𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

@odiswaffle 
            Huggy 

@ofsunlights huggy

[ @odiswaffle ]
            
            // tbh violet’s the type of gal to literally invent time travel so she could stay in the bookshop forever and learn new things and meet new people and all that jazz <3
            
            “Henry Miller?” She glanced up, taking in the other’s appearance for a moment, calculatingly. A loose strand of hair fell across her face and she tucked it away impatiently, now actually smiling — though the expression was more reserved than genuine, more polite and practiced. “I’m sure we have some of his books.” She hummed a little as she moved around the counter, quill lying forgotten and dripping ink on the wood of the already smudge-stained desk. “Any of his books you’ve read already?” Violet asked, hands clasped atop her skirt, still watching them closely through crystal blue eyes. Though she was smiling, those eyes were expressionless, never betraying her if she didn’t want them to. 

@candlelitviolets- 
            //i panicked because i had no more describable victorian girls yet so have my 50s babey
            
            Missy hated the beach, she really did. It was gross and one had to wear certain clothes and usually it was hot as all hell. But it was autumn, and the wind was clear, and there was one thing she did not mind: strange and small bookstores, libraries with corners. This town had one, and it was not looking like a disappointment. The girl at the desk was not looking disappointing either, but that was gross. Just the thought made her blush. "Sorry," she said out of pure instinct, for the girl looked ever so bored and reserved; "uh, I was lookin' f' Henry Miller." Missy's voice was generally a high mumble. She pressed the tips of her shoes--brown, saddle--to the edge of the desk.

[ @odiswaffle ]
            
            “Hm,” was Violet’s short response, as she swept up the stairs again, expecting to be followed. There was the slightest sense of worry punctuating her steps, making her walk with some urgency, despite her misgivings. They passed through huge rows of shelves, faded spines colouring the dark wood, until the books grew to match and the covers became duller, the writing more curled, older-looking. The shelves curved around a small area, with a single dusty chair and table in the centre, a blank-paged notebook open on the desk, alongside some ink. Violet shut the notebook, tucking the two objects into the corner of the table as she turned back to Florence. “If it were anywhere, it would be here.”

@candlelitviolets- 
            Just like her to hear that and say nothing. Violet just looked around as though it pained her to consider Florence at all. 'I'm sorry,' she almost said, 'for bringing you into this. In some other universe we might meet normally. We might' and it stopped there as she followed Violet wordlessly upstairs. Florence moved less like someone watchful and more like a sad kind of bird. She felt herself running out of time but she could do nothing proactive or stop it from passing altogether. It was a familiar feeling. "Thank you," was all she said, more pronounced than she might've before: plainly she seemed all the less comfortable.

[ @odiswaffle ]
            
            At that, Violet looked resigned, in a way; understanding, a little, but just wanting to get this all over with. She bit the inside of her cheek, letting her gaze flicker anywhere but Florence’s eyes, as if to preserve any last hope she had about not getting attached herself. But she assumed the attachment was to the bookshop, and that she really did understand; but her assumptions weren’t the same as what she necessarily hoped was true. “Well, uh… let’s go have a look, then,” she finally murmured, turning away and lifting her skirts a little, so she could walk quickly without being affected. “We can check the back room again.”