viclinstrings

[viclinstrings]

WHILE THE ONGOING EVENT HAD CERTAINLY CAUGHT HER INTEREST as she couldn't recall the French countryside she grew up on ever holding one that seemed comparable to a mid-spring horror fest, Simone was partially annoyed that she was forced to wander through crowds that her uppity social standing usually had her avoiding as the places she frequented happened to be expensive just to stand in most of the time. Her clients were not the type to plan an entire trip to Vegas for an event that felt partially reminiscent of Halloween, thus, she had no real reason to peruse around except for her own curiosity as the foreign born had clearly never once celebrated the spooky holiday herself as a child. The simple cat ears on her head and whiskers drawn on to her face atop rosy blush was not melting under the Vegas sun thanks to expensive makeup it was etched on with, but the same sadly couldn't be said for the cookie of a fanged mouth, as the red icing that represented blood was threatening to melt off and onto her hands, much to the travel agent's dismay as she rushed to take a seat on a bench and pull some tissues out of her bag. "Ah, then I do not need to apologize for waking you if you were only resting. I would think it impossible to fall asleep with everything appearing so fantasmagorique. You are not fearful of those that suck blood?" A smile crossed her face, as if amused with her own question.

@boneyardstarters Location: Weekend of Horror Booths Date: April 27, Afternoon Cap: ♾️

It had been such a long and exhausting weekend. He just wasn't finding the joy he usually would have in these kinds of things, which made it all the more tiring, he gathered. Reaching out a hand toward some items at a booth he was currently looking around in, he ran his fingers delicately along the tops of some items, frowning as he realized he couldn't feel happy or excited about any of it. He felt nothing at all at the moment. Pulling his hand away in a sluggish manner, he turned and left the booth, wanting to find anything that could inspire some amount of joy in him. But only found himself becoming more exhausted as he passed several booths. It was later in the afternoon, but he felt like he had been up for hours. For the most part, he had been. Coming to sit on a bench, he absently moved to curl up on the empty space and quickly started to drift off. Even though it may not last a long time, he managed to doze off for a moment before a voice directed at him suddenly had him jolting back awake, “No- I wasn't-… I wasn't sleeping. I was just resting my eyes.” Azazel muttered in response as he lifted his head and looked around.

[viclinstrings]

HEY, i think i just saw SIMONE D'AUREVALLE walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the TWENTY SIX YEAR OLD is working as a/an LUXURY TRAVEL AGENT and lives in STARGAZER VILLAS. given they are RESOLUTE but OVERBEARING, it’s unlikely that they ARE NOT a vampire. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to NELLIE - DR DOG and you’ll know why they’re called THE AMARANTH.

trigger warnings for intro: seizure/epilepsy mention

pinterest : link

born in Beaune, France, the wine capital of Burgandy and a key wine center of France to two loving parents who were hopelessly in love with one another, so much so that her mother had ran away from a previous marriage to be with her father

Simone was always the apple of both of her parents' eyes as their only child together and seen as a miracle baby after they were told it would be virtually impossible for their incompatible genes to result in a child. She was treated as such, receiving whatever she desired and both parents using their decent connections to obtain whatever their decent wealth (i.e. some stolen from her mother's previous marriage) couldn't buy her.

kind of thinks the sun orbits her instead of the planets orbiting the sun as her parents treated her that way. truly believes her shit doesn't stink.

never really had to work hard at anything except one thing. somewhat naturally intelligent, she rode through school getting average grades without putting in much effort and was still treated as if she was impressive.

At the age of eight, she had her first seizure, a tonic-clonic seizure, seemingly triggered by unknown causes. she has no recollection of it as she wasn't very aware during it. Unprovoked seizures would continue, until she was eventually diagnosed with epilepsy and put on anticonvulsants that she still takes daily. her last seizure happened two and a half years ago, and she has been medically approved to lessen her daily dosage with the hope that she will eventually be off them completely if she continues weaning without another.

never learned how to drive as her seizures were too frequent as a teenager, which wasn't too big of a problem when living in France but is proving to cause issues for her in Vegas.

was classically trained on the violin starting at the age of six by some of the best teachers money could buy. This would turn out to be one singular thing her blood, sweat, and tears were put into and it would eventually pay off when, as a young adult, she would join the Philharmonic Orchestra of Paris, working her way up to first chair.

Recently, her mother let it slip that she had two other children in her previous marriage, a fact that Simone was entirely unaware of and thrilled by as someone who always wanted siblings but knew she would never get them. once she had tracked them down to Las Vegas after receiving a tip (from a special someone), she was intent on going and meeting them, much to the resistance of her parents. however, when Simone wants something, she always gets it, and this was no outlier.

moved to Las Vegas, NV at the end of January 1996.

was expecting a warm welcome to America and will not be getting it whatsoever.

Personality wise, she can be....a lot. she's pretty stuck up but somehow entirely unaware of it and it's not purposeful. she has a tendency to focus on herself and struggle to see opposing perspectives but is overall pretty well meaning, it just isn't always presented in practice. She doesn't entirely understand the concept of not getting her way, as it's infrequent to actually happen in her life, resulting in her struggling when it does happen. (and yeah, she can be a little immature about it when it does).

intro will be updated as more is added to her character! she's still somewhat of a wip

[viclinstrings]

📷 sophie thatcher getting ready for a pre-oscars event on march 1st 2025, hair styled by ericka verrett, makeup by rachel goodwin, styling by turner turner

[viclinstrings]

THE FRENETIC ENERGY WAS ROLLING OFF OF her in waves in practically a palpable way, undeniable nervous energy taking over the body of the esteemed violin player as she hopped on the balls of her heeled espadrilles that did not bode as well in the Anchorage climate as they did the French countryside. Was it slightly creepy that she had followed the sibling duo to the brunch restaurant? Potentially, but no more questionable than the prior days she had spent keeping a casual eye on them as she attempted to gather a feel for the two who she had no prior knowledge of before her mother had let it slip just a year prior, and Simone had immediately begun setting into a motion a plan of tracking them down to eventually meet. From the moment the insight had been revealed to her, the daydream of being one big happy family, of having siblings she had always fantasized as having as an only child, had existed in her head. Oh, how she could already see it, with family dinners and holidays and all that one did with their relatives.

With her best smile, she approached the table, pushing blonde hair over her shoulder as she opened her mouth to make her grand introduction....only to be cut off by an order. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow twitched, her plan already not following the track it had in her head, as slightly confusion warped her expression. "Je suis perdu...? Oh, no, I am not-I do not work here." An abrupt laugh left her, a bit abrasive as if her own nerves were using it as an outlet. This would just make their story of meeting a funny one, wouldn't it? She could picture it now as they retold it fondly to anyone who would listen, all laughing together, as the thought crossed the blonde's mind that maybe, this would go even better than she could have predicted. "I have wanted to speak to both of you for very long." Well, as long as she possibly could have, but it felt long considering how much anticipation had lead up to this moment right now. Pulling in a breath to settle her jitters, she made her big unveiling. "I am your sister!" Spoken with a verbal ta da!, large green eyes blinked once, twice, waiting for a reaction before another anxious giggle left her when it wasn't immediately met with glee. The hands she had slightly thrown up, fingers spread awkwardly lowered, slowly, before she cleared her throat, clearly undeterred in her excitement. "I am the daughter of Adeline." // @pupptmcster

@nepcnthes + @viclinstrings with sévérine and simone !

DATE    ›    february 20th, 2025

LOCATION     ›     brunch-a-nonsense

it didn’t matter what the d’aurevalles were up to to annoy sylvaine to a certain degree of wanting to curse at her brother—be it, having a council meeting or a playful banter. still, he never failed to make her rub her temples throughout the day — it was an hour till noon, however. “tu vas manger quelque chose, n’est-ce pas?” sylvie didn’t like to eat early in the morning—around 11 o’clock to be exact. there was nothing like having her brother around; sévérine was like an accessory (kidding!) who knew exactly when to annoy her peers. “either way, i need a couple of mimosas. or five.” sylvaine took a peek at her wristwatch, slumping her shoulders, and straightened up. “what the hell, sev—why didn’t you tell me it was a quarter past five, sev? i thought it was noon.” for someone who wore a watch, she never knew what day it was or the time—going with ‛the flow’ as much as she could. “oh. i’ve been meaning to ask, but what do you think about this zydrate stuff?” the woman looks at her brother inquisitively, waiting for an answer. “i was thinking we can see who’s smart enough to avoid that shit...i mean, to be honest, i don’t really give a shit but you know.” as a council member, sylvaine has had to play pretend and calculate her moves most of the time, but with her brother it was different. sévérine knew the way her brain worked. maybe not to an exaggerated extent but he knew some.

“sev,” she looked at him with a smirk. “i don’t know what you have up your sleeve or when the next meeting is, but i hope you’re ready when i need you.” she gave his arm a squeeze and walked into the eatery eager for a drink... or two. it didn’t matter if it was early, but with everything that occurred, she needed it.

[viclinstrings]

*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*sophie thatcher*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

[viclinstrings]

AFTER CLOSING BACK UP THE FOURTH CASE OF WINE she had pulled open for the day, a feat that was questionable in how impressive it was for the time since she had started her workday, a single pat of her hand was placed upon the wooden chamber. Her work may have not been incredibly efficient in time nor thorough, but her history of growing up in wine country of France gave her a unique expertise that made her seen as a fit for the position, as did a personal phone call from her high society mother who was insistent upon the hiring of her precious daughter while providing an exemplary reference, if just a smidge biased as a parent. This clearly wasn't seen as an issue, or her maman wielded more power than the blonde ever cared to take notice of. More than welcoming of a distraction, two perfectly microbladed dark eyebrows rose at the question, certainly not one she was expecting, which gave the young wine connoisseur pause. "I cannot say that has crossed my mind." One tweed coated hip cocked as she leaned partially against the side of the building, not as in tune with the recent events of the town as her focus had been centered on her half siblings over recent events, and the fast-paced radio voice spoke in too many riddles and jokes for the her to understand exactly what he reporting. "My parents would never; it is impossible to imagine. They are so in love. My cousins," Another pause as she tsked her tongue with a short shake of her head, as she searched for the words to bluntly explain, "They are too....demure, trop ennuyeuses. Maybe it would make them interesting." They were nice girls, really, but Simone was sure if she was ever suffering from insomnia, a phone call to one of them could take care of it. "I think, I do not have enough of an opinion yet for my feelings to change for my siblings." The half wasn't left off due to a translation error, but rather a purposeful choice. "Tu as un meurtre dans la famille?" The relief of having the option to switch back to her native language was evident in the way every word came more naturally, though they were tainted by a hint of empathy for the fellow philharmonic member, a rarity. When the conversation was brought back around to her, she shared with partially constrained excitement and a bit of pride that made her raise her chin, "I am going to approach them soon, it is decided. I have to find the where."

@viclinstrings at dulce tierra winery & vineyard, february 10th

"Simone, priez pour dire, do you have a moment to spare?" Every one of his joints ached when he stood up from where he had sequestered himself to take a smoke break around the back entrance to the wine cellar where the trucks parked on stocking days, disdain presenting itself in the vague scowl on his face that the bed he was sleeping in back in Anchorage wasn't nearly as comfortable as the vintage boat bed he had back at home in Mont Saint-Michel ( which was, by comparison, remarkably hard to squeeze into the hole-in-the-wall townhouse that favored the isolated commune, ) as he paused to stretch less than limber muscles. The restlessness prevailed, shifting the weight from one foot to another and pursing his lips as he consoled whether the question was frivolous of him, or even rude. "How would it change your feelings of your loved ones if you were to learn one of them killed another?" Stellar conversation starters all around, and there was a pang of contrite that followed and socked him right in the gut, teetering upon whether to revoke the question and apologize for disturbing her with... well, something so wicked, but it had been on the forefront of his mind for the past couple of days. It would seem that the efforts of the family had been too little, too late — were people borne into bad deeds or did they create it themselves? Returning the cigarette to his lips for another drag of nicotine, his fingers fidgeted with the yellow flower braided into his hair, procured daily from the florist and lightly spritzed with chemicals to maintain its freshness until the grueling hours he had to spend around people were wrapped up. "How auspicious and strangely meaningful. My business here continues to dwindle and yours has only just begun, no?"

[viclinstrings]

THE SELECTION OF MOVIES WAS QUITE UNIMPRESSIVE when Simone had grown up attending shows of classic French films or going to art house cinemas, and the blonde had been twirling a blonde strand of hair from her wolf cut for about twenty five minutes at that point without any regard for the attendant that already seemed fed up with her presence. What could she say, some talents manifested themselves as coming naturally to some people, and unintentionally being able to push someone's buttons was that of Simone's, who was still entirely unaware, and unburdened, bf the disdain her energetic conversations managed to inspire in the two half siblings she had moved thousands of miles to get to know. Alas, they must've been busy for the night, or at least successful in their attempts to hide from her, as she hadn't seem them outside of the Town Hall where she could usually find a way to continue her pestering in the name of another round of twenty questions, and the wine connoisseur couldn't be contented to hang around her own new home in Winterwood Estates, landing her where she stood in her suede ankle boots now. After tapping a nail against her lip in further contemplation, green eyes turned on other other when they spoke. "You are also not interested in any these names? Who would ever release a movie titled Big Daddy? Disappointing selection," she tsk'd, "C’est naze." If she was being too particular, it wasn't recognized on her own part. "I, too, refuse to spend another night locked up in the house. Boring! Do any of these catch attention, or should we--what is the phrase? Go elsewhere out on the town?"

who : @anchoragestarters where : maiden alley cinema when : february 20th  cap : 0/4

ROBIN’S TOP PRIORITY WOULD ALWAYS BE THEIR WORK.  it was the very thing that defined them and who they were. they were a medical examiner, first and foremost, and they took pride in that. the few people they allowed close to them would say that they were too rigid, but they didn’t know any other way to be. work was their life, outside of a few friends here and there. their routine was monotonous, and for the most part, they liked it that way. come to work, examine a few bodies, get lemon bars from puggy’s and relax on the couch with their cat, mindy. it was simple, but it worked for them. on some days, however, the routine changed. instead of going straight to their house to watch a movie at home, robin sometimes preferred the atmosphere of a movie theater. they didn’t care much for the messiness of the people there. usually, they saved internal comments of their chaos and unruliness to mindy, but having others around that relished in the same pleasure as they did? that brought them joy, even if only for a few hours. currently, they were outside of the cinema, looking up at the marquees for the films they would be showing. usually, robin was meticulous, and pretty good at making decisions, having researched the movies beforehand to pick one they liked. today, however, they were stuck in a loop. they kept comparing all of the options, and while a few of them seemed like something robin would like, they couldn’t quite pick just one. spotting someone nearby, they quickly made their way over to them. “excuse me?” they said, clearing their throat. they shifted awkwardly, trying to think of something to do with their hands. “I hate to have to ask this, but could you pick a movie for me to see? or if i should see a movie at all?” ( they hated having to ask for help, it was beneath them.) “i’m torn between this and just staying home with my cat. it’s a tense time, and i know we’re all trying to find some way to relax.”

[viclinstrings]

"I DO NOT THINK IT IS A SCAM. It sounds impressive!" Her opinion was sorely biased, as the council fully supporting something meant Simone fully supported it as well, if only as a way of pledging her complete loyalty to her newfound siblings, whether they wanted it or not. And besides, as naive of a perspective as it was, she did think it had to do everything the numerous commercials she had heard play through her car radio had to have some accuracy, why else would those in charge cosign it? "Are all drugs not discutable in some way? Even if they do exactly what they are meant to, there are still side effects to come after all." The basket that was perched on her arm over the sleeve of her Burberry peacoat swung a bit, as the blonde was incapable of not speaking with her entire body. One could say it was a side effect of playing the violin, another task that had her whole body thrown into it. "Are you asking because you have an interest in using it? You should try, what is the worst that could happen?" Maroon tinted lips pursed as she threw a box of tampons into the basket, the reason she had walked down the aisle in the first place, before taking advantage of the conversation by asking, "Since we are already talking, do you know of a place that sells actual fresh bread in this town? The bakery section of this store..." A disappointed breath exited her lips, no more necessary to say of that review.

giant superstore, 2nd february / @anchoragestarters

"What's the deal with this Zydrate stuff?" It was an abrupt question, probably not what you'd expect to hear from a random passerby in the toiletry aisle. He'd been looking for hair dye, the need to agressively bleach his hair and force it into some bright, garish colour having finally taken over him after a few months of letting his dark roots grow in and eat away at the previously well-maintained blonde. "There was an ad for it on TV. Some miracle happy drug?" he said, with a bitter laugh. The way he'd been feeling lately, Ash was sure he could use that but even he had his limits. There wasn't much he felt like trusting these days. But, God, did he feel like SHIT. He'd barely been keeping up with the news of this murder, his head still swimming with his own grief. There wasn't much room for anything else. His head was crammed fulled but his world was so, so fucking empty. Oof. "You think it even works? Or is it just some weird pharmaceutical scam?"

[viclinstrings]

Sophie Thatcher for Teen Vogue (2025)

[viclinstrings]

THE CORNER OF HER MOUTH TWITCHED, unable to control the inherent reaction to the aforementioned treats the holiday was known for. The blonde had nothing against using a bit of chocolate for some stress relief, especially as she was known to do the same with a glass of wine after a particularly stressful paper finally went to publishing, but the likes of Hershey's and other store brands weren't what she would personally consider the kind to savor--and Samantha was well aware of just how uppity it made her sound, which was she didn't voice the opinion. "I think there's plenty enjoying s'mores who would argue against you on that," was instead the nonpartisan response she landed on, even if she didn't necessarily agree. "Copy editor, quite the opposite. Lawyers and I don't entirely get along." How many cease and desists had the Anchorage Daily Diem received just since her career there had started? It was quite laughable how many were either unaware of what was considered defamation or how scare tactics as such rarely worked. There was a moment of consideration as she studied his face, hardly given a reason to extend any trust, but considering the stakes were a Halloween celebration she had waited until the last minute to even decide to attend, she gave a curt nod. "Fair enough. We'll see just how much you overestimate yourself." Her hand swung in front of herself to gesture him forward. "Lead the way, just don't appear to know what you're doing too well."

Whether he was built the same as all the rest who enjoyed the thrill, or this somehow made him different, he grinned at the idea of being thrown under the bus. Shin, intrinsically searching for places to prove himself, to make sure he always came out on top ( or close to it ), viewed even something so small as this as a game. Or as a blank canvas upon which he could paint his choices. "Unfortunately? Yeah. Looks like everybody wants to chocolate their cares away. Won't work all that well, but who am I to tamper down on the good time?" A lithe shrug followed. "It's why we gotta make our own good time where we can get it." It was easy to adapt her into the we involved in this plan. "You a lawyer or something? Nobody around here throws abet into casual talk." It wouldn't be dissimilar to him devolving into some kind of Shakespearean-adjacent monologue whenever he became too frustrated. Oh, he's a starving artist, alright! "Tell you what. If I'm unsuccessful, we never saw each other. I'll take all the heat." This was how confident he was that he wouldn't get caught — and if he did, that he could wrangle his way out of it, and somehow make a good show from the whole thing.

[viclinstrings]

SAMANTHA PREFERRED TO STAY WITHIN THE STRICT BOUNDARIES of her professional life, never venturing too far out to gain a grasp on a notable social life, as if the distance she put between herself and the rest of the world would somehow aid in her desire to distance herself from her past. "My favorite would probably be the game with the big hammer, where you swing and try to hit the lever hard enough to ring the bell?" Blue eyes casted over to Pixie for a look of understanding before she continued. "When I was a kid, I was always too small to actually do so, but my brother would try every time for me, because he knew I wanted to hear the success of dinging that bell. We'd spend way too much of our allowances on it." Uncharacteristically, her walls had dropped enough that she felt free to let the memory bring a smile to her face, never getting much of an opportunity to reflect back on the good moments before his untimely departure from the world. "He did actually win it for me a few times. It wasn't even really about the oversized teddy bear, either, just really that we finally beat the game. I guess you could say it would be similar to finally beating a video game round that had previously been giving you a hell of a time." The blonde hadn't even noticed just how much information she had divulged, lost herself in recounting the memory of her lost brother before she awkwardly coughed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Since you didn't get to them while younger, were there any that caught your eye? We can stop at each one if you really want the full carnival experience," she jested, ignoring her early alarm for the next morning in that moment.

"I'd like that. Would you like to go there next, or should does that depend on if we lose here and need to redeem ourselves at another game?" The last part was meant as a joke, but the genuine appreciation that Pixie had even noticed her eyeing the cotton candy was still evident on her face, warmth tinting her pale skin as it betrayed her blush. It was hard to do so when Pixie's appearance under the harsh lights, highlighting each aspect that left her breathless before knowing her name, her stupid crush encroaching on her ability to think straight. Her usual diet was uninteresting, mostly consisting of the meal preps she would spend her Sunday mornings putting together to save herself the time later in the week when she knew she would be more consumed with work than actually nourishing her body. The frivolous treat that was mostly sugar wasn't something she could recently recall having--again, probably not since being a child. A blonde eyebrow quirked at the question, not expecting Pixie to take enough interest in her passing mention of the sport to ask about the topic. "I was always more interested in the school's newspaper, the entirely honest. Picking up a softball was more for my father's sake." In an attempt to turn the theme of the conversation back to more jovial, she asked teasingly, "Do you not think journalism is high road?" Gracefully taking the last ball offered for their shot at a prize, it was tossed just an inch above her hands in an attempt to get a good grasp on its weight. As much as she wasn't into sports, Samantha was a perfectionist through and through, which meant even if in her interest in softball didn't stem from her own liking, she had still been determined to excel at the hobby at the time. Her aim was set for one of the bottom bottles, ball colliding with it enough to upset the one atop as well and taking down both. The blonde didn't want to display too much pride, but the way her shoulders sat after watching them fall gave it away. Always one who wanted to be a winner, in a constant competition even if it was only with herself. "Hopefully two out of three is enough to get that one." Expectant blue eyes turned back to the employee working the station to ask exactly that. Fixing the strap of her crossbody purse that had been jostled with the throw, she turned back towards Pixie, eyes unable to stray far from them for long. "The term workaholic is one that no one would like to ascribe to, but it may be accurate. My career did bring me here, after all. I think I'd like to have a reason to get out and enjoy other aspects of Anchorage, though." Her applied blush wasn't the only thing highlighting her cheeks as she made the comment, unable to ignore how, whether knowingly or not, Pixie was doing just that for the night.

It wasn't a date.

That much was for sure.

Pixie didn't do dating, in any shape or form, since they had been a hostage of someone else's elaborate design. To give a part of themselves was like tacking yarn back to the board of a colossal network so unfathomably beyond them, it was wrenching to think about. At times, the thoughts were capable of being tucked away, allowed to invade their life in subconscious means — others, it was every waking moment and consumed the breaths they took. It was an outing as exhorted by their roommate, that they should formulate and string together connections that would be sincere, or consider covering up any messes that would trail behind them. Fight-or-flight instincts ran to an overbearing degree, atop the hardly maneuverable mechanism of manipulating their surroundings to attain their goals — to survive, primarily, as they didn't think racking up scams counted as goals. However, there were no machinated steps in their mind now as they surveyed the flickering lights. They had been enamored enough by accompanying Ash that they desired to retrace, and the blonde's expression was considerably more relaxed than the last elongated interaction they'd spent, cooped in the copy editor's home. "Do you remember what your favorite was? I didn't really get to do stuff like this as a kid — you could say I had restrictive parents."

I can't think of another person I'd want to be here with.

To cover up their surprise, they focused on the lure of Samantha's words, rather than her sentiments. People were bound to alter their feelings when there was adrenaline from their surroundings pumping through their veins. "I think that could be arranged. The cotton candy, I mean. We could share one — I don't think I can handle all that sugar by myself," she suggested, snorting. Their sister, Bambi, may have been capable of gobbling down finger foods and fried stuff like that, were she anything like the memories that Pixie had spent years replaying on a broken record. The mention of teenage softball didn't go ignored, pink permed locks swinging against her face as she looked over her shoulder, laughing as she tried to imagine the business casual editor playing the sport. It wasn't mean-spirited — they didn't think they could knock anything with a cochlear and a glass eye. If it weren't for the ball in their hand, they would have signed it as they requested for an all-access pass to the blonde's life, "Why'd you quit for journalism? Sports players usually go for something a little more... high road, if you get me. Not that 'future boss bitch' doesn't fit you perfectly."

The distraction from Samantha's former comment had melted away, and the ball pelted in the direction of another of the glass bottles. When they missed their shot, an unflattering image of a monster popped up in one of the empty spaces. Pixie was a sore loser internally, but that was the good thing about living in close quarters: they had a decent poker face about it, their shoe scuffing against the pavement. As she took a step back to permit the blonde better vantage for their third and final shot, her own eyes scoured over the prizes, a finger pressing against their device as they tried to tune out the raucous sounds in their vicinity. Who knew it was a popular weekend for the carnival with all the mud on the ground? They thought kids would be less inclined when they were practically stepping in metaphorical shit everywhere they walked. "That one's cute, too, don't you think?" she asked as she pointed out a pastel pink spider wearing a sunflower hat. Not a recognized branding, but cute. Turning back to her companion, the roseate hues offsetting the other's pallid skin had her breath restricted, and she cleared her throat noisily. "So you're one of those minimalists that spends more time at the office than at home. I guess I should've picked up on that the last time I was there." Had they not been persuading the erratic beats to deescalate in their chest, recounting their mad dash away from someone claiming to recognize them — know their name, even the one they'd pretended to despise and abandon.

[viclinstrings]

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY.

VIA GEORGIE EISDELL'S INSTAGRAM HANDLE. | 24TH SEPTEMBER 2024.

[viclinstrings]

SAMANTHA WASN'T CONFIDENT IN HER OWN pumpkin carving abilities but found herself at the station regardless, as it sounded less risky than getting lost in a corn maze with her lack of navigational skills, ruining her silk dress on an adult slide, or, the most horrifying, being called upon as a volunteer during a magician's show. Having to get her hands dirty with some pumpkin innards was the least hazardous, even if the copy editor would have much preferred to be judging rather than participating herself. With as many napkins laid across her lap to protect the white fabric of her costume, she had given up on scooping every last bit of seeds out to instead stare at the front of her misshaped pumpkin while waiting for inspiration to strike. "A shovel feels as if it would be appropriate for that part," she agreed, looking over with before snatching one of the dozen naps up and offering it. "You can have some of mine. I had grabbed a ton from the Witch's Brew before coming over here. This seemed like a...messy activity, to say the least." And Samantha hated to enter any scenario without the utmost preparation. "The lighting I unfortunately cannot offer any help with. I believe they were going for a certain...ambiance." Which matched Halloween but didn't go well with sharp tools, in her opinion. "Do you already have a plan for yours? I'm afraid I may not be creative enough for this, but I've already gone through the hassle of emptying it out." At least, mostly.

when: about 7:00 pm with: @anchoragestarters (cap: 4!) where: pumpkin carving station

Elbow-length red gloves had been deposited on the table, in favor of getting down and dirty in pumpkin guts with a selection of instruments brought from home; after all, there wasn't anything in the rules against using your own tools, and Lexi was determined to create the most beautiful jack o'lantern for the contest, even if she wasn't an artist by trade. "Good thing my job doesn't let me have long nails, or else this shit would be all up under there." She hung her tongue out in disgust: although she was up to her literal elbows in slime and goop, she was very much not enjoying the sensation. "Did you see anywhere I could wipe all this gunk off'a me? Wipes, paper towels, a hose, anything." She held up her pumpkin to inspect it, "And did you see anywhere with better lighting? I feel like my grandmomma having to turn on all the lights in the house because she can't see anything."

[viclinstrings]

ONE HAND FULL OF THE SATIN FABRIC of her dress as the idea of getting the expressive article of clothing soiled was one Samantha would prefer to avoid, the other held one of the provided prongs, a thick marshmallow already stuck on the end of it. While campfire-cooked marshmallows weren't uncommon in Australia, the idea of making them into s'mores was, and the copy editor was never one for outdoors regardless, which had her already questioning just how close she should plan to hold the treat from the fire. Even concerning something as simplistic as this had her overthinking, a compulsion to be without error even with a s'more. "Is the bonfire that crowded already? I'm not surprised; the weather isn't exactly ideal for an outdoor event this time of year." It was partially why she had made her way over there after arriving, it seemed the warmest. Head tilting as her interest had been grasped, possibly because she couldn't view the entire face of the one she was speaking to as that same curiosity getting her into journalism in the first place, Sam responded with a nod that showed she understood the plan being suggested. "I haven't yet used my one free drink, but as a warning, I will throw you under the bus instead of catching any charges for aiding and abetting two timing the drink passes."

TIME: October 31st, 5:15pm.

LOCATION: near the start of the s'mores bonfire.

CURRENTLY ACCEPTING REPLIES: 0/5.

@anchoragestarters .

With the tassels of the black hat, covering the purple of his mask, he looked to be more like a cabaret performer than he did Darkwing, but listen, he didn't say he was going towards accuracy, he wanted the combination of flamboyance and silent treads on the soles of his boots. He's on the lookout. He's not going to continue to be a fucking failure. Of course, this rattled around in his head where no one else can see, and he grinned, phantom-opera-lookalike in a different hue, as he forewent the temptation of another lolly for the sake of finishing off the drink he'd obtained at the Witch's Brew. "You just walk in? Ooh, you're in for it." He loved to keep things just as vague as they could be. Whatever you choose to read into it, that was yours to handle! Shin cleared his throat, nearly choking on the sudden pungent cherry flavour wafting from the syrup pooling at the bottom of the cup. "I can pretend like I just walked in too, and we can get another free zombie's bite, all on me."

[viclinstrings]

THE TWITCH OF HER LIPS PROVED THE BLONDE was reconsidering her statement, chin still held high even as she tilted her head to the side to offer the illusion of agreement. "I suppose you're correct. I guess I just assumed if there was enough rain it would just...have enough flush it all out enough to just rid the rest of this-" This, wasn't spoken aloud, but the way her hand adorned with french tips gestured into the air could give away her thought process that being an editor didn't mean she held an amazing understanding of the sewage system that she was only now realizing she took for granted each and every day that the rotting smell of flesh wasn't leaking out into the open air from. What she did think would happen was at least someone from the county would come out to investigate and fix the problem, as the blonde found it hard to believe only the two of them had taken notice of the horrid stench, and yet, it already seemed like they had taken more of an interest than those who were actually paid to do so. Or held a prestige position such as one on the city council. It wasn't lost on her that this would make an very thought-provoking topic for an article, but getting is approved when so many of those wealthier in the town donated to the local paper's funding (and thus, had a say over exactly what was published). Her hit pieces would have to be reserved for another medium. "Either I don't want to know what you're regularly smelling or you have a much better resilience than I do." She paused, nose still once again twitching in consideration as before she refused to think about either option any further. Really, her biggest desire was for it not to be an animal as the causation behind off of this; she wasn't exactly a huge pet lover, never affording herself the time to care for one herself as her career ruled over all of her hours. But that didn't mean her care for animals was non-existent, as she could still remember the first time she hit an echidna head on back in Australia, never relying on her father for anything but desperately calling him in that moment so that he could calm her down. As much as could be said about Matthew Alcott, he had been there for that singular occasion, even if there was a laundry list of other times he had only let his children down. "What exactly do you consider worse than that?" Samantha wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting as an answer to that, but her curiosity, the exact trait that had gotten her into the journalism field in the first place, was stronger than any other aspect of her. "Honestly? Not a minuscule chance." Even if the blonde was granted the best of spacesuits, she could still imagine herself feeling dirty climbing out any enclosed space that had such a smell emanating from it. "That's why I'm still trying to figure out why you're so interested instead of disgusted."

"If the sewers are as blocked up as everyone is saying, there'll be nowhere for the rain to carry it all," said Karam, making a motion with one hand like a wave, up and down and along, as if to imitate flowing water. "There's nowhere for the stench to go but up and out, into the world and into our noses." He continued to speak with the same lighthearted tone but never edged into obvious excitement; even without the simple reality that this was a potentially nasty subject and one that Karam did not feel like celebrating, he'd never been one for grand displays of emotion. Perhaps, if he had ever cared about being understood, he might have forced himself but he saw no reason to wear himself out for someone else's shortlived benefit. When he was still a child, the overseers had mistaken this for good emotional control but the reality was that Karam had barely any grasp on his emotions at all; his handler had learned that much the hard way.

His odd childhood also played its role in Karam's reaction to this awful stench. Although it was true that he'd always had a sensitive nose and, quite frankly, the fumes were turning his stomach in all sorts of nasty directions, it was most certainly not his first encounter with the odor of decay. Cursed with a memory so much more keener than would ever be useful, Karam could still recall the first time he'd happened upon a rotting animal carcass. He'd been only about seven years of age, living in the forest with his handler, when he'd stumbled off the beaten path. Trying his best to retrace his steps, he pushed his way through the overgrowth, parting the leaves and branches of neglected shrubs and bushed to reveal that awful sight. Perfectly unprepared for every element of it, every individual attack on his senses, he'd promptly emptied his stomach right then and there. Since then, he'd diligently taught himself how best to breath so that he inhaled as little stench as possible. It didn't work all that well but it was good enough. There was some comfort to be found in the fact he hadn't lost that skill.

"I've smelled worse," said Karam, matter-of-factly. The remark about disease was harder to rebuke. Although he knew his way around a hundred poisons and medicines and chemicals, that did not grant him the supernatural ability to sniff out disease; even if it was said that there were animals capable of this, there was a limit to the human body that he could not surpass. But, then, her next question was enough to catch him by total surprise and, for the first time since he'd first spoken to her, his attention left the grate. "I'm not planning on anything" he said, with a curious glint in his eye. He was not lying but the idea intrigued him all the same. "There might be something much worse down there than some old rotten thing. It could well be a suicide mission." Just this year, he'd already happened upon a pair of skulls in some underground tunnel, although he'd been too delerious with pain from an arrow wound to take much from it all. There was something peculiar lying deep beneath this town, or so Karam had begun to suspect. Lowering his voice, he added, "Would you go down there with protection? If you really wanted to know, that is."

[viclinstrings]

samantha alcott as holli would from cool world (1992)

[viclinstrings]

SAMANTHA PULLED HER COLLARED PEACOAT TIGHTER around her body, as if the tan colored wool being staunch around her body could somehow protect it against the stench that was hanging in the air so thickly it could be sliced right through. If only. The blonde resisted the urge to squeeze her nostrils together, choosing against the childish action even if she had to resist the urge to gag when passing the grate. Walking around Anchorage had never been fun, the low temperature and penchant for precipitation made sure of that, but the smell made it even more of a torturous task. She already had an issue with deflecting allegations of sleeping in her office at work. (And really, that had only happened a couple times when deadlines left her editing and reviewing so late into the night that it would practically be a waste of time not to just take a nap on the decorative couch in her office instead.) But the unavoidable smell almost made it worth it if it meant not being forced to encounter it twice a day when walking to and from the public parking lot. "That may be an understatement. One would hope the rain would've helped washing it away a bit, but it seems to have only worsen it." Head of platinum hair tilted to the side, curiosity regarding it even if she made the move to take three more steps back from the grate. (It didn't seem to help much.) "Aren't you concerned about getting that close? If it is something rotten, it has to have been decaying for some time now. Plus, who knows what diseases it could've been carrying." Or maybe that's what took it out in the first place. "Are you planning to get it out yourself? Without any proper protection?"

outside single carrot theatre, early evening on 28th september / @anchoragestarters

"It really stinks, doesn't it?" mused Karam, his voice taking on the light, airy quality that usually accompanied wonder. There was nothing wonderful about this, of course, because the very thing he was addressing was a large, rusting sewer grate and the stench that rose up from below. The person he'd addressed was someone who'd happened to be passing by the grate at that moment and had seemingly recoiled in disgust. Karam was not one for sparking up conversation with strangers but he'd taken their reaction as enough of an invitation not to worry they'd find him odd for speaking up.

Although Karam did not have many friends and spend much of his life keeping to himself (because he'd never learned to do much else), years of hiding away and listening out for signs of danger had ensured he was something of an expert eavesdropper, willing or not. Some days at the Flower Basket, he'd hear something unusual and today's big story had been that something had gone down -- nobody seemed to agree upon what it was -- outside the theatre last night, during the opening show of their new play. The second showing was set to go ahead tonight but here Karam was, crouched down over the grate and not even bothering to cover his mouth lest he miss out of something important. (Yes, the stench was turning his stomach and no, he wasn't simply powering through; he was just that focused on the task at hand.)

"Not even the rats around here want anything to do with it," he went on, still speaking as though he'd come upon some fascinating discovery. "It must be something really quite rotten." A pause, he lifted his head to face his company properly, the starting traces of a smile on his face. "Something rotting, maybe?"