maura-alair-blog

[maura-alair-blog]

Glory, glory, glory to the night It shows me what I am I'm not happy or sad, just up or down And always bad

[maura-alair-blog]

[maura-alair-blog]

[maura-alair-blog]

beaddams:

It wasn’t as though Pia didn’t adore creating trouble – she was such a strange and rebellious thing that acting up was purely second nature – and insecure though she was, her pride was often particularly hard to swallow. But now, when something of a sheer opposite tempted her dearest possession, something so pure and sweet juxtaposed to her impure and sour soul, her defiance was over boiling and a series of chaotic and brash acts were likely to unfurl in a matter of minutes. Here was how she was beginning to see it; from beneath the feet of the little victim rolled a carpet, upon which she had witness Maura undoubtedly tread. Should she step upon the carpet herself, she would be complying to something so far against her own will it would taint her insubordinate attitude indefinitely. Should she burn the carpet, the ferocity of the flames would swallow Maura too. So she was presented with a solution that uncomfortably twinged in her belly; she would have to play nice in the presence of the angelic blonde her heart obeyed. However, her disdain would be unleashed, untamed and deadly, at every given opportunity of Maura’s absence. A thin smile painted Pia’s lips, a smile that was never displayed without dead-eyed-darkness.

As soon as Maura retaliated at her attempt to frighten the little girl, Pia’s posture drooped, sculpting a submissive frame and carving acquiescence into the bones that ached for the posing heroin. She exhaled patiently at such a long count her rib cage threatened to concave, and on the tail of her breath followed her teeth, which gripped at her bottom lip insidiously. “As I thought,” she said coldly, a fixing stare settling upon the doe eyes of the stranger. “Then you absolutely should stay, and definitely join us for lunch. Because Maura wants you to.” – and what Maura wants, Maura gets, she didn’t say. The affirmation she dreaded so fiercely had already made her sink back, and as she watched the subject of her affection display affection to another, her body began to burn from the inside out. It made her sick. 

“If I haven’t killed that little twit before the weeks out, you can officially announce me soft,” Pia whispered once more to Samara, though for added affect she cupped her hand over her mouth to conceal the trail of words vibrating to the ear of the other. It was an exaggerated display, and she intended on it making said little twit as uncomfortable as possible. “Or, we can bet on it. I bet you $5 I’ll have killed her before Maura fucks her.” Sliding her unoccupied hand to the small of Samara’s back, she teased with a tickling fingernail at the cotton that separated sharp from ivory skin. “I mean, Maura’s making it pretty blatant that she’s putting us through some kind of forced baby sitting service with the twerp. We may as well have our fun with it.”  Letting the hand that bridged the open air between lips and lobe down, she settled it upon Samara’s shoulder, and her eyes that hadn’t once left the frail addition to their circle now glimmered with a defiant ember. It was a bullet of a stare that ripped straight through Beatrice’s goosebump riddled flesh.

With every shallow breath that failed to reach her frangible lungs, Beatrice grew colder. The frightening girl, who’s name she now learned to be Pia, extended such private and vindictive looks at her behind her heroin’s back that without words, she knew she was not welcome. In fact, it affirmed that she was quite the opposite; stepping on marked territory, and the looks that Pia threw her were more fierce than any pack of vicious guard dogs and sharper than any length of barbed wire. She threw back looks but they weren’t nearly as intimidating. They were baffled frowns, but no sooner had she thrown them, her eyes were flung open and she exposed her true rabbit-in-headlights conscience. Bea felt an instinctive urge to gravitate toward her savior, Maura, however the intimidating figures behind her rendered her so conflicted her limbs turned to lead and she stood dumbfounded on the spot. 

Maura’s kindness, furthermore, painted Beatrice’s cheeks an effulgent red. Such was the manner of her neurosis, articulation slipped so far from her grasp she’d need a racing car to catch up with it. Her hands, now taken by the older girl, shook only lightly but they were clammy and unresponsive. Fluttering of the heart aside, Beatrice was never responsive to physical contact, and so having had two strangers touch her so eagerly made her flustered and anxious. “You do?” She murmured, mildly deciding that maybe if she spoke with muted decibels, only Maura would hear her and the other two wouldn’t be able to chip in quite so belligerently. She noted the way Pia was attempting to obviously put her out, how clear it was that she was feeding poison to her peer, poison of which Bea was the subject.  A bud of determination seeded in her stomach. 

“My–” Just like before, nothing more than a stutter barged out of her trembling lips. “–My name’s Bear–” And then naturally, she stumbled on her name which befuddled her further. She shook head ferociously and spluttered and stressed. “–Beatrice. My name is Beatrice.” Her conscience was fuming, flapping away in one corner of her brain like a panicking moth trying to get passed a window to a light bulb. The light bulb was Maura and the windows were the two girls that stood behind her like minions. But Maura was something special, and Beatrice could tell by the way Pia and Samara looked on, she was not the only one that might think that. Having never had a proper friend before, Bea came to the realization that the gesture Maura had made in which she swooped in ot protect her, was something to cherish and never let go of. Maura was good, and these two bitchy teenagers that skulked around behind her morphed themselves into bad luggage. She would try her best to cope with that , after all, she dragged a pretty hefty case herself. 

“It isn’t that I wouldn’t love to have lunch with you, it’s just I really don’t want to impose.” For the first time, her sentence was delivered with a clarity and exceptional gliding rhythm. She blinked, attempting to blur Pia and Samara out of focus and let her eyes absorb Maura’s beauty in glorious high definition. “I– I don’t want to be rude.” Heart hammering a speedy 16-beat, she shuffled on the spot and then heard a tut from the part of the scene she’d tried to dull out. “Jesus, kid.” Pia snarled impatiently, and now she had strutted forward to stand beside Maura and Bea could no longer ignore her quite tangible presence. “Maura’s invited you to have lunch with us and you clearly don’t have anywhere better to be so wipe your fucking nose and come with us. Madam will put Samara and me on our leashes and we’ll be kept well out of biting distance so you can quit sniveling and lap up her sunshine a bit more.” Pia had well and truly lost her rag, and with a flick of her straggly black waves, she turned on her heal and yanked Samara by the sleave. “You look like you could use a tan.” She called back as she sauntered off,  leaving an even more shaken Beatrice alone with the girl she was both desperate and terrified to acquaint. 

“She’s right–” Beatrice said with a croak after a silence that had caused her to bite her lip and ring her hands in the depths of her pockets. “I’m being a twit. Of–of course, it would be really lovely to have lunch with you. Thank you.” A gentle smile curved her lips and though she felt drastically more relaxed to have been stripped of the overwhelming company of Pia, she was brimming with dread, for they would be reunited a little sooner than Beatrice would have liked. Still, to be with Maura was close to heaven. What a fool she would be to pass by an opportunity as gracious as that. 

Eyes of ice watched studiously on and in her silence, Samara contemplated interjecting. Discomfort itched low in her stomach and somewhere during the unnecessary exchange, her pale hands had gone sweaty and hot along the palms; perspiration resonating between the creases of pink paws. ‘Deliberation of our lunch should involve the three of us,’ she silently contemplated as Pia and Maura disputed the odd girl’s future in front of her. Seemingly now, and to Samara’s bemusement, they’d concluded, without the brunette’s consent, that her company was now of the utmost importance and that she must come along to engage in laughter and silly-nothings.

It was all so very childish and in her scrutiny, the lanky teen looked to regard the three others, her freckled nose wrinkling along the bridge as she fought to stifle the earnestness of her own opinions. They were nasty and rude thoughts, subjective in nature and would only be waved off by Maura anyway. It hadn’t ever truly mattered what she thought if the blonde had her mind already set.

The dusky and faintly sweet smell of perfume came to her then, a smell that suggested of honeyed spice and one that was Pia’s alone, like the scent of a special flower. Samara leaned closer to it as the other dipped near, cupping her mouth and mutedly whispering her cruel thoughts. Smiling fondly, the redhead nodded along, tickled by her friend’s attention, and feeling prideful that these words of spite were meant for her ears only.  

A wild, inexplicable excitement mounted her as she stared over Maura’s shoulder at the receding crowd of students and tipping her head back, she laughed. “I’ll raise your bet by five more dollars,” she challenged sweetly, angling her chin towards the raven-haired girl and casting the other two further from their impassioned brace. “We both know that Maura’s keen on keeping her legs closed.” Regarding the blonde with a fleeting look of mock outrage she added gently, “Though, from the way she’s ogling her new toy, I’m not completely certain I’ll be taking your money this time.”

She supposed she was red in the face from the tickling friction near the hem of her smock. It sent strength through her, this physical confirmation that Maura was not her singular solace. That too, Pia was a rock that aided in her existence. Feeling powerful in her companionship, the teen tipped her chin down, her jaw set and stern as she began to follow Maura’s actions with a gaze of jilted affliction. Without the weight of Pia’s warm hand upon the bulk of her shoulder, she’d have cast her eyes elsewhere.

In all honesty, she should have known better than to flirt with jealousy. To even tempt it was to ridicule everything Maura had given to her. It was the blonde’s nature, after all, to try and fix all broken things. This was a truth Samara knew, and so did Pia. They too had been victims in a sea of loneliness and uncertainty, regret and remorse. Well, that was until Maura had come along; until she had taught them better.

A sort of queer compulsion had enraptured their sweet friend when divine intervention had saved her life and not the lives of her parents that one fateful night. The occurrence had been a revelation of sorts, or so Maura had once explained. “Since my life was saved, it has become my obligation, therefor, to extend the courtesy and help whomever I can.” Of course, this was idealistic to a fault. And of course, it was not Maura’s obligation to play God and sway the strings of fate. But wasn’t it the least they could do, in exchange for the kindnesses she’d shown, to simply let her play along with fantasy?

Samara often thought that if Maura were to lose track of her ideals, or if she realized that her goals were silly and ultimately, unachievable, she’d succumb to the depression which she tried so damned hard to mask.

Biting her tongue, Samara imagined she tasted blood.

“Of course, I do,” Maura hummed in response, her oceanic eyes searching the brunette’s for some sort of understanding. Unable to hide her discomfort, the poor thing only seemed insecure and worried, her hazel gaze flickering between both Samara and Pia before returning to her. Honestly, she didn’t blame her for feeling hesitant and unsure. If their positions were switched, the blonde was positive that by now, she’d have skirted off with her tail between her legs. It was easy to take cover and hide. The younger girl had showed obvious strength in her resilience thus far. “You shouldn’t let those two dictate your decision,” she added a bit more quietly, her tone light and brimming with sincerity. “Eventually, they’ll learn that not everybody outside of our immediate little,” she rolled her tongue over her upper lip, “family is an enemy.” How funny and honest.

The blonde laughed then, angling her chin skyward. It was a sound more beautiful than music. It made a faint, ghost of a wrinkle at the corner of her eyes, and it made her purse her red lips as a look of contemplation encompassed soft features. At this, an indefinite longing, she had been conscious of on many occasions before, became now a recognizable wish. Inwardly, Samara’s unmuted jealousy roused with disgust and a growl echoed low and sure in the hollow of her throat.

It had always been a truth that Maura was fond of Pia. The blonde harbored adoration towards the dark-skinned vixen that Samara herself couldn’t possibly hope to rival; and from the sidelines, she had bitterly watched as the two fought, tooth and skin, to ignore what was so obvious and plain. Along the way, Samara had picked up scraps of attention where she could find them; in bed with Pia after some long, unnecessary, and overly-emotional debacle with Maura, or behind closed doors when the blonde was feeling sorry enough to briefly kiss her cheek. The other two’s togetherness had been a written law long before she herself had even entered the duo’s “group”. However, Pia had always been the only border that separated them. A cold, stern and unwavering hurdle to conquer, but a singular challenge nonetheless. This petty girl, this strange thing, ‘Bear-b-b-b-bea-I’mafuckingcunt’, would not become another threat.

Stomping her foot down, burying the toe of her sneaker against the scuffed linoleum of the hall, Samara lurched forward combatively only to be calmed by the pressure of Pia’s hand and her smooth voice which sounded from beside her. Inhaling deeply, the other’s scent soothed the red-headed teen, and she instead chose to turn away. Tearing her attention from the unbearable scene at Pia’s concluding gruff, Samara followed along closely behind the hard slaps of her friend’s sneakers. The sleeve of her plaid shirt, caught between Pia’s stern fingers, kept her arm swinging lightly as they retreated for some air away from this impending disaster.

“Let me protect your happiness. That’s what I wish for.” Together, they had breathed in the promise early one muggy, summer morning years ago. With their hearts on their sleeves, they’d sworn their allegiances breathless and scared as the blonde cradled her new companion’s head on the couch, musing lovingly, dark, messy locks as Pia had lay splayed across the length of the cushions.

Their oaths had nearly been religious in nature, sworn from the most desperate corners of their lonely hearts. Since that honest, vulnerable night, Maura had not forgotten Pia’s loyal remark, her vow to fight for the same ideals and to uphold her position as the main source of the blonde’s emotional, physical, and mental stability. It had been the entire world to her back then; to know that she wasn’t the only one striving for a seemingly futile purpose meant everything.

They had been too young, back when they devoted their beings to one another. They’d met just a few weeks prior, but the emotions were true, tangible, and strong.  A bond that refused to fray or waver. And like the desperate children they were, they’d striven to keep the other tied close. Now-- now all they seemingly did was argue in hopes of casting each other further away.

The clarity of this fact shone blindingly as Pia turned to tug Samara from the scene, taking with her what hope Maura still clung to of her soldier’s devotion. Once, she had relied on the fact that the fiery teen would help in aiding those weaker of spirit than them. Now, it was obvious that Pia felt no obligation to protect anybody’s happiness but her own. The raven-haired girl’s sole obligation, since the loss of her family, had been a striving battle for independence away from those looking to help. It was as if, when she lost them, she lost her own sense of justice and had instead, become clouded with remorse and anger; at herself for being vulnerable enough to feel such pain, and at her family for leaving her with it to burden.

Swallowing back the bile the clawed at her esophagus, Maura sighed.

“As of now, we fight to live for the same reasons, don’t we? Let’s keep fighting together.”

Clearing her throat, the blonde regarded the smaller girl with a nod and gentle smile. “You mustn’t say that,” she quickly countered, putting her hands up as though to ward back the other’s unnecessary remark. “Trust me, I know what it must be like meeting her when she’s feeling particularly aggressive. It’s no mystery why you wouldn’t want to dine with us. It’s just,” she hesitated, “in her nature to act so brash.” The words fluttered softly from her lips, bereft of any anger or irritation.

As she tapped the toe of her ballet-shoe clad foot distractedly against the flooring, eyes of blue wandered eagerly after the two who’s presences were now absent. Heart yearning to chase down the taller girls, it took most of Maura’s will to keep fixed to the spot in which she stood. Twiddling her fingers like interwoven strings behind her back, a pretty, innocent smile appeared at her small, pink mouth as her mind revisited a kinder moment in their trio’s history. Perhaps—perhaps later, she could change their hostile attitudes with a bit of light scolding and some steeped chamomile…

Reaching out and casting away what hesitation resonated within her, Maura took the younger girl’s hand into her own and responded to wide eyes with a light squeeze to the mitt she held. “Oh, my dear, you don’t need to thank me for anything,” the blonde breathed out and began to walk, tugging lightly at Beatrice’s hand, coaxing her to walk towards their next destination, the roof. “It’s only my honor to meet somebody was sweet as you.” With a laugh, she added, “I’m used to choking down their gruff attitudes day in and day out. I’m indebted to you and not the other way around. You’re like a breath of fresh air in a world swamped in smog,” she sweetly offered and grinned easily. 

When she discarded Pia and Samara from her thoughts, it was a far simpler task to act on her own will. While they were around, her goals became clouded by her own selfish desires to tend to and aid the two closest to her. It had gotten to a point where Maura felt as if she was losing track of herself; losing track of the gift which had been blessed upon her. Losing track of the duty she had sworn to uphold at the foot of her parent’s graves. And since Pia had destructively torn at the invisible bond between them, her only source of retaliation was to ignore the vows which she had once regarded as unbreakable. She’d neglect the notion Pia’s forgotten promise to her and instead refocus on the contract she’d struck with the reaper himself. ‘Until death comes to claim the life which has been given to me here, I will fight to uphold the happiness of others,’ she solemnly swore and felt her hand fidget to embrace and pressure Beatrice’s.

The Awkward Luncheon | 001

[maura-alair-blog]

I was in the bathroom, I didn't hear him leave I locked the door behind him and I turned around to see All the cookie wrappers and the empty cups of tea Well I sighed and mumbled to myself again, I have to clean I sighed and mumbled to myself  

Mitski | Happy

[maura-alair-blog]

My heart became a drunken runt on the day I sunk in this shunt, to tap me clean of all the wonder and the sorrow I have seen, since I left my home... My home, on the old Milk Lake, where the darkness does fall so fast, it feels like some kind of mistake (just like they told you it would; just like the Tulgeywood). When I came into my land, I did not understand: neither dry rot, nor the burn pile, nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well, nor the black bear. But there is another, who is a little older. When I broke my bone, he carried me up from the riverside. To spend my life in spitting-distance of the love that I have known, I must stay here, in an endless eventide. And if you come and see me, you will upset the order. You cannot come and see me, for I set myself apart. But when you come and see me, in California, you cross the border of my heart. Well, I have sown untidy furrows across my soul, but I am still a coward, content to see my garden grow so sweet and full of someone else's flowers. But sometimes I can almost feel the power. Sometimes I am so in love with you (like a little clock that trembles on the edge of the hour, only ever calling out "Cuckoo, cuckoo"). When I called you, you, little one, in a bad way, did you love me? Do you spite me? Time will tell if I can be well, and rise to meet you rightly. While, moving across my land, brandishing themselves like a burning branch, advance the tallow-colored, walleyed deer, quiet as gondoliers: while I wait all night, for you, in California, watching the fox pick off my goldfish from their sorry, golden state – and I am no longer afraid of anything, save the life that, here, awaits. I don't belong to anyone. My heart is heavy as an oil drum. I don't want to be alone. My heart is yellow as an ear of corn, and I have torn my soul apart, from pulling artlessly with fool commands. Some nights I just never go to sleep at all, and I stand, shaking in my doorway like a sentinel, all alone, bracing like the bow upon a ship, and fully abandoning any thought of anywhere but home, my home. Sometimes I can almost feel the power. And I do love you. Is it only timing, that has made it such a dark hour, only ever chiming out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo"? My heart, I wear you down, I know. Gotta think straight, keep a clean plate; keep from wearing down. If I lose my head, just where am I going to lay it? (For it has half-ruined me, to be hanging around, here, among the daphne, blooming out of the big brown; I am native to it, but I'm overgrown. I have choked my roots on the earth, as rich as roe, here, down in California.)

Joanna Newsom, In California

[maura-alair-blog]

beaddams:

It was with a swamping pessimism and drowning doubt that saw Beatrice readying herself for school that morning. Her routine remained as clockwork, though the presence of a lump in her frail throat interrupted her peace of mind, and told her rather harshly that today might not be the best of days. Call it a sense of impending doom; for that was the way she chose to welcome it. She did not have a theoretical flashlight to spark through her foggy negativity, otherwise she may have donned a little optimism to greet the self prophesied challenge she’d morphed the day ahead into. There was not a single ounce of determination in her step as she tip toed through the raucous throng of the hallway. There was only lethargy, apathy, brimming fear. She fully accepted she was an easy target. She may as well have come in wearing a dartboard around her neck and handed out darts for her peers to chuck at the bulls eye situated in the cave of her delicate chest.

In fact, the first comment hurled at this troubled and tiny teenager was most definitely predicted.  “Hey, pipsqueak.”

She gulped at first, stifling an eye roll at the initially inoffensive comment, and swiveled to face the gooks that had insulted her. Her cheeks quickly reddened, hot and burning, like two angry wasps had catapulted their stings into the dimple of each cheekbone. It was the intimidation of retaliation, an area so alien to her that it threatened her capability to even crack a word. So she didn’t, and the boys heckled on. 

“What the fuck is she wearing?” One leered over her, his neck (which was ridiculously out of proportion in length compared to the width of his shoulders) craning over all 5′0 of little Beatrice. While she went selectively deaf to their jeering, she amused herself in deciding that he very much resembled a giraffe, but a giraffe that had been put through a car wash that made it’s hair go all fluffy and skin drip with oily stuff. 

It was all very tame to begin with; Beatrice switched off and let them circle her, opted to being the lone mouse hiding in a corn field while birds of prey above readied their claws. It wasn’t as though she was going to be much good for anything else. Her only option was to let it happen, and try to let the knives they threw skim past with only the impact of surface scratches on her porcelain skin. It didn’t take very long for them to gauge a little deeper, however, and soon enough the tiny girl was backed against a wall while acidic tears stung at her lugubrious orbs. 

Just as her chest started to compress, and she squeaked a mere “please leave me alone”, an angel stepped in. Beatrice stood dumbfounded, routes sprouting through the earth and encompassing her ankles, holding her steadfast while she blinked viciously at the girl defending her. Bedazzled eyes attempting one single glance at the glorious sun. Her expression remained nonplussed, though her lungs relaxed and allowed her to breathe at a steadier count. It would take a little while for her to speak anything other than pure babble, for her mind was utterly frazzled by the heavenly light and heroism this sun-like-girl had showered upon her plight.  She nodded a little too vigorously, causing her head to conduct a personal whirlpool,  while tousles of mousy brown hair tumbled into her eyes. The bullies had scurried off, and in the presence of this girl, her savior, she wondered whether they had even been there at all - she couldn’t quite remember. She was perpetually awe struck. “No–” this was all she could initially manage, and the word was delivered with a stutter and with flustered, red cheeks. “–They were just– um, it was just stupid words. I’m OK– I am, they didn’t hurt me. Or upset me. Not much, anyway.  I promise. Nothing but–” again she stuttered, and while her doe like eyes were transfixed on her rescuer, she eventually blinked to the point her head was so hot she had to avert them to the ground and reinstate her focus. “Dumb… Dumb stuff.” and then the curve of a dainty smile followed the whispers of her hesitant speech.

However, the proposition of joining the elder girl and her friends for lunch rendered her a blithering state once more. She could have been dangling over a magnificent cliff, the choppy waters of anxiety and unknown things whipping up at her frightened self, beckoning her below to drown. She followed the tide of the school kids surging through the hallway with her eyes, and saw two girls stood a little way away, looking a mixture of smug and irritated. These could be the friends her elder guide was referring to. She gulped, reading a threatening posture from one of the girls and knowing there and then that even though the offer to join them was extremely thoughtful, it was also out of pity.  It was almost as though the girl she had briefly analysed had done exactly the same to her, for she smirked just a little and dipped her chin, peering at the ugly duckling and her graceful swan as if they were entertainment, below a heavy, partially cocked brow. Again, Beatrice gulped. “I don’t think they’d want me around. I mean– if that’s them…over there…” Beckoning at the staring girl and her red-haired companion with a shaky index finger, Beatrice’s cheeks flushed and she buffeted at temptations of legging it and hiding in a cubicle for the rest of the day.  “It’s– I mean, it’s very kind of you to offer. And I really do appreciate you stepping in just now, it’s just– you don’t want to be seen,” she paused, hazel hues flickering to the ground. “–with me,” they lifted to hold an uncharacteristically steady gaze with the older blonde; she searched for honesty. “–do you?” Parted petal soft lips seemed to dry in milliseconds as she held her vision, that rapidly concentrated to shine one singular spotlight on their subject. Her heart began to hammer with ferocity against her egg shell chest.

But then she was bowled over by a cannon ball presence. The moody staring girl had bouldered in.

- - -

Surely, to watch the girl you love swan off and become the knight in shining armor to someone else’s fairy tale was stuff of nightmares that not even the Brothers Grimm could conjure a grizzly tale up of.  Of course, it vexed her, stirred up a cocktail of poisonous sentiments of bitterness and jealousy within her belly, but Pia’s pride was hard to swallow, so she idly stood by. It was slightly amusing to watch, but of course, it pissed her off. This grubby little urchin wasn’t welcome in this already well established group of friends, and certainly not under the wing of Maura. But it seemed Maura had already decided that was what was going to happen; and who was Pia to object? She grimaced, observing the look on the tiny girls strange face; naturally, the pathetic looking thing was already smitten. It may as well have been spray painted on her forehead. 

Pia groaned as she observed. Enough was enough.

“Should I brush off my top hat and warm up my vocal chords, M?” She piped up, a sarcastic gush of hot air making her presence well and truly known to the situation. “Are we going to break into a rendition of Consider Yourself, like in Oliver Twist? Are we gonna link arms with the pipsqueak and skip her to our secret hideout for rogues and scallywags?” Her tone was lighthearted, but with dark, dead eyes, she bore into the skull of the younger girl; Beatrice was a deer caught in lazer beam headlights. It was probably through severe jealousy, but Pia did not like this kid one bit. 

Leaning over to Samara, Pia coughed a cold laugh. “Scrawny, ain’t she? Wonder how much she weighs. We could test that and dangle her over the roof edge.” She cocked her jaw, and moved away from Samara’s neck with a serpentine sway of her head, now speaking in earshot of Maura and the new kid. “It’ll be a laugh.”

Beatrice seemed to draw her chin deeper into her chest with every second that ticked slowly by, as though it was a shell, and if she kept going she’d vanish. And as Bea’s face blushed brighter and her heart stamped harder, Pia watched with an unnervingly sinister smirk. Then the strange little girl skipped slightly backwards, now not sure where to look, her throat sealing over with cellophane. “I have to go,” she croaked, beginning to turn, planning her escape from all this discomfort. But a hand around her wrist stopped her from running. Pia had stopped her instantly, reflexes ridiculously quick and certain. She was playing a game. “Maura doesn’t want you to leave,” Pia said calmly, her grip not at all loosening from the little one’s wrist but her black-hole eyes travelling to meet the highly sought after blonde’s. “Do you Maura?”

There was a plume of pride flaring up inside of the naive girl as she stood there, smiling softly at the brunette she’d safeguarded. Maura, like many people, drew happiness by helping others. Whether the act was as minimal as holding a door at the super market, or as benevolent as cooking at the local Soup Kitchen, the senior girl thrived knowing that she’d leaned backwards to make somebody else’s life easier. This was no different. However, there was something quite queer about this instance that kept her fastened to her spot, lips frozen in a tempting smile and blue eyes, bright with pert curiosity.

Customarily, the blonde would have left the younger girl with a grin and wave, disappearing as quickly as she had come. The thrill of being somebody’s hero was, for the most part, was enough to quench her desperate thirst. And though a quick glance at her friends should have been enough of a foreshadowing to predict what would become of the day, Maura chose to ignore the bickering in her head that whispered warnings of implied treachery, and instead settled for the plan already cemented. There wasn’t any point in not following through with the luncheon. And if it meant keeping the strange, pretty thing near, she wouldn’t feel much shame in forcing Pia and Samara to socialize outside of themselves for once. A random, but healthy change for their typically withdrawn clique.

For two years, Maura had named herself and Pia a mighty duo. Together, they felt unstoppable in their coinciding devotion and the relationship that formed in accordance to their odd, affected lives. They’d gotten comfortable and had settled into a state of mutual understanding that triumphed the most dastardly of situations and emotions that couldn’t be mellowed singularly by one’s own self-will. Back then, their desire to live was derived only by their allegiance to the other. That original source of intense faithfulness had been the catalyst that strengthened them enough to go about their lives almost normally. The introduction of Samara a year ago had, at first, riled Pia enough to act defensive, pompous and rude, but the two shared such striking similarities that quickly, the raven-locked vixen had taken to the spindly redhead and their duo hastened to fashion a peculiarly dutiful trio. In regards to the seriousness of their relationships, even teasing another to enter was sacrilege; taboo, if you will. Knowing this, the blonde wasn’t sure the others would react kindly to a stranger dining with them.

Acknowledging the younger girl’s concern in regards to her friend’s threatening expressions, Maura greeted her hesitation with a hum and shook her head gently. “They’re not particularly keen on strangers, no,” she attempted to explain, but only managed to lose track of her words as the younger girl carried softly on; a note in her gentle tone coercing the elder girl to turn her head accordingly and meet the searching gaze of the other.

Momentarily lost for words, Maura inhaled the sweet vulnerability of the brunette’s question and felt her heart lurch at the sensitivities that followed in tow with such boldness. Placing a hand over the right side of her chest, the blonde gripped weakly at the martial beneath her palm, willing her throbbing heart to still for a moment so that she might speak without faltering. Never had she experienced meeting somebody of such tenderness. So docile was the younger girl that she reminded Maura of a porcelain doll. Unique, fragile, and undeniably beautiful, the sophomore girl left her senior stunned and weak at the knees.

Accordingly, pink lips parted to quell the other’s reluctance. Now, more than moments before, with questioning, hazel hues fixed upon her, she wanted nothing more than the petite girl’s company. “What daft soul wouldn’t want to be seen with y—,” she attempted to convey, but found herself unable to finish due to the suddenness of Samara and Pia’s eager intrusion. Frustrated and embarrassed that the two had taken it upon themselves to enter the conversation, Maura’s hand fell to her side, instantly fisting at the hem of her dress as she watched, tight-lipped, as Pia’s mouth shifted deviously with each, sarcastically tainted word. Obvious enough, the dark-haired girl felt threatened. Maura could practically taste the animosity in her tone, as teasing and light as her spew about Oliver Twist might have seemed to somebody who might not have known any better.

Swallowing back the tight lump that had formed in the hollow of her throat, Maura stepped a bit towards the stranger, fronting a smile as she lifted her gaze to meet dark, bottomless eyes; eyes that she knew far too well. “In a way,” she quickly defended, fixing a bright, toothy smile to direct at her temperamental friend. “But of course, there are no rouges or scallywags back out our hideout. Only you two stoners and a bit of unsophisticated graffiti,” the blonde playfully retaliated and shifted a bit, placing her weight against her right side, her hand at her lip as she continued to hold that ferocious gaze. Watching carefully, Maura rolled her eyes as Pia redirected her attention to Samara, the two whispering something that made them both grin slyly.

“Scrawny?” The cerulean eyed redhead asked, snorting over her friend’s silly jest. Cruelly, Samara sneered at the pathetic, little thing as Pia breathed against the shell of her ear, urging a slender smirk to ride ChapStick glossed lips. “Of course, that would be far too much fun,” she retaliated quietly and bit back a giggle for fear it might make Maura cross with her. “Might get too caught up laughing that we forget we’re holding her,” she quickly bit out and gave a low, throaty chuckle laced with devious intent, her gaze, fixated now on the doe-eyed child.

Lightly, Samara bit at the inside of her cheek, reveling in the combative nature of Pia’s retaliation towards Maura’s blasphemous game. Though she herself was not bold enough to gnash fangs at her hero, she could at least rely on Pia to boast her outlash. Bickering betwixt her two, dearest friends was neither infrequent nor abnormal. Constant hesitation kept them distanced and arguing was, toxic as it was, was their method of coping with emotions they’d both rather ignore. For Samara, continuously flipflopping between sides was becoming quite the demanding job. And now, because of the urchin who had been carried into their small, tidepool, she’d have to choose, once again, to favor the opinions and feelings of one friend over the other.  

Seemingly, as the modelesque beauty continued to speak, the younger girl began to swell with discomfort. Mopey, brown eyes welled up and into her shell, she began to curl. Fleetingly, Samara felt badly that the innocent thing inadvertently had found herself in this situation. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Maura had decided to play saint and sway her inevitable fate of being bullied. ‘Surely, when your savior leaves your side, you’ll be pressured by thugs again,’she thought and raked eyes of ice up the slender figure of the youngest girl.

As Pia continued to hold her brash, confident nature, Maura’s heart blistered furiously away in her chest, causing pale cheeks to blotch with rouge and hay colored brows to knit together in annoyance. Tilting her chin to meet the other’s dark gaze, the blonde pouted childishly (a horrible habit, unveiled only when she felt particularly upset) and swallowed back the desire to reach out and push lightly at the taller girl’s chest. Of course, Maura had predicted that the raven-haired girl would step out of line; what she hadn’t guessed however, was how quick, or how harsh the prowler would sink into her docile foe. So, with a phony smirk, she looked upon her friend, frustration shining through to meet outrage and spoke plainly, “You’re right. I don’t want her to leave.”

Quite exasperated and a bit desperate, the blonde stepped purposefully towards the brunette, offering a small smile as she reached to take tiny hands into her own. “As I was saying earlier before Pia and Sam interrupted,” she inhaled gently, “of course I do want to be seen with you. And certainly, I wouldn’t like anything more than having you eat lunch with us.” Grinning now, doing her best to ignore the two behind her, Maura let go of the younger girl’s paws to reach up and brush loose locks of gold behind her small ears. If her friends wanted to play a quick game of war, she would respond accordingly. It wasn’t fair of them to be act cruel to somebody so sweet and modest; especially since neither of them even knew as much as her name.

“How silly of me to forget an introduction until now, but I’m Maura,” she told her softly, remembering her courtesies. “The jerk to my right is Pia and the jerk to my left is Samara.”Rolling her eyes she explained, nearly whispering as she tempted to coax a rise out of Pia,“They’re not too keen on social skills. If you don’t want to dine with us today, I understand. If people acted like that towards me, I wouldn’t like to eat with them either. After all, sharing a meal together is something that friends do.” Licking her lips, the blonde held eye contact with her new, timid acquaintance and nodded. “But, I personally would like it if you came with us.” And from behind, she heard Samara cuss.

The Awkward Luncheon | 001

[maura-alair-blog]

ℳahou Shoujo Madoka Magica ↳ Decretum // the theme of Sayaka Miki

[art source]

[maura-alair-blog]

Believing in Justice ~ From the Puella Magi Madoka Magica Soundtrack ✨

[maura-alair-blog]

The Awkward Luncheon | 001

The clamor in the hallway was boisterous; and around their trio, calamity seemingly took hold. From the jocks wild whoops to the shrieks of gossiping primadonnas, the slender and crowded space was understandably uncomfortable. For three, complex individuals especially, this atmosphere consisted of only the most repulsive of teenage displays; the over-ripened belly of young, vociferous hormones.

While Samara Mier found this rumpus obnoxious and distasteful, one of her two dearest friends, Maura Tomory would beg to argue against her negativity in hopes of keeping them in line. Always eager to stay “out of trouble”, she’d rather have their party endure the annoying quell of the Math Wing just before lunch break than sneak off to enjoy a moment’s peace away from the redundant, adolescent mess.

“You’re not dragging me up to the roof again,” the blonde stated, lashes batting shut as her arms folded beneath the swell of her breasts in defiance. “Not after last time. Not after I had to suffer through one of Mr. Darling’s detentions.”

At this, the elder girl couldn’t help but smile and attempting to hide her amusement, cocked her head away from her two, obnoxious friends; though, only scarcely could she manage to hide the tilt of rosy lips from their insistent eyes. The pressing concern of their immediate exit now rode solely on her shoulders.

From the corner of her vision, Maura notice Samara snort behind her hand and it was all she could do to keep from stomping her foot in opposition. “It’s not funny, Sam.”

It had been funny, however. The memory of wiping down chalkboards and washing out chemistry equipment was respectably, a fond and amusing one. For hours, they’d made jokes about the old, perverted teacher and had taken advantage of their alone time; making fun out of something that should have been quite dull and tedious. But still, he had stated that he, “knew their secret”, and that it would be, “wise of them to keep away”, which Maura could only perceive as meaning that the sour, geezer would be prompt in checking the location more often.

Before, their impromptu sanction had been safe. None of the school’s staff had ever gotten curious enough to check for delinquents on the rooftop. After all, the set of stairs that let up was locked and off limit to students, making the venture of relative challenge. Of course, such a complication hadn’t stopped Pia from keeping their small group away. Trained in the art of lock-picking, she’d easily managed, time and time again to break through the elementary device that kept the rest of the student-population from wandering the flat, open roof.

“This place is horrid,” the gangly red-head complained, her hands pulling dramatically at her hair; an act of displaying her sheer disapproval, however silly and over-blown it was. “I mean, just look,” she started and lazily motioned down the hall at a scene Maura hadn’t yet noticed. “It’s like you’re forcing us to watch all of this garbage continue to rot in its own filth. And instead of just agreeing that maybe the roof would be better than this, I now feel compelled to watch that pipsqueak of a girl down there get pushed around by a douche-bag party of Sophomores.”

Turning her head now to face what Samara had been pointing to, Maura felt her lips turn in disgrace. Not too far away, two, awkwardly shaped boys stood over a girl much smaller and fragile than themselves. Their mouths were twisted maliciously as they spoke to her and though they made no physical move towards the petite brunette, Maura could sense their cruel intent as well as the stranger’s discomfort. Why nobody had rescued the girl from the distressing situation, the blonde couldn’t fathom. Even Samara, who had been watching for moments now, hadn’t felt compelled to step forward and speak up. Was it that nobody was brave enough to confront such mean-spirited people? Or was it that all of the eyes watching felt that aiding somebody so obviously weak would only be a futile effort? Small, pale hands fisting at her sides, Maura stepped forward and in response, Samara sighed.

Turning to her close friend, the red-head slapped the other’s paw, trying to coax her into acting quickly before their companion had a chance to make her move. The eldest girl had such an inflated sense of justice, it was often misguided, directed towards issues she couldn’t fix. In many attempts to fulfill her ideals, Maura would inadvertently render situations more convoluted than they’d been before her help. And though it was a beautiful sense of righteousness that fueled her friend’s actions, Samara knew the faults in her comrade’s angelic displays. Perhaps, she was just too passionate; nothing had ever swayed her from doing as she saw virtuous and fit.

This was no different. And by the way the blonde’s deep blues flashed with integrity and a moralistic sense of devotion, Samara knew that they were already in over their heads. If anybody could stop Maura from acting on her heart, it would be Pia; though the red-head knew well that when it came to Maura’s heart, there was no defying it. Their chances in avoiding this rectification of a stranger’s pride was unavoidable now that she’d stupidly gone and drawn attention to it.

It seemed as though they wouldn’t be heading to the roof after all.

“We can’t just let them get away with it,” the blonde stated, her tone low and warm with frisked excitement. “You two can go on without me,” she told them, though she knew they wouldn’t. And before she could let Samara croak out a, “stop”, or listen to anything that would only be interpreted as judgement from Pia, Maura hurried off to play martyr for some stranger they’d never before met.

Scoffing as their friend left their side, Samara rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Elbowing her counterpart gently, she teasingly said, “Think she’s only doing it because that pussy looks tight?” and snorted as she reared her head away, unable to watch the source of her passion slip off to protect somebody so obviously inept. Biting down on her tongue, Samara tried to choke down the gale it would take to play nice when Maura inevitably brought that pretty, helpless thing back with her.

--

“I was watching for a moment, trying to understand what it was exactly you two thought you were doing,” she started, grabbing hold of one of the boy’s arms and forcing him to turn. “But you were hurting this girl and I can’t stand by and let that happen.” Though her voice was still and calm there was ice about it, an edge to catch the attention of the bullies. “You truly picked a terrible day for this little display.” A smile snuck upon the blonde’s lips and content with their confused expressions she added, “Oh, my parents you see are great friends with the principle here,” she convincingly lied; an air of obvious confidence around the girl made it difficult to ignore her claims. “All that’s needed is a word from me, and you two will be expelled from this academy. Expelled before you even have notice enough to tell your mother and father that once again, their son has gone and disappointed them and that as parents, they’re failing terribly.”

As they backed slowly away from the darling girl behind them, Maura managed to smile softly at her through the open space and brought up a hand to wave warmly. Already, the senior girl knew that she’d won this petty battle. As far as she could manage to gather, the simpletons were on the verge of being expelled anyway, and their dumb expressions only did to solidify the nature of their ways. The type to ignore their studies, both of two’s mothers were probably already eager to wring both their necks for terrible grades, detentions and calls from the administrator’s office alike. A complaint that they’d been caught bullying a defenseless, young girl wouldn’t do them any justice and their receding steps down the hall forced a knowing grin upon the blonde’s lips. Once more, she was triumphant.

Stepping forward now, nose tilted and eyes watching curiously, Maura offered the stranger an apologetic smile and felt her cheeks turn warm. “Those two were only idiots,” she explained and shrugged. “You don’t deserve to catch any word of their stupidity. And certainly, I hope you haven’t taken anything they’ve said to heart.” Running the tip of her tongue along the belly of her lower lip, the blonde thought only momentarily before a small, quirked grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’d really like your lunch period to go smoothly after that encounter you just underwent.” Playing distractedly at the hem of her dress, Maura asked, “Perhaps you’d like to eat with my friends and I? There’s this quaint spot that’s all our own and well, it’s at least away from all of this noise. You might feel a bit more comfortable there than with them?” Raising a brow, she gestured dully around, pointing out the obviously idiotic, hyper-activity of their peers.

[maura-alair-blog]

Name: Beatrice Adams

Face claim: Ella Purnell

Age: 16

Head canons:

Muse D is relatively unpopular and is considered to be a lame, “uncool” person.

Muse D is a sickly, young girl with a case of lung disease.

Due to a susceptible immune system, she’s always in and out of school (probably attends thrice a week).

Since she’s usually in the hospital, Muse D has never had luck in keeping friends and has been alone for most of her life.

Muse D is very, very, very sweet to anybody who’s willing to show her even a morsel of attention.

Is bullied almost daily.

At night, needs help breathing with an oxygen tank.

Doesn’t want anybody to know just how terrible her lungs are and how physically weak she is; she’s embarrassed by it, so she keeps strong, never going to class if she’s too fragile to do so.

Is very close to her mother and lacks a father figure.

Is a follower and acts in accordance to whatever she’s told, always wanting to please others and make them like her.

Is quick to idolize and invest too much emotion into people when she hardly knows them.

Dresses “strange” (mismatched clothes, etc.).

Is very poor. Since her hospital bills are always progressing, her mother has little money to pay for much else.

Is desperate for love and friendship.

Hardly scraped past her freshmen year and is barely staying enrolled during her sophomore due to an awful attendance record and poor grades.

Relationships to be:

Muse A: Is her bloody savior. The girl who stepped from the heavens and protected her from the cruel words of older boys during her first week back at school. Muse D sees Muse A as a martyr; a goddess who was sent to guide her through her horrible and pathetic life. After all, Muse A was the very first to go out of their way for her. And for it to be somebody so popular, so angelic and kind, powerful and sweet, the occurrence nearly seemed surreal. For Muse A, she’d do anything and becomes, at a dangerously quick rate, emotionally invested in their relationship. In the older girl’s presence, she’s always just a mess of slurred words, reddened cheeks, diverting eyes and fidgeting fingers.

Head canons:

During their first encounter when Muse A saves her from verbal bullies, Muse D falls almost instantly for her.

After their first encounter, Muse D’s infatuation solidifies when Muse A gives her a quick kiss to the mouth as a thanks for being so sweet.

Muse D is naive and knows nothing of the already complicated relationships between Muse A and her close friends.

Muse D /constantly/ (unlike Muses B and C who are usually teasing) is sweet to Muse A and gifts her with attention, sweet smiles and small, home-made presents.

Swept by this younger girl’s infatuation, Muse A plays along, giddy for the attention and wooed by somebody so sweet and simple; somebody so explicitly different than Muse B; she grows quite fond of her.

Muse D is convinced that Muse A is the only love, the only goddess for her.

Muse D finds it all-the-more appealing that Muse A is a baker and always has sweets around.

Muse B: After the first meeting, the first big display, Muse B feels nothing but disdain for Muse D. Unwilling to understand Muse A’s interest in the younger girl, Muse B becomes harsh towards the newbie and outwardly begins to lash out over the inclusion of somebody new and threatening to her position. The thought of some fresh meat coming out of the woodwork to steal away her beloved’s attention engrosses Muse B to sway her tune.

Head canons:

When Muse A isn’t around at school, Muse B bullies Muse D (usually around Muse C) by knocking down her books and pushing her about.

Muse D grows to despise somebody for the first time.

Muse D is angered by Muse A’s apparent interest in the “bully” Muse B and thinks it unfair and just plain cruel that she fancies her so.

Muse C: Due to her best friend’s conflicting stances on integrating the new girl, Muse C keeps things mellow, never saying anything particularly opinionated on the matter. Aware that she’ll have to get to know the newcomer one way or another, Muse C takes down her phone number and begins to get to know Muse D through text and never telling Muse A, nor B that she’s doing so for fear that it will draw negative feelings.

Head canons:

Muse C becomes the first of the three girls to know that outside of school, Muse D lives a very depressing life of near-solitude and hospital visits. With a bit of insight, Muse C begins to befriend Muse D without the others’ knowledge.

Muse C begins to feel protective over the small and frail innocent.

Muse D considers Muse C to be her only friend.

[maura-alair-blog]

Name: Samara Mier

Face claim: Sophie Turner

Age: 17

Extra circular activities: Student council.

Head canons:

Muse C lives with her parents in a two-story, middle-class suburban home near the school; she walks every day to class.

Muse C adores classical music and in her alone time, can be found painting to the notes of Chopin and Bache.

Muse C joined the student council due to her understanding that high-school is a place of prejudice and ill-manners. Hoping to better her experience, she sought out a way to help change the more unappealing sides of public school.

When Muse C falls in love, she falls hard and becomes far too emotionally invested in the outcome (that girl who obsessively checks her phone to see if “he” texted yet).

Muse C is extremely devoted to her friends and always puts them before herself.

Muse C is fairly independent and likes to think she can do things without the aid of others.

Muse C has an idea of heroism and hopes that her stance in the council will help to protect others.

Is prone to becoming easily depressed when things aren’t going her way.

Plays the violin.

Doesn’t care too much about school and would rather skip first period and smoke with Muse B than attend.

Is a bit of a “nerd” and likes playing video games and watching science fiction and fantasy.

Enjoys sharing music with people, especially if they’re open minded and have never heard it before.

Loves Muse A and B above all else.

Relationships:

Muse A: Though her relationship with Muse A is complicated, this doesn’t keep Muse C from idolizing and holding the other girl on a pedestal. Ecstatic over her warmness and intoxicating presence, Muse C finds the older girl purely fantastic and tries to see as much of her as she possibly can. Though her crush will lead nowhere, Muse C still plays into it, satisfying her needs by letting Muse A continuously tease her with the sweetest of words and warmest of breath and touches.

Head canons:

Muse C often buys Muse A records as an excuse to come and see her.

The two never truly share compelling, stimulating conversations, but mostly sweet musings on nothing of particular importance.

Muse C has yet to address her feelings towards Muse A.

Muse C has tried and failed many times in getting Muse A to model while she draws.

Is jealous over Muse A’s stupid infatuation with Muse B.

Muse B: Up until joining the council, Muse C never had a friend like Muse B. In her, she found a connection, a true and soulful neat wrap of conflict and love. The two became quick acquaintances and soon after their first meeting, were having sleepovers and smoking behind the bleachers in the football stadium. Now that months have progressed, the two’s relationship has expanded; even Muse C’s parents know that Muse B will likely be around come morning and that they should have breakfast prepared for five. Unlike her connection with Muse A, Muse C feels that with B there’s something deeper than flesh, something more nagging than the lust she feels towards the elder girl. Saddened by their daughter’s friend’s plight, they willingly let Muse B into their home to eat and spend time with their precious, baby girl at anytime she likes.

Head canons:

Late at night, when they’re drunk and high, Muse C will take Muse B to the abandoned car in her parent’s garage to show her music and jam out.

Often, Muses C and B will sleep outside due to their love for the sky.

When wrestling, the two don’t go lightly on one another, always coming out with rug burns, bruises and cuts.

When together around Muse A, they both tease her in an attempt to cover the known, underlying conflicts.

Is jealous of Muse B’s love for Muse A.

Muse B models for Muse C as often as Muse C needs.

[maura-alair-blog]

Name: Pia Luthra

Face claim: Neelam Gill

Age: 17

Extra circular activities: Student council.

Head canons:

At the age of 14, Muse B lost her parents and her younger sister to the psychotic breakdown of her father. He murdered her sister and mother before committing suicide himself. Muse B was staying at a friend’s house when the incident occurred and didn’t know until the next day.

Since the death of her parents, Muse B has been jumping in and out of foster homes, never staying for too long in favor of being independent and taking care of herself.

Whenever she’s not in the care of an adoption family, Muse B sleeps under bridges and in abandoned church buildings.

Crime is an everyday venture for her.

Muse B steals mostly food, but sometimes money and once in a while, clothes.

Muse B frequently smokes weed, drinks and invests herself in other dangerous activities.

Muse B adores eating and is always snacking on something or another.

Her favorite snack is chocolate.

Muse B is quite skilled in throwing and wielding knives and usually keeps one on her person.

Though Muse B comes off as aggressive, bullheaded and crass, underneath she’s truly sensitive and always makes sure her friends are taken care of.

Muse B pushes others away out of fear of becoming too close and once again, having to endure losing something precious. She’d rather ignore her feelings than act on them.

Muse B often half-asses council meetings as well as her classes. She finds that school is a waste of time, and that she could be learning better out in the “real-world”. However, Muse A’s expectations keep her grounded in the educational system.

Instead of approaching student council objectives with calm and understanding, Muse B’s solution to making the school safe is to rid of the bullies herself.

Muse B can often be found getting into fist fights with older students over the mistreatment of others.

Muse B figures that the council can say all they want about helping others, but unless physical action is taken, there’s no use in addressing the matter.

If angered or provoked, Muse B is apt to lash out before ignoring the matter and going off to sulk on her own.

Relationships:

Muse A: In her freshman year, Muse B had only finished a week of schooling before she decided to drop out; it wasn’t exciting, rather dull, and mustering the strength to attend was of little importance to a girl who’d rather tag the sides of buildings and gyp liquor from a corner store. However, before she stopped attending completely, Muse A appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to request that she stop by the student council room after school. Confused, bewildered and mildly irritated, she reluctantly went with the lone promise of seeing that beautiful girl again.

Since, their bond has blossomed to a point of impossible altercation; the two working in unison with one another to tackle all of their problems.

Since she considers herself “homeless”, Muse B spends most of her time at Muse A’s apartment, eating her food, watching her study and smoking weed out on the balcony (though the other always bitches in protest). It isn’t until late at night that she’ll usually take her leave, ignoring most invitations to stay in favor of ignoring her blistering emotions.

Head canons:

Though Muse B loves Muse A unconditionally, she’d never say. Far too prideful and reluctant, she outwardly forces away both Muse A and her own feelings towards the older girl; always coming off far too harsh and cruel when the moment is most vulnerable.

Muse B has instigated tender moments while in the cusp of intoxication and also, when she’s feeling particularly sweet and eager to touch. Never, does she revisit or talk about these moments after their initial occurrences.

At least a few nights a week, the two drive off in Muse B’s beat-up truck in attempt to feel youthful and spirited.

Muse B often becomes very jealous over the attention Muse A gives others, though she refuses speak on it.

Muse C: Muse C is Muse B’s close mate. When the two initially introduced themselves, there was a sense of competition that never truly faded. The two, sharing similar outward-personalities, easily clicked and found themselves invested in a friendship that was as rewarding as it was aggravating. Dissimilar to her relationship with Muse A, Muses C and B are very physical with one another, always wrestling, pulling pranks on the other and giving light shoves when the moment is right. The two are so close that Muse B feels comfortable in experimenting with her sexuality with Muse C and doesn’t hesitate more stimulating moments like she does with Muse A; this is simply due to the fact that the same feelings aren’t involved.

Head canons:

Muse B often sleeps over Muse C’s house when she leaves Muse A.

Muse B and C are prone to smoking and drinking heavily with one another.

The two constantly compete over grades, who can get highest, physical strength, games and anything else youth’s find amusing competition over.

Muse B is prone to speaking on her emotions to Muse C; she feels secure that Muse C would never blather her secrets to anybody.

Muse B and C act similar to a duo of male best friends and treat each other as such.

They gossip with one another.