poisonappIe

@beauzzz       [     she lets her,     a small smile forming on red tinted lips.       she tilted her head lightly to rest on top of her head,    in a sweet delicate gesture.       concern adorned her, doe brown eyes.     ]         so do you.      you sure everything is alright?      

[she’ll find solace in the slope of celeste’s neck longing down to slanted shoulders.]            i am..            [here, the voices are cancelled out. and romy rose dwells to dreamland, holding onto companion as sole signifier of what is and is not.]           you make it better though.

@beauzzz        that’s rare.      you can always sleep through loud noises.       [     brows knitted as she took a seat next to her.    ]         you look tired.. 

@townsrose       oh!      how lovely.       can i try one?    

@coIdeyes           then what’s up?      i know this isn’t you.. 

@berkborn       a baby dragon?      you say.    i haven’t..    but i would love to help you find it!   i’m good with all kind of animals. 

@flowrborn       o—- this one?   it is!     it’s bordeaux.  love a deep red.   my favorite!      you wanna try it?   

@twoshoe         no?    of course not!     penelope.. why would you even think that?     you’re my friend.      [    her expression softened,     she took a deep breath as she closed her book.      ]        it’s not like that.   you didn’t do anything wrong,   and definitely not ashamed..    you’re one of the few people who gets me.     besides,      our mom’s are good friends.       [    a beat,     rather confused.  ]          why would i ever dislike you?  

@poisonappIe 
            
            //; late but !!

/    yesss

/⠀well yes!

@coIdeyes        i can use a break too.  my head hurts from all that reading.     [a pause.]     i still got some left over ice cream.    you want some?  

@beauzzz           [   at the pity,    her paint brush paused mid-air.      suspicions,  it had been lingering in her thoughts all day,     like a note that refused to resolve.     celeste her gaze lowered to the canvas in front of her,    but the greens she had been mixing no longer felt like trees.       they felt like watching eyes.     like something growing where it shouldn’t.     it scared her.        these mixed feelings.        too smooth with words.    too quick with smiles that landed just a little too carefully.          he was the kind of boy who made coincidence feel practiced.      she pressed the brush down harder than necessary,     pigment smearing into the linen in a darker streak than she intended.       she’d been around him,    her friend.   that was the part that kept tightening her chest.         no.    happily ever afters did not get taken.      not from her.     not from someone who had already had to learn what it cost to trust too easily.        tilting her head,        as if the painting might confess something if she looked at it from the right angle.     she could keep her thoughts aligned the same way she kept her paint strokes clean.     ]             why are you saying sorry?     [   she asked,   voice calm and controlled.    she shook her head.     how ironic.    ]            i can’t.      we’re in a bad place.      [   a hesitant pause.   ]    will you talk to him?        for me.  

i’m sorry..   cel.         [she ought to have stayed in slumberland, forever stuck within the static of one lulling dream to the next. never once touched, observed, atoned. romy rose shimmies a droopy—eyed attempt to shake the entirely imaginary weight of a thousand rocks planted to the top of her head, like some mythologized sword of prince phillip. though this gains her nothing in turn. no climax, no consolidation, no final huzzah of moral relief by virtue of having done the right thing    — a thing —   for perhaps the first time in her life.]          ..     it must be so alone, feeling like that.    but it isn’t silly at all,      —it’s your heart.    that’s why you can’t explain it..          [stagnation would be worn like silken lace, isolation from even bestest confidant, companion, sister would render romy incapable of not much else but surrender to the sweet, predictable grasp of sleep. its nothingness. the bright promise of sliding back into herself once more, in hysterical retreat from things that are too big for her.]          (that could..   happen to anyone).      just talk to him.   he’ll say what it is..    probably. 

*       %110 responding to this give me a few

hm          ..?             [the sleep wears off for a split second of reckoning. romy, rattled from the comforting hold of slumber’s merciful hand, hands over some more of the purified butter  — all natural —  of course.]            —oh.   i have a crush on someone.  i think.  someone you know.

@beauzzz it's smells good doesn't it?   [ a bright smile, she gracefully took the flour from her.       ] stay awake for me.. please.   you're gonna love this pie.    [ a small pout, turning to her friend.    shaped brows knitted almost thoughtfully.     ] where are you with your head, romy?     because it's definitely not here.

i’m usually asleep by the time we get to mixing..         look at how far we’ve come,    cel..