𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗦𝗘𝗦 | 𝖮𝖡𝖷

𝟬𝟬, the beginnings of a treasure hunt

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘
episode one

        she had always been fond of the sound of thunder. It helped her concentrate — like a tranquil melody to distance her from her thoughts, as she sat on the porch of the chateau. With her sketchbook in her lap, she watched out the window to the trees tinted in a bronze hue. A distant rumble of the hurricane filled silence, as the sunset painted the sky, and stars faintly screamed through thick black clouds. A violent ocean crashed harsh waves as passing birds flew for their lives — and there she sketched, meticulously, the scenery she saw. It was most likely extremely dangerous to be sat outdoors during the calamitous weather, but that was AJ for you.

   Angelina Aven Jones, ( though she preferred AJ or Aven ) had a history of destructive impulses that often got her into — for lack of better words — deep shit. It wasn't abnormal for her to make reckless decisions; jumping off roofs, breaking into abandoned buildings or spontaneously buying her red Chevrolet impala. ( She loved that car like it was her child ) Anyway — ever since falling off the wagon she was making dumb decisions, so, no wonder she found herself best friends with the pogues.

    In a sudden moment she was dragged back into reality by a tap on her shoulder. "Would you like to join me on a journey of stupidity?" A question like this wasn't irregular around here, and as she turned to the mischievous grin of John Booker Routledge, a childhood friend, she immediately knew her answer.

    "Always."

   Smiling, they performed their 'super-secret handshake' that they made up in the first grade, as she stood up and was soon enough grabbing their boards and hopping in the Twinkie. Not long later, John B had dragged her to the beach where the hurricane viciously conceived harsh waves and aggressive winds. Despite such weather and dangerous waters, they ran out into the ocean without a second thought.

   Surfing the deadly waves together, AJ was calmed by the silence when thrown under the ocean, over and over again. It was often that she found herself underneath the water, comforted by the pressure sinking into her skin, squashing her lungs within a grasp. It would be quiet, and her would brain have a moment to focus on holding her breath instead of whatever else may cloud her mind. It wasn't a habit she intended to hurt herself in doing, it was one like listening to music or taking a walk. It cleared her head. Though, she most definitely concerned people when they'd expect her to return to the surface, only to stare back at their own reflection in the water for minutes going by.

   But, most that knew her long enough, knew that was to be expected of AJ. She made reckless decisions that scared the people that were brave enough to care about her. ( And that was very few people )

   In fact, when first catching gaze with her eyes, the immediate thing to notice would be the intimidation and daggering glare she would give. Her aggression in a simple thing such as eye contact — laced in a throat tightening coldness fired from her piercing eyes, would scare away anyone mildly willing to stay.

   Good thing John B and her were childhood friends, or she'd be destined in a life of solitude. 

   When the sun rose, blanketing the morning under a peaceful yellow warmth, after the hurricane had passed and AJ and her partner in crime returned to the chateau, everyone was completely exhausted. Thunder and destruction had made sleep almost impossible the night before, and in result most the pogues resided in their beds — completely passed out.