#♡ * º • ━ with devotion [ interactions ]

[sparrowheartd]

It’s taken her some time, but she’s finished it, the careful repair of the cut bracelet she’d found in the cab of her truck after. And now, she’s presenting it to him with a grin over containers of takeout on a worn bedspread. “Right or left?”

@luke830​  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

“Do you need a ride?” Buns exchanged for two pigtail braids, and wearing a sweater at least one size too big, Birdie is a sight outside the courthouse - but she hopes a welcomed one. It wasn’t like they hadn’t all survived murderous werewolves or something. And been charged with murder. Charges that had only just recently been dropped. 

@luke830  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

“What an awful name for a motel.” Birdie’s perched herself on the tailgate of her truck, bare feet kicking idly. The weatherworn motel sign looming overhead. Harbringer Motel. There’s even crows sitting on it. How ominous, especially considering their intended destination - and the events that had happened there a year previous. “Why do you think it was named that?”

@blamebears  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

“Does - does it make you a furry if you and Max are, still, yanno, doing it even after... a bite?” Both her fists are pressed into her cheeks as she leans over, elbows on knees and the entirety of her hunched. Downright thoughtful as she considers not just the situation, but the further complications of it - and not just for her new companion. “Asking for a friend.”

She. She is the friend.

@eyeswiped liked a starter call

[sparrowheartd]

"Dyl-an,” Birdie rolls her head to look at him, currently laid on the floor of the radio cabin casually like she wasn’t hiding from a gently annoyed Mr. Hackett over what she would only refer to as the berry incident. “You ever consider blasting, like, something good over the radio system? Like, Ace of Spades or somethin’?”

@tither  [ dylan ]  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

“You could have just peed over there, you know.” She’s stolen his drink sometime after he’s left, and had a fair deal of it. The sweetness of the mead better for her mood than the cheap wine she’d brought herself. Her bare feet kick lazily off the pier as she looks up at him, dangling a good few feet from the water’s surface. “I’m not a baby, it’s not going to offend me.”

@luke830​  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

What happens when you have a combination of insomnia and post traumatic stress disorder from both recent and past events? For every person, the activity is different, but Birdie likes to walk or swim. Tonight’s a walking night. Pacing the grounds of a public park in the dead of night, staring up at the night time sky, thinking hard. Until she isn’t. Until she’s tripping over untied shoelaces and tumbling down onto the worn path with a yelp that echoes.

@withoutawar  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

It’s midnight, and it’s raining. Not the kind of soft rain that most campers liked to camp in, but something loud an angry. A storm that pounds against loose shingles and shakes glass in windows. Even inside the empty lodge, warmed and lit merely with a fire’s glow, the air smells damp and electric. Old walls doing nothing to keep the scent of nature’s wrath at bay.

There, though, in front of the slowly dying fire stands Birdie, soaked to the bone and smelling not just of the storm outside, but chlorine and chemicals. Her nighttime swim unbothered by the downpour that was happening, or the risk of lightning strike that sang with every crack of thunder. Eyes big and round in the dark room, focused fully on the painting above the mantle, mouth quirked as if amused by something only she knew. Gaze not once wandering elsewhere, even as the storm gets loud, and then silent again as a door opens and promptly closes.

“He looks like a real jerk, doesn’t he?” She asks without looking to see her new companion. “Like Scrooge or some other old timey villain.”

@erzahlerr  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

Birdie loves him, which is why she isn’t angry when he tumbles through her bedroom window at one in the morning, bloodied and bruised and grinning something both macabre and tired. It’s why she isn’t annoyed as he trails blood across her carpet, or even phased by the knowledge that most of that very said blood isn’t his. She’s just - happy. Delighted to see him after a small time apart, all soft touches and kisses to his cheek and fingers carefully peeling back stained cotton so that wounds can be tended to. 

“I missed you.” She tells him honestly, earnestly. Green eyes warm even as blood gets on the stolen shirt she’s been using as a nightgown. “Things were... quiet without you.” 

I haven’t slept well since you left.

@luke830  pressed  ♡  for a starter

[sparrowheartd]

“Do you really think she’s a thing? The, uh, Hag?” Birdie’s not afraid of much, or really anything. But her eyes are big and round as she looks at him. Cheeks a little red from a fresh sunburn. “I mean, that’s just a thing you’re tellin’ the kids, right?”

@podscasts  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

Stretched out on her stomach on one of the poolside chairs, Birdie has long since fallen prey to the sun’s heat and fallen asleep. Fortunately, she’s not the kind of girl to sunbathe completely naked, even in the safety and comfort of her own back yard. Unfortunately, however, she is topless, the top to her bathing suit discarded somewhere nearby, a fact that she’s going to very slightly regret when she becomes aware of it - which is right around the time the iron gate squeals it’s way open, and she also remembers the open invitation she’d given Nick weeks earlier for her home.

“'Morning.” Birdie reaches up to rub sleep from her eyes, leaning up on her opposing elbow and then just - stops. Freezes. A rare blush dusting across her cheeks. “Uhm.”

@lunareyed  /  bait bait bait

[sparrowheartd]

“Laura, Laura, Laura,” Birdie practically trips over her own two feet as she chases the taller girl out of the pool house, stumbling once more this time thanks to loose laces. “Wait. You can’t just. Go off shooting anything that howls in the Hackett house. What if you hit someone else innocent? What if you hit Caleb?” She says the name with force, but it’s not who she’s thinking about. She’s worried about Nick, and Emma, and Jacob. God knew where any of them were - or if the latter two had also gotten Nick’s... condition.

@pariahsite   /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

V is a pretty man. (He’s her brother now, she can think that without judgement.) Tall and slender, with tattoos and piercing eyes. Hair that shined heathy in the sunlight. A fashion style that would make father figures get their guns. He’s... Something. A feast, she thinks, for ordinary eyes - and there are a lot of them when the go out together. Eyes that follow, eyes that drink in his looks, eyes that linger even when there’s a spouse nearby. 

Birdie, in typical fashion, finds it adorable. Especially when someone tries something. V, though? V barely even noticed, even when he was spoken to. Eyes always in a book, thoughts wherever they went whenever he was reading something pretty and prose.

To be fair, it was a library, though. Reading books was kind of the point.

“Miss Murphy was looking earlier, did you notice?” She’s eating a cake pop with a fervor, grin unseen but most definitely heard. “I think she wants you to be the daddy of her future kiddies.”

@empyrcal​  /  starter call

[sparrowheartd]

"Ouch.” She’s skinned more than just her knee falling out of her latest tree perch, but that seems to be the only thing she’s focusing on. Kneeling awkwardly and rubbing dirt away like a two year old from the wound. And then - she spots him. “Any chance on a kiss from my future ex boyfriend to make it better?”

@lunareyed  liked a starter call