03-18-2021, 05:50 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 7.3pt; color: #333; line-height: 1.5; letter-spacing: 0.5px; word-spading: 3px;"]beatrice kind of felt like a fish out of water.
upon arriving to flintlock lodge , it was easy to settle into , to find her place. despite not being used to the cold weather , she found warmth in the group's overall welcoming environment. eddie cared about everyone in the group, paying attention to each member and what they were feeling, made sure that they found their sense of belonging there. it hadn't just been the friendships , or even her infatuation with eddie that convinced her , but the familiarity within flintlock. it felt like more familial than unfamiliar, and being newly emancipated from her family, she could appreciate that.
now she was somewhere new, somewhere that— despite the weather being warm most days— felt so cold. teddy felt much more invested with himself , and how he appeared , than the group members themselves. he was practical; the bad boy trope of every novel she'd ever consumed: a ladies man with a hellishly charming grin, taking what he wants when he wants, no matter what it took for him to get it. he didn't look at his group members as individuals, but rather a pawn in his game , and so it's unsurprising that she's heard next to nothing from him. not as if she wanted to , though. she'd heard the rumors about how he treated michael before her arrival. and there was no forgiving anyone who intentionally brought her family pain.
so beatrice tried to make do with what she's got. she does simple tasks to participate , but on her free time she's reading at the beach. she keeps to herself these days. here , it isn't too hard to do. she's heading to the beach with her book in hand , does she see it: a rusted kiosk. it's empty , but still seems sturdy. she surveys it , presses her weight onto it to reassure that it won't collapse underneath her. when it holds , she smiles to herself. [size=9pt]"aha." she murmurs before getting to work. she makes her way to the olden library that she finds most of her books , beginning to fill her arms with as many books she could carry, repeating this three or so times alone. it's on her third time does she begin to get a little restless , nostrils flaring in silent frustration as half the pile she carries slides out of her hands and onto the ground.
she could really use some help.
upon arriving to flintlock lodge , it was easy to settle into , to find her place. despite not being used to the cold weather , she found warmth in the group's overall welcoming environment. eddie cared about everyone in the group, paying attention to each member and what they were feeling, made sure that they found their sense of belonging there. it hadn't just been the friendships , or even her infatuation with eddie that convinced her , but the familiarity within flintlock. it felt like more familial than unfamiliar, and being newly emancipated from her family, she could appreciate that.
now she was somewhere new, somewhere that— despite the weather being warm most days— felt so cold. teddy felt much more invested with himself , and how he appeared , than the group members themselves. he was practical; the bad boy trope of every novel she'd ever consumed: a ladies man with a hellishly charming grin, taking what he wants when he wants, no matter what it took for him to get it. he didn't look at his group members as individuals, but rather a pawn in his game , and so it's unsurprising that she's heard next to nothing from him. not as if she wanted to , though. she'd heard the rumors about how he treated michael before her arrival. and there was no forgiving anyone who intentionally brought her family pain.
so beatrice tried to make do with what she's got. she does simple tasks to participate , but on her free time she's reading at the beach. she keeps to herself these days. here , it isn't too hard to do. she's heading to the beach with her book in hand , does she see it: a rusted kiosk. it's empty , but still seems sturdy. she surveys it , presses her weight onto it to reassure that it won't collapse underneath her. when it holds , she smiles to herself. [size=9pt]"aha." she murmurs before getting to work. she makes her way to the olden library that she finds most of her books , beginning to fill her arms with as many books she could carry, repeating this three or so times alone. it's on her third time does she begin to get a little restless , nostrils flaring in silent frustration as half the pile she carries slides out of her hands and onto the ground.
she could really use some help.
[align=center][I]the more that you say, the less I know —