thetcrmented

[thetcrmented]

WARDS AS ONION HEADLINES — 3/???

feat. @vesvius, @thetcrmented& @naomikojima

#too real #reflections;

[thetcrmented]

location: wine cellar

date & time: sunday 3 september, 2005, 10pm

@woodrowhub

carmen let her hands drift across the rows of dusty bottles and tried to remind herself that this was not actually stealing. richard had no use for his extensive collection of wine anymore, and if she selected one of the more common vintages then it would hardly make a dent in the inheritance. that was assuming that it was even hers to inherit, maybe there had been some last minute changes to his will. still, the guilt lingered. it was a feeling she was growing all too familiar with these days.

but it had been one of the longest days of her life. after the dreaded eulogies, there had been endless mingling, endless small talk and meaningless condolences. carmen's cheeks hurt from all the smiling she'd been forcing herself to do, and her head pounded from all the niceties she'd endured. it was all so well meaning, and it all made her feel sick with shame. as per mrs tristan's arrangements, it had been a dry wake, so carmen felt she'd earned a drink. she deserved a chance to numb her senses.

she had just selected herself a bottle from the shelf when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. it was not unthinkable that someone would have had the same idea as her, and there was no point pretending she hadn't been caught red handed.

"we can share?" she said, turning and holding up the bottle in her right hand.

#wrhq.start #threads; #day 1

[thetcrmented]

there was a shift in his body language and carmen knows she's said the wrong thing. he's on guard, and he even moves away from her, jus fractionally, but enough for carmen to notice. she feels like he's a spooked horse, about to bolt at any moment if she moves too suddenly. he only came to see her to check in, to see how she was, but since he showed up she feels like she's made an awful mess of the conversation.

"i'm just curious. i know, for me, it was harder to know i'd seen him so recently and now he's just gone," she said, a pained expression flitting across her face momentarily, "i wasn't trying to imply anything."

she wrapped her arms around her torso, the gesture one of self-soothing, though with her heart hurting and her mind in disarray, it offered little comfort. she let her gaze drift from the man in front of her to the room around them, taking in the picture frames and photos she had left behind. but she couldn't examine them too closely.

"sorry, i didn't even ask how you're doing," she said, returning her attention to reuben, "it's good that you came down with angus, that neither of you had to be alone."

It was evident, even to someone as typically clueless as Reuben, that they were both dancing around something. A general air of flighty nervousness hovered around every movement and utterance. Not at all helped when Carmen reaches around him to close the door to her bedroom, which he misinterprets as a hug and narrowly recovers from in just the nick of time.

Hands settle on his hips as he nods. Given Richard’s age he doubts he would’ve gotten really worked up about much of anything. Past a certain age you just stopped caring about most everything and Richard certainly wasn’t cantankerous— or at least he wasn’t when Reuben saw him. Quite frankly he just looked exhausted. “No- I get that, that’s fair,” he says as though his words offer some consolation. He notes her cheeks flushing pink and he can feel his own cheeks doing the same.

With the door closed he feels trapped, like Carmen intended to get more out of him than she let on. His eyes squint ever so slightly, now suspicious of her motives. He takes a half-step back from her. Reuben didn’t want to tell anyone anymore than they needed to know in case they started insinuating things about him being the last to see Richard.

He pauses and inspects her expression. He trusts her— she trusted him enough to tell him directly that she moved out. He still preferred to keep this closer to his chest. “Recently…ish…maybe you already left, I’m not sure,” He says measuredly.

“Why are you asking?”

#the misunderstood; #threads; #day 0 #// going in for the hug asfkhajsf

[thetcrmented]

carmen sighed, a tremulous breath, as she listened to natalia. she knew what she was saying was logical and rational, and it was a kindness that carmen didn't feel she necessarily deserved at that moment. but natalia's words didn't land in the way they ought to. it was as though the guilt had built an impenetrable barrier around carmen, and nothing was going to get through. everything was too raw for her to make use of anything that might soothe her.

"i hope that would have been the case but-..." she shrugged, trailing off, "i guess we can't ever know."

she tried to offer natalia a smile, trying to convey some hopefulness and optimism, even though she felt very little of that. she was not ready to let go of her shame just yet. there was a urge in her to berate herself for a little while longer, she felt that was what she deserved. she felt it was better to pivot the conversation away from her, lest the sympathy become unwelcome.

"how are you doing though?" she gave natalia's hand a squeeze, letting her know she was grateful, "how's paris? it's been so long since i've visited. maybe when all this is over i can come back. it sounds like a good place to be whilst i try figure out what i'm supposed to do with my life now."

What Carmen shared was a bit of a shock to Natalia. She had always assumed the older ward would reside at Woodrow for as long as possible, given her closeness with Richard and the work they did together. Though as she went on, the puzzle pieces clicked into place, forming a clear image of what was no doubt a complex situation. Honestly, knowing the kind of person Carmen is, Natalia was surprised she wasn't curled up on a floor somewhere, drenched in her own tears and paralyzed by everything she felt.

Catching the tremor in Carmen's voice, Natalia's fingers curled around her hand with more intention. "Hey…" She wasn't the type of person to indulge in matters of feeling. Her way was to face facts and move on. But this was Carmen, a person seemingly made of pure emotion. She needed something different. If the sixteen of them had any hope of getting through this week without letting their grief get the best of them, Natalia knew she had to help Carmen through this.

"You didn't know what was going to happen," she began. "None of us did." A practical starting point. "I'm not going to say Richard forgave you before you even asked for it. But we know the kind of person Richard is…" A pause. "Was," she corrected herself, her jaw twitching slightly.

"What happened between you two… if you had a chance to work it out, you know it would have ended the way you hoped." Richard and Carmen had a lot in common, and their big, bleeding hearts were arguably the most important. Natalia held no uncertainty that if they had been able to have that conversation, it would have ended in a tearful, heartfelt embrace that Disney would kill to emulate in their movies.

#the perfectionist; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

it felt oddly comforting as dante sat down beside carmen. comforting is not a word she would ordinarily have associated with the man sat next to her, but the company was unexpectedly welcome. dante was not the kind of person she felt like she had to hide her mess from, or lie to. only because she wasn't sure how much he really cared.

his answer felt candid, although it sounds dismissive. so she felt his own question probably deserves some honesty in return.

"honestly? pretty terribly," she said, a choked-sounding chuckle accompanying her words. but it's a relief to say it.

"it doesn't even feel real. i never, ever, imagined he would be gone, i just thought he'd be around forever. but with everyone here at once, it's hard not to remember that there's a reason for it."

it's like being a kid again: fehemently thrashing against the nature of this family with his feet in the grass. he pulls off his sneakers from the heel, sets them beside himself when he finds his place in the splotch of grass next to her. knees draw upward and toward his chest. it's almost like they're at the beach, shoes were always the first to go. " when you put it like that [ ... ] yes. " he stares forward, partly grateful that they shared the same melancholic hilarity. voice is drawn inward, as if to point her question at himself. " me? i feel fan-fuckin-tastic. " spoken solemnly, perhaps the most straight-laced he'd managed to be all day. he looks over to her from the crook of his shoulder, " what about you⸺how are you uhm, dealing? "

#the rebel; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

the directness of the question stunned carmen. it wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement of fact. he was doing carmen some kind of kindness by giving her the grace to confirm what he said was true.

"how do you know that?" carmen asked a question of her own in return. there didn't seem any point in trying to deny it.

there was no reason why he should know. there was some sort of relief in not having to break the news herself, but a sense of horror knowing that sebastian would have had time to formulate his own opinions and conclusions about what her departure meant.

"if i'd known this was going to happen i never would have left," she said, by way of offering a defence. she didn't know whether she would need it but something about sebastian's gaze told her she might.

Sebastian knew Carmen left the house two weeks prior to Richard's passing. How? Well, he had his ways and Francesca, one of the maids, had a thing for expensive cigarettes, which Sebastian provided in exchange for any important thing happening in the house. Since Sebastian was doing his latest investigation on Winifred, keeping an eye on anything that could mean something was key, and that included whatever Carmen could be doing and caught by Francesca. Her departure was the only big thing he had on her. Carmen was no longer the muse of his book, and with that, his interest in her matters was not as strong as before.

His words had a double meaning, as most of the things the writer said, this time though, both were obvious and if Carmen couldn't keep up with it, he'd make her do it. "If you are in the house or not, it makes no difference." He repeated himself but gave more, "You don't live here anymore, do you?" Sebastian asked but he knew the answer, the inquiry was there only to poke the wound.

#the observer; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen was grateful for the momentary reprieve as alison stopped to consider her words. she had felt like she had been tied to the tracks, facing an oncoming train that seemed intent on taking her down. even if that train hadn't come to a complete stop, it had slowed at the very least.

"the fight first, then i moved out," carmen admitted, her voice shrinking. there was something so perceptive and uncompromising in the way alison assessed a situation, in the way she could see through anything. it was a quality carmen usually admired. but when the full force of it was turned against her, it was horribly exposing.

"i told him i wanted to leave the foundation, i didn't want to work for him anymore," retelling the story was like reliving that afternoon all over again, "he said-...well, he was disappointed, he thought it was a waste of all the good work i'd done, all the things and opportunities he'd given me. i was just throwing it back in his face, how could i stay when i was essentially telling him i didn't want all of this?"

the foundation, the house, richard; it was all one for carmen. if she discarded one, she had to step away from it all.

"i was going to apologise, i thought i'd have time."

It was unfair, Alison knew it, but still that anger roared. Anger she'd felt since reading that letter, that reached desperately for any place to land. Frustration that had been building with Carmen due to her radio silence. They were two roads that unfortunately found their crossing here. She breathed in quickly, taking step back as the other stood, exhaling slowly. It'd been many years since she'd spoken to a therapist but the breathing exercises she'd been taught at 15 still stayed with her.

I should have called. Yes. I should have texted you back, I know. Yep. So why didn't she? Why the silence? Why cut Alison out? She didn't understand. But she pressed her lips together in hopes of the answer coming soon. Not being ready to talk about it wasn't a reason she'd accept. No one was ever ready to talk about anything, and yet people did. Brows furrowed at the next revelation. Or the next two, technically. Carmen had finally moved out. Carmen and Professor Woodrow had a falling out.

She took another breath in, turning for a second and allowing a brief moment for herself, for her anger, before she exhaled and turned back. " Okay. " She was listening. Whatever fear Carmen had of telling her had to not come true, so Alison had to listen fairly. Contain her emotions, something she usually did easy as breathing. " What happened? " She prompted, a gentleness to her voice. Her best attempt. " You had a fight with Professor Woodrow, and then you moved out? Or the other way? "

#the guardian; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

both in his voice and in his body language it was clear that reuben was rising to match her own panic, his hands gesticulating rather wildly as he attempts to back pedal. there's something about the rawness of his emotions that makes it harder to push down her own anxiety. maybe it just feels like permission to express the horrible tumult of emotions that had been churning in her chest since she'd read that god forsaken letter.

she stepped forward, leaning around reuben so she could pull the door shut behind him, now he had finally stepped inside her room. growing up in that house, she knew there was no such thing as real privacy when all sixteen of them are lurking about. but it helped to take some measures not to be overheard.

"we had a disagreement, a falling out i guess, that's why i left. he wasn't exactly very happy with me so he would have been within his rights to share, even if i didn't want people to know.

"a-and it's not as if it's a secret, it's just that i wanted to tell people myself. no one even knew until this morning but i'm sure everyone will know soon enough," she said, trying to figure out how on earth to express herself properly. how could she explain that she was scared of the way richard might have characterised her leaving - would he have shared the disappointment he'd made so clear to her? would he have told it as a tale of betrayal?

she felt like she was rambling, digging herself deeper into a hole the more she spoke. there was a difference between telling mickey, who veered on being too understanding, too sympathetic, and telling reuben, whose reaction she could not predict. feeling flustered, her cheeks pink, she blinked rapidly as he paused, truly taking in what she had said.

"i-i didn't know you had. but he was the only person who knew i'd left so i assumed if you knew then he must have told you..." the momentary confusion was a distraction from her own rising anxiety. it was true that reuben had been one of the wards who visited the least, and, as far as she was aware, did not keep up regular correspondence. if he had spoken to richard recently - very recently, by the sounds of things - then that was unusual. it also meant that she might not have been the last of the wards to see him.

"when did you speak to him?"

She invites him inside her room and despite the offer he hangs in the doorway. Torso angled against its side whilst his long arms grip the top of the frame, fingertips tapping away rhythmically. He was seriously channeling Curious George as he swung from his heels to the tips of his toes and back again.

He nods solemnly at her words. “Yeah it’s kind of unbelievable isn’t it. But we’re all here for one another which is good, it’s what he would’ve wanted,” it was a totally respectable answer who’s validity was somewhat questioned by Reuben but he did like how it sounded and seemed comforting enough.

Lost in her eyes and smiling stupidly back at her, it isn’t til there’s a note of panic in her tone that he realizes he’s fucked up somewhere. “No, no- oh- I—” his hands drop from the door frame and are held up defensively. “I didn’t know anything, I swear, it was just force of habit because everyone else is coming from everywhere,” his hands miming something akin to…everywhere.

Stepping further into the room, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his pants. “If it was really important to you that it was kept secret I’m sure he wouldn’t have told a soul,” he again emphasizes this with his hands. There’s a beat of silence where he’s pleading with all gods and non-denominational entities that she wasn’t mad at him before he’s realizing what she had said.

“Wait how did you know I spoke to Richard,”

#the misunderstood; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen smiled as she felt natalia's hand cover her own, drawing strength from the gesture. for a brief moment she could imagine this was one of natalia's trips back to woodrow house, that she still called this place home and they were catching up on each other's lives. but there was no ignoring the looming reason for both of their presence.

"it's okay, i understand. although..." carmen sighed, steeling herself to jump into the explanation. it was not the first time she had told it, and she doubted it would be the last. though she had hope that, in time, the news would travel amongst their fellow wards, in the intricate game of telephone they usually ended up playing when it came to relaying news about one another.

"i actually left the house a couple of weeks ago. i moved out - finally - it happened a bit sooner and quicker than i meant it to. i was going to tell you about it, but it all happened so fast.

"i had a disagreement with richard, about the foundation and my work. i wanted to step away, figure out what i want to do, maybe start something myself, i don't know. i thought he would be supportive. i had to leave, i couldn't stay, not when i was throwing away everything he'd given me, it didn't feel right.

"i thought i'd have time to let things settle down, and i could come back and apologise and we'd talk and everything would work itself out. but now-..."

her voice wavered and wobbled as she spoke, but she stopped herself from teetering over the edge and breaking down. she looked at natalia imploringly, hoping she would understand the mess she had created for herself. she hoped she would understand why this was all so painful.

Natalia wasn't sure why she thought she'd be safer from talking about Richard in Carmen's company than with the other wards. After all, Carmen was notorious for having a heart, for better or for worse always being in tune with her emotions. On the bright side, at least they weren't talking about the fact that he was no longer here.

"Yeah..." A memory of Richard flashed across Natalia's mind. His crinkly-eyed smile. The animated way he talked with his hands. Always so much enthusiasm for life, but especially stories from his past. "You know, I never understood how someone with the life he led never saw the value of a swimming pool." An indoor one, perhaps, where one could swim year-round in cozy warmth. "I'm convinced he never felt cold."

Catching a tear crawl down Carmen's face, Natalia pressed her lips together, steeling herself. Whether for more tears from Carmen or for her own emotions bubbling to the surface, she wasn't quite certain.

Her mouth shaped itself into a small smile at Carmen's words, finding herself offering a soft chuckle at her compliment. "Yeah, you too..." She put her own hand over Carmen's, giving it a little squeeze. "I wanted to call you. After I got the letter, but... it seemed more important to get back. You live here anyway, so I figured we'd talk then." And here they were, talking now, anyway.

#the perfectionist; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

task; the eulogy

location: the cemetry at woodrow house

date: sunday september 4, 2005

carmen alvarez felt like a fraud as she stood to face the crowd gathered in front of her. a sea of eyes and faces looking up at her expectantly, all warped with grief.

she ought to have known that she would be expected to speak at the funeral. she was one of those closest to richard, she had lived with the man for over half of her life. in many ways she was considered his natural successor. but she didn't know how she was supposed to get up there and try put into words how much richard had done for her, and how she was forever indebted to his generosity.

the night before she had tried, in vain, to think of what to say. she had scribbled line after line but all her scraps of paper had ended up on her bedroom floor. she wanted to say thank you, but it felt wrong when she had chosen to turn away from the life he had given her. she wanted to say goodbye but she didn't feel ready yet.

"thank you all for coming today," she said, echoing the sentiments of her fellow wards. she was amazed at how steady her voice sounded, how clear and strong it carried across the rows of mourners. her years working for the woodrow foundation had taught her how to address a room, a crutch she could lean on in this moment. maybe it would be enough to see her through these agonising minutes.

one minute, maybe two, that was all she needed to get through.

"i don't think i need to tell you all what a wonderful man richard woodrow was. the fact that so many of you are here is a testament to that fact. i'm sure we'd all describe him the same way, we'd talk about his kindness, his empathy, his intelligence..." she paused, giving herself a moment to breathe, a moment to steel herself to see this through to the end.

"the story of how i came to know richard is not unique, it's much like the stories you've already heard, and will hear, from my fellow wards. but that doesn't make what richard gave me any less important, any less special. he gave me opportunities and chances i probably would never have got otherwise. he gave me the gift of a future, and for that i'm eternally grateful."

she knew this was the moment she ought to speak about the foundation, about her intentions to continue richard's legacy. she recognised a number of people in the crowd in front of her from her work and knew they were all assuming that with richard now gone, she would be stepping in to take over. but she could not lie. she couldn't tell the truth either.

her voice caught in her throat, her composure wavering at the last moment. curling her hands into fists behind her back, she let her nails press into the soft skin of her palms, the sharp pain diverting her attention from the impending wave of anguish.

"if i had the chance to speak to him one last time, i'd want to tell him that i won't waste that gift. i know what a privilege it is and i intend to honour that. even if how i use it is different to what he imagined."

she exhaled slowly, feeling her mask of calm slip as she returned to her seat. she needed to find a drink.

#wrhq.task #task; #reflections; #day 1

[thetcrmented]

there was something about mickey's words that made carmen cringe, her jaw clenching as she took in the gentle way mickey asked her question. she wasn't doing anything wrong, not even remotely. but knowing that she was about to have to explain everything, to confront the fact that she had abandoned richard, felt unbearable. mickey was sweet, but maybe too sweet to understand the depths of her betrayal.

"i don't actually know," carmen said, casting her eyes down into the mug she was holding in her hands, "i left a couple of weeks ago, i moved out. we had a, uh, disagreement. i hadn't seen him since then."

she swallowed thickly, pushing down the feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

"oh i'm sure. basically a regular on those roads now," mickey chuckles. her poor old jeep cherokee was probably begging for a break after all the miles she's put on in in the past four years. though, she supposed maybe now that would stop... she didn't want to think of that. thinking of a future without richard and woodrow house was too hard.

"yeah, it definitely was," mickey says, bringing her mug up to her lips to take a sip. "did he seem... alright in his last days?" she hated to ask, but carmen would have been one of the last ones to see him considering, as far as mickey knew, she was the only ward left in the house all these years.

#the nostalgic; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen had known she would have to face alison torres sooner or later. it was inevitable that she would have to explain herself, and she owed alison that. she looked up to the older woman, she respected her, and there had always been pride in the fact that alison trusted carmen. and she had thrown that away in a matter of weeks. there was no mistaking the fact that the trust had disappeared the minute alison had started hounding carmen to reply. the trust would be well and truly buried when carmen told alison the truth of where she had been when richard died.

she winced slightly at alison's pointed words, pulling her feet from the cold pond as she stood up.

"alison, i'm sorry, look i can explain," she said, her words coming out stuttering and rambling. she was not in the headspace to explain herself, and there was no defence she could offer up.

"i should have called, i should have texted you back i know. there was just a lot happening and i wasn't ready to talk about it yet. i wasn't..." carmen paused, clearing her throat, willing the emotion to disappear from her voice, "i moved out the house a couple of weeks ago, me and richard had a falling out, and i just-"

she stopped, not trusting her ability to continue.

It wasn't hard for Alison to guess when someone was avoiding her. Probably because someone almost always was. But Carmen was dreadfully obvious, and had been for the last few weeks. Alison's calls and texts were usually answered, or when they weren't she was usually called back. Not these last few weeks. Complete and total silence. Alison had definitely said some impulsive things, maybe brash things, in the hopes of eliciting a response – but nothing. The resilience would be impressive, if not totally annoying and worrying.

" Sure. " She stated as her presence was acknowledge. Biting tongue on some kind of untrue comment about how she didn't care. How Carmen could fall in for all she cared. Or get pneumonia from the dirty pond water. Instead she stood silent for a second, attempting and failing to let the fresh air have any relaxing properties for herself in this moment. " You know, it's pretty impressive to become the worst at answering your phone with this lot. Some of the others had been holding that record for over a decade. " She mused pointedly. In her mind, and her mind only, being kind as she allowed Carmen an opportunity to explain herself.

#the guardian; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen had thought she wanted, no, needed, to be alone. it seemed like the right way to deal with this. although she had let herself feel it the night before, let the news of richard's passing rip a gaping hole straight through her heart, since this morning it was like she had been sleepwalking. she had been doing what she needed to in order to function and get through the day, get through this week. all the while her thoughts tortured her silently.

seeing natalia made her ache for company, for someone to share in her grief. but she needed someone who wouldn't make her explain it all and deliver meaningless words of comfort like they would make any dent in the pain she was feeling. natalia wouldn't do any of that.

"yeah it's cold," she nodded. she'd been sat there for long enough that she could scarcely feel her feet anymore, "i don't know how he ever used to stand swimming in this. do you remember? he told us he used to swim in here all year round when he was younger."

she didn't know if it was the relief of seeing natalia that brought her guard down, or just that it had been more than twelve house since she had last cried, but she she spoke she felt a solitary tear slide down her cheek.

"i'm really glad you made it. it's been too long since i've seen you," she said, reaching out and placing her hand on natalia's ankle, the nearest of her that carmen could reach. she tried for a joke, despite the tears in her eyes, "you look much better in person than on my computer. less fuzzy."

As more of the wards started arrive, Natalia found herself wandering the grounds to escape the confines of the house where the air was heavy with the weight of everyone's shared grief. She's never had much of a tolerance for emotion. She also wasn't particularly eager to engage in conversations about the somber reason they were all gathered here.

Encountering Carmen during her stroll was unexpected, to say the least. Spotting her in the distance seated by the pond, it reminded Natalia of a painting by Claude Monet — 'On the Bank of the Seine'. It was crafted during a difficult period in his life, after being expelled from his residence in Gloton and throwing himself into the river the following night. She hoped Carmen wasn't on the verge of a similar impulse. She knew the other woman's tender heart and close bond with Richard would make his passing especially difficult to bear.

Once she got close enough, the first thing to befall her ears was an apology. It made Natalia's face twist up. There was no reason to say sorry. Women apologizing so unnecessarily was a fucked up habit that Natalia abhorred. Not in the mood to get into an entire rant about it however, she only nodded at what Carmen said next before settling herself on the ground beside her, legs folded to the side due to her skirt.

Despite the reason for everyone's return to Woodrow, there was a quiet comfort in the familiarity of their surroundings. It had been far too long since Natalia had taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the grounds. The soft rustle of leaves on the trees, the gentle ripple of the water. After so many years here, you did end up taking it for granted. It was only now, back after two years of being away, did its full beauty hit her again.

"Is the water cold?" Natalia finally spoke, breaking the stillness with a question. Beneath the surface, she harbored a different, more obvious one: What are you doing out here? If Carmen needed fresh air, the terrace was a more convenient option, or the gardens, closer to the house and the wards. She wanted to be alone on purpose.

#the perfectionist; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

for most of the time they had spent at woodrow house, carmen had considered sebastian wrongly maligned by their fellow wards. maybe it was only because that they were made to spend so much time together as teenagers whilst they were being homeschooled. maybe she was just more used to the way he was than the others. they weren't friends, but they were familiar with each other. the way she felt about him was the way she assumed other people felt about their old high school classmates, fond but not emotionally close.

but now, as he was staring down at her, imposing and tall, now she was starting to understand what the others saw in him. the look in his eyes felt new. it was hard and cold. and it was all for her.

"what do you mean?" she asked, guessing that this was something else sebastian was thinking about as he looked down at her.

September had just arrived, it shouldn't be this cold. Definitely not. Was it the weather though? What made Sebastian feel like the house was freezing as if it had been abandoned for years? The warmth of the place they had called home left completely, summer was kissing them all goodbye and took Richard with it.

He wished he could have blamed it on the seasons almost changing, but he couldn't. Sebastian knew that it was his body screaming for a moment of rest, making him cold and exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Perhaps Jack was right, he was closer to losing his mind and joining Richard any minute, but not now. At that present moment, what seemed like the best idea was to get out of the house and find the sun's warmth. Who would have thought so? Sebastian longing for the sun was like Lucifer missing God.

By the pond, he saw her. Sitting on her own as if she was waiting for something or someone, but knowing her enough, as Sebastian did, Carmen was drowning in her own laments. He walked slowly, long strides but his steps might have been too loud or his presence felt by the woman as she noticed him before he could make himself noticed.

Carmen spoke before realizing it was him, he knew, or her words would have been different. She should apologize, for sure. To him, though? Maybe not, but Sebastian couldn't care less. If he could rejoice in her apology then he would. "Hm," the man muttered, finally standing in front of where she sat, his gaze glued to her brown eyes as he looked down on his past classmate. "Inside or outside, it makes no difference."

#the observer; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen took the mug and let mickey's words wash over her. she was rambling, but it was familiar and therefore comforting. it took her back to the many times they had stood in the kitchen like this, catching up during of mickey's visit. she longed for those times.

"you must have done that trip hundreds of time at this point," carmen said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"probably much the same as you, the same as all of us. it's been...hard, a shock."

she cringed at the way her voice wavered, the emotion audible. she had known it would be difficult to talk about this. but she'd hoped she'd hold it together a little easier.

mickey looked up to see carmen had joined her in the kitchen and gave her the warmest smile she could muster, though it probably wasn't much. she expected to see carmen the night before, but she supposed she was probably just locked away in her room or something. it must have been hard for her being here when it happened.

"morning," mick repeated back. she grabs a second mug and pours a cup of coffee for the other before replacing the pot and holding the mug out for her. "not too bad. left last night after work, boarder patrol has gotten used to seeing me, i think, because they barely questioned why i was coming down. it's always one of the same five people working the post closest to me." she chuckles lightly as she realizes she's rambling about boarder patrol instead of talking about the serious thing hanging over them. "how have you been?"

#the nostalgic; #threads; #day 0

[thetcrmented]

carmen stared at the pristine sneakers first, before raising her gaze to look at dante, who was now towering over her. he had the unmistakable look of someone who had enjoyed some pre-lunch drinking, but she wouldn't judge him for that. she understood the appeal. she ought to be looking for ways to shut out the poisonous thoughts in her head rather than seeking out isolation - which would only add fuel to the fire.

"to make sure i didn't drown myself?" she said with a humourless laugh, the joke a shade too dark, even for her melancholic tendencies.

"it's nice of you to come check on me," she said, meaning it sincerely, though the gesture didn't feel exactly at odds with the dante she knew.

"how are you doing?" she asked, the alcohol should have given her some indication, but with dante it didn't offer too many clues.

moss fills all the lonely parts of this house, this pseudo-allegiant pedigree standing as death's last bastion. it had trickled it's way down, coming for blood first⸺how long until the reaper came knocking at one of their doors. what happens when they're all standing behind it? dante had no intention of straying this far on the grounds, he was warm from the tip of his head down to the soles of his air force one's with booze. forgive him for pregaming such an occasion on the flight over. punish him for not blacking out sooner. " don't be, " dante didn't do apologies. seldom had he meant it so why excuse yourself. be who you are, even if it causes you to fall out of favor. he's sure to make himself known, unwitholding weighted footfall as he nears. still, dante is careful not to crease his sneakers. " mrs. tristan saw you from the house and sent me to come check on you. " voice is distant, some disjointed echo amid the placid sloshing of pond water. the hum of mother earth fills a short pocket of silence with chirping and grass wincing in the breeze. a beat, to watch his own reflection contort on the water's edge. " to make sure you didn't y'know ... become one with nature. "

#the rebel; #threads; #day 0 #tw: suicide mention #// although should say just a joke

[thetcrmented]

when reuben began to speak, there was an obvious nervous energy to him, especially evident in his obviously untrue excuse for turning up at her door. it didn't answer her unspoken question of why he was there, but it did prove to her that he wasn't there by accident. she'd forgive him the anxiety, the circumstances and grief was weighing on all of them. it was logical they would seek each other out, they were the only ones who understood what the others were going through, as unique as their upbringings had been. five minutes spent in solitude in her room was enough to prove to carmen that she shouldn't spend so much time alone, tempting though it may be.

she opened the door slightly wider, stepping aside, a silent invitation for him to enter - if he wanted to. though it had been years since she had last spent any real time with reuben, she had always found him harder to read than most and couldn't determine whether he would welcome the invite.

she smiled softly at the mention of angus, who she spoke to more frequently than the man in front of her but who she was yet to see around woodrow house. she was about to ask after him when she was distracted by the stream of words that kept coming out of his mouth. the compliment was unexpected but welcome, she didn't think she looked particularly great, given she was running off about three hours of sleep and had she had cried more in the past twenty four hours than she had in years. maybe that was why she appreciated it, because of the unmistakable lie in his words.

"i'm alright," she shrugged, unable to find the words to properly convey every emotion she was currently feeling, "i mean, i'm not, obviously. but-..."

she paused, realising he had said something that was possibly even more surprising than the tentative compliment he paid her.

"how-...how did you know i wasn't living at woodrow house anymore?" she asked, an unnecessary spark of panic setting in. she hadn't told any of the other wards - save for mickey, who had found out mere minutes ago, and surely word couldn't travel that fast.

"did richard tell you?" she had no idea why he would, but it was the only explanation she could come up with. and if he'd told reuben, then who else had he told? and if he'd told him that, then what else had he told the others? the thought sent a shot of dread straight to the pit of carmen's stomach.

Reuben didn’t know what he was doing there. He knew why he was here generally. Though he didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t know what he was doing pacing the same 3 feet in front of Carmen’s bedroom door. He’d seen her in passing since being here— beautiful as ever, seemingly carrying her grief far better than most. It re-ignited a weird crush he’s held close to his chest for sixteen years.

Okay maybe weird was an inopportune world. It wasn’t really that weird, they were tangentially related because a nice rich guy thought they should be. That made them less than step-siblings and even if they were it worked out totally fine for Cher and Josh in clueless, right? He chews the inside of his cheek, eyeing the mahogany of her door. He can hear her rustling around, probably discovering things she completely forgot existed. He spent hours last night thrumming away at the buttons on his original playstation controller— maybe not the brightest idea considering how long the day ahead would be.

Before he can stop himself, knuckles are knocking wood and he’s silently cursing himself for doing so. What the hell are you gonna’ say to her, idiot. The door swings open and he’s clearing his throat and standing a little taller. “Sorry, I thought this was another room” he slaps a hand to his forehead and pushes his hair back to bolster the credibility but even she could sense the bullshit standing before her.

He smiles abashedly at the fact that it was good to see him. He’ll take his little victories. “Oh uh- earlier this morning, Angus and I drove up together…he needed me—” well they all needed each other but, he liked the way Angus ❛ the protector ❜ needing him sounded. There’s a beat of silence, Reuben not really knowing what his angle was here. “You look great by the way, all things considering- but, how are you holding up? How was the trip here?” It all tumbles out of his lips haphazardly.

#the misunderstood; #threads; #day 0