she was able to receive visitors. Seth had noted that she had a rather impressive blue record player with a few vinyl albums that she’d acquired over the years (and that she had bought from her father’s store at a huge discount because nepotism discounts).
Seth brought over at least five records with him this time. Apparently Will saw Seth walking up from his workspace and went and opened the door before he made it to the front, as Emma hadn’t heard any knocks or a doorbell ring. He nearly had her jump out of her skin when he made himself known at her doorframe, records in hand and bubbly personality exuding off of him. For most of the afternoon, they’d listened to the records he’d brought, talking about the stories behind how he acquired the records (some of which might’ve been fabricated to hide the fact he bought them online a couple days prior) and the significance–if any–to the songs on them. They sat next to each other on her bed, fingers ever so slightly grazing over one another in a hint of contact. They kept leaning closer and closer as they spoke over each song until, their lips close to one another as Emma waxed a poetic over a song, he interjected:
order up! remember to do something just for yourself today. you're doing your best and you deserve a little pick-me-up! keep hanging on because sweeter times are sure to be here, soon!
i don’t know who you are but you are sunshine personified. i hope that you take your advice because you bring positivity to us but deserve to feel positive too. you are so loved!!!
With each passing word Emma spoke, Boris grew increasingly suspicious of her description being something from personal experience. His eyes narrowed, gaze only leaving her to glance at the dark, cold water. He knew what it was like to be in freezing temperatures, the fatigue and the violent shivering that made muscles ache, but he counted himself lucky that he’d never fallen through ice or into water so cold that it would send a person into shock.
❝ That happened to you? ❞ The topic of surfing was brushed aside in favour of the detailed and nonchalant explanation Emma had given, detailing the exact phases the body and mind would go through in an event such as that. ❝ Same place? ❞ Boris nodded towards the water, face twisting into a grimace at the idea of Emma struggling to swim beneath the icy depths. He didn’t even require confirmation to decide that this was a story, not a lesson.
❝ Christ. Lucky it did not end worse for you. Here? Would be headline in newspaper for weeks. ❞ Small towns were always like that. When something big happened, everyone knew about it and it wouldn’t just pass by like it did in some cities. ❝ If it is like how you say it is, how did you get out? ❞
Why is it that when she talks about traumatic events she speaks with such distance from it? As if she is talking about a story she heard, rather than something that she experienced and that effected her and that the image of what she experienced–the bone chilling cold–would flash in her mind when bodies of water showed up anywhere in her vision.
❝ Something like that.❞ That was all she could say. It encompassed so much and so little as to what was happening and had happened. How does she explain that she did something that she knew was stupid but it was for the experience and to show that she could? To be young and impulsive… and normal. To be with a boy who liked her and wanted to take her places and show that he saw her romantically. Plus, he was also more of a bad boy type… kinda like Boris. She can’t even pretend that she has a type because Norman… isn’t a bad boy. He’s like a limp noodle and a poodle had a baby, that’s docile Norman Bates. Always the protector, never the romantic. At least, not when it came to her. ❝Besides, this town is so overflowing with drugs and things that my death would be on page six if anything. An obit with a small in memoriam where people who had one class with me would say that I was quiet and was going to die young. Probably mention something stupid that he would bang me if I didn’t wear tubes. ❞
Emma Decody, ever the pessimist in the most nonchalant sense. She had never really given what type of news coverage or words would be shed over her. She usually simply focused on her words and how she would bring life to her situations, a novelist at heart. ❝ I was pulled out of the water by others. The moment of empowerment ended with me having to be saved by others. Typical outcomes for impulsive moments. ❞
