17 & half🌲 crazy about vintage fashion gosh darn textures overlapping
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i really miss my game i wish it didn't keep crashing five minutes into a save
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big into energy: happiness ‧₊˚🍊˚🌼˖°🧡⋆.˚
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the sound of losing previous ᯓ next ᯓ beginning
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windenburg academy’s fave PDA princesses 🫶🏾 waverley x bobbie!! ꣑ৎ˚⊹ ｡𖦹
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G22: Meadow Dunham-Miller
Aspirations: – Jungle Explorer – Master Mentor – Soul Mate
Skills: – Archaeology – Selvadoradian Culture – Pottery – Handiness – Charisma
It's summer, and I'm doing just about everything except playing my game, so goals for this generation are intentionally light. Also, I'm trying to keep the post count low… since during Raven's generation I basically wore out my screenshot key 😅
If the previous generation was about Raven telling Meadow a story, then Meadow's generation is about reading her story through her journal.
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Sucked ~
Well at least we didn't lose any money...
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pandora is crushing on her childhood friend when she has a whole gf back home
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Reality ⛓️💥 previous | beginning | next
transcript/more detailed text below cut, plus a poll so partake!
italic = not said in pictures above.
“You heard they were going out scavenging?” Margaret questions—latches onto the news. “Where?”
Finley is laid back against the bench bed and toying with the fabric of a blanket. She shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably where they say they usually scavenge. Um…” Finley snaps her fingers, trying to come up with a name, “Only Sable Square, right?”
The reminder sours Margaret’s thoughts. She’s been in a weird place lately. Octavious hardly knows the geographic location of Sable Square. Logically, she knows they wouldn’t find him here. It’s a double-edged sword leaning more towards stabbing her in the heart. If they won’t find him here, they won’t find him at all, and what is Margaret doing? Lounging, comfortable, and clean. The guilt and worry are eating her alive.
Margaret sighs and slips her hair back. “Who is going with them, uh, I mean Vasyl?”
Finley sits up and takes a moment to think before answering. “I believe Enrique, Isles,” her eyes widen and she pauses, “and E-Emmanuel? Whoever he is— Hey, do you know Enrique and Isles are married? Well, engaged, but—“
~~
Margaret is biting at her nails. “I need to talk to Vasyl. Seriously, I can’t just sit here.”
“Oh, Margaret…”
“Don’t.” It’s Margaret’s turn to shoot her friend a look. “I know what he said. Did you know he said that to another woman in camp too?”
“You’ve been talking about that to people?” Finley slips in the midst of Margaret’s rant.
“—He said the same thing to her about her father.”
“Reasonable.”
“Maybe…” Margaret tries to brainstorm a solution or idea. “I don’t know. If we all band together, he’ll relent a bit.”
The look Finley gives her is exhausted and disbelieving. It pushes Margaret further. When had Finley stopped believing too?
“Come with me, please. The more people, the better.”
“Margaret, I’m really trying not to waste the opportunity we have here.”
“Waste it? We need to be using it if we’re going to—“
“And what if I don’t want to, Margaret!” Finley outbursts. “What if I want to just be happy here?”
~
Silence falls. Somehow, it’s more deafening when the muted rain is roaring and pounding outside. Neither of them had really noticed it during their conversation until now. Finley’s face immediately sinks but it’s nothing in comparison to how Margaret feels. She doesn’t think anything comes close to the betrayal she feels.
“Okay,” Finley says slowly, hesitant. “I didn’t mean that.”
“No,” Margaret stands up, her voice is noticeably unsteady. Despite the betrayal brewing in her chest, she manages to show only half of it on her face with her expression more bitter than sad. Behind it, she feels both emotions in equal dismay. “You clearly did.”
“I… Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Margaret, no, c’mon, I didn’t… I want to find Octavious obviously. He’s alive. I believe he’s alive, it’s just… We’re finally in a good place, Marg.”
“Oh, I know,” she says and it’s snarky. “You’ve said this all before.”
“So why is it not enough that I just want to try to enjoy that?”
“What? Do you hear yourself? It’ll never be enough, Finley. Not when my brother is out there, enduring Watcher knows what.” Margaret throws her hands up in defeat. She’s still standing, hovering next to the door. Her heart pounds just being in this conversation. Margaret thinks, stimulously, it’ll both pound and shred out of her chest. “Just… Just do what you want, Finley, and I’ll do what I want.”
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