#━━ ✦ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋 * CHATS ‚ i put my hand on the stove to see if i still bleed .

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"I MADE A LOT OF BAD DECISIONS..." marisol + benny sometime in september, 2023 ( @b4rredteeth )

"Can't be worse than the decisions I make on a Saturday night," Marisol gave a hum in reply as she twirled her amethyst pendant, which was said in the world of witchcraft to be beneficial for soothing anxieties, between her nimble fingers that were nearly all decorated with rings she had lovingly crafted herself in her hours of incurable boredom. Some would say she was a bit absent-minded, never fully coming around to the point of what was being said, but that wasn't true — she had simply reached a point of introspection where she seemed utterly lost in her own world. She paid attention, though. She always paid attention. Her brown eyes glimmered as she gave Benny a once over, counting each of his blinks and the breaths he drew in and then released. Was he always this mysterious, or was it a facade? "Seriously, just ask my siblings. But what bad decisions have you made? We can compare." she offered, a grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

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"I CAME HERE THINKING I COULD EASE THE PAIN." marisol + cyrek the night of september 20th, 2023 ( @nxnbinarydracvla )

The relationship Marisol shared with her brother was tumultuous at the very least, much like what he endured concerning their other sisters. Not only was she a generation ahead, she didn't offer many the chance to truly know who she was — she had tried before and it continuously backfired, so the youngest Adler detached herself from others as a result. She was still ever delightful and pleasant to be around, as she didn't see a point in being discourteous when she could act otherwise, but everyone could tell there was something off about her. Something missing. So, you could deduce her surprise whenever Cyrek appeared on her doorstep, which really wasn't too far from his own humble abode, drenched from a rain shower that was summer's last act of vengeance before it was swiftly swept into the shadow of autumn and after that, a brutal winter. "You look like a wet rat, first of all, and that definitely isn't helping," she commented as she began ushering her brother in quickly so he could escape the torrential downpour. "Kick your shoes off here, I just mopped. Are you hurt? Do you need alcohol or alcohol?" she prodded, examining his statuesque figure for any injuries that would constitute a need for her long-abandoned First AID kit that she thought might still be on the tallest shelf in her hallway closet.

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november 16th, kingpin trailer park marisol + cyrek ( @nxnbinarydracvla )

In lieu of the Halloween bash that had begotten a bloodbath, Marisol was resolutely shaken. She no longer felt secure in the confines of her own trailer and had resolved to pack a bag with rolled-up sweaters and a couple pairs of jeans, shoving in her tried and true Converse that had initials and various sketches scribbled on the rubber like margins in a notebook and beads threaded in the laces, fleeing the home she had made a safe haven after her grandiose return from Europe once graduating university. The only other place in Anchorage she knew she would find solace was but a few paces away — her dear brother Cyrek's trailer where he and his family of nearly a dozen resided. She fished around her pocket before she unearthed a spare key she was gifted in case of emergencies, forcing her way in and assuming a cheeky grin upon first spotting her nieces who flocked to greet their youngest aunt. Tears preemptively sprouted on her waterline that she blinked away hastily as she lowered herself to their level and began a riveting conversation about their lives teeming with intrigue to the inquisitive witch. When Cyrek made an appearance, Marisol held Amaris close and beamed up at him. "Go on, tell your ol' man how Aunt Sol wants to have a sleepover with you guys for a while." she prompted jovially.

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with esteban veracruz @ kingpin trailer park september 10th ( @sourhercine )

Following a series of failed dates, Marisol was dawning upon the realization that she couldn't coast along in the dating scene with the simple—and incredibly off-putting—fact that she had eaten a bullet mere months before. She was hoping, childishly, that the scar would exude the kind of mystique she chased for her entire life. For most girls, majority of whom were Anchorage natives, they'd registered this as a warning sign and swiftly high-tailed it as far in the other direction as they could reach. Defeated, she had little reliable resources; she could've plundered her siblings' friend groups for a prospect, and considering Cyrek had succeeded in securing their sister an equal match, it wasn't such an ill-formed plan. However, she would've preferred to keep her romantic endeavors separated from her home life until she quite literally couldn't anymore. Which is why she sought the counsel of a like-minded individual in Esteban. She rang them up, cheerily inviting them to hers, and made quick work of brewing tea and popping pizza rolls in the oven as an appetizer. "I hope you like the triple cheese kind, I cannot stand the pepperoni," she said as she passed them a warm mug of steaming tea. "Let me know if you'd rather have soda, I've got everything. Well, minus booze. Doesn't mix well with my meds. So, um. I was kind of hoping you could help me out. You're married, right? How'd you do that?"

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with love matsuda @ the ivy september 1st ( @snowkisses )

Marisol was a changed woman. Emerging from the ashes comprised of her past life, encountering death so intimately had shifted something once integral in her. She had attained a heightened sense of fear, a renewed survival instinct, and more situational awareness than she had ever summoned from herself. For years, decades even, she'd succumbed to the fate prescribed to her by a psychiatrist at the ripe age of sixteen — she was eternally cursed, bound by a force beyond her understanding, to remain in a state of uncertainty and thrill. While exciting in the beginning, the novelty began wearing whenever she felt that bullet pierce through her skin and the metal trickle throughout and taint her blood. Life was not precious then; mortality didn't exist to the young witch, always brushing against the hind leg's of death without feeling the tendrils of its fingers grip stubbornly onto the nape of her neck. Finally, when the phenomenon of death had presented itself unto her wholly, she had snapped out of whatever childish frame of mind she'd been stuck in ever since realizing the chains that bound her to her illness for life.

She remembered the interactions that had taken place shortly before the incident, and Love Matsuda's name rang silvery and tempting in her mind whenever her existence resurfaced in the forefront of Marisol's cognizance. She was endlessly grateful that she'd given the young witch the time of the day, even if she was monetarily compensated, and she was hoping that now, they could develop their relationship into something more organic. So, on one dewy morning, she dialed in Love's number and invited her to lunch at the restaurant that she waitressed at — the employee discount, courtesy of her phenomenal employer, was not to be disregarded or underutilized. Despite the nature of the meeting bearing a stark contrast to that of their initial one, Marisol still felt compelled to dress up. She adorned the nicest clothes in her wardrobe: a navy blue cardigan, a very stylish graphic tee-shirt, her favorite thrifted plaid skirt, and, of course, sheer tights that were paired with her newly purchased Converse (she was, at last, convinced to relinquish the older pair that she had possessed since her sophomore year of high school.) After she found their seating, someplace without a draft and nearby the windows, she excitedly thumbed through the menu that she had memorized by heart before her gaze caught on Love's form approaching. "Love!" she exclaimed, a smile bubbling delightfully on her pink-tinged lips. "I'm so glad you could make it. Come, sit! I haven't even ordered yet. Wanna start with some wine?"

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the ivy, march 14th @sickbxysoldier

Despite the glaring truth that was Marisol's undying devotion for her dear sister Ava, that didn't mean she reserved any less love for the rest of her siblings — she certainly never pegged herself the type to pick out favorite family members, though that certainly varied depending on the day and any slights levied against her by any one of them. But she was an oblivious and flighty spirit, so occasionally her attention could drift and fixate on one person at a time rather than delegating her time fairly, which is what motivated her to invite Damiar out for a fully-covered meal at the Ivy. It wasn't too often she could speak with her siblings without some kind of melodramatic interruption, so she had held this day close to her heart, all the way up until she set out the dishes and utensils they would need for their meals. She smoothed out her already ironed black skirt that wasn't mandatory when she was off the clock, however it felt wrong being in-house and not dressing the part. Her features lit up whenever she spotted her older brother, waving a hand around fanatically. "Dami! Here! I've got us all set up," she nodded toward their table, then hurried ahead so she could envelop him in a hug. "I missed you, bro-bro."