#edward02

[mari-zuko]

"I mean...sure she did. She complained, like any normal college student complains about their families," Mari said, the words slow, as if she was tentatively weighing each on her tongue before she let each them out. Sure - that was an understatement. Between the pair of them, they had certainly had...stronger complaints than most, or so she would assume. But Mari also had spent the last year and a half being shown how little of what she knew regarding Greer was true. So...really, who was she to say what she was saying wasn't accurate?

The frustration on Eddie's face hadn't gone unnoticed. Mari felt it - she understood it down to her bones. But...she couldn't be honest with him, couldn't unload everything that she knew, especially not the things that she was holding onto for herself. And it's not like Mari didn't know that was the case with other people to her as well. No one had the full picture of Greer Morrison - that's why this was still happening. And no one ever would, not with the secrets the golden girl had.

Mari let out a soft exhale, silence having held between them for only on a breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish I could tell you something that would make...that make sense. There were complaints, but no. Nothing specific, that I remember, at least. Nothing that would make this...make sense."

Twisting reality to fabricate circumstances in which neither Greer’s disappearance nor G’s mere existence did not bother him only worked very briefly. He would skew them away for a while – sometimes minutes, sometimes hours, and in the most optimal scenarios, even days – but sooner or later something would happen that would, inevitably, drag him back to reality. And, with it, revive in him the sense of dread and the urgency that had him desperately feeling like he had to do something – that he had to find out what happened to Greer, that he had to protect her, that he had to stop G before his own secrets got exposed, and so on…

So, when Mari explained that she had no idea what G’s text meant, Edward’s face was eclipsed by an expression of utter frustration – yet another sudden obstacle in his race to find as much about his sister as possible. But knowing G, he knew there had to be something there. Regardless of how they enjoyed tricking them or sending them red herrings just for the shits and giggles of witnessing them run into dead ends, Eddie knew there had to be a reason why he was told to question Mari.

the last place greer was known to be seen… and with everyone who had something to do with her leaving here – that was what G’s first text said. Mari had to know something.  

“Are you sure?” He tried to sound a bit calmer now, realizing that letting his anxiety show would only make her more reluctant to share. “I mean, you guys were really close. Has she never said something specific to you? Like, about our parents?” The words were held in suspension for a while, the silence transpiring that he knew there was something else. “…or even me, I don’t know.”

[edwardhinds22]

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[sassa-fiske]

A soft laugh fell from Sassa's lips as she glanced over at Edward, a skeptical purse of her lips accompanying the sound. She was amused and pleased by the reaction, the mocking of the man she was supposedly dating. Or was dating - whatever. Same difference. She bit back the urge to laugh again as Eddie continued to rib on him, much to her delight, before he continued his proposition.

Sassa fluttered her eyelashes before she nodded, reaching out to lightly rest her hand on Eddie's forearm. "Just the two of us then," she agreed as if she was appeasing his request, giving in to not inviting her boyfriend, and this wasn't exactly what she had wanted. She had been chasing Eddie's approval - and Edward himself - for years by this point. He could ask for anything and she would give it to him. Except for perhaps the truth of that.

The edges of her lips balance slyness and confidence like no one else can. She knows what he is doing, and she makes no effort to hide it. And he is so glad to see that there is still something there, that she hadn’t entirely bestowed her affection on her new boy-toy, that his own mouth mirrors her smile before he even realizes what he is doing.

“What? Me?” He shoots her a look of faux confusion. A hand in his chest for emphasis and all. “No. Not at all, I’d love it if he could join us this time.” If his words were liquid, they would be so corrosive they would’ve burned a hole right through the table. “I would love to hear what he thinks about Greta Gerwig’s portrayal of Gen-Z feminism.” He must have a lot to say from all the frat-bro roundtable podcasts he listens to. Or so Eddie assumes. He has never bothered to ask him what kind of media he enjoys, so he just thinks the worst. “Or his general thoughts about the life and work of Robert Oppenheimer. I’m sure he’s got lots of insights.” Okay, maybe this is a bit too far, he realizes. He just got caught up on the hate train.

With puppy-dog eyes, he assures her, “I’m kidding.” He isn’t. “I just thought we should do it just the two of us, you know? Like we did in the summer…” A 5-hour long double feature – first Barbie, then Oppenheimer–, followed by a Q&A with Christopher Nolan. “I guess it’s fine if he reeeeaaally wants to tag along…” It isn’t. “I just think it’s going to be more fun if it’s just us.”

[n8-shaw]

Rich, that was. Insinuating Nate was the one acting like a toddler, when he had known the Morrison children to be the preeminent brats, champions of throwing fits when they didn't get their way. Perhaps it was unfair to Edward, to lump him in with his sister's, but Nathaniel Shaw had never been known for being gracious. Especially for people like the family who had long since employed him. The question provoked little sympathy in Nate, though if it had been nearly anyone else who had knocked the vase out of his hands, he would've cleaned it up on his own - because it was Eddie, he was half tempted to grab another one to smash right beside it.

"What - not capable of finding a trash can by yourself? Too used to someone cleaning up after you?" Nate said dryly. Honestly, he was fairly proud of himself, considering his reaction stayed fairly levelheaded. Didn't mean he was going to answer, though. He just shrugged, motioning a hand towards the studio back behind him. "Prolly shouldn't be wondering around the studios unattended if y'don't even know where to discard something, mate," he said, the mocking tone to his voice not even the slightest bit subtle.

Hey - for Nate, that was stil considered levelheaded, considering his propensity for...well, more violent reactions.

When the little shard of clay Nate kicked hits the wall with a clack, Edward unthinkingly bickers, “I know you’re notoriously unrefined, but you don’t need to act like a fucking toddler, you know?”, just loud enough for Nate to hear. And then he heaves an irritated sigh, shakes his head to dismiss his own insult, and goes back to picking up as many pieces of the broken vase as he can. He didn’t want to start a fight or anything, but Jesus Christ, does Nate have to be such a fucking dick? Or does he actually think Edward is just going to leave that mess there for someone else to clean up? Well, if he were at home, maybe he would have – as a matter of fact, he would have walked up to one of their cleaners and kindly informed them that there had been a spill on aisle 3, and asked them to take care of it when they had the chance – but he is not at home, where there is an army of workers at his full disposal and, contrary to popular belief, he isn’t the kind of rich person who just walks away and leaves his mess for someone else to clean up (most times, that is). “Would you at least be kind enough to show me where to discard it?” This last request comes in a less friendly tone than his apology. As if it weren’t humiliating enough that he had to kneel down in front of Nathaniel Shaw, now he is fucking asking him for directions, too… He might as well cut his own throat right there with one of the clay shards. As he gets up, he also shoves the phone into his pocket, the cracked screen is something he can deal with later.  

[cara-mrrsn]

Cara gave Edward an impatient look out of the corner of her eyes, rolling them as she went back to look at her things. "Why are you asking?" she asked, the mocking in his tone immediately raising her defenses. Not that she felt any pressing need to defend Nat - she was fine as a roommate, Cara even going as far as to say she liked her from time to time, but she was also the last person to have loyalty to....well, anyone. A funny thing that happened when there wasn't even loyalty from family members - Cara had learned to prioritize herself.

Or just prioritize disagreeing with her twin brother.

"It's gotten better since she stopped dating Na-thaniel, though," Cara said, her tone slipping into a similar mocking tone as Eddie's - only this time, she was mocking none other than their mother, the way she said Nate's name in the exact intonation she would talk about the pool boy in. She looked back towards Edward, now lounging against her bed, considering for a moment. The last time they had done something like this, the pair of them in one o their rooms, sitting on each others beds while being in cahoots rather than fighting....she wasn't even sure she knew when it was. Flouncing towards her bag, Cara reached into it, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a couple baggies - various pills and powders in each, pinching them between an index finger and her thumb to wave them in the air as she turned towards Edward. "Let's get high," she suggested, meeting his eyes with an undeniable air of a challenge in hers.

Walking into Cara’s apartment felt as funny as walking to it. But instead of the unease of going somewhere without an invitation, what he felt was the strange familiarity of going into your old grade school for the first time in ten years and not recognizing the layout of the rooms or any of the new teachers’ faces, while knowing that was where you had spent a good part of your childhood. Not that this was the case with Cara’s dorm room, but as his wandering eyes lay on the memorabilia on the shelves and the pictures on her walls, he felt as though he should have known what, at least, some of that meant, that something should have rang a bell, but he didn’t have a clue... So, he followed her without question as she led him into her private little world, curious mind exploring its every corner and finding vestiges of a life he knew so little about.

Before they walked into her bedroom, his gaze quickly landed on Natalia Vega’s door. Was she there? Did she hear him come in? Would she come out to say hi? Why did he care? No, he didn’t. He didn’t want to see her. Just an intrusive thought, he told himself. The burden of the hyperactive mind, the words of his therapist, Dr. Reichmann, Ph.D., echoed in his head. Yet, regardless of what lie he told to convince himself he didn’t care about Natalia, he couldn’t help but ask, “So, what is sharing a dorm with Vega like?” His voice carried a mocking sort of undertone that he didn’t know his sister would accept well, but it was also his usual way of talking about things and people.

His curiosity didn’t diminish as she let him into her bedroom. And, although he found himself putting in the effort to seem like he wasn’t being intrusive, his eyes scoured her room with the same interest as they did the common area of her apartment. He went to her bed, languidly leaning on his arm like a forest nymph from an ancient Greek myth. Was that his bed? No. But he considered it to be his god-given birthright as a bisexual to slouch and lean on every surface he encountered, especially if it was a king-sized bed lined with linen or cotton sheets – which he was sure was the case. If there was anyone on campus – besides him, of course – he could count on not using polyester sheets, that person would be his sister. His head perked up at her challenge, brows creased in a question, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He knew. He just wanted her to say it. He was beginning to enjoy this sort of camaraderie that was created since their last encounter. Not that it had mended their relationship entirely by any means, but it did build an unexpected bridge…

[sassa-fiske]

A curl of Sassa's lips mirrored the one that flashed across Eddie's face, less out of any true amusement and more out of her enjoyment at being included, at a quip lobbied in her direction, for her amusement. She shrugged, her drink lifted to her lips as she took a slow sip, a smile still playing around the corners of her lips. "Perhaps that's more of a suggestion for some of the film classes," she agreed. Subway Surfers necessary or not, she was already tired of the think pieces that were entirely missing the point of either movie, or people misunderstanding why they had become such a phenomenon as it was. Better to keep those discussion to other people who would get it.

The next words only cause Sassa's smile to widen, her head angling towards one shoulder. "Do you not want him to?" she crooned, eyes widening with her put upon innocence, the expression the exact opposite of Sassa's machinations to get a boyfriend in the first place. She was hardly even interested in him, more intrigued by the concept of an accessory that made her look better, wanting someone to confirm that she was wanted - and the side affect of the jealousy that she was fairly certain was behind Edward's question was only an added bonus.

“I’m afraid that if they did two films in one night, they would have to set up a second screen on the side showing a Subway Surfers playthrough for accessibility.” An arrogant grin began to take shape on his lips and stayed there just long enough for Sassa to catch sight of it before it vanished behind his glass.

Edward was often very cautious with the jokes he made in public settings – most people took offense to sarcasm and arrogance – but he knew that he didn’t need that same prudence around Sassa. Between her and him, there was an unspoken belief – almost a kind of knowledge – that they were intellectually superior to their peers. So, while most people might feel personally insulted by his suggestion that the Ogden student body wasn’t equipped with the necessary attention span to watch a 5-hour feature, he knew it might hit the mark with his current audience. That was not to say Edward considered any of his friends or colleagues dumb, of course. He just thought of himself as someone more… artistically sensitive than most. And Sassa too, of course.

“And that boyfriend of yours won’t be joining us, I’m sure?” Now, there was someone Edward considered particularly vapid. Every time that stupid little man would open his mouth, Edward’s eyes would roll to the back of his head, and he would force himself to hold back a groan of repulsion. He had never properly discussed it with Sassa, as that was absolutely not his place. But he also made no effort to pretend he liked him as well. And, perhaps, that was why he considered him so unbearably idiotic. Perhaps he wasn’t even as slow-witted as Edward made him out to be… Maybe he just disliked him.

[mari-zuko]

Mari's expression blanched when she saw the desperation with which Edward was approaching her, knowing it could mean nothing good. She had gotten a text herself - she had been prompted to question Link, to find something out. She didn't know what the truth behind it may be, if there was any at all - but she hadn't gotten a chance to try and figure it out, Eddie appearing in front of her and making her stomach drop with truth he may have been prompted towards.

His screen was flashed to her, her eyes scanning over the text once, twice, thrice before she looked back up at him, eyes wide. "I have no idea," she said. Lying was second nature to Mari - it was easy enough to answer him without even the slightest inflection of falsity in her words. "I mean, I know she felt like she had a lot of pressure on her at times but...I don't think I know what they're trying to imply," she said, a hint of remorse creeping into her tone - apologies, for not being able to help him, of course.

✍︎ @mari-zuko

He did not care anymore. Really. He was absolutely unbothered by G’s texts. Eddie didn’t spiral anymore. Or throw his phone against the wall in a fit of rage. Or even text G back promising he would find them and get them arrested. No. He was totally cool about it now.

When a chorus of chimes rang across the ballroom, Edward didn’t desperately open his iMessage app like he was expecting cancer screening results. He certainly wasn’t seen pushing his way through a still-confused crowd in search of someone, like a shipwreck survivor swimming against the current. Nor did he clumsily topple a tray full of champagne glasses, leaving a trail of destruction behind him as he casually, for no reason at all, tried to find Mari.

All he did was incidentally run into her, who just so happened to notice the desperate look on his face. And, in doing so, he felt compelled to randomly show her his phone, which, coincidentally displayed a text from G: go ask mari if she thinks greer was happy being the golden girl.

And, since he was already there with her, he figured he was better off asking her, “Do you know what this means?” Just for good measure. Oh, and his voice definitely did not crack with the weight of the anxiety of someone who is wildly hypothesizing things – like if Greer had told anyone else of the things she had found out about him, or if she had discovered their parents were involved in something vile, like a human trafficking scheme or something. Which was certainly not something Edward had to worry about, of course.

[sassa-fiske]

Sassa fluttered her lashes, a soft smile coming over her face when Edward returned to their table, all signs of the impatience that had filled her while he was missing for what seemed like far longer than necessary disappearing immediately. "No worries," she crooned instead, shifting slightly in her seat to face him as he joined her again. She didn't want to show any of that irritation, not wanting there to be any chance of pushing him away. Not again. Even if she had been sitting, her fingers tapping against the table, eyes scanning over every person in the bar that came in her direction, waiting for him to return. She just smiled prettily, sipping from her drink as she crossed her legs under the table, her foot lightly tapping against his calf. Accidentally, of course.

"Oh, we absolutely have to," Sassa agreed, brightening up at his suggestion. Whatever - maybe she had a boyfriend at the moment. It's not like Sassa would turn down an invitation from Eddie - be that the one to get drinks in the first place, or to go see the movies they had already seen together over the summer (and that she had lied and told aforementioned boyfriend she hadn't seen yet. As if a dual acting and film & media studies student wouldn't have already seen them). "I do wish they were doing them as a double header so the contrast could be fully appreciated, but back to back weeks will do."

✍︎ @sassa-fiske

The sight of a dying sun, reluctantly disappearing behind distant hills, distracted him from the bartender preparing his drinks. For a moment, Edward quietly watched as the skyline of downtown Ogden darkened and a cool autumn breeze began to blow on the leaves of trees and ruffle with his hair.

Sir. A voice broke him out of his daze. The bartender placed his and Sassa’s drinks on the counter. “Thank you.” He muttered before handing him a bill and picking up the glasses.

He took his time walking back to their table, eyes still gazing over the landscape that only C. Ling could offer. It seemed like the world slowed down a little when fall came around – especially in the Northeast, where the cold months could be unforgiving – and Edward very much appreciated this sensation that he got just by watching people go about their lives in a chilly evening, leaving work, running errands, doing groceries, and then going home. He couldn’t explain it, really. It was more a feeling than a rational line of thought. But it kept him very much hypnotized.

“Sorry I took so long. Bartender kept me waiting.” He lied as he reached their table, setting Sassa’s glass in front of her and taking the seat by her side. “Did you see they’re doing Barbenheimer on campus this week? We should go together again.”

[n8-shaw]

What may be surprising to most people is that Nate actually enjoyed art classes. Photography, ceramics, wheel throwing, various music classes...not that he'd ever verbally admit it (even to himself, at least in the case of the last one). And honestly….he was apparently decent at a lot of them, the grades pretty much the highest he could remember ever getting. Not that that was saying much. And since he still hadn't declared a major, despite many pushes from the advisor he was supposed to work with - that he ignored nearly completely - he figured he may as well keep taking classes that kept his GPA on the higher end.

Hence the completed vase in his hands as he left the studio, thrown and glazed and fired, and likely another one he'd hand off to Rhia to store something else in. Or at least he would've, until he swung open the door into something solid, the ceramic shattered on the ground at his feet.

Nate scowled, glaring at the male who had crashed into him, even before he registered it was Edward. He didn't bother to bend down to help collect the pieces, sensing the futility of it, and instead kicking a piece that was in front of his feet. "Yes," he answered shortly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "Least that one's already graded, mate," Nate said, sarcasm heavy in the last word, having a hard time that Edward Morrison meant such an apology.

✍︎ @n8-shaw

Too busy staring at an annoyed text message from his father concerning yet another screw-up from his summer internship, Edward doesn’t even notice the door to the pottery studio open suddenly right as he is passing by. The only thing he notices is the abrupt feeling of his body crashing into someone else’s before his phone, and whatever the other person had been holding fall to the ground with one single, loud crack. He kneels down at once, without thinking, without even looking at the person he had just bumped into. “Sorry.” He murmurs, as he embarrassingly tries to gather pieces of clay in his hand – phone still on the ground with the ‘Now you need to clean up your mess.’ text from his father still glaring at him, ironically. But as he realizes there is no point in trying to pick up the shards around him, he finally looks up at the victim of his absent-mindedness, ready to apologize again, but stops before he can say anything. “Nate?” his face screwed up in sort of a confused look – eyelids narrowing, brows furrowing, and head tilting to the side. “You’re in… pottery class?” He asks, not really expecting Shaw to share his touching history with the age-old art of wheel-throwing. The emphasis on the word pottery coming not out of disrespect or debauchery but out of genuine surprise. Nathaniel Shaw didn’t seem like the type to be out making vases out of clay in his free time. "Sorry for breaking your–" He looked down at the shards in his hands, and then the ones still on the floor that he couldn't pick up. "Thing...?"

[cara-mrrsn]

Cara sighed when she heard the rap of knuckles at her door, having plopped herself onto the floor - her skirt poofed around her so she looked like a living, breathing cupcake - to finish her makeup, compact mirror in hand. She finished the lipliner she was working on before snapping the compact shut, tossing both into her bag (the compact would certainly come in handy later for reasons that was not touching up her lipstick but that she was legally obligated not to clarify). Still without any rush in her movements, she sauntered towards the door, swinging it open and giving Edward a sideways look, a smirk spreading across her lips.

She preened for a moment at his compliment upon, amusement sparking in her eyes - there had been a brief reprimand to make sure her skirt was long enough, for whatever reason, from their parents. Cara had abided by that rule. No chance of a Britney Spears style shot. However, she was pretty sure they also wouldn't be too fond of the expanse of midriff she was showing. They probably should've thought of that too, if they were against her, like, looking this hot or something.

"I'm still getting ready," Cara said in greeting, a hint of innocence in her tone. "They can wait for a few." She shrugged, clearly not concerned about their parents waiting. Or about Eddie potentially going back to them alone while she finished. She grabbed the lipstick and gloss she had been preparing on layering, going over to her bag and pulling the compact back out to finish her makeup, just briefly giving Edward another glance to see if he was going to stay or go and wait with their parents (she had her suspicions of which it would be) before focusing on her reflection. "You want anything?" she asked once she was done, eyes still on the mirror as one finger cleaned up the edges of her lipstick. "Before we go, I mean," she said, the resounding click of the compact accompanying her eyes turning towards her twin, a hint of a challenge in her expression, the slowly arching brow on her forehead only increasing it.

✍︎ @cara-mrrsn

The walk to suite #6 in Linden dorm felt like going to a stranger’s party as an unannounced plus one. It was going somewhere you had never gone without knowing whether you would be welcome there. A funny thing to think when the stranger was, in fact, your twin sister, and the party in question was her dorm room that sat just a few blocks away from his own. And, although he would be the last person to show up to a party uninvited, Edward felt like he was better off going in on his own than bringing his parents along, knowing full well they would want to go into her dorm to get a look at her place like they had done his. And so, there he was, alone at Cara’s doorstep, like an uninvited guest.

With hesitation, his knuckles touched the hardwood. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Hey. It’s me.” He announced. Aware that that didn’t mean much. “Mom and Dad are outside, waiting.” To an ordinary set of twins – the kind that shared secrets and trusted each other – that might have meant something like You can open the door if you want. They’re not here, or It’s just me in case you don’t want them to see something. But they weren’t an ordinary set of siblings. They were Cara and Edward Morrison, the twins who were more like distant cousins or occasional acquaintances. So those words meant nothing.

Usually, Edward would have turned away and joined their parents as they waited, leaving Cara to find her way to them alone. But that time, he didn’t. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, he stayed and waited for her at her door, not at his father, or his mother, or Greer's side. And as she opened her door, she was met with an awkward smile – the type people give strangers in an elevator when they share it for too long. “You look nice.” His words were genuine but still coated in the usual sarcasm he seemed unable to shake off.