Antonin-whoisleft​:

Shirley Jackson ― The Haunting of Hill House

“Cheers to female friendships being complicated.”

safiyeece​:

-

“Yes, it simply must be!” Safiye simpered along with Harper, then rolled her eyes again. “Nevermind that exponential growth is fundamentally unsustainable.” It was always like this with Safiye, swift shifting between shallow swimming and deeper waters. She was by necessity comfortable with surface interactions, but she craved greater stimulation. Usually, she ignored the urge, pushing it down until it was little more than a vague irritation, but she didn’t go to the same trouble to appear Proper when it was just  her and Harper.

For a moment, Safiye allowed herself to imagine it. Her hand went to the watch in her pocket and she traced its outline as she pictured seeing the world with Harper at her side, showing her friend around Istanbul, even reconnecting with Dilara. But the memory of her fallen cousin pushed Safiye out of her reverie and she shook her head. They could, technically, but at what cost? 

“Oh, but think of all of the Society we would miss.” The joke came out thin and dry. Safiye knew all too well that neither she nor Harper would truly miss the society they’d grown up in. Sometimes she craved a lack of it, and though they danced around the subject, never openly addressing it, she had a feeling Harper did as well. The truth of it was like the sun, easier to look at through the corner of an eye rather than directly.

Safiye took the offered menu and perused it eagerly, happy to follow Harper’s plan away from the ‘sad wine-tipsy road.’ Her eyes went immediately to the cocktail Harper mentioned, gin mixed with black tea and a ginger simple syrup poured over muddled plum. It combined several of Safiye’s favorite flavors and was something she’d mentioned to Harper on more than one occasion. It was touching that Harper had remembered to include it this season, and the kind of silent gift that their friendship was built on. “Well, if you have that, then I don’t need to look at the menu.” Safiye smiled as she handed the menu back to Harper.

-

Harper internally felt a surge of pride in herself as she took in Safiye’s response to the drink. She thrived on positive feedback as it was, but coming from Safiye it hit a different chord. It felt so genuine and natural; she knew Safiye wasn’t looking to gain something from her, she had just made her friend happy. And in a world where Harper knew that was a struggle for both of them, she was honored.

They didn’t often discuss it, their feelings about their respective situations. It was clear that there was more beneath the surface that neither friend could or would discuss, but part of what made their friendship so special was their understanding and respect of those boundaries; their shared ability to catch each other’s drifts in spite of things left out. It was this same understanding that guided Harper to drop the joke. If it were anyone else, she probably would have continued in order to keep her guard up and her edge intact. Truth be told, she also had the feeling that if she tried, her voice would crack or some other tell would show itself.

Unsure of what more she actually wanted to drink, herself, Harper pondered the menu. She let out a soft laugh. “You know, considering the role I had in shaping this menu, you’d think I’d have an easier time picking something,” she mused aloud. Truth be told, beyond Safiye’s drink, she could barely remember what they’d actually selected for this menu.

The summer was difficult for Harper. Between the memories of graduation, and then her parents, plus her birthday thrown in there too, the early part of summer especially tended to be blurry and hard to focus on. For one or two years after her parents passing, Harper attempted to actively deal with both, which just resulted in whiplash and guilt. She’d considered trying again this year, but ultimately hadn’t decided for sure.

Settling on an elderflower cocktail for herself, Harper sent word down to the kitchen and bar to deliver a couple of their chosen drinks along with some sweet biscuits up to her suite.

ava-avery​:

There was something freeing, fleeting about being in a hotel bar alone. There was a feeling of mystery; was she there on her own? Going somewhere or just meeting someone? The possibilities were endless and she highly enjoyed that. Hotels, Ava thought, had the same fleetingness of an airport, but with less stress and more class. 

Technically, Ava had started the night with a friend. A distant one she only knew from the party scene, and who had needed someone for liquid courage and to back her up when meeting a bloke. So Ava had come with to make sure her friend wasn’t being kidnapped or set up with someone terrible. After waving her mate off to her date, she’d decided to stay at the hotel for a few drinks. 

Plenty of interesting things happened in a hotel bar at a friday night. Travellers and locals alike gathered for a drink. And sometimes, it seemed, even the owner paid the bar a visit. 

Ava turned at the sound of her name, smile at the ready. “Harper, hello;” she cooed. That was the great thing about the wizarding community; there were always someone around if you just hung around long enough. “Are you doing a late work-night inspection, or are you here to play?”

-

Harper leaned over the bar, meeting the bartender’s eyes and greeting him politely before gesturing towards herself and Ava. Moments later two drinks slid towards her, and with a nod and word of thanks, she picked them up and turned to face Ava again. “I’m done with work for the day” she punctuated her declaration with a freeing exhale and sip of her drink, holding the second glass out to the other woman. “I just figured I’d start my night on the path of least resistance. And besides, I was hoping to run into someone who’d want to join me in doing the same,” she continued, a twinkle in her eyes.

Despite many of her reserved tendencies, Harper really did enjoy just going out and adventuring for a night, hopping between bars and other establishments. Sometimes shops took advantage of the extended summer daylight hours and stayed open longer— a fact that was especially tempting.

Glancing around the bar again, Harper wondered how long Ava had been there. She voiced the question, her curiosity getting the best of her as she added “And have you seen anything interesting go on?” Despite the number of people, things seemed to be relatively uneventful so far. Good for business, Harper thought, but the night was still young, so there was hope for some drama to develop… Though she would highly prefer it not be at one of her hotel bars.

Laying Flowers //

Harper had created a tradition for herself that she followed every year on the anniversary of her parents passing. They— She — still owned the house she grew up in. She didn’t spend much time there after the summer they passed, but she wasn’t looking to let go of it, either. Besides, it wasn’t like they— SHE— couldn’t afford it. She was constantly still referring to her family in terms of “they” rather than “she,” even though for five years now it had just been, well, She. It wasn’t denial, it was just discomfort and force of habit.

So the house was where she went. She arrived there the night before, with a bottle or two of her parents’ favorite wine in tow, and stayed over. She cooked for herself, read, watched some old movies, looked through old albums. That night and the following day were the only times she permitted herself to cry. On that next day Harper would lie low, largely continuing the previous night’s activities, before heading to the cemetery where her parents were buried. She’d spend some time there; talking to them, doing some more reading and maybe even writing a bit, and laying flowers. Then she would return to the house, get take out or delivery for dinner, and spend the night again before heading out in the morning.

This was a very solitary experience for Harper, but that didn’t stop her from maintaining a certain appearance, specifically for her time at the graveyard. In fact, she considered it to be very much tied in as a part of her ritual. Waterproof makeup was a must, as was an elegant black outfit… Even though afterwards it was promptly shoved into a designated corner of Harper’s closet. The main facets of this year’s look were nude lipstick and a slightly flow-y black chiffon dress. She was in the midst of reading her book, enjoying the warm summer breeze on her skin, when she looked up, startled, at the rustle of approaching footsteps on the grass.

“Oh… hey,” she said softly, feeling caught off-guard and distant, but hoping that her waterproof eye-makeup made good on its claims.

23 and Me //

Waking up and turning 23, Harper really didn’t feel much different than she had the night before. Which wasn’t a complaint, per se. But some silly little bit of hope inside her still gleamed… Maybe she would wake up and the mere act of turning another year older would just make something click into place; maybe she would finally have the answers instead of searching for them whilst pretending she already had them.

Part of her wanted to go out and celebrate; she craved the rare moment of letting herself be the center of attention. Harper was all too familiar with this conundrum. She tried to celebrate as normal, or at least as close to normal as could be, for the year or two after her parents passed. Not her best idea, though she was loath to admit it. The whole thing left Harper a whirlwind of emotions, and she spent the following couple of days holed up by herself in her apartment.

So after a few years of downplaying and minimizing the day, Harper decided that this year she would take a different approach. She’d let it be known that she’d be out and about for brunch and some shopping, and see where the day took her. No expectations of anything or for anyone besides herself.

Strolling through Diagon Alley, wearing one of her favorite summer outfits and reveling in the sound of her shoes clicking on cobblestone, Harper slowed as she approached Flourish and Blotts. She raised a brow and pursed her lips in thought. She was about to estimate how much time she could spend in the store before she’d have to drag herself away in order to get to brunch, before again realizing her only restriction today was, well, herself. She didn’t feel hungry yet, so deciding that food could wait, Harper entered the store and took a deep breath in, appreciating the smell of books and stationery.

Delilah, Florence and the machine

“Bergdorf Goodman” 1971