|Quinn Abernathy||A lot of thought had been put into today.
For most of the week, Quinn has stewed on everything. From Tinder, to Abel, to Gideon and his promise of an uncertain future, she has wracked her brain on how to make things right. In a right world, she makes a new friend in Abel, and she grows old with Gideon.
Now, as she sits at a table within Spitfire Coffee, she awaits Abel's arrival while mulling over everything she had done this past week to prepare for today. Once her mind had been made up, Quinn was careful to put on a good face and see it through. She dare not speak of it while at the compound, for fear of being overheard.
It started earlier in the week. Quinn had begun to spend a noticeable amount of time with Catherine. After the day of the wedding, she had formed a bond with the girl. So, she tasked her friend in helping her with Cheeto. Together, they coaxed the dog in the yard of the Abernathy house, working hard to regain that trust that he'd lost. More than once, the girls would take breaks inside, sitting beside each other at the table and talking in what seems like riddles.
It is as if they had come up with their own language, that only they understood.
Then, she began to work on other things. Cleaning the house, figuring out what is important to them and what is not. Slowly, she began to collect what little they had until Thursday came. At that point, she took it upon herself to 'clean' the truck. In that time, she stashed her camera, portfolio, and the small bag of items beneath the front bench securely.
Later in the day, they went to Evelyn, the clever older woman who seems to see through it all to talk to her before addressing the community as a whole. They would be away the next day, and she would be in charge in their absence. Gideon gave strict instructions, promising them safety from the shadows under Evelyn's capable influence. Afterward, they mingled just enough before returning to the house hand-in-hand.
Their evening and night were spent like any other. Quinn prepared dinner for Gideon, they sat at the table and ate together, bantered and talked about the day, and then did as they please. In this case, they found their way onto the roof of the house to stare up at the stars for a time before retiring to bed.
Come morning, they were all smiles as they wave to those who have woken up to see them off. Quinn would let Gideon drive, with promise that she would take on the drive back. Comfortable silence consumed them several times over during the ride, each breathing freely as they surely felt the release from the suffocating grips of the Flock.
"We should take advantage of being in town... get a whole bunch of junk food and stock up for a while." Quinn smiles slightly as she turns her head to look at Gideon. While this may seem innocent, it is all part of her plan. So, once she had gained his approval and acceptance, she sent him on his way to purchase with an adoring kiss before having made her way to the coffeehouse.
Which brings us to now. Quinn sits at the table, chocolate hues fixed upon the window as she watches the street on the other side. Abel would be here any minute, and when approached by an employee, she would give them her winning smile. "Um... I guess a french press, please? Two mugs," she gestures to the empty seat across from her at the table.
Once left alone with the promise of coffee, she resumes her watch, wondering just how this meeting might go.
|October 20, 2017 11:57|
|The Reverend||It surprised him sometimes, how bright daylight could be. His work forced him to be primarily nocturnal, and it would often be weeks where he only caught the last vestiges of sunlight escaping below the curve of the Earth.
So as he stepped from his black, nondescript vehicle and into the direct three o’clock sunlight on the warm New Orleans day, he found himself wishing he’d asked for an evening meet-up. To be honest, he’d been wondering why he’d agreed to meet this woman to begin with. Perhaps, if he really allowed himself to dwell on it, he might find that he was afraid that he would look up from his nightly grind one day and realize he was an old man, entirely alone.
However, he wasn’t dwelling on why he was doing this, and was instead choosing to see the Tinder prank as a fortuitous turn of events. He needed to pull his head out of the murk every now and again. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?
A pretty face and a hot cup of coffee would be a rare treat.
Conservatively dressed in muted colors, for ‘muted’ was the brightest color he owned, the sable haired man walked the short distance from his vehicle to the entrance of the shop and entered briskly, slipping off his shades as he made his way inside. Pale eyes swept the room for her face, which he found quickly.
She stood out, to put it mildly.
Abel was not your average looking man. He would never pass for a heartthrob, though neither was he unattractive. There was rather an intensity about him that tended to set people on edge. Pale from his nocturnal life, dark haired, and with a shrewd, almost ghoulishly bright gaze, he tended to stand out as well. However, certainly not in the way that Quinn did.
Their eyes met across the room, and he didn’t have to remember to smile.
She’d chosen a table beside a window, and the sunlight played brightly on her golden hair. Abel walked toward her, suddenly feeling intensely out of place in the presence of this smiling, bright thing.
The shop was bustling with activity, and he weaved through tables and patrons before slipping into the seat before her with a quiet, pleasant greeting.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. This place wasn’t as easy to find as I thought.” It was immediately apparent that he was British, with a hint of a Northern dialect.
|October 29, 2017 19:43|
|Quinn Abernathy||Quinn had watched as he walked toward the shop, chocolate hues locked onto the man as her own mind whirled into motion. She had kept her watch as his hand touched to the door, and continued as she watches him disappear momentarily to cross the threshold of the shop. Without realizing, every moment is a judgment. Each and every movement of his own is an impression marked upon her view of him.
Our Shepherd's Flock has done this to her, but it is a life lesson that had been long overdue.
Easily meeting his gaze with her own, she smiles. It is not forced, nor is it troubled by the past several days and weeks. This is the smile of the girl in the photograph. Bright, carefree, full of optimism and looking forward to great things in life. She is still very much all of these things, but the how and why is different.
For all her warmth, she finds him cold. It is not overbearing, but instead something that strikes her as interesting. Cool eyes, pale skin, dark clothes and hair. There is something severe about him, though Quinn cannot pinpoint what it is that sets him apart from the rest. It is exciting, in her mind, to meet someone so different.
Quinn fidgets before he sits, rising from her own seat with a sweet, awkward little wave before settling back down across from him. As he speaks, her brows raise for mere seconds before she shakes her head gently. Quinn had not expected such an accent. Even still, that placid smile never leaves her features.
"Not at all. I was early.." she trails off, a quiet laugh touching end of her statement. Any waiting she had done was her own fault. "I ordered us a french press. I hope that's okay... it seemed like a good place to start."
Any other time, any other day, she might be anxious for Gideon. There would be a certain tenseness in her slender shoulders, and a slight curve to them as though she is trying to shield herself from the world. Worry would line her vision, and frequent glances around the area would tell tale of the inner workings of her mind. But not now. Not today.
Today, she sits tall, posture confident, and her attention is set upon the kindly man across from her. She is safe, they are safe, and will continue to be safe. "I'm glad you're not an ax murderer. It's really nice to finally meet you, Abel."
|November 03, 2017 12:01|
|The Reverend||From what little he understood about meeting people from online (this was his first time), it was typical for them to not entirely fit what they advertised on social media. Quinn, however, seemed to be an exception. It was as though the sunny, smiling woman before him had been plucked directly from the picture he’d seen. It was in his nature to be cynical about such things, and it was a pleasant surprise to see that he’d been proven wrong.
“A french press sounds great, thank you.” Frankly, he would have drank a strawberry smoothie with a paper umbrella if that’s what she’d ordered.
"I'm glad you're not an ax murderer. It's really nice to finally meet you, Abel."
He cleared his throat quietly, a polite smile upon his face.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He wasn’t good at this. So far out of his element that it was laughable, he struggled to direct the conversation.
Come here often? No.
Is it always this hot here? Stop.
The streets are really packed out there, huh? F*ck.
For the moment, it seemed he would be saved by their coffee arriving. They both muttered their appreciation to the waitress, and he took the time to pour some cream into the black concoction, testing it with a sip a moment later.
“So Quinn, I’m curious. I’m sure there are people who need Tinder to meet people, but what are you doing on it? You don’t seem like the kind of person who struggles with that sort of thing.”
Though he felt entirely left handed, he was good at controlling what people saw. He exuded a calm, interested demeanor, although he only really had to fake the calm part.
|November 10, 2017 13:26|
|Quinn Abernathy||'You don't seem like the kind of person who struggles with that sort of thing.'
She nearly blanches, but instead lowers her gaze momentarily. Quinn struggles a great deal with meeting people, and her judge of character is even worse. That's what others say, at least. She personally loves the way she sees the world, or at least, the way she used to see it. Her reality over the past several months has led her to see things in a much darker hue, and it is difficult to trust like she used to.
"Actually, I do..." To keep herself busy, she tears open two packets of sugar and pours them in before lifting her spoon to gently stir the enhancement in. "I mean, I don't need Tinder. But it makes things easier. I met one of my best friends on Tinder."
The thought of Ella brings a certain calm, and Quinn sets her spoon aside to take a sip of her sweetened coffee. This conversation, while daunting for Abel, is surely twice as much so for her. As her mug is lowered to the table once more, she chews at her bottom lip. "I used to live in New York. Loads of people there, all the time. You don't get a preview of who they are when you're face to face with them, you know? There's no way to screen the good from the dangerous."
Who is she to talk? Quinn knowingly, willingly, murdered a serial killer. She fell in love with the man knowing this about him. And here she is, talking about good versus evil.
That small smile returns to her features, and while she is forcing herself out of her own head, she is also bringing herself out of that self-imposed darkness. Instead, she focuses on Abel. He has cool eyes, the sort that could freeze you out, but behind that frozen filter is a warmth that is plain as day to someone like Quinn. His smile is delightfully awkward and heartfelt, almost kindred to her own.
"What made you decide to give it a chance? You could have deleted the app, but here we are."
|November 18, 2017 12:03|