fate. a word meaning destiny. fate. a word meaning doom.
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⸻ adria arjona, 32, cis woman, she/her ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of LOREN SEDANO. they are TWENTY-EIGHT, and have been missing for SIX YEARS. when the sun rises, they work as A BUTCHER. rumors in town say they can be NERVOUS and LOYAL. they chose to live in THE SETTLEMENT, and have an uncanny resemblance to SONNY (I, ROBOT), NATALIE SCATORCCIO (YELLOWJACKETS), BONNIE BENNETT (THE VAMPIRE DIARIES). can they survive another night ?…⸻ waking up in a cold sweat, crimson coated palms that stain everything, piles of dark curls hacked off by scissors, mumbling quietly beneath the wind, the jagged wisp of reflection in a shard of glass.
PINTEREST | STATS | MUSINGS
INQUIRIES ;
How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?
Groggy and solemnly resigned after hours of hiking through nothingness since dawn, Loren wandered up to the great wooden walls of the Settlement around mid-morning. Despite whatever internal bewilderment arose at the sight of people actually living here and ushering her inside their encampment, she felt oddly at ease amongst them. Most particularly with the group's leader, who explained the dire situation and offered shelter for the evening.
Why did your muse choose to live where they do?
She simply never left. In time Loren wandered into greater Arcadia and saw the other inhabitants, their accommodations, the hollow offerings of a world that no longer exists. None of it interested her. After staying awake for hours that first night, explaining to the leader why she hardly sleeps–– the plaguing nature of cryptic dreams which seemingly drew her to this place... it built a deeply loyal, almost sycophantic adoration for them. Now she can't imagine leaving not just the Settlement, but its leader.
What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?
Nights were always a struggle, ever since she was a teenager. Maybe before, too, but she can't recall that far back. On good nights, she is left in the peaceful darkness and morning finds her with a gentle embrace. Unfortunately, more often than not she succumbs to the chaos behind closed lids; haunting imagery and disjointed symbolism. Loren used to refer to them as intense when asked by her doctor, although it felt like an understatement, and she never mentioned the severe déjà vu that lingered like an afterthought.
So, like most nights steeped in avoidance of her own subconscious, she'd gone driving. Farther than her neighborhood, farther than her town, she pushed the limits between returning at sunrise to crash in her bed or falling asleep in her car on the side of some road. The first inklings of daylight broke when she came across the bridge and paused behind the wheel... It looked familiar. Why did it look so damn familiar? After several minutes of thought, she turned the car around and that's when the tree found her. No signal, no chance of getting past it with wheels, she carefully exited her vehicle and stared into the wooded abyss. Instinct said to walk inside, so, with a steadying inhale, she hiked on foot right as the sun began to climb over the horizon.
Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?
There is nothing for Loren back there besides her family. Certainly no answers and definitely no peace. She doubts they miss her enough to matter and wouldn't be surprised if no one had even reported her missing.
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Margaret Atwood, from Paper Boat: Selected Poems; "He Shifts from East to West,"
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