saxifraged

[saxifraged]

the words are out of her mouth before she's fully formed them in her brain - "it's okay," because it always will be with dom. "no worries." his conciliatory offer is the first thing to pull a smile from her lips since the night before, and she nods thoughtfully, as if it had taken even an ounce of consideration. "hmm... okay, fine. but we have to go to pretty bird for an almond croissant immediately. otherwise, i think i might die."

she heads over to the door to slip on her shoes and is immediately grateful to be facing away from dom as he asks her about the rest of her night. "no, no," she begins, kneeling down to fiddle with her shoelaces. "you're fine. i slept like a rock this morning. last night, um- i was just up for a while, y'know..." she lets the pause linger as she stands, then picks the sentence back up again as she turns to face her roommate once again. "it was hard to fall asleep, after everything." she doesn't elaborate, and she doesn't think she needs to.

but of course, even admitting that it had happened was sucking her right back into those feelings. what do you think of me now? she wants to ask. do you think i'm awful because of something i didn't even do? will you think i'm worse when you find out the truth? dom wasn't the type to be hateful, or to hold a grudge, but with something this massive... maybe she didn't want to know the answer. "it doesn't matter." she's speaking out loud, maybe adding on to her last statement to dom, maybe addressing her own thoughts, but regardless, it's verbalized. "ready to go?"

should it be dom in emilia's shoes — and it will be, it will be, that's what the message said, it said you all — but should it be, dom thinks that he would be handling the situation with a lot less grace. his usual suspects, the nausea and stress-sweats that dampen only the right side of his body, have already begun to creep up. this morning has felt like the daybreak of a big exam, or a thesis review, or an important match; like he cannot possibly move fast enough, do well enough, provide enough, in each minute that bleeds through his hands.

but like all the others, he must try. "shit," he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forehead scrunching in the way that only ever means bad news. "i killed it last night. i am so sorry, i haven't had the chance to grab more yet." quickly, having been given a new task to steady his stomach, dom abandons they precarious laundry-and-laptop combo he had been carrying to display a sheepish, consoling grin. "i can go out right now, but, hear me out. you can come with me if you want, and i will also provide complimentary bad-roommate, let-me-make-it-up-to-you breakfast. completely not contingent on the company provided and completely your choice of locale."

which, to be fair, he would have done anyway. she looks miserable, and it is far, far easier to offer her this, an errand run and a weight off her shoulders, as if it is an apology, rather than a pity. dom, cracking his door open to swipe his keys from the desk, is more than happy to play their game of pretend for a little while. "i didn't wake you, did i? i thought i heard you up pretty late."

[saxifraged]

who: @ofpoisontongues when: a few minutes into the funeral reception where: just outside the cathedral

she needed some air. the funeral, the reception, all of it, felt suffocating. the chill of the air bit at her heels relentlessly, but emilia just needed some space. a moment to herself, away from the mourners. funerals weren’t her thing, not by a long shot, but she thought she’d be fine. she didn’t really care too much about dupont, at least not on any personal level. she respected him as an academic, sure, and definitely didn’t want him dead, but attending his funeral made her feel like she was a bit too close to him. almost as if he had her in some sort of ghastly headlock, fixed in place beside him.

he’s making me feel shitty even from beyond the grave. how characteristic. she made her way down the steps of the cathedral to find that she wouldn’t be given a moment of peace after all, because there was fucking richard, popping up like a weed you can’t kill. emilia almost turned back around, shifting her weight between her feet. which was worse, the funeral reception or hanging out with a prick with some sort of personal vendetta against her? though she wasn’t certain she truly picked the lesser of these two evils, she decided to keep heading towards the prick.

well, at least he had a flask - not that she assumed he’d share with her. they had always been at odds somehow, for some reason. emilia had really done her best to fit in here. she’s spent countless hours organizing her ever-growing web of lies, curating the right wardrobe, finding the best designer mimicries and sewing in the right labels to seal the deal. everyone else accepted it without question. they weren’t suspicious, as far as she could tell. but none of it was enough, it seemed, for richard.

“richard.” she said brusquely by way of greeting, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “there’s refreshments inside, you know. you don’t have to stay out here with that. pour it into a cup, nobody would know.”

[saxifraged]

when: the start of the funeral as everyone gathers, waiting for it to officially begin where: outside the cathedral who: @andthorns

there weren't many things that would convince emilia to come to this man's funeral, but after hearing even just a few names of those who would be in attendance, she knew she'd have to be present. she'd spent the morning practicing what she'd say to them, how to best represent herself and her studies. the elevator pitch on her research was thorough, concise, and well-rehearsed. she'd be tasteful, of course. this wasn't exactly the time to be handing out business cards and whatnot, but you can never be too prepared when running in these social circles. she felt confident, sure of herself - and then she arrived, and all of that confidence fell away.

now, here she is, meandering alone through the dark pool of mourners, the misty rain lightly dotting her hair and eyelashes. meandering alone, that is, until she comes across the back of a head that is quite familiar. "mari," she calls softly to the other girl, not quite loud enough to cause a disturbance but clear enough to alert her coworker of her presence. she hurries over, relieved to find someone she knew. "hey," emilia greets her friend, looping an arm through mari's elbow. "i'm glad i found you - this is giving me the heebie jeebies, and we haven't even heard the speeches yet." as if her nerves were once again taking root, emilia rocks back on her heels, shifting her weight. "how are you feeling about... all this?"

[saxifraged]

EVENT 004. THE FUNERAL OF MARCEL DUPONT

she doesn't care much for funerals, but where academia's greatest minds gather, emilia will follow suit. she's not as much mourning as she is wishing to brush shoulders with the people she should've been networking with at the donor's banquet. still, though, it only feels right to pay her respects, no matter her personal feelings about dupont. she shows up in an outfit that she hopes is equal parts sensible and functional, helping to ward off the chill that is just coming from the rain, of course.

[saxifraged]

given recent events, the other members of praeditus weren't high on the list of people emilia wanted to see. they didn't seem to mind too much what she'd supposedly done, the fictitious near-homewrecking of her brother's nonexistent girlfriend, but that didn't exactly put her mind at ease. no matter how minor of a change their perceptions of her were, they still shifted. everything she'd done, each poor choice she'd made, had been to meticulously curate a specific impression of herself among her peers. now, the facade was chipped at like a slab of stone - all because some idiot wanted them to suffer, or dupont to suffer, or both.

however, when the gentle knock at her front door revealed gemma, emilia's hard-set expression softened, the brows that had been furrowed all morning unknit. "hey, gemma." she greets the other girl, her gaze flitting down to the basket in gemma's hands. it's a sweet gesture, one that sends a crack through her heart. you didn't have to do all this, she wants to say, it's not real. but of course, she says nothing, just listens to gemma's voice and tries not to think too hard about the whole thing, as if that's ever worked for her.

"this is really kind of you, gemma, thank you. i'm... alright." it's a tentative answer, but she pushes forth a small smile for her visitor. "'cool' isn't the word i'd use, but it's nice to know they don't think i'm awful for it." she takes a step back, opening the door wider so that gemma and her basket of goodies could enter the apartment. "want to come in? i don't think i can eat all these cupcakes by myself."

for @saxifraged

air has been thick with a grey-coloured tension since the group had excavated marcel’s office & apartment, the kind of gloom that settles on your shoulders and feels impossible to shrug off. she finds it hard to breathe, lungs full of a gloopy density she knows is anxiety, but she imagines looks just like tar. and whilst gemma can’t even begin to understand how emilia must feel, secret exposed to the winds,  the threat of exposure plays on everyone’s minds. who’s next? the question on dry lips, skin cracked with worry as if only the first warning shot has been triggered. 

she’s knocking on emilia’s door with a basket of treats - freshly baked cupcakes, face masks, cosy blankets & a sweater she had just finished knitting, the scent of toasted cinnamon coating every single item - in the hopes of comforting the other, but when the door opens she stumbles over her words. “uh… hi.. emilia. i just wanted to drop this off for you… y’know.. after the other evening.” if her hands weren’t full of confectionery she’d surely be scratching the back of her neck, or fiddling with the lining of her pockets. “how are you doing? honestly, i don’t think what came out was even that bad… like honestly i think most of the others thought it was kind of cool..”

[saxifraged]

i want to kiss emilia on the mouth

and you know what?! as you SHOULD! give my girl emilia some lovin'!

[saxifraged]

who: @voteoakes when: the day after the group received emilia's 'secret' via email where: dom & em's apartment

though the sun had been pouring into emilia's room for hours, it was the pounding of her head that woke her. a hangover, maybe, from the wine she'd had a bit too much of, or perhaps just the headache that comes from someone airing your dirty laundry to your peers. none of it felt real to her - the cryptic message, the responses from the group, even the secret itself. not that it was even true, but of course, only dove would know that. as for everyone else, their perceptions of her - that she'd worked so hard to curate - would change.

when she'd given it to dupont, she never expected it to see the light of day. just another lie to add to her spreadsheet, one that should've been relatively inconsequential. and yet, here it was, laid out plainly for public consumption. emilia turned over, tangled up in her sheets, and reached for her phone on her nightstand. rereading the message for the hundredth time wouldn't help the dull throbbing in her head, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

last night, after she and dom had arrived home, she'd immediately excused herself to her room. behind her locked door, she'd drunkenly reanalyzed both the email and her spreadsheet, reviewing her story over and over and over so that she wouldn't forget it moving forward. she'd probably need to do it again, she realized, now that she was sober. but first, she needed to take care of this headache.

she ventures into the kitchen to find that it's much later than she'd normally allow herself to sleep in, and pours herself a glass of water so she can take some ibuprofen. said ibuprofen, though, was nowhere to be found. digging around in the medicine cabinet was yielding no results, and before she can get much farther into her search, she hears the familiar click of dom's door announcing his presence. "i can't find the ibuprofen," she says, feeling quite helpless. "can you help me look? my head's killing me."

[saxifraged]

"you and me both." emilia cracked a smile at aileen's words. "don't let the others - or, you know, gen, specifically - badger you too much about that. if we had an endless supply of bottles, i think glass would've been flying." the dynamics of this group were messy, entangled in a tight knot that was impossible to separate. things were bound to get heated when things were this complicated. besdies, emilia couldn't fault aileen for throwing that bottle when she would probably take great pleasure in throwing one of her own at a certain coworker's cousin.

"dom won't hold onto it." emilia poked at her pasta with her fork, unsure of exactly where the thought came from but certain in its truth. "he may have been worked up about it last night, but so was everyone else. i know he cares about you far too much to let it come between you two." not that she was any sort of expert when it came to relationships - in fact, she was probably the opposite. the isolation she brought upon herself since coming to meraviglia certainly hadn't done her any favors in that respect. she simply knew dom, and she knew aileen, and she knew that they'd work it out like they always do.

emilia was more than a pretty face; that observation had become more and more apparent to aileen in the time the two had gotten to know each other, mostly when aileen hung out at dominic's for a sleepover or at other praedtius member events. aileen had come to find that the other latina was perceptive and quiet, a dangerous combination in their world of luxury and ego. still, emilia seemed to be one of the few people in the praeditus club that didn't get on her nerves. the younger woman was kind-hearted and compassionate, something most of the others failed to be.

she wasn't sure what emilia had known about the situation, other than what dominic could've maybe told her since they were roommates and all. to her, it didn't seem like emilia was fishing for information for her own personal gain. aileen hoped she wasn't wrong about that assumption. "pasta sounds good," she answered as she followed emilia into the kitchen, thanking her for the plate. the idea of seeing dominic right now made her stomach churn, regardless if that had been her original objective. she was starting to feel an air of relief that he wasn't here, not so much because she didn't want to see him, but more so because she had to come to realize that she wouldn't have known what to say to him if he'd been home. against her better judgement, she decided to give emilia a tiny sliver of information of how she was feeling for once. "that marcel shit is messed up. but, i mean, we saw a lot that night... i'm surprised more bottles weren't thrown around by the others." as if that made it any better.

[saxifraged]

while the others she'd spoken to hadn't seemed up for discussion about current events, gemma opened up right away. it was refreshing, emilia thought, to have someone openly share her concerns. did they replace the wine after their escapades at the church? she wasn't sure, and honestly hadn't thought to cover their tracks there. "i don't know, but if not, i don't think that would get traced back to us. and as for us leaving, well... i think we sort of staggered our exits." after a moment of thought, she added, "besides, i don't think anyone would blame us for wanting to get out of there, even if we didn't know marcel."

with gemma's addition of the fact that marcel did indeed have something on all of them, emilia very nearly shuddered. "he does - did, i mean. have something on us. but do you think any of those things are so bad that one of us would kill him for it?" the secret she gave to marcel wasn't one born of truth, but she'd like it kept hidden regardless. it wouldn't be hard for anyone to figure out she had lied, and that would start to unravel the entire story she'd spun since arriving at meraviglia. a recipe for disaster, sure, but would she kill someone to keep it from happening? no way. "i mean, you're right. it could have been a million things. there's definitely more to this that we don't know."

“there was a lot of alcohol involved,” she’ll murmur in agreement, a failed attempt at soothing her own imagination currently getting the better of her intelligence. “did anyone even replace the wine that was stolen from the church? i’m not religious but that feels like some kind of bad omen.” she hadn’t drank anything herself that evening, her focus entirely on making connections with the right people. now, it seemed a waste of time, her future once bright turned blurry. “do you think anyone saw us? i know it was dark but there were lots of people at the banquet. don’t you think we looked suspicious, all twelve of us slipping away as soon as we heard the news about marcel?” 

it’s a lot of questions for so early in the morning, she’s aware, but she’s letting her anxiety get the better of her, her tongue moving faster than her brain, syllables creeping up her throat and falling from her lips without amendment. “you’d hope not, but you never know. he did.. have something on all of us, didn’t he? maybe someone couldn’t bare the thought of him playing with their secret. he could be… temperamental sometimes. a million things could have happened to set him off.”

[saxifraged]

it could easily raise suspicions, she knows, to have a job here and simultaneously proclaim to have some unfathomable wealth. chan seemed to sense that, or at least seemed perplexed by it. but regardless of whatever facade emilia paraded around, her reality was that she did need this job. if chan suspected anything, he'd be correct in that feeling - precise, as she'd known him to be - but em didn't view him as the type to get confrontational based on suspicion alone.

"animals among us, bradshaw." she repeats his request, mostly to herself, and slides off her chair. "you can follow me - the nonfiction stacks are back this way." her words are thrown softly over her shoulder as maneuvers around the checkout counter and starts heading toward the nonfiction section, contemplating his next question while she walked. "i mean, typically, i'd say yes, but things have been so crazy lately. i'm not sure anything could fully take my attention away from the shit we've been dealing with." as if on cue, emilia's mind starts racing as they meander through the stacks, and she doesn't want to dump her thoughts on chan, who simply came in looking for a book, but she just can't help herself. the floodgates were already open. "do you think the cops are gonna start lingering around the school? there's no way i'm gonna be able to finish my coursework at any level of success if we have to be constantly reminded of what happened."

"no," he says slowly, "you haven't." it's oddly jarring, seeing someone who runs in chan's circle working a job — not a 'let me jerk off in a corner office while my dad runs the company upstairs' job, but a real one, and chan has a hard time imagining any member of praeditus bending over to pick up boxes and restock shelves. but sure, chan accepts that they all have odd hobbies, his just happens to involve a lot more white powder.

"i'm looking for a book called the animals among us by john bradshaw, most likely in the nonfiction section? not for a class or anything, just... fun," he says, though the words sound foreign in his mouth. chan struggles to characterize anything he does as fun, as emilia puts it, since he'd like to think he's far too serious of an academic for that. "and maybe to take my mind off everything else happening, too. i guess you achieve that by working here, right?" again, he almost stumbles over the word 'working', like he's learning a dead language.

[saxifraged]

"maybe not," emilia agrees, her eyes trained on the girl across the room, "but regardless, i really don't think i could possibly talk you up enough in any sort of genuine way." after a pause, she glances back at fitz. "i don't u-haul, by the way. do i seem like the kind of person who would u-haul?" she may seem like it, she realizes, with the way she quickly cozied up to dove. there was no way for fitz to know that emilia let his sister in so profoundly because she had figured out her darkest secret.

a roll of her eyes indicates her disgust at his suggestion to 'watch,' though the small smile tugging at her lips gave away the humor she found in his comment. she shifts her weight at his next question, contemplating how to answer. the last person i fucked was your best friend seems a little too brash. and who's to say fitz didn't already know? none of your business would be simple and effective, but a bit too distant and perhaps oversensitive. "i don't kiss and tell," she begins, "but if you're so curious, you should know that i don't keep my sexual exploits exclusive to our little circle. if you haven't seen any signs of me getting laid, then maybe you just aren't looking in the right places."

"oh come on now, emilia bedilia, not everyone on this campus knows you're choosing chicks over dicks. you could totally pass as one of my late-night lovahs, just don't say anything about u-hauls or girl in red," he says with conviction. unlike the other members of praeditus, who either love to hate fitz or hate to love him, emilia has somehow always been comfortable in that sweet balancing act between the two. fitz and her are friendly, certainly not at the besties level that he perceives emilia and dove to be, and that's just fine with him. he and dove are allowed to have some differing interests, after all.

fitz grins at emilia's threats, knowing they're hollow. "i'd be just fine with that, as long as i get an invitation to watch," he tells emilia with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows. "when was the last time you got laid, miss 'what if i talked her up'? i don't exactly see you with honeys hanging off your arm in the hallways. don't tell me you woo them once and then they never want to walk emilia street again?"

[saxifraged]

generally speaking, best practices for giant fucking liars included not adding too many details to your story. over-explaining was a telltale sign of deception, and giving someone extraneous pieces of information would only create more trouble down the line. you are, after all, responsible for remembering those pieces of information. but when gen turns around to face her, much closer than emilia had ever experienced, emilia feels like she needs to word-vomit like she's never word-vomitted before. but she's been lying for years now, and knows how to handle herself when she feels cornered. was gen cornering her, or was she just paranoid, per usual?

"an attorney, yeah. corporate law. he is a hardass, though i don't think he sees it that way." she chuckles, but it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. her father was one of the most selfless, compassionate people she'd ever known. to speak of him like this, to lie about who he is, put a hole through em's chest like a cannonball. she takes a step back from gen, desperate to escape the other girl's magnetic gaze. it felt like gen was staring through her, down to her bones. "oh yeah," she nods, "for sure."

my treat. was she taunting her? did it matter? "i'd never say no to a martini."

emilia bites the inside of her cheek, reminding herself that if gen forgot to pay her back, she could always ask dove to cover it - though she hated asking dove to cover things. "if you want, i can go ahead and pay for the dress while you finish getting changed." the last thing em needed was for gen to see her using the debit card from her local indiana-based credit union.

“  thanks,  ”  gen’s  gratitude  rings  out  crisp  and  casual.  it  isn’t  her  charming  thank  you  or  her  thoughtless  one,  it’s  the  kind  of  weightless  appreciation  reserved  for  a  friend  that’s  done  you  some  small  favour:  pleasant  and  quickly  forgotten.  she  can’t  help,  though,  the  way  her  attention  snags  on  emilia’s  immediate  insistence  on  a  payment  plan.  money,  in  the  circles  gen  runs  in,  swirls  around  as  prettily  and  plentifully  as  the  bubbles  in  cristal.  repayment  between  friends  exists  as  an  afterthought,  if  at  all.  and  while  she’s  not  opposed  to  the  fact  that  some  people  prefer  to  keep  their  checking  books  carefully  balanced,  the  immediacy  with  which  the  subject  rose  to  the  other  girl’s  lips  made  her  pause.  to  her  it  bordered  on  crass,  and  that  wasn’t  a  way  she  had  known  emilia  to  be.  “  of  course,  ”  her  voice  is  warm,  obliging.  her  eyes  watch  emilia  steadily  in  the  mirror  as  she  unzips  the  dress,  the  other  girl  seemingly  too  absorbed  in  her  task  to  notice.  

zipper  done  with,  one  arm  holding  her  dress  in  place,  gen  turns  to  face  emilia.  she’s  closer  to  emilia  than  she  ever  usually  is.  close  enough  to  smell  her  perfume,  not  one  she  recognizes,  and  close  enough  to  see  every  flicker  of  expression  that  runs  across  her  face  in  crystal  clear  detail.  “  you  poor  thing.  you  said  your  dad  was  an  attorney  right  ?  he  must  be  a  real  hardass.  ”  her  expression  shifts  to  one  of  camaraderie,  the  curiosity  and  scrutiny  of  her  gaze  hidden  behind  charming  eyes,  “  we  should  grab  martinis  and  talk  about  dads  sometime,  my  treat  ”  it  could  be  an  offer  of  friendship  or  it  could  be  a  trap,  but  genevieve  spins  it  like  a  web.

[saxifraged]

surely it was an accident. surely, right? though she knew gemma would probably disagree, dupont could be an asshole at times. emilia had even gotten into some heated debates with him herself - but was he so much of an asshole that someone wanted him dead? was he so pretentious that someone had said enough and plunged a knife into his back to keep him from finishing his final, ostentatious thought? "yeah," emilia said, though she knew her tone was a bit distant to be comforting. "had to have been an accident. maybe he just fell."

em took a sip of her coffee, contemplating gemma's words. it certainly was strange, watching the group fall to pieces before her eyes, just for a night, before they had to form a united front in the name of saving their secrets. but to think that any one of them had something to do with this felt impossible. "i think things just got a bit rowdy, that's all. we were all drinking, y'know? and we got some really unfortunate news." the understatement of the century, perhaps. "i don't think anyone in praeditus would be capable of anything that sinister - not even adonis." it's supposed to be a joke, but emilia isn't sure that anything about marcel's untimely demise would strike gemma as particularly funny.

leans against the countertop as she listen to the other, eyes dignified with empathy. "it doesn't feel real. it's like some sick nightmare that i can't wake up from, no matter how hard i pinch myself." her relationship with marcel had been special - or so she thought. she had spent hours in the professor's office working on essays, valued his opinion more than anyone else's. she had felt almost dependent on the man to get her through the school year - insecure in her own intelligence at times, but he never was - he had always believed in her abilities in a way that nobody had express before, even if it was in his own stoic manner. "surely it was an accident. he just lost his footing and fell. gabrielle had to be wrong about seeing a knife in his back. it could have been a trick of the eye. i know he was.. less favourable to some people, but i can't imagine hating him enough to do... that." gemma speaks with a shiver that trickles down her spine, clutches at the warmth of the coffee in her hand for comfort. "last night was.. strange. with the others in the church. you don't think someone from pradetius is guilty of something, do you?"

[saxifraged]

emilia was no detective, but she knew that there had to be a little more to this situation than aileen having too much to drink. she threw a bottle at gen - something emilia couldn't say she didn't understand, but a bit extreme nonetheless. there was something that ran deeper, a singular thread connecting gen, dom, and aileen that had become visible to everyone in attendance last night. maybe it wasn't her place to get involved, but dom was one of her closest friends, and aileen was an extension of him - if he cared for aileen, then so did she, without question.

besides, lending an ear to listen wasn't getting too involved, she supposed. she wasn't taking sides, wasn't meddling, but was instead simply acting as a confidante, or a friend, should aileen need it. "i haven't eaten yet, but i've got some pasta on the stove." she closed the door behind aileen as the other woman entered the apartment. "there's plenty, so we can save dom a plate, too." emilia makes her way over to the kitchen, pulls out a couple plates, and dishes some pasta onto both. after handing one to aileen, along with a fork, she settles into her usual spot at the dining table. "are you sure you're alright?" her elbows rest lightly on the dark wood as she speaks - bad manners, she knows, but a habit she could never break. "i know you can take care of yourself, but with everything going on, i wouldn't judge you for not being 100% okay right now. god knows i'm not."

from the outside looking in, her relationship with dominic seemed perfect, like a fairy tale happy ending that was far too good to be true. that's because it was. to anyone who had the ability to peer within the web of perfection that she had spun over the years, the cracks were there. lately, the cracks were getting sharper and more noticeable to anyone that was paying attention. aileen didn't know how much more longer she could successfully convince everyone that there was nothing wrong. had that train left already? would anyone even believe her at this point?

rather than covering up, she decided against it. in moments like these where she'd been caught off-guard, aileen's looks and confidence tended to become her go to armor. right then and there, she needed the appearance of security more than anything, especially in front of emilia. "sure. thanks, em," she told the other woman before she stepped into the apartment. "i'm fine. i just had a little too much to drink," she waved it off with a soft smile. "did you eat? want to order dinner?" maybe food would distract emilia from asking aileen questions about last night.

[saxifraged]

when: shortly after the dispersement of praeditus members from the cathedral where: halfway between the cathedral and dom & emilia's apartment who: @ofcapers

it was all a bit too much - the chaos of their impromptu meeting, the shocking news that preceded it, the mystery of marcel's absence slowly becoming unraveled in the most excruciating way possible... a singular hit from fitz's joint wasn't nearly enough to quiet emilia's racing thoughts. though, to be fair, the amount of weed it would take to accomplish that was something off-limits to her, per her own rules. the last time she let herself over-indulge, she'd made a mistake, let someone too close.

that wouldn't be happening again.

she'd made it a little ways out from the church, headed back in the direction of her and dom's apartment. where dom was, she couldn't be sure, but she hadn't waited around for him. he could make it back himself, as could she. besides, she needed to shower as soon as possible, curl up in bed, and forget about this night. when she heard footsteps behind her, she almost called for her roommate to catch up, expecting him to be falling in step beside her any second. but the steps were all wrong, too light to be dom's, and didn't sound like dove's either.

emilia turned, stopping in her tracks. lili. she very nearly spoke the other girl's name, but the word was stuck in her throat, never to be verbalized. she met lili's eyes without thinking twice, and was instantly punished by flashes of their last encounter flooding her lucid thoughts the same way it plagued her dreams. "you know, if you're following behind someone, you should probably announce yourself." she kept her voice level, cool, and prayed that her face was either stony or casual enough to not betray the way her breath caught before speaking. "unless you wanted to spook me - but i think i've had enough of that for one day."

[saxifraged]

emilia's living space // details

emilia's room is off-limits to most. she keeps the door shut when the other praeditus members are in the apartment she and @voteoakes share. if you are, by some miracle, allowed inside, it will be under em's watchful eyes. this space holds more than her neatly folded laundry and worn-through books - it also holds her secrets. it's a sacred place, a shrine, if you know where to look. of course, emilia hopes nobody knows where to look.

01. her closet, at first glance, seems pretty ordinary. an array of her clothing on mismatched hangers, all brought from home. something she hadn't thought to correct - after all, who would notice? the clothes themselves all bear emilia's signature: a designer label sewn in by hand, the true tag ripped from the seams and promptly discarded. she's tailored many of her clothes to fit her like a glove, a skill she learned from her mother, though she'll credit a fictional seamstress for the alterations. and then there are the few true high-end pieces, purchased here in italy, thanks to dove.

02. her desk bears the weight of quite a few books, her schoolwork, and a couple plants she's become dedicated to keeping alive. it's a bit cluttered, but nothing is out of place. emilia can tell you where each item is without so much as glancing in that direction. it sometimes becomes a catch-all, her dumping grounds for her rings or hair clips, but at the end of the day, she makes sure everything gets where it needs to be. it's not uncommon to find a mug of half-drunk coffee abandoned on a coaster, waiting to be transported back into the kitchen for an unfortunate journey down the drain.

03. though she may seem like the type, emilia doesn't make her bed most days. there's something comforting to her about the look of tousled sheets and imperfectly placed pillows. when she's not lounging on the couch in the living room or working at her desk, she can be found here, curled up with a book or binging old seasons of survivor. this isn't a place other people have ever been welcome, with the sole exception of dove, who is more than welcome. wine-nights-turned-sleepovers aren't uncommon for them.

04. it's what underneath her bed, however, that holds some real intrigue. a wooden box, locked with a key that lives in her underwear drawer, contains her most personal affects. photographs of her family, letters with a return address in indiana, and any other items that would place cracks in the foundation of her fabricated life story live here, undisturbed and very nearly forsaken. this effigy of her past is shoved up against the corner created where the right bedpost meets the wall, collecting dust. emilia can't bring herself to open it up, except to shove more things inside when they arrive in the mailbox.

05. the water pressure in this shower is by far the best she's ever experienced, compared to everywhere else she's ever lived. emilia takes long, hot showers, lets the steam fill the room until it gets hard to breathe, and then shocks herself with a blast of cold water before getting out. she's not too bothered if she leaves an article or two of clothing around after undressing - she's pretty tidy in this regard, and knows she'll get to it by the end of the day.

06. her walls are relatively bare. she's got a few art prints, magazine clippings, and things of the like, but there's nothing personal. no photos, no memorabilia from her past. nothing to indicate who she is or where she comes from, and that's how she likes it. her saxifrage sprig that she received from marcel is taped to the wall, long since dried out but a constant reminder of who she is now.

07. one thing that emilia is pretty particular about is how her room smells, and at this point, she's got it down to a science. after some trial and error, she's found what she considers to be the best fragrance. incense is lit almost all the time while she's home, perfuming her space with notes of sandalwood and jasmine.

08. the window next to her bed is perhaps her favorite feature of her room. natural light is in abundance throughout the day, dappling her walls and bed in golden sunbeams. of course, the view isn't bad either. a tree reaches up towards the wall of the apartment, and beyond that, she looks out towards the stretch of nascondiglio visible from her perch. she can see the sunrise, and often leaves her blinds open at night so that she can be woken up with the sky.

09. emilia's favorite photo of dom, one taken towards the beginning of their freshman year, is displayed prominantly on the fridge they share. em's space wouldn't exist without him. to live rent-free anywhere already exceeds her expectations, but to live in a place like this rent-free simply feels like a fever dream. he has no idea what this means to her, and she can't tell him, so she tries to make it up to him in other ways. taking on more of the chores around the house, leaving dom her leftovers, and doing her best to make sure he always has what he needs seems miniscule, at best, compared to the opportunity he's given her. one day she'll repay his family, every single penny returned, but until then, she'll dust the baseboards to keep the guilt from eating her alive.

[saxifraged]

as a rule, emilia didn't get too involved in dom and aileen's relationship. living with dom, she bore witness to a multitude of moments between the pair, good, bad, and ugly, even if it was just hearing muffled voices from her side of the wall. she knew something had been off, but until the events in the cathedral took place, she hadn't had any specifics. now, though, everything had been laid out in plain sight. it was aileen in opposition of gen, and dom fell awkwardly in between.

but here was aileen, at her front door, clearly looking for someone who wasn't her. "hey," em shot her a small smile. "you look cute. if you're looking for dom, he's out right now - gym, maybe, i'm not sure. but you can hang out if you wanna wait for him." she opens the door a little more and steps to the side, offering a path through the doorway, should aileen want to take it. "how are you doing, after everything last night?"

a starter for @saxifraged

immediately the morning after the disastrous banquet event, aileen had gone into plotting mode. and so, the latina had done her hair up and slid on the sexiest dress that she owned. if dominic didn't want to answer her hundreds of text messages, then she'd have to go to him and make him remember exactly who his girlfriend was. unfortunately, there had been an unforeseeable detail she hadn't anticipated for in her scheme to get her beau back: he wasn't the one who'd answered the door. "emilia, hi," she greeted the other woman standing before her, feeling a little too exposed now. at least aileen looked hot.