Post by BAYSIL CHAMOMILE HORTIQUE on Sept 2, 2016 15:17:59 GMT -8
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Bay had always enjoyed parties. She was one of those girls who enjoyed dressing up in pretty things, with make-up covering her face and jewelry dripping from every spot it possibly could. Her eyes glittered at the thought of a ball where she could dress up in a frilly, ruffled dress and wear a mask to hide her face. Not that she thought she wasn't pretty, but because she liked to pretend to be someone else. To be a person that didn't carry around extra luggage with them where ever they went. As much as she appreciated everything her other selves had done for her over the years, she didn’t necessarily enjoy having them stick around.
Well, excuse us.
It was normal for Bay to hear their whispers now. When she was younger they hid from her, now they were always there, always slightly present in her mind, reading her thoughts. She hated it, she felt like she never truly had any alone time. Like every moment of her life was being recorded and watched by two people who felt and shared the same pain and emotions she experienced.
Oh sweetness.
One voice was more pleasant than the other. It was like a whisper that calmed her instead of a raspy hiss that only seemed to want to agitate her. Bay sighed and leaned back in her folding chair, a soft breeze playing with the loose tendrils of hair that had broken free from her ponytail. She had spent so much time that morning with her outfit. A pink sundress and white slip ons with her hair pinned up with a pink bow. She enjoyed looking cute and childish, a side effect of the trauma she still dealt with to this day.
Her eyes glanced up from the book she was reading and surveyed the rest of the street. She had been sitting at her booth for almost an hour now and not a single person had stopped by. The Farmer’s Markets first night was not going too well. There hadn’t been much of a turn out yet, but it was only five. Perhaps the students at the school were still wrapping up bits of homework before parading towards downtown. Though Bay suspected that everyone was more enthralled with the Carnival than they were a silly street market. She leaned forward and fixed one of her paintings. It had leaned towards the side and she wanted everything to look perfect.
Bay normally didn’t sell her paintings, but she figured she could use some extra cash with Christmas coming up. She didn’t have any family to buy presents for but she always got things for the staff at the school and a few of the students that she liked. Another breeze washed over her and she shivered lightly. It was just the beginning of Fall, technically it should still be warm but she could feel the beginnings of winter start to wind their way through town.
We should start drinking, that will warm you up.
“Shush, Sayge.” She murmured to herself, finding the light white sweater she had packed earlier that day and throwing it on. “We don’t drink anymore. It’s causes you to do highly inappropriate things. We are ladies, Sayge. And we should act as such.” She normally didn’t chastise her lesser half, but she had been getting on Bay’s nerves lately. Standing up, Bay circled her booth to make sure everything was in order, hoping someone would stop by at some point to admire the paintings she had of flowers and sunsets. Even if none of them were bought, she would greatly appreciate the company and the compliments.
Well, excuse us.
It was normal for Bay to hear their whispers now. When she was younger they hid from her, now they were always there, always slightly present in her mind, reading her thoughts. She hated it, she felt like she never truly had any alone time. Like every moment of her life was being recorded and watched by two people who felt and shared the same pain and emotions she experienced.
Oh sweetness.
One voice was more pleasant than the other. It was like a whisper that calmed her instead of a raspy hiss that only seemed to want to agitate her. Bay sighed and leaned back in her folding chair, a soft breeze playing with the loose tendrils of hair that had broken free from her ponytail. She had spent so much time that morning with her outfit. A pink sundress and white slip ons with her hair pinned up with a pink bow. She enjoyed looking cute and childish, a side effect of the trauma she still dealt with to this day.
Her eyes glanced up from the book she was reading and surveyed the rest of the street. She had been sitting at her booth for almost an hour now and not a single person had stopped by. The Farmer’s Markets first night was not going too well. There hadn’t been much of a turn out yet, but it was only five. Perhaps the students at the school were still wrapping up bits of homework before parading towards downtown. Though Bay suspected that everyone was more enthralled with the Carnival than they were a silly street market. She leaned forward and fixed one of her paintings. It had leaned towards the side and she wanted everything to look perfect.
Bay normally didn’t sell her paintings, but she figured she could use some extra cash with Christmas coming up. She didn’t have any family to buy presents for but she always got things for the staff at the school and a few of the students that she liked. Another breeze washed over her and she shivered lightly. It was just the beginning of Fall, technically it should still be warm but she could feel the beginnings of winter start to wind their way through town.
We should start drinking, that will warm you up.
“Shush, Sayge.” She murmured to herself, finding the light white sweater she had packed earlier that day and throwing it on. “We don’t drink anymore. It’s causes you to do highly inappropriate things. We are ladies, Sayge. And we should act as such.” She normally didn’t chastise her lesser half, but she had been getting on Bay’s nerves lately. Standing up, Bay circled her booth to make sure everything was in order, hoping someone would stop by at some point to admire the paintings she had of flowers and sunsets. Even if none of them were bought, she would greatly appreciate the company and the compliments.
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