holystates

[holystates]

♱　　phoebe  nods  in  agreement,  lips  pressed  together  in  a  thin  line  as  she  glances  down  at  the  half-eaten  cookie.  “  no,  you're  right,  i  could  probably  do  better,  ”  she  says,  because  it's  partially  true.  she  didn't  put  much  thought  into  what  she  was  bringing  to  the  potluck,  too  in  her  head  about  all  the  newcomers  (  and  oldcomers  who  practically  are  new  considering  the  …  predicament  )  “  it's  not  tart  enough,  isn't  it?  too  much  sugar?  ”  she  prods,  because  every  second  she's  talking  to  maki  means  less  of  a  chance  to  eventually  talk  to  them.

Even without Estelle around, there were too many Ridleys. At least that's how it felt to Maki. There was always another one popping up whenever she turned a corner. But Itty Bitty Phoebe Ridley was trying, Maki could at least give her that. She eyed the cookies suspiciously, then pinched one between her freshly done nails before taking a small bite.

“Six point five out of ten,” she declared. She took another bite, just to be considerate, before placing the rest of the cookie on a napkin and dusting her hands off. “You'll need to do better than that if you want to make the newbies feel welcome enough to divulge a secret or two.”

[holystates]

♱　　camille  is  so  used  to  being  alone  that  any  semblance  of  attention  is  jarring.  though  no  one  speaks,  she  seems  to  feel  eyes  on  her,  before  heads  turn  to  whisper  words  she  doesn't  hear.  it  feels  like  overnight  the  veil  that's  been  hiding  her  has  been  taken  off,  and  that  she's  been  put  on  display  like  a  painting  in  the  louvre,  everyone  staring  and  pointing  out  every  detail  while  all  she  can  do  is  sit  and  watch.  she  dreads  the  idea  of  being  perceived  so  acutely,  and  not  knowing  whether  or  not  what  people  have  to  say  about  her  is  even  good.  “  um  …  ”  for  a  moment,  camille  considers  lying,  but  something  about  asher  compels  her  to  tell  the  truth.  “  not  really.  my  head  has  been  killing  me  all  day,  and  everything  feels  like  it's  too  much.  ”

the   feeling   of   otherness   –   not   wholly   unfamiliar,   stuck   in   a   body   that   has   never   felt   quite   right   –   but   distinctly   new.   growing   up   in   marrow   meant   that   despite   what   ever   turmoil   asher   felt   inside,   there   has   always   been   a   place   on   the   outside   that   felt   safe.   so   what   do   you   do   when   your   safety   net   feels   like   it’s   dropped   out   from   under   you   ?   if   you’re   asher   munro,   you   make   yourself   busy.   a   potluck   at   the   church   feels   like   the   perfect   opportunity   to   forge   a   new   place   in   marrow,   since   his   old   one   seems   to   have   vanished   overnight;   to   weave   a   new   safety   net   under   themselves   by   hand,   connection   by   connection,   placation   by   placation.   they’ve   just   finished   readying   themselves   (   a   few   deep   breaths,   a   couple   prayers,   a   shaking   hand   clasped   over   the   crucifix   necklace   hanging   over   his   heart,   and   a   swallowed   advil   to   ease   the   ache   the   sunlight   is   causing   behind   his   eyes   )   hidden   away   from   the   main   event   when   camille   appears,   looking   decidedly   unsteady.   “   huh   ?   oh,   no   !   i   was   just   leaving   –   but   –   are   you   okay,   camille   ?   ”

[holystates]

♱　　camille  doesn't  miss  the  way  roya  stares  at  her,  like  she's  got  something  on  her  face,  or  like  she's  a  ghost  —  like  how  everyone's  been  staring  at  her  lately.  she  doesn't  like  it,  all  the  eyes  on  her,  too  used  to  blending  in  the  background  to  be  noticed  like  this.  if  roya  had  said  anything  else  or  done  nothing  at  all,  camille  would  have  just  left,  but  the  invitation  to  sit  is  a  welcome  one,  and  finds  the  company  better  than  feeling  isolated  in  spite  of  the  attention.  “  it's  …  fine.  the  food's  great,  ”  she  responds  (  even  if  it's  a  half  lie  —  the  food  is  great  but  it's  barely  fulfilling.  )  “  i  think  i  might  just  be  under  the  weather,  is  all.  ”

      roya chews at her lip, a nervous tick, one that forces a small bloom of red to sit atop its surface once she's dealt her damage. it's conflicting, mind and heart standing at odds as her wide eyes just can't help but stare, rudely so, manners whisked away and in its place, fear ? awe ? something of the sort — a cruel combination, where life and death were welded into one. i have seen your grave. i remember the day you left us, and then the day you walked the earth again. " please, don't apologize. " she aims to quell the tremor in her voice, a shaking, uneasy pat to the empty bench. " sit — if - if you'd like to. " bleeding heart, an ache that precedes all notions of apprehension. she is just a girl — the confusion, the dread. " did you not enjoy yourself in there ? "

[holystates]

♱　　to  say  that  phoebe  hadn't  been  dreading  the  potluck  would  be  a  complete  and  utter  lie.  she  loved  get  togethers,  loved  being  surrounded  by  other  people  and  making  conversation.  but  time  are  different  now.  there  are  ghosts  walking  among  them,  spirits  raised  from  the  grave  like  it  had  been  nothing  but  a  deep  slumber.  not  even  the  distraction  of  countless  hours  baking  lemon  crinkles  until  they  were  perfect  was  enough  to  keep  the  thought  off  her  mind.  and  with  estelle  missing,  well,  the  was  just  the  cherry  on  top  of  the  fucked  up  marrow  sundae.

so  phoebe's  course  of  action  is  to  pretend  —  pretend  that's  she's  completely  fine,  that  she's  not  grieving  over  her  sister  whose  status  is  unknown  to  anyone,  that  she's  not  not  grieving  her  best  friend  who  a  few  months  ago  had  been  pronounced  dead  but  has  since  re-materialized  as  though  they  never  were  (  and  that  the  facade  she's  putting  on  is  just  as  tough  as  the  ribs  helena  brought.  )  “  i  don't  know,  i've  been  told  i  can  be  preeeetty  scary,  ”  said  no  one  ever.  “  but  i  don't  blame  you.  feels  like  halloween  came  early  this  year.  ”

she  takes  chealsea  up  on  his  offer,  stands  beside  him  and  leans  against  the  church  wall,  looking  over  all  the  people  chatting  and  eating.  there's  a  weird  energy  in  the  air,  a  thick  layer  of  tension  separating  the  remnants  and  returned  from  the  gross  truth.  “  how  do  you  even  talk  to  them?  ”  phoebe  asks  after  a  bout  of  silence.  “  i  feel  like  one  of  these  days  i'm  going  to  accidentally  tell  them  i've  been  to  their  funeral.  ”

status: open to all

location: sanctuary church, around 6:30pm

chelsea was thankful for the potluck in his own way, it had given him a reason to focus on something that wasn't related to the returned for a little while. he had spent hours poring work into the two dishes he brought to the potluck: lobster corn chowder and lavender whoopie pies. part of him had always enjoyed cooking, this way he was able to share his dishes full of homecooked warmth with the rest of community.

prepping the dishes was easy, the hard part was actually going to the event. chelsea knew that there would be no way for him to avoid the returned, they would be there and he would have to interact with them. as daunting as this felt to him, he knew that it had to happen eventually, he couldn't avoid them forever. he arrives to the potluck shortly after 6pm, setting up his dishes and mingling with the others for a little while.

now, he's outside the church, leaning against one of the walls. he watches the sunset from where he is, thinking about how much things have changed. he gives a small jump when he hears the rustling of grass, turning to face the direction it came from. "you probably didn't mean to scare me, i guess i'm just jumpy today." he looks over the person, then gestures for them to stand next to him. "by all means, feel free to join me. i get it if you need an escape from in there, it's a lot."

[holystates]

♱　　“  well,  no  fire  here,  ”  effie  assures,  waving  away  the  residual  smoke  with  a  tight  lipped  grin.  they  were  in  no  mood  for  a  conversation,  not  with  the  citizens  on  nowhere,  maine,  of  all  people,  but  effie  was  curious  —  not  with  mica  specifically,  but  with  people  like  them  and  what  they're  feeling.  “  you  enjoying  yourself?  ”  effie  asks,  feigning  sincere  interest.  “  i  hope  you  are.  father  romero  put  in  a  lot  of  work  to  make  sure  everyone's  having  fun.  ”

mica's eyebrows lifted, vaguely amused. everything was always taken so personally in marrow; they had hoped that at least the newcomers would have thicker skin. they figured, at least, someone smoking indoors would have something more interesting to say, but she guessed it wasn't her problem. it just sort of bored them. she smiled politely anyway, used to the charade. "saw the smoke and kinda thought there was a fire," they explained, shrugging. "figured i'd make sure the place wasn't about to burn down."

[holystates]

♱　　to  that,  effie  shrugs.  “  it's  …  quaint,  ”  she  settles  on  saying.  “  charming.  ”  —  as  charming  as  a  dead  rat  on  the  side  of  the  road,  maybe.  if  it  was  up  to  her,  marrow  would  have  never  even  crossed  effie's  mind  (  she  misses  new  orleans  every  day.  )  marrow  means  nothing  to  her.  but  it  probably  means  something  to  father  romero,  if  he's  so  adamant  on  executing  his  plans  on  this  small  town.  and  they  trust  him  too  much  to  question  it,  so  they  don't,  instead  keeping  their  true  opinions  to  themself.  “  if  you  think  it's  so  boring,  then  why  are  you  still  here?  ”

question  is  answered  by  a  subtle  shake  of  his  head.     he  takes  the  cigarette,  pulls  his  own  lighter  from  his  pocket.  a  superstition  for  a  man  who  loathes  superstitions  :  something  about  lighting  it  himself  gives  him  the  illusion  of  control.  effie  didn't  seem  like  someone  who  wanted  conversation,  and  yet  he  finds  himself  attempting  it  any  way,  as  if  the  silence  he  usually  longs  for  was  too  heavy  a  weight  on  his  shoulders.  “  marrow.  you  like  it  ?  ”  his  words  are  accompanied  by  the  slightest  tilt  of  his  head,  all  curious  dog.  “  most  people  would  be  run  off  by  now.  bored.  ”

[holystates]

♱　　the  corner  of  their  lip  quirks  upward  at  sight  of  talya,  irritation  melting  away  and  making  room  for  the  amusement  effie  was  hoping  to  find  at  the  event.  “  was,  ”  she  corrects,  as  if  it  makes  much  of  a  difference  when  she's  gearing  up  to  light  another  stick.  “  considering  he's  too  busy  sucking  up  to  half  the  town  outside,  i'd  say  the  odds  were  pretty  slim  —  you  could  join  me,  if  you'd  like.  there's  enough  room  for  two  in  here.  ”

instinct   leads   her   to   the   confessional,   as   if   lured   in   by   the   familiar   scent   of   a   particular   cigarette   brand   she's   come   to   associate   with   the   one   &   only   effie   zhang.   she   pokes   her   head   around   the   corner,   nose   wrinkling.   ❝   are   you   smoking   in   here?   ❞   they   ask,   tone   teetering   on   the   edge   of   scolding.   ❝   you're   lucky   father   romero   didn't   slide   into   the   other   side   of   the   booth.   ❞

[holystates]

♱　　they're  not  not  having  fun.  they'd  rather  be  elsewhere,  sure,  but  the  potluck  isn't  as  boring  as  effie  would  have  expected.  it's  interesting,  to  see  the  discrepancies  between  those  who  came  back  and  those  who  were  left  behind.  the  way  there's  a  layer  of  discomfort  that  blankets  the  town  in  different  ways.  “  i'm  having  the  time  of  my  life,  ”  effie  answers  monotonously,  peering  into  the  wooden  lattice  screen  and  pushing  a  cigarette  through  the  gap  in  offering.  “  saved  you  a  ciggy  if  you  need  one.  who  knows  how  long  we'll  be  here.  ”

the  brunette  stayed  quiet  most  of  the  evening.  She  had  no  plans  to  speak  or  do  more  than  needed.  She  was  there  at  Father  Romero's  request.  Yet,  it  was  too  overwhelming  to  bear.  She  hadn’t  been  around  so  many  people  in  a  long  time.  Not  the  kind  that  still  had  blood  in  their  veins.  So  she  ended  up  locked  in  one  of  the  confessionals  looking  for  calm.  Her  hands  were  already  beginning  to  shake,  and  she  feared  she  was  going  to  have  an  anxiety  attack.  To  her  surprise,  the  opposing  company  was  a  pleasant  distraction.  "  I  thought  no  one  would  come  here.  You're  having  as  much  fun  as  I  am,  aren't  you?  "

[holystates]

♱　　she  narrows  her  eyes  at  nikolai,  like  if  they  thought  about  it  hard  enough  they  could  look  right  through  him.  it's  not  something  effie  likes  to  admit,  but  she's  been  keeping  a  close  eye  on  people  like  him  since  their  return.  wonders  if  they're  already  feeling  the  same  things  she  felt  when  she  turned.  the  discomfort.  the  agony.  the  hunger.  they  may  not  be  completely  in  favor  of  father  romero's  plans,  but  they'd  be  lying  to  say  they  weren't  the  least  bit  curious  of  when  the  other  shoe  is  going  to  drop.  “  need  a  light?  ”  effie  asks,  flipping  open  her  cigarette  case  and  holding  it  up  to  him. 

nikolai barely likes to make small talk with the people he’s known his entire life. having the entourage around is something of a nightmare. worse still for the setting to be so social : his skin’s practically buzzing, like there’s something under his skin waiting to crawl out. he thinks solitude can be found, but it’s bad luck there’s already another soul inside the confessional. one of father romero’s people. smoking’s not a habit he’s keen to pick up, but with the strange way everyone’s been acting and how he’s bone-tired, he finds himself more prone to jumping towards the unusual. “ you got enough to share or just the one ? ”

[holystates]

♱　　we  are  nothing  alike,  effie  wants  to  say  (  former  rockstars  can,  of  course,  be  divas  )  but  instead  they  let  out  an  exhale  through  their  nose  in  a  way  that  barely  reads  as  genuine.  marrow  is  a  humdrum  town  with  seemingly  innocuous  inhabitants,  and  yet  there  is  nothing  about  it  that  makes  effie  want  to  let  her  guard  down.  it's  nothing  special;  a  detour.  they  won't  be  here  for  a  long  time  —  though  a  long  time  is  arbitrary  for  people  like  her  whose  lifespans  are  perpetual  —  so  getting  to  know  any  of  these  people  would  be  useless.  “  you  should  head  back,  or  father  romero's  gonna  start  wondering  why  guests  are  disappearing.  ”  she'd  make  a  joke  about  people  reappearing,  but  effie's  not  exactly  in  the  mood  for  jokes.

gabe doesn't want to be at this potluck, either, but he'd just moved back and had no claim to any of the food in his roommate's communal fridge and the last thing he was going to do was raid his mother and her husband's kitchen. so, here he is, making his way through roast chicken, cornbread, and various desserts. he's sneaked into the church to nurse an itch, a lit cigarette in hand. his plan is to hide out in here and smoke his cigarette before putting on a brave face and returning to the festivities, but almost as soon as gabe sets foot inside, unfamiliar voices fill the space. it's like he's thirteen not thirty, instinct pushing him to scramble to his feet and hide instead of confronting whatever authority figure is coming into the church. he finds himself ducking into the closest confessional out of habit -it was one of gabe's favorite places to disappear when he'd gotten into trouble at church as a kid. wide eyes dart from the stranger's face to the cigarette in her hand and he can't help but huff out a laugh, lifting a guilty hand holding his own cigarette in greeting. "nah. but great minds think alike, i guess."

[holystates]

♱　　—　　sanctuary  church  @  6:30pm ♱　　—　　open  to  anyone

♱　　there's  a  feeling  within  camille  that  she  can't  quite  place.  something  empty  and  dull,  aching  and  unexplainable.  she's  been  feeling  it  for  weeks,  slowly  then  all  at  once,  like  a  rising  flood  crashing  down  like  a  tsunami.  it's  a  lot  to  bear,  especially  when  the  there's  a  throbbing  in  her  skull  that  won't  go  away,  unhelped  by  all  the  mingling  voices  that  surround  her.  and  as  the  sun  continues  to  shine  over  the  churchyard,  the  pain  becomes  close  to  unbearable,  like  a  band  stretched  over  her  skull  and  pulled  taut.  she  rises  from  her  seat  and  finds  herself  off  to  the  side  of  the  church,  where  the  trees  provide  much  needed  shade  that  help  quell  the  erratic  pain  in  her  head.  hand  pressed  against  the  rough  stone  wall,  it's  then  that  camille  realizes  she's  not  alone  when  she  looks  up  and  finds  company  already  there.  “  sorry,  i  didn't  —  ”  she  mutters,  suddenly  embarrassed  over  what  she  believed  would  be  a  private  breakdown.  “  i  can  leave  …  if  you  want.  ”

[holystates]

♱　　—　　sanctuary  church  @  5pm ♱　　—　　open  to  anyone

♱　　despite  having  lived  in  marrow  her  whole  life,  phoebe  looks  around  the  potluck  and  sees  too  many  strangers.  of  course,  there  was  father  romero  and  the  entourage  that  came  along  with  him  three  weeks  ago,  but  there  were  those  who  used  to  be  familiar,  those  she  used  to  know  but  now  feel  more  like  foreigners  than  people  she  grew  up  surrounded  by.  still,  phoebe  joins  in  on  the  camaraderie,  forcing  a  smile  as  she  shows  up  in  her  best  outfit  and  freshly  baked  cookies,  determined  to  be  undettered  by  her  uneasy  gut.  “  they're  lemon  crinkles,  ”  phoebe  says  when  someone  so  much  as  stares  into  the  tupperware.  “  you  should  try  one.  tell  me  what  you  think.  ”

[holystates]

♱　　—　　sanctuary  church  @  9pm ♱　　—　　open  to  anyone

♱　　effie  doesn't  want  to  be  at  this  potluck.  too  many  people,  too  much  social  interaction  to  be  had,  and  not  enough  time  for  solitude.  but  of  course,  father  romero  had  insisted,  and  it  was  his  idea  in  the  first  place,  so  who  was  effie  to  refuse?  they'd  eventually  find  solace  inside  the  church,  within  the  confines  of  a  confession  booth  with  a  cigarette  between  their  lips,  the  echoes  of  people's  voices  all  but  background  noise  drowned  out  by  effie's  thoughts.  a  shadow  looms  over  them  as  they  stub  their  cigarette  out  on  the  wall,  and  for  a  second  effie  thinks  it's  satan  himself  dragging  her  to  hell  for  her  blatant  act  of  sacrilege  until  she  looks  up  at  the  figure  standing  before  her.  “  can  i  help  you?  ”

[holystates]

sun bleached flies - ethel cain

[holystates]

on identity

ojibwe / noah kahan / richard siken / unknown / elliott smith / oamisoa / cameron awkward-rich

[holystates]

Jeanette Winterson, Gut Symmetries

[holystates]

♱　　did  you  see  PHOEBE  RIDLEY  walking  around  PRISMATIC SPIRITUAL SHOP?  i  heard  that  the  24  year  old  has  been  particularly  PECULIAR  since  the  loss  began,  which  is  a  shift  from  their  usual  show  of  SYMPATHY.

♱　　OVERVIEW.

full  name.　phoebe  elaine  ridley　　/　　aliases.　pheebs　　/　　birthdate.　may  22nd (  24  )　　/　　hometown.　marrow,  maine　　/　　gender  +  pronouns.　cis  woman +  she/her　　/　　orientation.　lesbian　　/　　zodiac.　gemini　　/　　occupation.　server  at  twisted  ridge　　/　　face  claim.　sophie  thatcher

♱　　HEADCANONS.

the  youngest  of  the  ridleys,  and  the  strangest  one  yet.  phoebe  has  always  been  the  odd  one  out,  she's  weird,  quirky,  says  things  without  thinking,  but  it's  not  a  bad  thing.  her  personality  has  been  described  by  some  as  an  ‘acquired  taste'.

not  religious,  but  extremely  spiritual.  her  room  is  full  of  herbs  and  crystals  and  she  smells  like  sage.  she  turns  to  tarot  to  make  difficult  decisions  for  her.  she  makes  friends  based  on  their  ‘vibes’.

deep  in  the  denial  stage  of  grief.  she  still  hasn't  processed  the  loss,  and  the  fact  that  those  who  died  have  returned  is  really  toying  with  her  grieving  process.  she  would  much  rather  forget  everything  that  ocurred  in  the  first  half  of  the  year  and  pretend  that  everything  is  normal,  but  it's  hard  when  the  returned  are  really  freaking  her  out.  because  of  that,  she  avoids  them  as  much  as  possible.

estelle  disappeared  on  phoebe's  birthday,  and  it's  been  plaguing  her  mind  ever  since.  she's  holding  out  hope  that  she's  alive  (  if  she's  dead  then  she  would've  come  back  with  the  rest  of  them,  right?  )  but  doesn't  doesn't  like  to  entertain  the  idea  that  she  didn't  leave  of  her  own  free  will.

on  the  brink  of  a  breakdown  but  we  move  <3  she  has  no  time  for  that  someone  has  to  be  the  court  jester  in  this  sad  sad  town