She Preferred The Comfort Of Hiding Behind A Computer For Two Reasons, One Of Which Might Be Easier For

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.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck ! They were going to blame this on her if it weren't some fucked up way of telling her what she wouldn't admit. There wasn't some small possibility in the void of existence that told her this was a good thing, much less unplanned thing. "I'm not much of a joker these days," came in a serious voice, which is more or less of a lie. There were only some she was close to in a town like this, listed under her broadcast engineering job as Aretha ... something. Hatzi would've been too on the nose. It didn't matter. They weren't names she grew attached to much less cared for. Hashtag, although given by the Dead Idol, was her chosen nickname. In some ways, it was a safety blanket at the end of the day. She liked Rita though, given to her by her boss. Meow, by Ziggy, that sounded peculiarly like MOM. "You know my name." Her voice is soft. Distant almost. As if she's searching memories, no matter how pretensive it was. "You're ---... You're important to me, right?" Or rather were, once upon a time, as if she hadn't suddenly thought to pretend I DON'T REMEMBER YOU. What else could she do?

"Did we know each other before the Daniels adopted me?" Random name, but hey, she couldn't very well call herself Aretha Hatzi. Someone might notice and not keep the assumption that the woman wasn't missing or declared dead after being missing for so long. "Or the Scaredy Cat? It was probably the Scaredy Cat."

ARISSA HAD FINALLY GOTTEN BACK INTO THE FULL swing of her content creation, now that some time had passed after the discovery of the missing girl's body. The hot topic of the internet seemed to pass quickly, and it didn't take long for most people, besides the ones that lived in the small town to move onto to something else grabbing their attention. Eyes were on her phone, scanning the analytics of her most recently posted video, as she brought the opening to her togo cup of caramel latte, trying not to feel any true disappointment in the lower than usual numbers. After taking a break like she had, it should have only been expected. Brown eyes flickered up from the screen momentarily to find a table she could take a seat at while finishing her beverage, gaze landing on a sight that made the food critic do a double take. The age progression images made from her missing sister were something Arissa had spent plenty of time memorizing throughout the years, even if by now she was pretty sure she was the only one in her family even taking note of the more recent ones, so much so that they started to feel like a person she would eventually see in real life. There was some kind of statistic floating around about each person in the world had a certain number of people in the world that looked similar to them. And there was also the fact that age progression wasn't a perfect science. But neither of those two thoughts were at the top of her mind as she stared at the familiar face that she was already convinced was the sister she had once been so close to. Even her voice didn't sound too different, just matured. "Is that a joke?" Arissa had always been hopeful when it came to the topic of her sister, foolishly so she had even been told once or twice, to still hold on so tightly after all these years. Maybe that was why she had this idea that the recognition of each other could be so simple. And accurate. "Aretha, it's me. I can't believe this."

🖤 & 💌

💌 - How would they confess to their love interest? Would they wait on a confession?

Arie tends to be very forth coming in a few aspects. If she likes-likes someone, she tends to be forward about it in the sense of, "Wanna come to my place?" but in the same notion, she tends to keep people at an arms length and pushes people away when they get too close for her taste emotionally. She'd be the type to need the other to take her hand and pull her close, and really tell her they feel the same way. Depending on the situation, she might even blurt out something like, "You're so stupid, I love you."

🖤 - What's something that will instantly make them dismiss someone as a romantic partner

Despite the fact that she doesn't let people in and does terrible things computer wise, she's not entirely heartless. If the partner is mean to her, mean to someone she cares for, hurts animals or children, is a terrible person all around, etc, that's the quickest way for Arie to slam the door on their face and maybe burn everything they own. She has SOME morals after all.

She gave a small but mischievous smile. "I wasn't suggesting YOU, but I hear you." Chances are if she was having a bad day, you'd probably be able to convince her to smash someone's windows out. She'd be sneakier about it though -- as sneaky as someone who needed to stay hidden could be, anyway. "Kind of both? I'm not used to small towns where everybody knows everybody. It's definitely a change for me." Arie admitted, leaning back in her seat to point at the brilliant idea. "Me either, but I'll find someone. Just watch. It needs to happen." Hell, maybe she'd fund it. Just because she lived in a sketchy apartment didn't mean she didn't have money. Whether through the station, the Dead Idol or side gigs on the internet ... Mum's the word. "I keep the show going and up to date, computer and technical wise. Some days I set up the live broadcasts. Most nights, I'm making sure quality issues aren't just a cord issue or a software issue." she admitted, voice somewhat filled with pride. "I'm sure your job is much more fun though." As for her wants in an animal, she gave a small shrug. "I get that. I like cats because sometimes I'm not home for too long and I don't have to take them out every few hours for a walk. It seems I have less time these days." But to the question of the matter, she wasn't entirely sure. "Maybe. I have a tuxedo named Ziggy and I don't know, think maybe he needs a buddy but I also know some cats just don't mix well."

Matevos - who did not not enjoy violence - really had to think about the offer. Smashing things did sound like a fun thing to do, and he could use something to get his mind off of things, but then there was the fact that vandalism was against the law and he’d only just come out of police custody. “Mentally, I’d say, it definitely is the type of situation where I’d gladly take you up on that offer. But I promised to stay out of trouble, and I think smashing someone’s car windows is the exact opposite of that.” He looked thoughtful at the other when the ‘vaguely familiar’ was uttered, and then grinned. “You mean you think you know them? Or you think you know someone like them?” he asked, because he was always a little curious when people spoke in vague terms. Not just when they used the word ‘vaguely’. “Someone should, I would make it into a comic… sadly I don’t know how to draw.” Or write stories, or even how to come up with them. Though he would love to make a story about superhero dogs, had that been done already? “Aah engineer,” he said, as if he knew exactly what that meant, though confusion was clear on his face. “What does a broadcast engineer do?” He knew Dusty and Sera, though not as intimately as perhaps he should in a small town like this. “A few yes, I keep mostly dogs, since cats tend to find a home much quicker. People have different expectations for dogs. Are you looking for a cat?” 

If there was anyone who'd understand the itch and pull to do something NEGATIVE in town, it would be Arie. Her choice in poison was damage and destruction, however, but she'd never ever shame someone else's vibe ... maybe to their face, depending on the choice. Some simple thievery wasn't enough to make her want to ruin the other's life simply by looking for a whiff of her existence in code. No, in fact, she digged whatever excuse the other could have for finding the other with the burning hot lipstick tube, figuratively and acidic-ly threatening to eat a hole in her jacket pocket under the risk of being caught. Arie glanced at the display for a moment, probably not quelling the nagging feeling the other felt, but breaking eye contact for just enough time to pick up an item as if to investigate.

Her eyes move and she smiles at the other. They met, maybe, once or twice but Arie found herself splitting her time between the station and various places horrendously. "Hey-ya! I need a new wig but with every great wig, comes the need for makeup that matches." If it's not obvious that she had seen it, it might not be all that obvious that she wasn't going to draw attention to the fact.

( july 25, down the rabbit hole underground mall ) @anchoragestarters

Ava knew this was a bad idea. Worse than that, she felt like she was regressing, resorting to something she used to do for kicks as a high schooler, and she wasn't exactly eager to revisit the tumultuous days of her adolescence. On the contrary, it was embarrassing for the youngest Adler to admit to herself that she was even considering the possibility of petty theft as a way to entertain herself. But after the events of the last few months, a newfound sense of restlessness had settled into her bones, refusing to let her function normally without feeling like she wanted to jump out of her skin, so she was itching to do... something to quiet the festering feeling brewing in her gut.

Ambling through a cosmetics stand, she looked around to make sure no one was paying close attention to her, eyes running over the items on display with practiced disinterest. She let her fingers run over the merchandise, picking up a few tester items and eyeing them for a moment before she wandered over to the array of lipsticks. Carefully slipping a tube off of the display, Ava tucked it into her jacket pocket, a small grin blooming across her lips at the long-dormant thrill that ran down her spine over the miniscule victory. But of course, that was the exact moment she looked up and made eye contact with someone just a few feet away. Did they see that? Should I just play it cool? She was usually quick on her feet, but in that moment, the brunette felt like a deer in headlights, tactlessly blurting out, "Uhhh... heeeey. What brings you here?"

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.

She didn't pay much attention to the deaths around town; not in the same way that most would. Perks of not allowing anyone to truly get close to her, she'd suppose. Arie, or Hashtag rather, didn't have time to truly make friends with anyone. That only meant not only caring about people she'd never see again AND letting someone know the fucked up lifestyle she lived. The only evidence that she knew there might be some sort of wrong in her life was seeing just how damn boring the people of Anchorage were. Stepping into the flower shop wasn't a social call which in again might be a clue of her mindset. She wasn't looking for flowers to show mourning and grief, but rather looking for a type of flower she had happened upon in a flash of a dream and it left her brain with a certain itch or hankering --- but not to eat, no.

Her eyes scanned the selection before looking to the voice who spoke, giving a small sort of smile. Maybe a little shy? But Arie wasn't shy. No, Aretha Hatzi wasn't shy. She commanded attention and rubbed everyone wrong, if her missing person's case was any factor of her disappearance.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied with a haphazard shrug, "I'm not looking for those but rather, well, what are the chances you've got hyacinths? I'm not from around here, so I don't know if it makes any difference." Considering the flowers she was thinking of grew in much warmer climates; and in particular, possibly Greece. She hadn't done research before coming, not sure why, but having the sense that the flowers just might be HER favorite, if it hadn't been Aretha Hatzi's. @hercule-boisseau

Status: open @anchoragestarters

Where: the Flower Basket

Hercule hears the telltale sound of the bell at the door ringing, indicating that someone has entered the store. With the recent death, the flower shop had experienced more business than usual. Everyone in the town, it seemed, wanted to express their condolences for the death of Willow Amelia. The former dancer didn't mind the business, per se, but they did find it interesting that people seemed to band together when it came to death, even if they didn't know the person.

He hadn't been connected to the girl so he didn't feel the need to mourn, but his heart did go out to the family and friends of hers. They understood why people wanted to express sympathy and in a way, he found it endearing that people care enough to. He approaches the cashier station, taking in the array of flowers leftover from the past couple day's orders.

"I'm sorry to say that we're all out of lilies and orchids, we've had a large influx of orders recently. Haven't been able to keep them in stock, really. But, I can arrange a bouquet for you with any of the other flowers we have as of current." The two blossoms they listed were common when it came to grieving, lilies offering hope and orchids saying "I will always love you". Even though he hadn't worked at a flower shop for long, he had recently become keenly aware of the types of blooms used for funerals and mourning.

Emotions weren't something she was taught per say but rather something she was taught could drive someone's choices. While the powers that be didn't tell her not to feel, she knew better than to admit she had any feelings out loud. Maybe she was stubborn, one way or another, imbedded in her stolen DNA. It would be better for all involved if she didn't feel anything for them in the end -- and yet there she was with a sort of pink in her cheeks that might admit embarrassment for being so into what she was doing that she hadn't noticed past the sense of familiarity. "I'm sorry that I was so focused on my work that I couldn't see you," which seemed genuine and if not key in the fact that she was flirting with them. "I'm Arie and I promise I'm not as rude as I seem." and despite the fact that she had, had a few shoots of Tequila already, she wasn't drunk. Warm maybe but one of the perks of being a mirroir was that she wasn't like most people. "Care to dance, Suraj? I bet you've got a few moves in you."

Suraj had a way of spending their weekend nights in clubs. It wasn’t because they had any type of dancing ability, or that they loved alcohol. Both were very untrue. They didn’t drink, they danced but only when they were pulled onto the dancefloor. It was mostly that they could disappear into the crowds, feel safe for a moment among the many sweating bodies. They were an introvert, but that didn’t matter when they could barely hear anyone anyway. And that was the best thing about going to the club, there was rarely much talking involved. They didn’t even tense up when someone leaned closer to them. “Oh uhm… you spend late nights at the diner where I work,” they said in response, smiling, because Suraj’s main point of contact was their service job. They’d seen her typing away on her laptop some nights, and they’d always wondered about what she did. But she’d seemed so invested that they hadn’t dared to ask, but it was inspiring. They always felt like they made much more progress on their film script if they’d spend the evening watching her work. "I'm Suraj," they introduced themselves.