o. 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖
❛ but if you have a minute why don't we go
talk about it somewhere only we know ❜
─ in which 𝐬𝐡𝐞 finds herself thrown into the bizarre world of the maximoff family ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
ralph bohner , pietro "fietro...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IN ALL HONESTY, KAMILLE HAD not expected the walk home to take so damn long. She found it rather confusing that the number of twists and turns along the road had seemingly multiplied, as though she was being kept from returning home.
It didn't aid the situation that nothing was ever obvious to Kamille, as she had a habit of ignoring anything slightly wrong and pretending it didn't exist until it went away. Hence the reason that Westview being anything other than an ordinary, rapidly changing town was not a thought that had occured to her.
She continued on at a steady pace, the milk swinging slightly from her side as she dawdled along. She began to replay the scene that had just taken place ──── simply for lack of anything else to do with the journey.
Her brief exchange with the man was, in hindsight, incredibly strange. She found it rather off putting how he had stated that his wife never lets him out of the house, and although she sounded like they typical, overbearing, neurotic strong headed woman, it also sounded borderline dangerous for the man.
She allowed herself to swiftly run over her rudeness to him, cringing at her disrespectful line crossing and wishing somebody had been there to clamp her mouth shut.
She paused in her tracks, the cogs in her mind that had been playing her actions like a film creaking to an abrubt stop as she began a desperate attempt to locate the memory of her even paying for the milk. Upon the realisation that her efforts were fultile, she wrinkled her nose at the fact that he had once again caved and reverted to her old shoplifting ways.
She forced herself to dwell on this fact as she started moving again, relaxing in relief as she caught sight of the samiliar speeding sign ahead of her that lay yards from her grandmother's home.
Her grandmother was poised in front of the gate, stood stiffly beside a woman Kamille had not before seen in the neighbourhood. She seemed disconnected from a less that riveting conversation, although the unfamiliar face beside her seemed engulfed in the words she was spewing.
