ectovision - Tumblr blog

ectovision · 3 months ago

Text

Admittedly, she wasn't sure what she had expected when coming to Corbin. Probably a lot more fried chicken and a little less rivers. This statement probably implied frustration or even disappointment, but in reality Octavia was just used to making assumptions about anything and everything, all of which she expected to be debunked. In principle, it was probably quite normal to have an opinion, even though one neither knew anything about it nor had any intention of looking into it. Expectations were based on past experiences that either had an equivalent origin or at least a similar course, although the subject—in this case Corbin—was completely foreign and therefore could not fit into the grid of a preconceived opinion. As if she were trying to insert a triangle into a circle. If Corbin was more than she thought it was, she would beat the gap forever. If Corbin was less than she secretly hoped, the shape would fall through the circle. At this point, one could theorise that her expectation was still met, but five minutes before the agreed time was still not on time.

Where had she been?

She rubbed her left eye in irritation, a little blurry as she raised her gaze.

Apologetically, she looked at the young woman in front of her who she had approached three days ago after just about everyone in the city had assured her that if there were any questions about strange stories and events in the city, she was the best person to ask. At first, she'd expected to see some poor old woman who'd flirted with Colonel Sanders in her prime. Adelaide had been a really sweet granny in her head, in a floral dress and curly hair that would have looked every bit like Bernadette Peters. The real Adelaide, who was currently sitting in front of her and looking at her with a curiously playful gaze, had little to do with her imagination. She, however, wasn't one to dwell on disappointments for long.

“I’m sorry, what did I say?”

The brunette repeated Octavia's statement, reminding her of the turns her inner monologue had already taken. She leaned forward, her red curls bobbing up and down as if, if placed correctly, they were capable of catapulting her into the air. Just as she was about to toy with the idea of what it would be like to fly—and much worse, to land again—she vehemently stopped herself and centered all her concentration on her company.

“Alright, so, I only got some basics, seriously. Heard of some church shenanigans in the 18th and how they supposedly gathered at a cave at Laurel Lake. It’s believed you can still hear the choir every Sunday morning. I believe it’s been called the Congregation Cave, but honestly? If I want to listen to some weird cultists I’ll just visit the next best church and won’t ruin my Nikes. Not saying taking a nice hike to a cave ain’t excitin’, but phewww, the reward is a bit lame, don’t ya think? I’ve seen my fair share of True Crime and it’s always some nasty power play and misogyny bullshit. So, nah. Those fuckers won’t get in front of my lens.” She bent over the sandwich and took a bite with relish, wriggling briefly in her chair in merriment and rolling her eyes backwards in delight, visually altering only her right eye. She was delighted with the evening's delicacy, while the rain pattered and the warmth of the Café gave her a feeling of security that only her grandmother's living room could have. She sighed.

Oh, Addie, maybe you are the grandma I never had after all.

Why exactly was she thinking about old ladies this much? Was it the strange smell of earth, wood and something… rich and sulfurous lingering all over the place? She wouldn’t ask her very friendly company though. Octavia might have trouble thinking before she spoke, despite her best intentions usually saying the wrong kinda thing, but this time she was certain it would not sit right with the owner of the inn.

She licked her pointer instead, praising the brunette for the choice of sauce.

“The other thing is along the Mauney Chapel Road. I don’t know exactly which part of the road as, well, it’s literally so much trees and forest and woods and… trees, as long as somebody didn’t write a big fucking sign with like neon lights pointing at a certain spot I don't know exactly what to tell ya.” She giggled, pushing back a strand of her tousled hair. Her nose scrunched up, dimples pressing into her round cheeks. “Though I do think it'd be very beneficial to mark creepy spots like that. Those ‘danger' or ‘beware’ or,”—she screeched quietly as if speaking an ancient language, nickering like a cat that took in the sight of a bird outside—”warning carvings of some blair witch or whatever would finally inherit the break in style I'd like to see for once.”

Quietly she cleared her throat. Step down a notch, you're weird again.

She let her eyes wander over the other, noticing once more how her eye seemed to be irritated at the edges. Blurring Adelaide partly as if a lens had trouble focusing.

“Anyway, what I wanted to say, I heard there's a certain spot on the road where you supposedly feel sudden and tremendous fear, even if you were super chill before. People who experienced that wrote they felt like being watched, or worse, explicitly preyed upon. So basically, if you send a men down that road maybe it'll teach them sum how we feel when going home after partying.”

She shrugged, biting once more into the sandwich and whined quietly to herself with a heartfelt and defeated “oh no” as the contents were pushed out on the other side. She sighed as if the burden of a thousand responsibilities laid on her shoulders.

“But that's not why I'm here actually,” she confessed. As much as she had enjoyed the sightseeing and loving american fast food history, she rarely was interested in a town's tourism. She loved to explore, surely, and she soaked up information when given the chance—thanks, neurodivergence—but in reality she just wanted to take photos of seemingly paranormal occurrences.

Mostly.

“I want to capture the Moonbow. I was just about to ask you if you’ve heard of it,” she snorted. “I’m so used to people questioning everything I say.” The Moonbow itself was little of interest to her, albeit a nice subject. What she actually aimed for was the knowledge it might grant her. There was a veil covering what was palpable to humans, and beyond a vastness of life, rules, beings and something different. Octavia wasn’t versed enough in the strangeness of the world, despite being branded as such numerous times in her youth, but every little step closer to understanding what was in between might grant her the tools of uncovering where people went when they left without a trace.

@ectovision left an offering 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ❝ i've heard rumors about this place ❞ ✧ southern gothic sentence starters, accepting.

ADELAIDE LEANED BACK IN THE COMFY CHAIR, ONE BOOT HOOKED AROUND THE LEG OF IT WHILE SLENDER FINGERS CURLED AROUND HER COFFEE MUG. The Frog & Finch was quiet at this hour, just the low murmur of a couple regulars and the soft hum of the overhead lights. Rain streaked slow down the windows, the air inside warm and smelling of fresh grounds and something sweet her mum had thrown in the oven earlier.

She and Octavia hadn’t known each other long, just met a few days back, enough for the conversation to be easy but still edged with that newness, both of them feeling the other out.

At Octavia’s words, Adelaide’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in those dark brown eyes of hers. “ That so? ”, she mused, taking a slow sip before setting her mug down with a quiet clink, “ Well, that don’t surprise me none. Folks love t’talk, and they sure as hell love to make things sound more interesting than they are ”

She tilted her head, watching Octavia with quiet curiosity. “ But see, you wouldn’t’ve mentioned it if you didn’t think there was somethin’ to ‘em. So go on, then . . . what exactly have you heard? ” Her tone was light, playful even, but there was no denying she was interested. Corbin had its fair share of stories, and she’d heard damn near all of ‘em. But it was always fun, seeing which ones people latched onto.

#reply.#mossworn #( yes i still need fancy tags.... )#( also i hope you like my brain baby )

1 note · View note

ectovision · 4 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for the one and only (@hochmvt) ⸻

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( . . . ) 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓.

White light filtered in between the luscious green leaves of hornbeams and oaks, rendering them transparent and glistening like little specks of paint. The different hues of green all but leaving the meadow above uniform. Instead, the rich variety of shades and shapes left anyone wondering if there were at least two leaves of the same kind. Or was it like the genetic code of a human being? A colourful mosaic of past lives, passed down over generations? Even if the planting of the tree had happened in the last decade, was it aware of its centuries?

Held against the warming sunlight, the wavy oak leaf revealed its fine fibres that reminded anyone of veins, trapping xylem and phloem within their network of vascular bundles. When observed closely, it seemed to be covered in faintest of trichomes, resembling tiniest hairs like on the back of a human hand.

When taken the time to observe, the woods offered an entire laboratory to browse through. Science happened right in front of anyone's eyes who cared to listen and look closely.

Following the topsoiled path and the smell of warm earth and wet moss, there were enough opportunities to get lost within the scrappy and arbitrarily constructed blueprint of the forest grounds. Despite no tree growing like the next, it was impossible for a layperson to find their way around — or more importantly, back out. A natural protection that has formed over centuries, untouched and undisturbed for the most part.

A private property to ensure its safety and longevity.

The spaciousness of nature and forest suggested freedom to most, strangely enough though and viewed from the right perspective, the trunks resembled natural bars, the treetops an unsurpassable roof. It left only one question: was it a containment for what was already inside or was it trapping what dared to enter?

Each step caused an echo that traversed between the two hikers, who, despite knowing beforehand where their travel would lead them, did not particularly prepare for the circumstances of their habitat. The crunching of leaves and branches intermingled with exhausted groans and sounds of annoyance.

Huffing, the wide hipped girl gathered her defiant red locks and pushed them into a messy updo that would leave her looking like those weird trolls toys of the 90s. The sweat, however, that already started to bead across the nape of her neck, called for measurements that surpassed vanity.

Quickly she picked up the pace, hopping over dead wood and overgrown boulders, the smell of petrichor filling her nostrils with each deep intake of breath. Every now and then, as she hurried after the man in front of her, her hand flung towards her chest, checking for her most prized possession. The camera dangled around her neck, ready to use at any given chance. Nature shots weren’t exactly what both of them were aiming at, Octavia however was someone to take opportunities however they may come. Besides, woods had always left her fascinated. As peaceful as they were unsettling, depending on the time of the day and how the light shone in. Spotting a deer in bright daylight erupted joy, whereas looking at its reflecting eyes at night left her shivering. Perception was a devious little thing.

“How in heaven are you getting through this without drenching your socks?” she whined, shivering at the mere mention of her wet feet quelching with every step in her sneakers. “I swear I’m usually not this squeamish, but wet feet are my nemesis…”

She shook her feet as if trying to kick off the mud and dampness, thankful for the pair of spare socks in her backpack that rested heavy on her shoulders. They’ve been wandering the woods for what felt like ages now, time as a concept always too broad and intangible for her. If there was one thing to be certain of about Octavia, it was the fact that she was always late. A constant that was reassuring as it was annoying.

Considering how thickly the canopy of leaves grew over their heads, turning the ground into a patchwork of different intensities of light, it was difficult for her to fathom what time it really was anyway.

Senselessly, she raised her wrist and stared at the face of her watch, which had been running backwards for some time and thus contributed rather little to the answer to her question. Apart from that, she wasn't sure what difference that would make anyway. When night fell, it was dark. There was little she could do about that.

Perhaps she had hoped to find solace in the waning hours until the sun began to set.

Whenever she could, Octavia sought higher ground to avoid the soft forest floor. As if she were playing a private game of ‘the ground is lava’, she balanced over fallen tree trunks, where mushrooms stretched skywards and provided shelter for various small creatures, hopped from one stone to the next and gambled with the high probability of slipping on moss and contracting a sideways paralysis.

“If a person was somehow alive for eternity, would their consciousness remain the same or evolve into something unrecognizable?” she suddenly wondered, the question stitched together by a train of thought that her companion had no insight of, locked behind her round face.

“Do you think trees have consciousness? And if so, do they judge us? Oh god,” she suddenly gasped, jumping onto her feet right next to him, almost slipping off the wet leaves if it weren’t for him grabbing her arm and keeping her from plunging to her demise entirely. “Thanks—what was I saying?—ah, yes! So, if trees have a consciousness, I bet they’re gossiping all the time. I mean, imagine being at the same place all the time… I’d get annoyed, too.”

To be with the tall blonde had always been easy. They had met a few months ago during her shift at Lou & Mary’s, a cute Diner in the outer district of Springfield, Illinois, with mediocre traffic. A safe place for the quiet and isolated. Octavia hadn’t meant to, but as she had served him coffee, she couldn’t help but take notice of his scribbles and little notes. She had served several aspiring authors, trying to recreate the romantic idea of finishing their erotica in an independent café, but had been shunned away by the mere fact that students and their macbooks were literally everywhere. So much, that some Cafés even forbid the usage and interminable occupation of space for the slim rent of a 6$ decaf.

Lou & Mary’s however didn’t care that much and despite its old fashioned interior—Octavia would always remember the linting padding of the seating niches—it had been quite cosy. And quiet, as aforementioned.

Isaiah Pines hadn’t met the criteria of such an individual above, though.

Octavia wasn’t necessarily a person to stick her button nose in business’ she had no say in, but the blonde American had something about him that she couldn’t let slide. At least not a third time. Upon having served him another round of coffee, she had dared to approach him and despite his social awkwardness—who really could blame him nowadays?—Octavia always felt the most drawn to the weird and odd.

Isaiah Pines hadn’t been an exception.

She couldn’t have foreseen that this guy, however, would propose a trip a month later and invite her to tag along with arguments she couldn’t deny.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” she babbled, moreso to keep her mind flowing, less so to actually get through the details again. “If all claims are true, we’re about to meet a bunch of witches that have been living in seclusion on a private property for what—hundred?—whatever years? What exactly makes you think they actually are friendly? I mean, we’ve trespassed, not sure about you, Pines, but I’d be hostile. The only thing that keeps me less worried than I should be is the mere fact that it’s 2025. If there’s anyone running around sacrificing people like we’re in The Ritual, I’m sure that would have caused an outcry sooner.” She gasped and stopped for a second. “Oh god, Isaiah, will I be the may queen? It’d be giving Vogue, I’ll be honest”

Seriously, how long have they already wandered through the woods? It hadn’t been this big on the map.

Unexpectedly, she stopped, looking past the Podcast Host. Instinctively she squinted against the light crossing her face, dapping colourful circles all over her pale, freckle covered skin. It moved languidly and returned unevenly but seemingly following a pattern. She dropped her gaze towards her body and took notice of many more rainbow coloured reflections. Broken white light, scattered into its compartments. Suddenly, the earth felt warmer around her feet.

Cautiously, Octavia threw her gaze around, suspiciously eyeing her surroundings. Apart from the lights, however, there was nothing. Isaiah had made out the source of the ominous display of colours, pointing upwards into the treetops. His eyes glistened with boyish excitement and Octavia couldn’t help but join. Between the branches hang several, and as far as she could tell, handmade suncatcher. Crystals dangling from cords, occasionally bumping into wood carvings or the nearby branches.

Funnily enough, Octavia wondered less about why they were there and more about how they’d been implemented into the tree’s crown. She picked up her camera and started to take pictures right away.

One or few framing the thrill of the blonde.

An excitement captured forever.

This was what all of this was about.

#threads.#hochmvt #( yeah i thought why not )#( let's start the story this way lol )#( thought that's kinda funny )#( but zeev will make his GRAND entrance soon enough <3 )

2 notes · View notes