* Starter Call, Accepting. ( @ilvaites )

୨୧˚♡* ♱    starter call, accepting.    ( @ilvaites​ )

                positioned  behind  the  prophet,  she  sits,  a  strange  peace  flowing  through  her.  no  doubt  the  cause  of  lottie’s  ever  glowing  light,  a  holiness  laura  lee  wishes  she  could  hold  in  her  hand,  hold  up  to  the  sun  and  watch  it  spin.  laura  lee  hums  gently,  a  familiar  tune  that  sits  heavy  on  her  throat.  psalm  eighteen,  she  still  remembers.  for  strength.  cautious  fingers  opt  for  gentleness  and  focus,  instead  of  speed,  twining  hair  together  so  it’s  neat  and  tidy,  freshly  clean  from  the  lake  and  scarcely  more  than  two  drops  of  rationed  soap.    (  the  Lord  is  my  rock  and  my  fortress  and  my  deliverer,  my  God,  my  rock,  in  whom  i  take  refuge,  my  shield  …    )    she  breathes  in  her  nose,  out  her  mouth.  they  will  be  okay,  blessed  from  above.  they  will.    “  that’s  not  too  tight,  is  it?  ”

“After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed and mourning over tragedies that were not my own.”

— Oscar Wilde, 1891 (via pianoprince)

୨୧˚♡* ♱    starter call, accepting.    ( @witcheri​ )

                slowly  dabbing  at  frankie’s  bruised  eye  with  an  ice  pack  retrieved  from  the  nurses  office,  laura  lee  realizes  just  how  often  this  event  has  occurred  in  the  last  week,  finding  herself  in  this  exact  spot.  it’s  not  that  she  doesn’t  understand,  if  something  like  this  happened  to  her  sisters,  no  matter  how  much  they  seemed  to  fight  her,  she  would  always  defend  them  to  prove  their  innocence.  but  not  like  this.  not  in  a  way  that  only  gets  them  both  in  trouble  more.  it  brews  in  her  chest  during  the  long  moments  of  silence,  a  pause  that  sinks  and  festers  and  feels  heavier  than  the  dripping  ice  in  her  hand,  pressing  down  on  her  tongue  until  she  has  to  tell  herself  to  be  brave.  be  brave,  laura  lee.    “  i  think  you  should  stop.  ”    frankie  makes  her  nervous,  it’s  always  been  that  way.  although  they  were  friends,  she’s  fiery  and  stubborn  and  she  just  doesn’t  listen,  so  laura  lee  very  rarely  tries  to  push  back.  but  she  can’t  watch  this  anymore,  can’t  watch  frankie  tie  herself  up  in  knots  and  knots  of  trouble  and  pain.  laura  lee  prays  for  strength  and  reaches  for  frankie’s  hand,  stilling  her.    “  you  know  this  isn’t  helping.  somewhere  in  you,  you  know.  ”    guilt  pricks  at  her  for  letting  it  get  this  far.  disciples  of  Christ  were  meant  to  go  out  and  do  good  in  the  world.  what  good  had  she  been  doing,  standing  by  and  waiting?    “  we  can  check  the  woods  again,  if  you  want?  my  mom  isn’t  busy  tonight  so  i  don’t  need  to  watch  my  sisters,  but  i  can’t  be  out  too  late.  ”

“aren’t you tired of being nice” no!!!! i’m tired of everyone else being mean!!!!!!!!

I guess I wanted to ask you something. I think it’s about God. I think I’m seeing things. In the Bible, people had visions, right? Like prophets and stuff? I was taught that visions were God’s way of communicating. They could either be a warning or a revelation. But how did they know they weren’t just crazy? I think because God gave them faith.

Laura Lee's last great adventure