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 Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 10:07 pm
Dear Obadiah,
This letter is an apology. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, because I am not sorry for most of the things I've ever said to you. I meant them, and I stand by them. But I've come to terms with some realizations and one of them is that I owe you an apology. ONE. So here goes.
I'm sorry that I couldn't accept your ability to be friends with people you didn't deserve. I'm not saying you deserve them. I'm saying that I get why you still have them by your side. I get that it's not your doing, and I just, I get it.
So I'm sorry that I freaked out on you. I get it now. I get why you have America and Peyton, but more importantly, I get why they haven't left you yet. I'm not saying they're right, but I am saying that I can't blame you anymore for holding on while you can.
That's it. I still think you're a d**k,and I still know you don't give a s**t about me. In fact, I'm glad for it. The last thing I need right now is more of that bullshit, it's really starting to wear me down.
Forever not yours,
Maebe Grace Bertrand
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 10:25 pm
Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: Who the ******** writes letters any more? Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: I am going to guess that this is a result of Ryland and Graves, both of whom you deserve about as much as I deserve America and Creedy. Or maybe a little more. I don't think anyone deserves America and Creedy. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: It's lucky for both of us that there are people in the world with a masochistic streak when it comes to their friends. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: I hope you've been working hard. Sorry I didn't do you the favor of dying in the Sahara. I decided against it at the last second. I'll make it up to you one day, I'm sure.
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 10:35 pm
rejam Text to O. Thompson: I do, ******** t**t. rejam Text to O. Thompson: Is it lucky? Is it really? rejam Text to O. Thompson: Yeah. You owe me one.
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 10:45 pm
Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: You tell me. attachment: finally.jpeg
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 8:38 am
She cried.
She cried when no one was looking, because she knew that one day, when she wasn't paying attention, they were going to make her look like that. And one day, when they were paying attention, they would take those moments back.
She cried, but she never let anyone see, because her tears were the last thing she had left to lie about.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 8:39 am
rejam Text to O. Thompson: She's so damn beautiful.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 11:44 am
He was lying on top of his pristine bed in his scrubbed-down but still less-than-pristine temporary room, and when the text came, the phone screen an abrupt light in the pitch blackness that he still had yet to adjust to. He'd been one of the few Hunters to show up to Deus without a terrible fear of the dark, because so much of what had hurt him and terrified him over the years had been things of broad daylight. Now the periphery of his vision, down here in the dark, seemed filled with awful movement. He often found reasons to stay up by the light of his phone, and on truly terrible nights by the light of Fionnghal's runes. He read the text and read it again, and he ached to answer her honestly. He longed to drop the deflecting sarcasm, to pretend he didn't hate her, to pour out to her a dozen frustrated, lonely insecurities, to insist to her as much as he insisted to himself that he could make America Jones happy, if only she'd realize it. He needed someone to tell about her hollow house-dreams, about all her glib discussion of places to come home to, when here he sat aching for the inconvenience of being woken up by someone (anyone, his brain treacherously supplied, and he rejected it) coming home late and taking up too much room in the bed. Of course she was beautiful. She was so beautiful (so funny, so fierce, so lively, so wonderful) that it scared him, and Maebe Betrand knew it. She knew why virtue was frightening. For the first time in a long time, he let himself think. If America had known that he was smoking in bed maybe she'd have yelled at him for the unnecessary fire hazard, but he let himself think for the duration of two cigarettes about why it was that he hated Maebe Bertrand and why it was that he (thought he) loved America Jones and why he wanted to tell the one about the other, and all the ways he'd say it for the benefit of someone who knew exactly why it was that loving her would never do him any good; for the benefit of someone who understood how little it mattered. He organized into words, into phrases, into succinct and elegant sentences, a declamation of his infatuation and a sympathetic confession, and an empathetic dissertation on unworthiness and inevitable disappointment written for an informed audience. He stopped scrolling absently back and forth between the picture and Maebe's reply, and he didn't do any of those things. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: I'd say it's just the juxtaposition with the Nosferatu-looking ******** sharing the frame, but we both know it isn't true. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: The juxtaposition part, I mean. Obviously the Nosferatu comment stands.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 5:06 pm
rejam Text to O. Thompson:Do you ever worry you'll suck her soul out? She sent the message, but only after she'd calmed down. And as soon as she'd sent it, she realized that it looked like she was being sarcastic. Why wouldn't it; she was always sarcastic. He was going to get insulted, and miss the point of her question. rejam Text to O. Thompson:I'm not being funny. Please. Tell me if you worry about these things too.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 6:58 pm
There was a long, long pause between her text and his reply. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: With everyone else, but not with her. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: No need for the disclaimer. You're never funny.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 7:02 pm
rejam Text to O. Thompson: So when are you going back to the Sahara, again? The response was whipped back lightning fast. This time, there was no disclaimer.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 7:19 pm
Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: I can't promise I will never go back to the Sahara, and obviously I'm going to die working like everyone else here, but I can promise you that I will not die in the Sahara. Nio Love Text to M. Bertrand: Goodnight, Maebe.
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 7:28 pm
rejam Text to O. Thompson: Well, hurry up. I'm not getting any younger. I need several years of Taym-free enjoyment. She stared at his final text in wonder. She suddenly felt a very frustrating realization overcome her, at how absolutely normal that text looked. It reminded her of the days when Taym didn't despise her existence, and it made her put her phone away to try and forget what she'd just darkly realized. She didn't know who Obadiah Thompson really was, anymore.
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