nostrangertothewiind

[nostrangertothewiind]

superpcsitions‌:

     IF YOU ASKED why provence, a place that has nestled its personality deep in arlo, dug its feet into the foundation of his being, has since been a name that tastes bitter in his mouth, arlo would give you one of two answers: it’s due to the less-than-ideal business-resemblant relationship he had with his parents, or his first heartache. and it’s no surprise that arlo has dated around. for the past four years of his life, he’s been with countless individuals— be it for one night or a few months, just for sex or meaningful relationships. his heart is so big and he has this endless amount of love to give and a yearn for love to be reciprocated, to the point that he’s never quite satisfied, and he can sum it down to one person.

which, you know, isn’t all that fair but arlo was young: eighteen years old, stars in his eyes and an obsession with a girl in his art class. with rose-tinted glasses and a matching romantic interior for a mind, arlo had put all of his eggs in one basket with brianna. he was infatuated, and it happened quick. he was too naive to see how they were destined for failure and though it’s been so long since then, she’s a constant little hum in the back of his head. he can’t go long without thinking of her. like, so much reminds him of her and the heartache he was left with after her still feels like tar in his lungs at times.

it was brianna that got arlo into living like a nomad. it was brianna whose whimsical way of life inspired him so much. it was brianna that broke his heart and lead him to believe the same thing she did: that the best thing to do when things were getting serious was to leave.

he’s walking around with a bag of pastries to bring back to the b&b when he doesn’t even realize that he’s hearing the familiar song from when he was younger. a french song, one his mother would sing around the house. he hasn’t heard it in so long and only realizes that when he notices he’s whistling along to it. he laughs to himself and grins, but slows his pace when he stops the whistling and hears the guitar being strummed to the same tune not far from where he is. brows crease and he walks towards it, swinging the bag in his hand.

his mouth goes dry.

he hears her voice.

his toes wiggle in his shoes. he cracks his neck. chews on the inside of his cheek. taps his thigh with the bag of pastries. anything to ground himself.

with a racing heart, arlo turns the corner and continues walking, trying not to show too much trepidation while he steps forward. and there she is, right along the beach with a guitar in her hands and she sees him just as he sees her. he doesn’t even know what to say, what could he even say? instead, just one word leaves his lips in a cracked voice: “brianna?”

Brianna tried not to have regrets. She tried not to really think about her life behind her at all. She kept moving, never settling in one place long enough to face it. But it seemed her past was catching up to her, ready or not. Arlo, one of her only big regrets, standing before her.

She put the guitar down beside her. She wondered if he remembered the scrawled poetry on the back of it from one of their dates. Permanent marker among the other memories on this old thing. His cracking voice seemed to indicate that he probably did.

“...Hi.”

Fuck. She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t want to explain herself to him. Brianna had spent the last seven years running, she didn’t want to face anything she’d left in her wake.

[nostrangertothewiind]

one gifset per song  ♡  any way the wind blows

when your body aches to lay it down, when you’re hungry and there ain’t enough to go ’round, ain’t no length to which a girl won’t go. any way the wind blows...

[nostrangertothewiind]

a runaway from everywhere she’d ever been || self para

People turn on you just like wind Everybody is a fair weather friend In the end, you’re better off alone Anyway the wind blows...

- Eurydice, Hadestown

Who: Brianna and Arlo @superpcsitions

When: 2017

Where: Provence, France

Notes: Psyche met Eros and broke his heart by betraying his trust. Brianna meets Arlo and does the same.

Triggers: nsfw (slight), abuse (implied)

A response to this

Brianna was twenty years old-- just. She’d just left Paris, and begun travelling south into the rest of France, taking trains from city to city to find a new place to stay. It was in Provence that she ended up finding a hostel to stay in, and a job being offered in a local art school. Modeling for their life drawing class. It was something new to her, but she was used to doing any job she could find. This would be interesting at least--a chance to listen to the chatter of French students, and to soak up the art. A fun way to spend a few months, before she moved on again. Such was the cycle of her life--the only constant was change, and yet it was predictable to her.

She didn’t predict him.

He was eye-catching to begin with, that was true. Those dark curls and something hidden in his smile. Most of the boys--and a couple of the girls--seemed to follow her with their eyes more than needed when she modelled for the class, but she didn’t care for any of it. So his looks, while intriguing, did not draw her in. She wouldn’t fall for a pretty face so easily. Not again. But he was the first to speak to her.

He sat closest, near where her head was when she was doing poses lying down. None of the others spoke to her; she was something to look at or admire or study but they weren’t supposed to talk to her. The room was quiet, until Brianna felt like she might burst. Until him. And he made her laugh. Just a smile at first, but he kept going until she was laughing aloud and the teacher told her to be still.

He stayed back one day, offered to walk her home. Brianna, so closed off and armoured, found that in those walks he began to find the cracks. He began to slip underneath, and wiggle his way to her heart. That wrong turn they took, that ended in wine and the moonlight, it felt like fate.

They began to spend more time together, become closer than ever. It had been years since Brianna had let anyone get this close. Slowly it dawned on her.

She loved him.

And that scared the hell out of her.

(Too many memories. A tight hand on her wrist...shouting matches...feeling so vulnerable. Knowing things never lasted...)

He said he loved her. 

(She’d heard that before too. I love you, forgive me. I love you, I promise. I love you. It didn’t change things. It only made the heartbreak hurt more later.)

He held her and he said he’d do anything for her.

(You don’t know me! You know this version of me, this facade. What would you do if you knew everything? Would you run? Would you hate me? Turn away in disgust? Break me again?)

She loved him too. And that was the worst part. Because love made her vulnerable. Because when he discovered who she truly was, and decided he didn’t love her any more, like those who’d come before him, it would hurt too much.

She couldn’t wait until then.

In retrospect, it would’ve been kinder to just buy a train ticket. To simply disappear. But she wasn’t thinking properly. She was afraid. Panicking.

So when the professor decided to flirt with her, to corner her alone in the classroom and propose a date, she said yes. She flirted back, she drank his wine, and ate his food. She put her legs on his and let his fingers run over her lower back.

Brianna saw Arlo. Saw his face, his expression. The breaking of his heart. And she knew in that moment what she’d done.

(You’re just as bad as them. Worse.)

As soon as Arlo was gone, she pushed the teacher away and ran. That’s what she was at heart; a runaway. She took her things and got on the next train leaving Provence, not caring where she ended up. She just hugged her bag tight to her chest, and tried not to think about that boy who’d made her heart sing, or the pain in her chest when she thought about how she’d hurt him too. If she thought about it, she’d cry.

It didn’t work.

She cried.

Maybe should ought to have called him. Explained. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She didn’t couldn’t look back. All she knew was how to run.

[nostrangertothewiind]

svbastian‌:

bash had just gotten off work. he was a little tired, considering the shoot today they were doing for the particular episode they were working on was a long one. he was thinking about going home and turning in early, such a grandmother. but he noticed it was basically still light out even though he felt like it was eleven o’clock at night mentally, and decided to walk around a bit, hoping to get his energy up. across the street from where he was walking, he saw someone sketching and decided to approach them. he was always interested in supporting artists, as he had once himself been somewhat of a starving artist. 

“hey,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake. “i was wondering if you did like…portraits?” he peered over at the image she was working on. “i mean, you’re clearly very talented. is there any way i can support you?”

Brianna recognised him from the bookshop. The young man, new the island too, who’d been looking for book recommendations. She smiled and took his hand, shaking it. At first, she thought his question was going to just be a request. Asking her to sketch him because he liked the idea of it. It wouldn’t be the first time--thought people didn’t often start a conversation with it until she’d met them more than just twice. But then he offered more.

That was more unexpected. Brianna tried to hide her surprise and nodded. “I do. Uh, yeah.” She flipped through her book to try and find some actually finished pieces to show him, rather than the half-finished sketches and doodles that adorned most of the pages. “How detailed are you thinking?”

[nostrangertothewiind]

[nostrangertothewiind]

closed starter for @superpcsitions​

Brianna had an old guitar, picked up at a flea market and covered in reminders of her travels. It was one of the things she’d carted around with her for years. Busking was a common way for her to make enough money--for rent, for a train ticket, for a hotel for the night--but she also just enjoyed playing. Singing softly to herself on the edge of the black pebbled beach as her well practiced fingers plucked out a tune. 

She wasn’t sure what brought on the song she was singing today, but it was a French song she’d not sung in a long time. But it was on her mind, on her lips, and so she sang. It seemed Fate had plans for her today, however, as the song appeared to call her past back to her. Her fingers slowed to a stop as she spotted him. Recognised him.

Arlo.

It had been nearly three years since she’d seen him last, in Provence. When she’d broken everything they had before he could have a chance. Before she’d disappeared again.

What were the odds he’d turn up here?

[nostrangertothewiind]

Eurydice from Hadestown (request)

x x x

x x x

x x x

[nostrangertothewiind]

why did you glance back?

[nostrangertothewiind]

svbastian‌:

“oh, i’m sorry i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, with a light laugh that slipped out of his lips. he gave her a reassuring smile, hoping to ease whatever startled emotion he had unintentionally caused. “either. i mean, i’d like to read some stuff from local people, get to know the island a little bit more. have you been here long?”

“You didn’t--just startled me. I was in my own head a bit.” Brianna shrugged with a light laugh of her own. She had a tendency to do that, so used at the moment to being her only companion. “Well, unfortunately can’t help you there. I only got here two weeks ago. I was looking for things like that myself.”

[nostrangertothewiind]

character playlists: eurydice (hadestown)

“a runaway from everywhere she’d ever been”

(listen here.)

any way the wind blows- hadestown obcr // hunger- florence + the machine // promises- ryn weaver // dreams- fleetwood mac // first love/late spring- mitski // motion sickness- phoebe bridgers // liability (reprise)- lorde // bite the hand- julien baker, phoebe bridgers dacus // all I’ve ever known- hadestown obcr // 8 (circle)- bon iver // new constellations- ryn weaver // various storms & saints- florence + the machine // two slow dancers- mitski // wildflowers- soccer mommy // grow- muna // turn to stone- ingrid michaelson // hold me down- halsey // future- paramore // gone, I’m gone- hadestown obcr // orpheus- sara bareilles // something has to change- the japanese house // feel something- clairo // wash.- bon ever // all points- james vincent mcmorrow // in a week- hozier, karen cowley // flowers- hadestown obcr

[nostrangertothewiind]

roswell, new mexico aesthetics: rosa ortecho

“one day, everybody in this town just gets together and they decide who you are, and that’s who you get to be, forever, end of story.”

[nostrangertothewiind]

One of the things that Brianna loved about coming to a new place--as she so often did--was that no two places were exactly the same. And as an outsider, she had learnt to appreciate the things that made each place so unique. She had sketchbooks filled to bursting with paintings, drawings, and sketches from various different places. Today, she had one that was three quarters empty, sitting alone on a seat as she used an old pack of oil pastels to sketch the street before her. Colours stained her hands already. She was lost in her work, not noticing someone else looking at her until their shadow fell on her page.

“Oh. Um. Hi. γεια.”

[nostrangertothewiind]

Brianna was new to this island, finally having found work and a new place to stay. She was still adjusting to this place, however, and exploring. Bookstores were always a fun place to start. Not big chain ones--they were the same in most big cities--but the small local ones. She ran her finger along the spine of a few books, jumping slightly when someone spoke to her out of the blue. “Um. Generally or from here?”

bash was still slightly new to the island, but he was already falling in love with it. when he had free time, he would go on walks and try to explore the city. find new places, new people, new foods. he was on one of those walks when he happened upon a book store he had never gone into. he had been meaning to get back into reading, as he fell off due to his work schedule, so he figured now was the perfect opportunity to go in and see what was available. he entered the bookstore, a slight skip in his step as was normal for the jovial boy and made his way to the bookshelves. he noticed someone else there and turned to them. “have any good book recommendations?”

[nostrangertothewiind]

✧･ﾟ(   eurydice + amber midthunder + female  ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen (   Brianna Rivers  ) around ? (   she  ) has been in kaos for (   two weeks   ). the (   twenty three year old  ) is a/an (   musician/waitress   ) from (   North Dakota, America ). people say they can be (   aloof  ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be (   quick thinking  ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (  worn out leather boots that have walked for miles, journals scrawled with handwritten notes plastered with paintings and notes, leaving in the dead of night   ).  ･ﾟ✧  (  penned by alicia, 23, aest, she/they ). 

pinterest | muse tag | playlist

Eurydice ran away from home at age fifteen to catch a bus to New York City, and very rarely, if ever, tells anyone about her life before. The most people get is wild stories, each as fake as the last. As far as anyone who knows her now is concerned, she sprang into existence as a teenager braving the cold on the streets of New York City. And fiercely independent. People only let you down. That was her philosophy. She didn’t stay in New York for long though. Just over a year, and she’d saved up enough money to get a one way ticket to Europe.

From there she hitchhiked around, lying about her age until she was old enough for people to stop caring, and making money however she could. Usually some combination of music, art, and waiting tables. Her English was an asset, and she’d always had a knack for picking up new tongues. She’d stay in one place for a few months, or travel with someone else, but she left before she could really set down any roots in any one place. Occasionally she’d begin to care about people she met. But she had a bad habit of self-sabotaging.

One instance of this was in France. Here, while modelling for a drawing class, she met Arlo Rouselle. The two sparked quickly, and friends became lovers. But Brianna, realising she was falling in love with Arlo, wasn’t ready to take a fall. Their ending was messy, heartbreaking, and led to Brianna leaving not just the city but the country. Afterwards, she would mourn the loss of the warmth she felt in Arlo’s arms, but fear had caused her to make him push her away. To prove to herself that he would.

It was only two weeks ago that she came to the island. Another stop on her never ending road trip. Something pulled her there, and she let her feet carry her. She’s not sure how long she’ll stay, she’ll have to wait and see. 

OOC:

Hi, I’m Alicia. My pronouns are she/they and I’m from Australia. Currently I am stuck indoors when I’m not at work so feel free to hit me up for plotting! I’m also on discord, so that’s probably the easiest place to reach me :) Look forward to writing with you all

[nostrangertothewiind]

insp by and made for: @cypresssunn

[nostrangertothewiind]

Rosa Ortecho in Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

[nostrangertothewiind]

I’m an expert at quieting voices. I never dreamed when I was using.