othcrside - Tumblr blog

[othcrside]

SABRINA CARPENTER for Saturday Night Live

[othcrside]

Relax and reboot. That was the overarching theme in Chiara's life—was it advice kindly placed upon her by the righteous hand of Carrie Bradshaw? Possibly, but she didn't think it was a detail imperative to understanding and appreciating the sentiment. So, after a particularly long afternoon spent at the mausoleum, she'd thought to venture out to the cinema and catch a movie in an attempt to decompress. She liked the ritual of it all. Well, mostly the ritual of purchasing a large bucket of popcorn for oneself and pairing it with a sharing size bag of MnM's. Before she could proceed, however, she came to an abrupt stop at the box office once she spotted a woman idling by the doors. While she'd grown accustomed to the strange happenings of Anchorage, this didn't seem like such an instance, and though she could never be too sure she still came in perhaps a step too close for most people's liking when approaching someone new. "Is everything alright, principessa?" A melodic voice cut through the atmosphere, fully sculpted lips curving crookedly as she flashed a toothy grin. "Are you... Coming out or going in?" Silently she prayed for the latter, if only so she could acquire her buttered popcorn and chocolate sooner.

open @anchoragestarters

where: maiden alley cinema

josette had quickly taken ill after the discovery of the case at her new place of work but she needed to get back to work to start stabilising herself. it felt like one thing after another and the hardest part was staying afloat whilst she felt like she was getting pushed down, harder each time. the brunette had finished her ticketing shift at the maiden alley cinema for the evening and it hadn't been so bad. it wasn't something that majorly elevated her stress levels, she managed to have some interesting conversations with customers and employees alike about movies and themes - things that took her mind off things for at least a few hours. putting on her jacket ready to go, she looked towards the door and just stopped. what would have been the coming of the night sky just filled her with absolute dread. had she left it too late? she'd worked a little overtime but hadn't expected the light to drop this significantly. what if whoever left the tape for her was waiting? they'd already been inside her place of work and had known about her recent employment. the woman just hung around the front door, onlookers wondering if she was coming or going.

[othcrside]

❀ *◦ sabrina carpenter. cis woman. she/her. homosexual homoromantic. ⇝ hey, isn’t that chiara de luca? i think that the twenty - six year old from sorrento, italy works as a cabaret singer at sweet cheeks cabaret & burlesque lounge and embalmer for gothland sepulture & mausoleum, but outside of that people describe them as a pastel rainbow of baby doll dresses, using puppy dog eyes at any opposition, sweet words on a sharp tongue, and a disembodied voice harmonizing in the middle of the night. i hear they are extravagant & irresponsible, but they are also known to be diligent & visionary. consider giving them a visit at their home in seal harbor apartments and get to know why they’re called the ditzy genius. 

STATS. BIO. PINTEREST.

[othcrside]

𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟕 : 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑾𝑰𝑺𝑯-𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫

star sign: gemini ( june 13 ) mythological creature: kaibyō folktale: the language of the birds fairytale character ( classical or modern ): princess annika ( barbie and the magic pegasus ) 3 fictional tropes: the badass bookworm, eagle eye detection, big ego - hidden depths romantic or platonic trope: different worlds + pen pals creepypasta story: candle cove greek god or goddess: demeter time of day where they draw the most energy: morning their achilles heel: resorting to melodrama whenever they can medieval weapon of choice: throwing knife survival, starvation, or death by the undead in the apocalypse: death which of the seven sins represent them ? horseman of the apocalypse ?: gluttony + pestilence what their superpower would be: elasticity ( users are or can become extremely malleable and elastic, allowing them to stretch, flatten, deform, expand, and contract their whole body, including limbs, torso, neck, etc. ) could they pull excalibur from the stone ?: yes one aesthetic for each of the five senses ( taste, hearing, sight, smell, touch ): chunky peanut butter paired with smooth honey on toast, faraway, echoing voices within an empty theatre, prismatic lights spinning around on a busy stage, lavender wafting indoors on a perfect spring day, a cat's soft pelt a bad habit that won’t go away: ghosting people when uninterested a recurring nightmare: suffering a career-ending injury an object they consider their lucky charm: comedy / tragedy mask necklace

[othcrside]

𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙺𝙴𝚂 …

 happy 24th birthday dearest HERMIONE DARWISH-BLOOD  ,

come drop your presents & send wishes if you may                               find out more about character birthdays here !

[othcrside]

time + place: june 12, nearby park CAP 0/4 @anchoragestarters

Summer was when life prospered for Marisol. Well, it'd done so for every year since she was sixteen, at least—muddied memories of life before adoption hadn't counted—but this year her life had been upended and nothing was sure to be the same, not even work. And work had remained consistent ever since she'd snagged gigs at both The Ivy and the Raven House. It was a peculiar feeling; like she was suspended in limbo. To help combat a thought spiral, she ventured out of the trailer park for the first time since her incident and embarked on a short journey to the park. Baby steps, right? There was nowhere else her psychiatrist would love to see her; outdoors, breathing in fresh air, basking in the sun and absorbing all the vitamins it offered. She'd made herself a home in the grass, having splayed out a blanket for maximum comfort, her arms crossed behind her head as she hummed along to a song playing from her earbuds. It wasn't until she felt a pair of feet snag on her legs that her eyes snapped open and she sat up on her elbows. "Whoa! Sorry, my bad," she apologized at once. "I didn't know I was so incognito! Are you all good? Need a bandaid? Shoes tied? I think your laces came undone."

[othcrside]

"Really? That's hard to believe. You look like you shine out there," Murphy offered kindly in reply—honestly, the woman easily fooled her, but then again, ice skating as an art was entirely foreign to the artiste. Most physical labor tended to be, she found. Her willowy limbs and awkward gait rendered her incompatible with any kind of sport. At the suggestion of braving the rink again, she inhaled steeply and chose to nod rather than reject the idea. "You know what? I think I will," she said, plucking her abandoned skates up off the floor where she'd left them. "Momma didn't raise a quitter, after all." She wouldn't credit her mother with much, but that she would afford her.

As Alice began to get up off the ice and skate towards the woman, she gave a small chuckle when she asked if the brunette was a pro. There had certainly been a time when Alice had wanted to go pro but that seemed like ages ago now. However, even though she wasn't a pro, she was glad that she'd kept up with it--it was hard enough to get back into it after she'd left the hospital. "Thank you so much. No, I'm not a pro." She almost said 'I wish' but decided against it. Besides, she finally felt happy with the direction that her life had gone in--no need to focus on what-ifs.

Giving a small smile, she said "Hey, falls happen. I can't even tell you how many times I've fallen on my ass. But you just gotta' get back up." Gesturing to the ice, she said "Wanna' give it another go? We can skate a few laps around the rink."

[othcrside]

𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟕 : 𝑺𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑶𝑹 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

star sign: libra ( october 19 ) mythological creature: echidna folktale: the emperor's new clothes fairytale character ( classical or modern ): eden starling ( barbie : a christmas carol ) 3 fictional tropes: career criminal, imposter, nemesis romantic or platonic trope: opposites attract + a cat in a gang of dogs creepypasta story: petscop greek god or goddess: aphrodite time of day where they draw the most energy: night  their achilles heel: taste for violence medieval weapon of choice: war scythe survival, starvation, or death by the undead in the apocalypse: survival which of the seven sins represent them ? horseman of the apocalypse ?: wrath + death what their superpower would be: mimicry ( the power to replicate the forms, powers, skills, and properties of other beings/objects/matter/energies. ) could they pull excalibur from the stone ?: yes one aesthetic for each of the five senses ( taste, hearing, sight, smell, touch ): metallic blood sticking to teeth, high heels clicking against marble floors, a crimson red kiss left behind on a bathroom mirror, the acidic smell of a thunderstorm that lingers in the air, soft palms scraping against kicked-up gravel a bad habit that won’t go away: judging others too quickly a recurring nightmare: seeing her family again an object they consider their lucky charm: petra vivienne westwood earrings

[othcrside]

"Do you? I don't know if I'm in a position to say no," Saylor quickly returned as the thick swathes of scent wafted over, normally immune to peer pressure—though could you consider this pressure?—however suddenly feeling weak in the knees witnessing everyone else indulge. Clearing her throat, dark eyes flickered back to the other's frame, and she assumed a lopsided grin. "Guac, you say? Now you're talking. I can't turn down avocado in anything," After extending her arm so a wristband could be secured there, she absentmindedly picked at the material while she listened in on what the attendant was saying. If there was any one kind of person in the world that could harness her attention, it'd be a pretty girl. "I can see that. But there's nothing like holding a couple of bands in your hands. Especially after a long week," A dramatic sigh lifted out of her chest and escaped through her nose as she shook her head. "Thrifting's dangerous for anyone, honestly. Especially in a town like this. I don't even remember the last time I saw a designer store in person. And I mean, what else is a girl supposed to do around here? With no Internet, at that? It's all cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me."

FARAH COULDN'T HELP BUT PLACE HER ELBOW atop the table in front of her, placing her chin in her hand as if she was already captured more by the conversation than selling tickets. "I can't speak to how they taste, but I can say it's been absolutely killer to sit here and smell all that food. I need you to go in there and get some so I can vicariously live through someone until I can experience it myself." Tapping one press-on nail just below her lower lip, she added, "But there's also this truck that has amazing guac. And that's super healthy. So, please tell me if those tacos are as good as everyone's been saying. I can't stand bad guacamole after my husband has spoiled me with how he makes it." Only sitting up so she could accept the cash and place it in the small metal box that was supplied to her for the funds being raised at the event, Farah picked up one of the paper wristbands to place around the other's arm. "I think I have the opposite problem. Since cash already isn't in the bank anymore, it's like, practically free money. Or at least that's how it feels spending it. Like when you return something and anything bought with that money is technically free, because you didn't have that money before. Honestly, I think this all is just helping me understand why I'm not allowed to go thrifting by myself anymore."

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"Honestly, I think I just might," Hermione entertained wistfully. They'd adored dance when they did participate, however their love for acting had cancelled out whatever loyalty they harbored toward any other at discipline. "Is it? That's wonderful! I can sign up for one of your classes, if they're available," they offered. It had been long enough and they'd successfully adapted to Single Carrot—what harm would the occasional dance class do? "Oh, well, I decided to go into acting full-time. I just didn't have time anymore, but I do miss it. What about you? Have you always been a dancer?"

Nisa's faced lit up when they mentioned that they'd been meaning to go to the studio. Smiling, they said "I mean, you can sign up for classes at any time! We have a ton to choose from." Annisa was starting to warm up to the conversation now that they were talking about dance. As they spoke, they felt a little less nervous with each passing moment. I used to dance when I was younger. Mostly ballet. "Really? That's amazing. Ballet is actually my specialty." Once upon a time, it had also been their dream career but that ship had sailed long ago. "If you don't mind me asking, why'd you stop dancing?"

[othcrside]

Nadine's styled brows elevated at the itemized list of food that'd been procured for her, and it didn't take much persuasion before she was grinning senselessly as she idly watched Ava from her spot on the couch. "Wow. I don't even remember the last time I got a birthday card," Delighted laughter spilled from her lips—her family wasn't keen on holidays, considering they broke the bank each time the mortgage was due, and when she was a young starlet she wasn't of sound enough mind to recall what day her birthday fell on specifically. "I really appreciate it, angel. You could've brought me a box of Goldfish and a Dr. Pepper and I'd be just as thrilled." Which was the honest-to-God truth. Ava's presence alone was a treat for Nadine, who had once presumed she'd never find her kindred spirit.

She had hoped her living situation wasn't too disappointing. She knew many would never relinquish their abodes in Seal Harbor for a King Pin trailer, but that was where she'd been raised, from the ground up. She was all-organic trailer trash, which of course she made everyone else aware of when she launched her debut album lovingly titled Trailer Park Girls. Admittedly, she was quietly relieved she'd made the executive decision to relocate the platinum and gold records on display in the living room. It shouldn't be something embarrassing, quite the opposite, however the last thing she wanted Ava to feel was inferior in her home. And what better way for that to transpire than all her obnoxiously bright and shiny accolades that carved her soul out of her body for all to see? If they were to be serious, none of Nadine's tortured past could be hung on the wall, a constant reminder of what almost deconstructed her psyche entirely.

Hopefully, it wouldn't prove an issue. Perhaps one day, when they'd both gotten to know each other better, Nadine would bear that once dissected soul to Ava—surrender everything to her, bones and all. "Hmm. You know, I've been in a Kubrick mood lately. Is Eyes Wide Shut too fucked up for a birthday?" she asked, still grinning as she reached her hand out, gently tucking a strand of blonde hair behind the shell of the other's ear.

( dina's trailer, may 20th, early evening ) @othcrside, nadine

"Okay! I brought a ton of blankets, some caramel corn, a few bags of chips, and a batch of homemade, double fudge brownies. And you can't forget the birthday candles for your birthday wish, of course," Ava rambled, producing the waxy numbers "2" and "7" from a side compartment in one of her two tote bags and presenting them to the birthday girl proudly. "Not to brag, but my nieces have nothing but praise for my brownies, so I'm pretty sure you're gonna love them too," Ava boasted with a wide smile as she plopped down on Nadine's couch with her bags in tow, brown eyes sweeping across the biker's trailer, trying to take in all of the minute details of her space and commit them to memory, eager to learn more about Dina through her home.

It was certainly a first for the hairdresser in more ways than one: being invited over for a comfy night in by the object of her affections, purely for her company and with no underlying ulterior motives or expectations. Dina wasn't trying to keep her hidden either, like a dirty little secret, but sincerely wished for a casual evening in to celebrate her birthday with the blonde, and Ava was more than happy to oblige. As much as she reveled in a rowdy night out, she welcomed the change of pace with her newfound budding relationship. Surely, something so personal and intimate meant good things for the pair, right?

"Birthday girl gets to pick the movie sooo... what do you feel like watching?" Ava questioned with a sing-songy lilt to her voice, head tilting towards the brunette as she settled into her spot on the couch. "It's your day, after all. I'm just along for the ride!"

[othcrside]

A beverage? Nadine could have keeled over in laughter. Alas, she maintained her composure—it's what good debt collectors did, in her humble opinion, though admittedly this was her first assignment once tasked with the job. She thought, so far, it was going quite smoothly, but only time would tell if it'd last for her. "I don't think so," the young biker hummed as she sauntered around the room. "You see, your friend here owes us a debt. And she knows exactly what I mean by that," Narrowed eyes pierced through Valerie. Did she begrudge her personally? No, however all of this was hardly personal on her end. "So, none of us are leaving here until the debt is paid, or, well. I'll just take matters into my own hands. Do we want that, ladies?" It was rhetorical, but she could see the pair putting up a decent fight.

A third voice echoing in the cavernous space, the blonde nearly jumped out of her skin at the revelation that she and Rosalind were not in the storage rooms alone. Valerie recognized the newcomer as one of her brother Dustin's employees, having seen Dina before on her many visits to the station, but everything about her entrance and tone made the normally cheery performer stand at attention, her features uncharacteristically stony as her heart thudded painfully in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. This didn't feel like a happy coincidence... far from it. "Nadine? What is this? What's going on?" Glancing back at Rosalind, the acrobat took a protective step in front of her friend. She had no idea what business the biker could have with her, what she possibly could've done to warrant such an unprovoked confrontation, but she didn't feel right about any of this. "If it's me you were looking for, then leave Ros out of this. What do you want?" ( @rosfms )

[othcrside]

𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟕 : 𝑵𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑺

star sign: taurus ( may 20 ) mythological creature: hydra folktale: the wise little girl fairytale character ( classical or modern ): nori ( barbie fairytopia : mermaidia ) 3 fictional tropes: femme fatale, bruiser with a soft center, fool for love romantic or platonic trope: sworn off love + ride or die creepypasta story: gateway of the mind greek god or goddess: athena time of day where they draw the most energy: night  their achilles heel: a heart eager to love and be loved medieval weapon of choice: morning star survival, starvation, or death by the undead in the apocalypse: survival ( out of spite ) which of the seven sins represent them ? horseman of the apocalypse ?: pride + war what their superpower would be: intangibility ( the user can move through solid objects and ignore most physical effects in their way ) could they pull excalibur from the stone ?: probably one aesthetic for each of the five senses ( taste, hearing, sight, smell, touch ): the notes of deep purple in a full-bodied wine, a voice speaking incoherently through blown-out speakers, glittery eyeshadow emboldened by sharp winged liner, menthol cigarette film clinging to her clothes, the dried, decaying petals of a rose a bad habit that won’t go away: arguing for no reason a recurring nightmare: being on stage in front of an endless crowd an object they consider their lucky charm: vintage pearl ring given to her by her mother

[othcrside]

Life was vastly different in the current age than it'd seemed even a year ago. Back then, Nadine was still taking refuge on an island in the Caribbean and ignoring her festering self-loathing that always lapped upon the shores of her mind once every few years, just to keep her in check—now, though, she was thriving. The new relationship glow had melted into her pores, giving her skin a dewy finish without any artificial intervention in the shape of highlighter compacts or setting spray, and she would be damned if she didn't let everyone in Anchorage see the changes that she herself had tricked herself into believing would never come to fruition for as long as she remained in her home town. What was once a tether was now an anchor. She could feel both her feet planted firmly in the earth and she wasn't going anywhere.

And then she sustained an injury to her eye that incapacitated her, sucking away the light from her flesh instantaneously and engulfing an entire week of her life until she was somewhat recovered enough to drag herself out from underneath her duvet and force herself to do something. Stretch her muscles, regulate her blood circulation, literally anything that kept her body from atrophying at a moment's notice.

A demented desire to behold the art shack during daylight hours had motivated her to catch a cab—currently incapable of operating her beloved motorcycle—where she was hoping she could find some closure. She sat in on one of the classes, awkwardly glancing around while grappling with the idea of being perceived again, and just before she excused herself she felt a magnetic pull toward one of the pieces. She stood in front of it, head cocked sideways as she tried to discern the meaning of it. "I'd be more scared if I were their parents," she couldn't resist commenting, gaze drifting to where who she assumed was an employee stood. "Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine, but... My mom did always used to talk about strange things happening here. I didn't believe her back then. Feel like I should apologize for that now."

#𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁

who: any / volunteers / workers / kid’s parents etc ! ( assume connections )  where: hopeful light art shack when: after may 17th

wrapping up one of his free art classes, aang meticulously packs up his supplies. though "art class" was a generous term; there was no structured instruction for the children during his volunteering. he knows he's nothing but a glorified babysitter, and while he loves art he recognizes he is in no position to teach about it. in fact, his classes embraced the opposite philosophy. he often reiterated his personal mantras to the kids, “draw what you love! paint how you feel! scribble what doesn’t make sense to you!” consequently, the back wall was adorned with a vibrant menagerie of gifts they had made him, each piece drying and awaiting its place on the bulletin boards outside. like leaves on a fall branch, they swayed in disharmony on a fishing line of twine and whatever other resources the shack had.

he turns his attention to a box of watercolors and paint tubes, methodically sorting them by color to be stored in the closet. his mind begins to drift to taka and the pets, who would soon need his attention. perhaps he should hurry to surprise them with gifts on his way home?

however, a particular painting catches a stranger's eye—a more haunting piece that demands both of their focus. walking up to them, his footsteps reverberate through the little art shelter. irises glue themselves to the black and brown scotches on canvas paper. it’s a portrait inspired by a recent news report, depicting a creature with bat-like wings. aang bites his lip as he speaks about the painting. “scary, isn’t it?” a frown tugs at his lips. “a lot of detail, but kind of sad that they picked, you know… that subject.” he hesitates to name the creature, fearing that uttering it aloud might summon it, or worse, threaten his family back in winter wood. after a moment of silence, he asks, “do you think they’re real? or just figments of our imaginations?”

[othcrside]

Literature was one of Hermione's many loves, third in succession beneath acting and dancing. If they weren't so devoted to the stage, perhaps in another life they could've found solace as a mousy writer in the countryside. If only they could be satiated that easily. Instead, they would peruse the aisles of the bookstore and essentially window shop—opening a book, reading the first five pages, then, if it hadn't snagged their attention, returning it to its assigned shelf. At some point they'd found themselves immersed in a novel detailing the steps of playwrighting, physically incapable of relinquishing the book even for a moment so they could check out. "Just this," they spoke up as they approached the counter, flashing a smile at the clerk. They eyed the display of bookmarks before reaching out and sliding one between the pages of the book to save their page. "That, too. Or—maybe the one that looks like a fan. Definitely not the holographic dolphin. What do you suggest?"

@anchoragestarters    ↯    CAP ( UNDECIDED ) DATE & LOCATION — MAY 25, 5:41PM ↯ SLEEPY CAT BOOKS

it’d been a little too long since he last offered his services—having a full shift—at the local bookshop, but he’d been there for most of the day already. it was a little too slow for a saturday, but the lack of patrons gave him a lot of time to ponder, and that was truthfully not exemplary for mireu’s psyche, and if overthinking was considered a sport, he would be a professional. roo welcomed any individual who would walk past the shop’s threshold with a smile on his face, answering any sort of questions they had... despite not knowing the answers to most of them. mireu merely worked here for some extra income as a part-timer, but it was the thought that counted, right? either way, he’d rarely look up from the cash wrap and wasn’t too curious about who came in through the door, be it those who recognized him or not. closing seemed so close, yet so far away...

[othcrside]

It was an ideal evening—for Murphy, at least, and she'd held out hope thinking that Atticus shared the sentiment. After all, how could you go wrong burning your retinas out by subjecting them to hours of screen time and then nursing the throbbing pain in your temples with a burger and a crisp lemon-lime soda? The concept alone stimulated her taste buds, and one could say her step had more of a spring as she rounded the front of the Jaguar and secured herself in the passenger seat, nimble digits flexing in on themselves in her excitement. Alright, she might've simply been starved. She had a tendency of neglecting food intake past a certain hour—if all the ingredients couldn't fit into a box of Kraft, she was wildly disinterested. But then she was in the most magical place on earth: White Castle. Eyeing the menu, she peeled her gaze away whenever Atticus spoke first. "Well, they're definitely not the best cheeseburgers in America," she returned, a snort escaping her nose as she squinted her eyes at each item listed alongside their respective prices. This really was dirt cheap. Was it even safe to consume? Whatever. Her stomach was presently eating itself, she would deal. "I think after skipping out on popcorn and candy during the movies, you'll find it's actually more of a spiritual experience to eat in one of these places while famished than anything else."

@othcrside w. murphy at a white castle, around midnight

Late night munchies were more of his brother's schtick than his own. Normally, past the hour of ten o'clock, the tattooist was in bed and, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world, thanks to a little pill called Risperdal. On the off-chance that Micah was working late to organize a few wine-tasting events upcoming over the summer for the winery, he'd accepted Murphy's invitation to spend a movie marathon on her sofa until his wife collected him. Possibly leaving the pairing alone together was the conduit of a mad scientist — that was to say, neither of them were incredibly adept at the concept of time management, and thus how they'd ended up with Atticus losing track of the precise hour when they'd taken his Jaguar to Slashback Rentals and ended up in... this establishment. It had been a while since he'd entertained the thought of a fast food joint, the astringent odor of grease and the incessant clacking of the cash register already on the verge of driving him out of his own cage of flesh. He'd been listening to the crew fire off orders and babble in code to one another — Stop that. His best friend's voice reaching through the low buzz racketballing through the building prompted him to face her. "What?" A once-over of her posture facing away from him gave inkling that she hadn't spoken whatsoever, and thus, he brushed it off, nudging her with his elbow, hands in a worn-out bomber jacket. "So — best cheeseburgers in Anchorage? I'll hate to disagree when they're served."

[othcrside]

Oh, Saylor was invested. If she enjoyed anything in life, it was reveling in someone's rich backstory—and advertising a divorce first thing? She might as well have struck gold. It wasn't so often she'd acquainted truly intriguing individuals. Despite the fact Anchorage was rife with drama and entertainment, the everyday laymen was painfully boring; only wishing to carry along with their day in silence. How anticlimactic. "Wow. Aren't you the coolest? Already divorced. I'm still waiting on my first Prince Charming," she chose to muse, then found excitement unfurling in her rib cage upon being assured that any potential ranting wouldn't prove an issue. "I'll try and keep my voice down about it at least. Library and all," Demonstrably she kept her words in a lower octave, signature grin still painted on her lips. "I could always teach you about the wonders of winged liner, you know. I become a new woman every time I learn a new technique. It's refreshing without being... Overwhelming. Like giving yourself a chemical cut after a bad breakup." And while Saylor could easily dominate an overwhelming situation, she knew not everyone was so fortunate as she. But then again, she had made a career out of underestimating people. "I'll definitely let you know. Do you have a number or... Email? I don't really know what people around here use to keep up with each other anymore."

It was a familiar refrain in Bernadette's ears, a song she'd known by heart since she was a child: being constantly misinterpreted. It really shouldn't have surprised her much anymore, the way people could give her one look and decide they already knew what kind of person she was. Still, she couldn't deny the small thrill she got from catching people off guard with her frank way of speaking and the strange tangents that often rolled off her tongue with little thought whenever she felt comfortable. "I don't know if I have everything figured out. Otherwise, I wouldn't be divorced at twenty-eight. But I know how I'd like to present myself, at least," she remarked easily, deciding that even if she and Saylor had different approaches, that perhaps they were kindred spirits in a sense, and she should speak her mind after all. "By all means, I don't mind," the illustrator urged the other. "Trust me, I ramble all the time once I find a topic that captures my attention. I don't mind in the least." Tilting her head to the side as she considered her suggestions for updating Bernie's wardrobe, a small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "Okay, I don't hate that. Some light academia chic feels very on brand for me, so I might have to invest in some tailored vests," the brunette conceded, her tone much lighter than it usually was during interactions with strangers. "I'll have to practice for the winged liner, though. I tend to skip it entirely." Nodding her confirmation that her book recommendation was indeed a good one, Bernadette insisted, "Oh, if you're looking for something gothic and dark, you can't go wrong with du Maurier. If you end up liking it, you'll have to let me know."