#{ seraphine fallacia *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

[mcckies]

"Hmm... we're about the same size, I think."

Thank god this girl rolled into this place, whoever she was. It took a lot of convincing, some of her most difficult work yet - or at least in a while, since she'd been here - but Valentina managed to coax her into the back entrance of the church, the closest way in to the actual fun part of the building - her makeshift studio.

An old sewing machine that only worked when the moon was full, but as many needles and threads as she could scavenge over the years. She got so lucky a few years ago when that lady got stuck here going to some sort of sewing retreat - or was she a salesperson? - and Valentina gathered all of those old supplies for herself. Of course, the lady died eventually, and that was a bummer, but real needles and threads were godsends.

"Obviously I don't have anything super nice like I wish I did," Valentina explained as she led the girl into her space, pushing aside laundry lines with various fabrics pinned around. "But I can let you borrow some stuff. Some, and I'm strict about it - all it took was one kind gesture and a dead girl and now my favorite pieces are reserved for me." Valentina faced her then, flicked the girl's hair out from her face, and looked over her whole outfit, then. "No, this isn't going to work." Valentina squatted down by the girl's feet then, taking note of the rip in the other's jeans, by the knee. "I have to fix this first. The ripped look has to be out by now, has to be." She shook her head. "I just know you have to be freezing. I guess I can spare an extra jacket." *// @fallacias

[alsfcrds]

“It’s a church…” No just this time. A holy place, one of significance, not just any building. How trivial he made it sound before, it made him queasy.

The real concern should have been how this mysterious woman didn’t know what a church was. Emmett wasn’t stupid, he was well aware there were other religions in the world, that his wasn’t an end-all, be-all for some. But it was arguably one that had a lot of influence on the world, enough to find this pocket of existence that was Arcadia.

Then he felt a heat rise into his ears, knowing they were reddening with embarrassment and Emmett tried to make it so his cheeks didn’t match. His first instinct was that it was some sort of tease, until he remembered - he hadn’t met anyone else that sounded like him. Emmett would have even taken a British accent if it meant there’s be some sort of familiarity. It was a separate kind of isolation he had been feeling since he got here, that had been difficult in its own right. “I’m not…” he sighed. Not from here? Nobody was. “Nobody else here sounds like me.”

Death crossed her mind. How big of an impact a building so small could have on her. Her butt found the concrete and she crossed her legs as her big blue eyes stared up at the cross up on the roof. That fucker. Be it God, Jesus, or the Holy Father - they were all a lie. A big fat lie that had taken over half her life, bamboozled her mind to believe in such an unholy faith. Fuck faith. She had discarded her faith a long time ago. So why did she feel fear take over her beating heart the longer she eyed this building. That's all it was, just another building that shouldn't have power over her - it really shouldn't she told herself as she nervously fidgeted with her toes and slowly lost all the air she kept in her lungs.

White noise occupied her ears and mind the longer she was unable to break her gaze away from the cross. Mockery. Like she was hypnotized by an invisible force, drawing her in more and more as flashes of stabbing the town Father she once let control her. Mockery. Back when she was still young - younger - and trusted in those who were much older than her. Mocker- what was that voice? Sera's gaze finally tore off the cross and pierced right into the person that had left the unholy building.

Immediately drawn in by something else. Something she wasn't sure she'd heard right.

''Say that again -'' Sera's brows changed from painfully drawn together to puzzled. ''What was that thing?'' How was she even supposed to ask for something if she didn't know exactly what it was she was asking for. She made her way off of the ground, took a few steps towards the building she'd been so entranced about just a moment ago. Now completely distracted by something she hadn't experienced before. Her lungs filling with air, a childlike giggle left her body.

''Your voice.....do it again.''

[mcckies]

Of course, this was all perfectly normal for Valentina, had been for awhile, and she had plenty of time to adjust. It meant that oftentimes, she'd forgotten that this 'normal' was anything but those who came in. It wasn't her job to get them oriented, though.

"Oh, obviously it's nice," she remarked. "I made it. I meant that it would be nice to have real fabric to work with - silks and things, high end, well woven, all of that." In her weekend bag that had been packed long ago were some nicer clothes, but that was ten years ago - she likely didn't fit into them anymore, and didn't want to take them out of their preservation, lest something happen. At the girl's question, an eyebrow raised, and she gave the briefest of pauses as she took out one of her sewing kits. "Not directly," she answered.

"Well, there's snow on the ground, you might get cold," Valentina said, extending a hand for the girl to hand over her pants. The desk was too full of fabrics and fixes for others that it was no longer of any use, and Valentina had preferred to just stay put on the floor while she did any of her alterations. She could spread them out on wood, looking at the big picture a little better. "Here in Arcadia, or here in--" She scoffed, suddenly knowing who she met. "Ugh, don't talk to him, he's so weird. He's in here all the time, he just sits in the pews all day." She glanced up at her. "I'm Valentina."

Like a child running into a white van, she got plucked off of the streets by this total stranger who promised her of yummy treats, and she just fully complied. What was the worst that could happen? But then she saw the worst that could happen. The church. Not the goddamn church - anything but the church - god no, god ... she couldn't -

Aaaand she was inside.

Her struggles stopped when she gazed upon a backroom that was so unlike the church she'd known her entire life. This was... everything she eyed looked colorful and sparkling and... did she dare say gay? ''Uhhhh... I think it looks nice,'' her remark was soft, now fascinated by all the clothing she'd never seen before. There hadn't been like a modern store in her first hometown, everything she'd come to know and see was mostly made from wool from the sheep they herded, re-used fabrics sown into clothing that would be the furthest away from being called fashion. It wasn't until in her second home, she'd come to know about those things. Through magazines. Through her fellow psych mates. Through the limited screentime on the old square box television they all shared in the living room.

Something something, dead girl, something. The nice gesture of the girl touching her face had Sera halt in her actions, making her focus on her instead of the things she was surrounded by. She was so pretty. Like cover girl pretty. ''Have you ever killed someone?'' Sera wondered out loud, reminded of the dead girl she mentioned. She had. Ripped look? Truth be told, she had no idea what this girl was on about. Growing up in a constipated town for half her life, and the other half in a mental institution where fashion didn't exist did that to a person.

''Uhh...'' she caught herself staring for a moment, having a girl down on her knees wasn't her first, yet it still made her swallow in nervosity. ''No, I don't really... I don't get cold easily.'' Without getting into details how or why that was, she focused on something else. Kicking off the shoes she was given, they weren't the right size anyway, and unbuttoning the pants she wore. After spending year after year surrounded by girls of her age, all the shame she once carried had left her system. In fact, there wasn't much shame left when she casually got her pants off and stood there partially in her underwear. ''There's this guy I met the other day here. His voice scratches a weird itch in my brain, have you seen him? It's still there when I close my eyes at night. The way he says things - like... 'not', it goes like naught or nutttt or noawht yeah! Like that almost - ugh it's so weird.''

[alsfcrds]

Four months was a long time to break down. Of course, Emmett wouldn't call it that - calling it a break down meant that he was unwell, that he was crazy, when in reality, he was just doing a lot of thought, a lot of "soul searching" - he'd heard that phrase tossed around a few times.

He was desperately holding on to that feeling of familiarity. The church was the only place that felt relatable to him. It didn't matter that he didn't feel that same holy feeling anymore, or that he felt unworthy even stepping through the doors anymore. This was the first time he was on his own in his life and as angry and upset he was at his mother, he missed her. He missed that comfort so badly and the church was the closest thing he could get to it. Prayers were fewer and far between now, which he wouldn't admit to himself, but even just being in the building helped.

Once he had spent what felt like a reasonable amount of time there, before figuring it was time to get back to working on... anything he could find, honestly, to keep himself busy before the bells rang later. When he stepped out of the doors, mind somehow clearer and cloudier than it was when he entered, he was surprised at the wild eyes piercing into him. Emmett didn't even make it down all the steps before she spoke, and he wasn't sure if she was talking to him, but he found the need to answer anyway, put so eloquently: "Huh?"

"Mockery?" he repeated, once he caught up with what was happening. "It's not, it's just a church." Just a church? Why did that send a little shard through his chest?

who: @alsfcrds where: the church

Was this what freedom felt like? To go wherever she wanted, to be out in the world, to feel the grass and twigs mud and sand between her toes, to walk bare feet on pavement, to touch anything she wanted without cameras following her every move. Without people telling her what to do, what to not do - well... there was this one thing. Just one tiny, tiny, tiny rule. 'Don't go out at night. Return to the huts in the forest before sundown and you'll be safe there.' Or something like that.

But during the day? She was allowed to do anything, to bother anyone, to stalk the town streets and wander around in the forest, along the ravines people spoke of, along the docks that had boats. Actual real boats she didn't just see in outdated magazines. She'd yet to see them for herself. One thing at a time. She had plenty of time to kill, and still it didn't feel like enough. Time went by so fast, yet so slow.

For now she just wandered through town, walked the cold pavement step by step, watched her dirty muddy feet take one step at a time every so slowly. Humming a song she couldn't remember the name of, just some stupid melody she'd heard on the radio not too long ago. A noise that filled the silence inside her head, that made her think she was having a main character moment, even for just a moment. Because that's all it was. A moment. A calm before the storm. She caught a small flight of stairs from the corners of her eyes and gone was her humming, it disrupted her thoughts - or the not thoughts she had, the peace she experienced.

She let out a laugh of ironical almost-disbelief when she gazed upon what looked like a church. One she so unfondly remembered from her childhood hometown. ''Of course,'' she cackled out breathlessly, ''of course this mockery bites me in the ass.''