If She Was Being Forced To Live In This Town As She Waited For Her Order, She Was Going To At Least Explore

KEKE PALMER as EMERALD HAYWOOD  NOPE (2022) dir. by Jordan Peele

She preferred the comfort of hiding behind a computer for two reasons, one of which might be easier for a trained eye to pick up on; 1. when it was discovered she had a skillset and quickness of computers, the Dead Idols spoke less and less to her face to face. They didn't need to be so heavy handed with her as they would someone who'd be trained in hands on tactile training such as fighting or toxicology. 2. being awkward meant that it weeded out certain people. Could you tolerate awkwardness? Yeah? Slide in, buckle down, and wait out the ride in which the end meant Arie actually gave a shit about someone. She wasn't sure about Sera persay and how the other felt, but Arie? Arie cared for the the little family so much that even if she couldn't say it, she showed it. Her skills with Dusty's allowed her to keep the station tightly locked down and at the end of the day, she was more than happy to play with little Crash and keep him entertained while they worked. In fact, anyone at the station was. If she didn't know this was a mission she was waiting for, she'd almost be glad to stay here forever. A side effect of six months of silence on the Dead Idol's end but they knew that, didn't they? They had to know that. Wasn't that the reason their mirroirs could eventually blend in so well?

Arie neared closer, seeing the man struggle. A small frown graced her lips as she saw him struggling. If anything, it was care that told her Dustin needed sleep, not more coffee. "I'd say yes but I think Sera might kick my ass if I take you on a late night adventure that voids you from sleep. In again, why not?" You could call it machoism if you wanted but it was something else. A joke, maybe. She admired his dedication to the station but she also wanted to reassure him that it would still be standing when they'd get back. Closing the distance between them now, she took the coffee pot from him and put it back on the burner. Flicking the machine off, she turned back, "I think I can handle that. No fire, got it." At the mention of Crash's godmother, Arie gave a little laugh. "I think you should warn her, not me. I'm pretty sure Boyd has a crush." Boyd, some normally faceless what.... janitor? Mic man? Sometimes it depended on the day. "No fires and definitely no alarming godmom, I promise."

The night was still, tranquil save for the pattering against the sills of the station's windows, and the tower above the building echoing an eerie howl of the plaintive winds as if it were a woeful virago. Dustin had always been a diligent pupil, at the expense of his own health, and it persisted into the summertime without the diluting of coursework — instead, he was battened by the self-imposed concerns of the time the pair would be spending away in the first half of August before classes resumed. His head craned aside when he heard the shuffling of feet entering the break room, his alertness of his surroundings making up for the shortcomings of Sera's ever-dwindling hearing ( a facet of which, he still did fret. ) He smiled warmly at Aretha, partial instinct thereby overridden out of compassion for his employee. As awkward as she seemed, at times, the empath had kept a studious eye on her — sometimes, it felt like an armor he was forced to don. The frigidity of his thoughts, especially given the news of Willow's demise, had an engine purring with chariness for his surroundings. However, he'd had a fluttering in his chest from the moment he showed the woman the reason for the Graves-Seongs' paucity of promptness to her application. Anyone who was so privy to a recluse who melted at the sight of Tyche Jungsoo was staunch, in his book ( and yes, he did keep track, hyperthymesia recording it for him. )

"Rita," he'd coined his own nickname — partially on account of correcting a mishap of Sera becoming lost in translation at first meeting, "I can come with if you can drive." A joke hung in the void that he couldn't, failing to bloom as he fumbled to grip the handle of the coffee pot with dystonic fingers. His palm pressed firmly against it, thumb gripping the top of the handle, whilst his recoiled digits were in rigor mortis against his palm, tendons of his wrist visibly tensing as he kept it outstretched long enough to pour out the mug in his other palm. Carefully balanced on the partially ( but significantly less ) stiff fingers of his opposite hand, he held it out to the engineer. His amblyopic eye shook nervously as his strength dwindled, mustering enough to empty the pot into a second mug. "I thought I'll stay and record stuff, get a headstart for the next couple weeks... Cohosts can take the live stuff, just —" A yawn intercepted, blearily sticking his hand into a hole of his distressed Gengar sweater to rub against his shoulder blade. "Don't let anybody burn down the studio. Dios mio." Sheepish when he splashed the coffee over the mug a bit, hands obstinately refusing to cooperate in full, he turned to face her. "Think you can handle it, kid?" Pausing, the two-toned metalhead pouted his lip, myriad of piercings protruding, and nodded vaguely down the hill outside. A branch was thumping against the pane. "I'm, uh, gonna have Crash's godmother stay while we're out. So don't be alarmed."

sometimes i fantasize that someone misses me

"You're still important." Arie pointed out. Diners worked a lot like computers, as did any business and their employees. She saw it as coding rather than the human race. Weird? Mabe. It helped, a little, but it was just a reminder to pay better close attention to her surroundings. She had a habit of scrolling the dark web and chatting with a penpal of sorts once she got into it. The world could've literally ended, and in some ways it had, with the recent death effecting everyone around her in a way that couldn't get to her the same way. If it had been someone else, someone close to her whether she'd admit it, she'd be a fucking mess right now... but either way, she'd still be here in this moment. She just needed to unwind regardless. "It's a pleasure to meet you officially Suraj. Better circumstances too, I'm sure." Because this wasn't for some business gain but rather personal and Arie needed personal.

Arie laughed at their joke, facial features warming with amusement. "Everyone has moves. We just need to find yours." Maybe a stretch but as she took their hand and lead them to the dance floor, she locked eyes with a familiar figure and called out to her. "Show me what you got Lacey." For a moment she let go of their hand and joined the woman, giving them a show. "Sometimes it's in the hips like this."

“Oh uhm, no worries!” Suraj cut in right away. It was almost normal to be ignored when they were working, whether they were serving or washing dishes. “I uhm, I mostly wash dishes anyway, so you probably wouldn’t have seen me anyway,” they added quickly. That and the fact that Suraj was great at being unnoticed. “Nice to meet you, Arie,” they said quickly, to make sure they wouldn’t forget the name. “I am certain you aren’t,” they added. “And else you can blame it on the music being too loud,” they suggested. A joke that had been used on them twice already in different circumstances, and one they liked. They blushed offer, having to consider it for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Sure,” they said. “Though let's keep calling them moves and not good moves because I am a very bad dancer.” They held out a hand to her, given how crowded the dancefloor was, attempting a self assured smile. Rare moments of confidence had to be taken advantage of, and the fact that they’d seen her about a dozen times now, made it much easier. They’d rely on the safety of the crowd.

She'd suppose that would be true ... if not for the fact that she knew that one way or another, someone could escape their tragic lives. Hashtag wasn't sure whether or not Aretha Hatzi ever actually escaped her existence in Greece but if she hadn't wanted to be found, no one would know, hence the missing aspect of the woman's life and her curse of sharing her face. There also came a possibility that maybe she hadn't escaped anything. You needed DNA to make a mirroir, right? The thought lingered in her mind though she never quite did anything with it. Why would she? This was her life. The original Aretha Hatzi's life was her own, even if it was over ... but sharing the same face meant that sometimes, she shared the same name. "Shame. There's a whole big world out there," Outside of Anchorage, Alaska. She wouldn't argue. There was a reason he thought such a thing. "I've been here for maybe six months, seven tops. I don't get out much." Between work, her apartment, the dinky diner she frequented often when she wasn't being dragged to Dusty and Sera's for dinner, or doing the same to some poor unlucky soul at her place. "I'm Arie, or Aretha if I don't like you." She laughed and while it sounded humored, she felt empty, but she could pretend. She had to. What were the odds she'd meet someone who knew Aretha once upon a time, much less MORE than one.

Staying here might just be, well, a dumb fuckin' thing to do. Grim smile besmirching his features, the mirthless laughter that escaped coincided the pinch of his digits dragging the joint away from his lips. Smoke dispelled through his nose in a whorl of dragon's breath, the sound of a horn culling the silence of the wharf below remained to send chills running down his spine. Of his peripheral, the shifting figure appeared as those silhouettes that would dance about or peer into his line of vision, and only when he turned his head, did he ascertain they were truly standing there. The face was vaguely wonted, but that could be from anywhere: Anchorage was not so small that everyone knew everyone, and he'd been here-and-there for so much of his life, faces were a phantom grasp on cognition. "Mm, not all of us got that choice," he confessed, lackadaisical complacency to his own fate. It was harder now to morph into oblivion and become a blip on the radar with seven kids in tow. Cyrek couldn't uproot them like his siblings, forsake them to a childhood filled with uncertainty more than it was, as it stood. Flicking ash from the end of it, squandered into the dewy grass, he nodded to her. "You from here? Feels like I've seen you 'round." Wouldn't be a surprise — the pub saw a wide range of people, milling in and out.

There REALLY wasn't much that made her lose her steely cool tone often. After all, she was meant for something else; not just living but rather living in the shadows. Being the glitch out of the corner of your eye, that determined whisper of "DID I JUST SEE THAT?". While she wasn't made to be a killer, she was in some aspects. The killer of hope, the killer of dreams, the reason you avoid the internet... and sometimes, only sometimes, a killer if needed. While she still hadn't been given her mission or reason for being in this town, she had gotten somewhat close to the people in it. Her definition of weird, is well, sparked by the video. An emotion rises in her ---- confusion.

The words out of her mouth are strange to her. "You need to give this to the police, man." Yeah, it's pretty obvious of what needed to happen. "Do you have cameras in here? Maybe it's..." Did she really have to say it? Whoever left the tape could've been the person involved.

Status: Open @anchoragestarters

Where: Slashback Videos(again). No cap!

Hunter stared at the new dvd on the shelf, dumbfounded by how and why it got there. He recognizes "the main character", of course he does, and it feels like some sort of sick joke that someone would pull something like this. They don't remember seeing this when they got a new shipment in and if they had seen it they probably wouldn't have put it out.

He can't seem to tear his eyes from it, mind filled with the possibilities of how it might have gotten there. Their only theory is someone must have broken into the store and put it on display, for some twisted reason. When someone walks up to him in the store, he's quick to respond. "My guess is as good as yours, I dunno how that got there. But whoever did this has gotta be real sick in the head to pull this kinda stunt. Honestly, I can hardly believe it."

Emerald Haywood + outfits

She wasn't entirely sure she felt emotions like sadness, grief, loss or some days even true joy. No, the feeling she held in her chest was something of a gnawing sort of knot of chest muscles. Her life was meant to be nomadic in a sense, never putting down roots, always being disposable if she were lucky to be forgotten or not. Dropping her in this danky and not so quaint place? Maybe she felt like IT WAS HER TIME. They swore she had a job to do but she hadn't heard a fucking peep from them since before she got here six months before. There wouldn't be a mission, there wouldn't be an end. They sent her to her demise, destined to become a forgotten member, forced to pretend she was Aretha Hatzi, but denying it in the same motion. Negative emotions didn't have a name to her in the same way; but she knew that she could either blame the original for her addictive and dangerous tendencies, or embrace them as if no, that's just me.

This wharf, in this moment, seemed like a meeting place for the emotional. Something was in the air. Arie let out a chuckle, shoulders bobbing. "I'm not much of a runner but thanks for the warning," she replied as her fingers searched for a cigarette. Menthol, some off brand of Newports, but still satisfying the craving she held now. "I wouldn't blame them if they do. Staying here might just be, well, a dumb fuckin' thing to do."

@anchoragestarters ; anchorage harbor ; CAP ( 0/4 )

The squalling clang-clang-clang of a metal bell where the barges were entombed in a temporal watery grave was overlooked by a hill where Cyrek stood now, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie loosely clinging to the bag of bones. As a teenager, he could recall weaving in and out of the shipment freights in the deadened wintry nights with his band of degenerates, including Fallon and Stella — as an adult, he'd stalled on the thought of sneaking to one of the shipments and hiding out until it took him somewhere else. His first instinct to crop problems was always to pack up and skip town. Unfortunately, that was an unviable option now, his lower lip sucked in an encumberment of crooked teeth and worrying away at the skin. Ginger curls splayed over his countenance, the musk of saltwater wafting to his corroded nose as it was carried by the wind, grey skies clouding out the consistent sunshine. Eventually, his head shied away from the inlet he was staring at pensively as the approach of another person alerted the right half of his senses to their presence. It was scenic enough and a stone's throw from the wharf — he could see why people milled around for more than feeling sorry for themselves. "Heard it's goin' to Seattle, could catch it if you run, mate," he jested, dipping his head in the direction of the barge shipment. Bringing the joint he had been clutching onto back to his lips, he inhaled. "Already saw the for sale signs goin' up around Delilah's Den and Campbell Park. Reckon they'll sell as fast as they wanna beat it outta dodge?"

Arie knew that was coming but hey, she was nothing if not prepared. "I'm from a tourist trap in Greece, though I've been traveling for a few years. I guess I found something I enjoy in the strange sense of familiarity if I decided to stay here, kourasménos ánthropos." What that was, Arie hadn't decided yet. Even if this was it, this was the last stop and she truly was abandoned here, she couldn't pinpoint the exact excuse that wasn't an excuse at all. "Spoken from experience? I don't remember much these days about home, but I think I enjoyed the possibility of never seeing someone again much less having all of my secrets known to everyone and their mother." This conversation was... normal? and erratic. "It helps that I see code in everything, even veterinarian medicine. There's a code in us." And the amount of possibilities it would take for two people to meet in a place like this. The probability of them liking each other enough to continue a conversation? Far more larger. "I can do tthat. I will also tell you, I live in those shitty apartments but I spoil Ziggy like crazy. I think he eats better than I do, actually. But if you ever want to check it out and approve it, you can. I don't mind -- I'll see if I can get a day off and make a day out of it if Ziggy wants to."

Matevos grinned, then frowned. He didn’t comment on it however, as much as he wanted to. He was certain he was going to coax her into doing it, and then he was going to regret it afterwards. Though the act sounded very nice. He nodded. “Where are you from?” he asked. “It is definitely a change, but… you know, they might know each other, but nobody really knows each other. That’s kind of the dangerous thing about small towns, everyone knows something about someone else they’d like to judge about.” He smiled, noting the pride in her voice, very much enjoying how she seemed to be enjoying what she was doing. He understood that, it was why he’d never give up his own job as a vet, even though it was definitely made more difficult by his life in crime. “Depends on who does it,” he suggested. “Your job also sounds like fun, but you’d probably have more fun doing it.” But, his job was definitely a lot of fun, though perhaps mostly after hours when he could cuddle the dogs and take them on walks. Not so much the diagnosing of animals, unless if it was things that could be easily healed. “Well, you can always bring Ziggy in and see if he takes to any of the cats, I wouldn’t really let these poor creatures stay over at anyone’s before meeting their present company… you know, kids, animals, other pets. I’ve had too many regrets over the years.”