#b.thread

[whencicatrized]

@oneiricspun “   you  want  me  to  punch  him  in  the  face  ??   ”

"No!!" A pause, the thought is compelling, as much as she hates to admit it. "Well... you could I suppose - no! Wait, no, definitely do not punch anyone for my sake!" Besides, it wasn't even that bad - not really, not when it's something she's heard her whole life - just some guy kindly suggesting that she stop talking quite so much and so loudly. "I probably shouldn't even be that loud in cities. There's already so many people, so much noise, you know?"

[whencicatrized]

Briefly - very briefly, she wants to stress - she thought Lucanis was being crass enough to imply staring at someone's chest. Mouth open and ready to argue, she catches herself just in time and deflates. "Oh. Right. Like their hands, the cute way their lips quirk up, the little freckles on their cheeks... that's good..." Once more she's writing her notes down as she thinks to hopefully catch them all before they fly away. "Am I- what? No! No, of course not! Do you think I could ever do that? I've rewritten the ends to a few serials Neve has brought me just because I couldn't stand to see them all so sad! No one is dying!" Now that was an interesting question. Bel takes a moment to think it over, pen tapping against her lips. "Well... yes and no? Not quite in the same manner. Originally everything was told orally. We used to think that we lost all our stories while enslaved, but now that we know more of the truth it seems more likely that things just... weren't written down much!" A few bits here and there, more pictures with brief descriptions that likely were expanded on by the speakers. "In fact, Irelin had the thought that the only things truly written down were the propaganda the Evanuris wanted spread. Which is how our stories got as twisted up as they did."

In his periphery, the hunched demon blinks at precise intervals to replicate the descriptions in the text, engrossed at how easily the story changes with the flick of the quill — little wonder Spite laments about the laws of physics when it could, once, change the space around it as easy as crossing words on parchment. "There's more to stare than each other's eyes." Yet, he cannot deny the captivating appeal. These windows to the soul so often carefully hidden serving as the centerpiece of the moment. His brows arch, the silence stretching before: "Are you writing a tragedy? Now I expect all of them to die." NO! One victor for the. Ending.

"Do elves of old partake in this?" Have the gods been enraptured by weekly publications distributed on cheap paper? Devastated by a cliffhanger? Odd, to wonder such things. Perhaps it would be stranger, still, to not consider it after all they've learned.

[containatrocity]

THE DOLLMAKER: SIDNEE "BUTTONS" O'GRADY

She called me up at a quarter past three; "Big Sister, he hit me." Enough is enough, said, "Give me 15." 'Cause blood's thicker than whiskey...

"Hello there angel baby! I'm Sidnee O'Grady, but you can just call me Miss Buttons, everybody in Huntsville has since you were about a dandelion tall! Why, I'm 65 years old and as spry as ever! Been here my whole life long, I have. I used to own and operate the local toy store before the paradox hit, but that's been about a lifetime now, hasn't it? These days, I busy myself taking care of the young children around town. I'm a maternal type, that much you probably gathered, but I have a distinct lack of patience with stupid adults. My vices are simple- Beautiful women, and a vested belief that if Karma won't get you, Something- or somebody else will."

Name: Sidnee Lenora O'Grady

Aliases: Miss Buttons, Buttons, Sid

Age: 65 (July 9th)

Sexuality/Gender: Cis Lesbian, She/Her

Personality: A warm, maternal woman, Miss Buttons has built her reputation on the back of the archetypal kind southern grandma- an aging belle settling gracefully into her sixties, she carries herself with an overwhelming confidence in herself, well aware she's beautiful and brilliant and unwilling to compromise these facts for anyone else. It's her unwavering love for the most innocent among the people of Huntsville, the young, the abused, the 'odd' that has made her a fixture of the community- when blood fails, it's Buttons who's quick to offer those around her a home, no matter how temporary it may be. Always at the ready with tea, tarts, and a soft blanket, her home's walls hold hundreds of secrets tight- words whispered in confidence never passing cherry-painted lips to another soul. In a way, Buttons has earned her reputation as a witch, among those who take issue with her staunch sense of justice and loyalty to providing a voice to the voiceless. In others- she's just a sweet old lady, and the murmured stories of her knowing just the right way to make somebody's problems disappear are surely just that... Stories.

Occupation: Childcare provider, Seamstress, former toy store owner

Affiliations: She seems particularly close to Auntie G- But appears to be a free agent, beyond her general loyalty to the townsfolk.

Scent Profile: Sweet honey and natural sugars, dyes from plants and the homey, comforting smell of fresh baked pastries. Florals and turned earth, the sharp, cutting smell of various herbs and natural soaps. Light and comforting in a way that's almost performative- hot tea, bubble bath, and clean linen.

Aesthetic: Two pretty, shiny button eyes, 1950s perfection and red-lipped grins even a decade into captivity. She is not trapped here with them, they are trapped here with her. Gentle, pretty hands soothing scrapes and bruises, a piece of sweet candy to chase away tears, a stuffed animal well-loved mended with sure fingers and strong stitching. A gentle voice reading bedtime stories with a jeweled dagger tucked under her pillow, the nightmares don't come into her room when you run to her for solace- they fear her, as you fear them. Spiders and mantises in little glass containers across shelves, living, breathing decor, beautiful and deadly- women with a hunger for blood, and foolish men who push boundaries oft their quarry.

I don't claim to be a saint- But, no, it didn't feel like a sin. It felt like he got what was comin' to him.

CHAPTER ONE: LIFE IN HUNTSVILLE POST PARADOX

Calamity may rule the town she calls home, but it's done little to shake Buttons. She continues as she always has, attending kindly to the children around town and providing a listening ear and leaning shoulder to the young people who might need it. In the wake of murders, natural disasters, and the splintering of extremists, she's continued as she always has, a comfortable, constant presence with an unwavering will, and a lifestyle hinging on no small sense of personal mystery. This too, will pass, and even lying in a heap of rubble, it's likely that Huntsville will always have the heart-print dress clad presence of Sidnee O'Grady. Stepping up her care for the youth in town after the Halloween festival disaster if anything to give injured parents and grief stricken friends a little space to breathe, it's her vested interest in ensuring the safety and comfort of the children that's led her to start teaching other townspeople how to rear the plants she grows in pretty, perfect gardens year-round.

Salves and home remedies made from crushed, cooked, and blended plants, stuffed animals filled with dried aromatics to soothe away nightmares. It is the little bit she can do for the people trapped in town, beyond tea and a listening ear, and she remains willing as ever to take secrets to the grave. Though rumors remain about who's grave certain secrets may eventually lead to. In a way, she's thankful for her lack of employment, these days- the freedom to come, go, and do as she pleases has given her a number of interesting opportunities, after all.

[whencicatrized]

@theredconqueror “ you  don’t  have  to  worry  about  anything ,   as  long  as  i’m  around .  ”

Oh. Oh wow. That was sure a thing to say! Unfortunately, she isn't as smooth with her own words. "I'm actually a bit of a worrier so I don't think you can stop all the worrying. Like what if we're in the Crossroads and all the Eluvians break and I can't fix them from that side? What if we fall down a cliff and don't have enough supplies? What if, in the story I'm reading, the couple never finds each other again?" Despite the varying levels of importance, she lists each problem as if they were equal. "I'm also going to always be worrying if my friends are happy, if they're resting enough, if they're eating well - because honestly, have you seen how some of them eat when left to their own devices? It's bad. There's a reason Lucanis and I split the cooking duties after all." And that's when she realizes she's gotten very off topic, probably ruining the vibes he'd been hoping to achieve. "Sorry, that was a bit- I mean you had some sort of- it was very sweet! What you said! I just don't think it's very realistic?" Bel clapped her hands together firmly, stopping them from flailing around any more than they already had been while she'd rambled, offering a sheepish smile.

[whencicatrized]

@winterfromtevinter “   it’s  okay  to  be  confused .   nobody  has  all  the  answers .   ”

There was logic to her words. It made perfect sense! It was something that, normally, Bellara would even agree with her on. And yet... "That's kind of my thing, though! I figure out the weird answers to the weird questions. Like you have your seeing clues, and putting them together, and solving mysteries, and being brilliant at everything... and I have my digging up answers about our past." Her hands fluttered about in front of her, unsure what to do without an object in them. "If I can't find the answers... then, well, what if maybe someone else does?"

[whencicatrized]

Nodding along, Bel thinks she understands... until Merrill points out her own flaw and Bellara is back to being confused. "So you have to wait until you observe them knowing something that you know they know. Like being a detective! Gathering the evidence of how they act. So you just have to... to uh..." She trails off, hoping the other will give her more answers. "Ask them something they know?" With a heavy sigh she slumps down, head in her arms on the table. "This is hopeless. I study artifacts, not people!" In retrospect, Merrill also studied artifacts - so perhaps she wasn't exactly the best person to come to with this.

"how do you know that he doesn't know that you know that he knows that you know, you know?" / @whencicatrized ( bellara & merrill )

Merrill chuckles just below her breath as Bellara's words process. Only because she finds it so relatable how quick she is to speak the thoughts that pop into her mind. (It reminds her of a younger version of herself, only in the good ways of course. Bellara doesn't stumble over her thoughts as terribly as Merrill used to, though.) " Well you can only really know that he doesn't know that you know he knows you know if you really pay attention to how much it looks like he knows, you know? " she beams, matching the energy Bellara brings.

When she realizes what she has said though, she hums thoughtfully. " But it's hard knowing how much someone knows if you don't know what it looks like when they know things. Varric and Isabela were always much more talented at that than me. "

[containatrocity]

"It surely wouldn't kill somebody here to try and grow tea plants indoors..." She sighs, hands planted on her hips as she scans the rather... scant selection of bag tea left over on the shelves of the Food Market. "That Calhoun boy and his poor timing was a godsend, but now they want an arm and a leg for simple black tea? I've hardly got the sugar and honey for pastries and tarts, much less making this sweet." She sighs, placing it into her basket anyway. It's then she spots a box of white tea- set high up on a shelf and pushed to the back. She's not likely to reach it herself, but maybe- "Excuse me, sweetheart, would you mind lending me a hand quickly? There's one last box of white tea on the top of the shelves here, and I chose today not to wear my heels. It goes much better with the herbs from my garden for cough medicine for the little ones- could you help me get it down?"

@violenttempest

[containatrocity]

"Oh I know sweetpea, it's so so upsettin'! I don't have as many littleuns for you to play with when you're here like I used to! Everybody's growing up on me! it's okay to have big feelings though, come here, come here- Oh! Coming!" Buttons is old hat at this, and its clear enough by the time she reaches the front door with the baby on her hip- no longer crying but absently playing with chunky, shiny plastic jewelry- to greet Ondine. "Ondine! Hello honey! come in, come in, it's getting colder every day out there- would you like something to eat or drink?" She offers, waving her inside. "If I'd known you were coming by I'd have rescheduled my other sittin'- but this lil dear won't be a problem, will you, lovey?" She coos, moving off to sit the baby in a playpen before returning to her visitor with a welcoming, warm smile painted bright red.

"Make yourself at home, won't you? What brings you through?"

@exmcrtis

[containatrocity]

"Oh! Parker! Hello darling!" The greeting is pleasant and bright, as are all things about Buttons, most days. "I've not seen you in a bit- I should hope Gabe hasn't gone and forgotten about how much I like to see the two of you just because he's found himself a little girlfriend." She adjusts her groceries in her arm, removing her sunglasses and tucking them smoothly into bright blonde hair- she doesn't hold Parker's absence against Parker after all. "How's Mrs. Cabbage holding up? I should hope that last fix was enough to keep her from losing more of her stuffing?" She gasps, holding up a finger. "That reminds me! I spilled red wine on one of my throw pillows, positively ruined it, I'm sure I could take the stuffing out and give her a little more fluff in her stuff, if you'd like!"

@endlessreruns

[containatrocity]

"Well darlin' I can't quite think of anything else that needs a touch-up around the place- I got lucky, you know, So many places are gonna need all sorts a' work, and all I wound up with was a ding in my door and a couple fallen beams in the greenhouse- And I'll have to have a couple more folk come out to deal with that mess than just one sweet little lady." Buttons chimes, blonde curls carefully pinned back under her sun hat. "Thank you for putting the old dear back on her hinges for me though, last thing I needed was to lose track of time gardening and end up ghoul food because I didn't notice a draft in the shed!" She's bright as ever, smiling and bending at the knee to hand Paola her toolbag back. "Would you like to come in for something to eat or a cup of tea? I've got more than enough to go around and I'd feel just awful sendin' ya off with nothing to show for all your help, babydoll."

With the earthquake few weeks ago Paola has been quite busy fixing the various damage it caused around town. She was happy to be this busy but the day to day of realizing just how bad the shakes were was starting to get to her, not to mention the death toll and people still at hospital. She was lost in thoughts as she worked away at her latest gig. With a sigh Paola finished tinkering and stood up whipping her hands on her tattered jeans. "There, this should hold until next week, I'll come back once I find the right detail." she said with a nod. "You have anything else that got damaged?" Paola asked looking around to see where she left her tool box.

[containatrocity]

"Sometimes I just gotta remind myself that I don't have to cook for myself every morning, coming to the diner's always on the table- and man, do I love a good pancake." She hums, happily tucking into her breakfast as she goes over her planner for the day. "I've got a whole day to myself too- this is a rare opportunity, you know? I've got to make a rule for myself- 'Birdie, don't go to the soda shop today even if it's just to check in' because I know I'll try to work, I do it every time I have any sort of 'me time'- I am suddenly realizing it's been perhaps far too long since I've had a full day of... 'me time.'" she observes aloud, closing her planner and leaning over to the person sat next to her at the counter.

"I do hate to be a bother, sweetheart, but could you pass me the sugar shaker? this coffee's a little bitter." She chimes. "And maybe something sweet'll show me the path toward what a day off looks like for somebody who's not let herself have one dang near since all this mess started."

[containatrocity]

"Oh- Gotcha!" It's quite the sight, really, Birdie scampering around the soda shop in a sundress and wide-brimmed hat, reaching up after a butterfly- only to exclaim victoriously, when she caught the insect, lowering it to eye level and peering into clasped hands. "I'm sorry! you must have a very busy day to get to- but you can't do it in here! You'll end up in somebody's root beer float! And I try not to have anybody eat bugs unless they know waaaay ahead of time I put a bug in there." She's making her way to the front door when it opens, bell clinking and heralding the arrival of a customer. "Oh! Welcome to Pop and Lock, honey! One second!" She opens her hands, shooing the butterfly out into the open. "there we are, everybody's where they belong, now!" She plants hands on her hips with a serious nod, then turns to the visitor with a smile.

"Oh! Afternoon Will! What can I get together for you, baby? I'm only here a little bit longer- Got to teach a 9 year old how to play the clarinet in an hour or so- the joy of music never rests, and all that."

@ambercast

[containatrocity]

"You have a beautiful day, sweetie!" Birdie calls after the departing customers, features split into her typical megawatt smile and tucking ration cards into the register in front of her. "Andrew, honey, the soda machine is gettin' stuck again on the red-punch nozzle, you mind takin' a look at it this time? I tried t' fix it all by myself and made a right mess of the counter underneath it- and I promise the walkway's good an' clean enough for you to take a break once you help me out." She informs with a hum, closing the register. "You all don't have to look busy for me, you know, 'long as the shop's clean and our customers are happy you should all take whatever time to sit you need! Catch up on a book or something, or just take a load off! No need to wear yourselves out pretendin' to get stuff done when stuff's done and dusted!" She glances over her shoulder at the soda machine again.

"I swear it's got it out for me- the High School's copy machine was the same way."

@wanderinglcst

[containatrocity]

"I'm with the insects, darling!" Her voice calls from a room adjacent to the studio. "I'll be out in just a moment! Wait right there~" She's mindful, ushering the snake back into her enclosure with gloved hands, pouring off the contents of a small bottle into a tiny, ornate vial. She carefully screws it back into the pendant around her neck- sliding the metal adornment back into place and examining her reflection before standing from her seat, closing the secondary door and locking it back with a pleasant hum before stepping back into her sewing studio with a bright smile. "Hello sweet boy! Come here, come here." She pulls him into a fond hug, squeezing gently before placing her hands on his shoulders. "Now then, what is it that brings you by, sweetheart?"

where: button's workshop who: miss button (@containatrocity)

“MISS BUTTONS!” Declan barged into the workshop, stopping short just inside, as he always did his best to not disturb her work. He knew he was loud and obnoxious and clumsy, and he hated the thought of accidentally destroying one of her precious creations. “Miss Buttons?” he whisper-yelled, peering around to try and get a glimpse of her.

[containatrocity]

"Oh Spencer! You're here so early honey- I was hoping to be in-and-out before anybody noticed, I can't stay long today, I've got lessons to teach and everything but-" She's chipper as always, even without the sun settled into place high in the sky, the morning still fresh and new, as she holds up a container of baked goods. "I had extra fruit and flour from when I was prepping for the flower festival so I thought 'Birdie you gotta do somethin' nice for your staff! they work so hard and keep the soda shop running just right so you can do your thing!' and then well, I decided the best way to do that was muffins! I really was just gonna drop 'em off with a note- but you're here so I can give 'em right to you!" She hands them over with a smile. "There's two a' each one, I hate tryin' to figure out how to share just one so I made two! You got anything you need a hand with for the next-" a pause, checking her watch. "Hour an' a half, baby?"

@crazedhatesoul

[containatrocity]

"I don't think you're too old- experience is never a bad thing, you know- but maybe minds are different about that sort of thing in LA. I've never been there. I don't think I'd do well. Too hot. Clearly too many people dressed like the villain from a movie about plucky kids saving the rain forest who listen to computer songs." She rambles, then laughs. "And I'm not an angel, Mickey! That's a lotta weight t' put on a lady! I just try to stick to what my mama tried to- leavin' the world a better place than we found it. She did it with her cookin' and I'm doin' my best to do it with music- and a little cookin' on the side." She chuckles. "Oh! that reminds me! I brought some snacks to thank you for all your help takin' over the music program! wait here just a second."

She stands up, smoothing her dress out and moving to her bag hung by the door. "You still had the experience- and despite it all, you came here the kind of person who wants to share music with people even still- that counts for something, even if you're not a big rockstar anymore." She reasons, coming back a moment later with a tupperware container. "Magnolia petal cookies- they taste a little like ginger! And there's no cricket flour or mealworms in these ones." She'd long been dedicated to lightening the need for flour and grain, even if just by her own intake- it had led to rearing insects for their similar properties- but she'd learned quickly that most of her friends around town weren't exactly as quick to jump on that bandwagon.

She frowns a little, as he confesses to the weight of what he'd done having caught up with him. "We all make choices we aren't proud of, looking back, you know. What matters is that you take everythin' you learned and do your best to make it kinder. And if it won't be kind to you- then it's a lesson for other people." She reasons. "This place isn't where most of us want to be- but we can make the best of it, you know? I know the kids're warming up to you- promise." She sits herself back down, picking up a cookie and taking a bite, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "And you were gonna start achin' by now even if ya weren't a rockstar, baby, I'm creaking and groaning when I get around already and I'm only in my 30s. Shoulda heard the round of applause my knees gave me when I got up this mornin' to come meet up." She laughs brightly. "Comes with gettin' old. And this place'll put the years on ya quick."

Mickey genuinely could not remember the last time someone called him 'honey' and honestly he didn't think it'd sound right coming from anyone other than Birdie. He responded honestly, a short 'ha' falling from his lips.

"They aren't bad." He ran a hand over the bags under his eyes, nodding in agreement. "I mean, they're teenagers. But they aren't bad. I don't think any kid is." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "When you start separating the 'good' kids from the 'bad' kids you start to fuck them up in the head." Tattooed fingers ran over his bicep, "Anyway, they love music and they love you, I can tell. You did a good job." And then adding: "-- I mean I can't imagine anyone not loving you. You're an angel."

At the mention of Silas Mickey snorted. "Yeah, kid actually used to book bands for some clubs in LA. Last time we spoke he told me I was too old to be considered." A soft smile when the music filled the space, "You're dad's got good tastes. I couldn't tell you what music my parents listened to. All I remember from my childhood home was:," He counted on his finger, "It was always too quiet, I wasn't allowed to touch anything, and I gave my mother 'migraines' by just existing..."

His smile pulled into a grin.

"Oh, you mean my lack of one? Yeah, that's fair. -- Never in a million fuckin' years Birdie did I think this would be me. All my nieces have to do is look at me and I'm handing them my wallet." Mickey felt like he'd always been painfully soft and alone, and as a child that made his life harder, so he compensated for it with anger that shot him from one bad situation to another. As an adult, he leaned into being a 'fancy rockstar' and doing the drugs and sleeping around and getting arrested... He thought: If I'm enough of an asshole -- if I don't care enough -- I'll be untouchable. He landed in the hospital regardless. His band breaking up was inevitable. He came to the conclusion that no matter how you presented yourself, bad shit just happened sometimes. So no more play pretend; Mickey was too tired. They were all in Hell anyway, being soft wasn't going to make things worse.

"...It's nice, I think. To say 'yes' to the little things, right?" The question was almost sheepish, followed by another laugh. "-- I was a big fancy rockstar. Past tense." He craned his neck. "And now I'm feelin' the repercussions from it."