❝Lai, you're really pushing your luck tonight.❞
❝Luck is for the weak, J. I prefer calculated risks.❞
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forget quadratic equations; Laia's equation is more like "Revenge = Fun + Chaos."
armed with sarcasm, a knack for misch...
' Sorry. I was kinda kidnapped and held against my will overnight, so...'
WORDS ROLL DOWN THE STREET.
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"
feelslikeimfallinginlove - coldplay
Let my defences drop,
I know that I was born to kill,
Any angel on my windowsill,
But it's so dark inside,
I throw the windows wide.
"
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OUTER BANKS.
3RD PERSON'S POV
In the sweltering heat of an afternoon, the Pogues had just finished re-burying the casket of Cecilia Tanny. The group, covered in a mix of sweat and dirt, sprawled out in various states of exhaustion. John B lay flat on his back, catching his breath, while Sarah found solace leaning against the ancient, gnarled oak tree that towered over them. Kie plopped down next to John B, her eyes reflecting a blend of weariness and contemplation. Laia and JJ were busy returning the shovels and other tools, their movements sluggish and deliberate.
Pope, ever the historian of the group, was in the middle of a rambling soliloquy about his ancestors, his words punctuated by the occasional exasperated sigh.
"I just don't get it," he stammered, his brow furrowed in thought. "You guys saw the map. He hides his gold so well that no one finds it for years. Then he sends a message to his son, Robert, to come to his mother's grave, but the message never reaches him. It doesn't make any sense."
