Ellington Feint - Tumblr Posts
Can’t believe I forgot to post this,
anyways @lsnicket inspired me to draw Ellington in this dress ‼️
i think hangfire would have probably killed ellington, had she given him the statue.
they discussed this in book 4, but hangfire is very pragmatic. he takes what he needs from people, then discards them. the only thing shes really useful for in his eyes is getting the statue/sidetracking the associates (which would be pointless after hangfire got the statue)
in book two, when we see him for the first time, hes much like ellington describes him -- sitting by the fire, drinking whisky and listening to jazz music. he even mistakenly refers to lemony with ellington's name. but by book four, thats all gone. he destroys the music box, and refers to ellington as "little girl" and "that", never by her name. hes distanced himself from who he used to be, and hes distanced himself from ellington.
and the last line hangfire ever says is "give me the statue and you'll be side by side with your father before you know it." after the reveal, ellington calls out for her father but he doesnt acknowledge it, because thats not who he is anymore. "armstrong feint" was dead before lemony killed him, and hangfire is giving ellington the chance to join him.
Ok guys, new ship just dropped.
Cleo/Ellington
They were friends in canon
Great together visually (just imagine the outfit matching potential!!)
Both equally badass and elegant
Great alternative to Lemony/Ellington
Ellington’s father is Hangfire and Cleo’s father is Ignatius Knight, so there is plenty of dramatic potential
Everything about them just works, even if it seems like it shouldn’t
Atwq characters summed up by me
Lemony Snicket: a nerd but plotting your murder, probably via sarcasm
Moxie mallahan: tiny and cute but will fight you
Cleo knight: badass chemist extraordinaire nerdo
Jake Hix: ruler of the cinnamon rolls
Ellington feint: could punch me in the face and I’d say thank you
Ornette lost: gay origami hipster
Kellar Haines: second in command of the cinnamon rolls. Tries to be cool but is a nerd, must be protected at all costs.
Kit snicket: actual gryffindor stereotype, cute but sneaky
Jacques snicket: the one everyone forgets about, also a nerd
Stew Mitchum: the cliche jock bully stereotype but murderous
Hangfire: good dad but deeply flawed human being
Theodora: misunderstood sad dust mop
Ellington Feint
she borrowed her girlfriend’s sweater.
Ellington: I’m very close to starting my Inigo Montoya phase.
Jake: No, you can’t have alcohol!
Ellington: I meant that I would avenge my father by killing his murderer.
Jake: You can’t do that either!
Moxie: Are you also seeking revenge on the Bombinating Beast? I think it might be considered an endangered species and you probably don’t want to deal with the lawsuits.
Ellington: I didn’t really like reading Moby-Dick, so no.
Exactly!! The way he treats her is the scariest part of ATWQ
Is Lemony trying to vilify Ellington in retrospect to make himself feel better!? Because there are no books in her room?! This is sickening.
There is no heterosexual explanation for this.
Cleo: I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill Stew Mitchum.
Jake: Cleo, wait, please think this through-
Ellington: Kick his ass.
Jake: Please stop encouraging her! There are consequences you haven’t even thought about!
Cleo: I’m rich, I can pay the bail.
Ellington: Really? I thought you would just break out.
Cleo: That works too- okay, legal stuff aside is there any reason I shouldn’t beat him up? No? Okay I’ll see you all later.
Lemony: Everyday, our friends become more morally questionable.
Moxie: It’s called character development and it’s Ellington’s fault.
After the events of atwq, Ellington vowed to ruin Lemony’s life through destroying the only thing he deemed incorruptible, untainted by the treachery surrounding every aspect of his life, the only thing that made him happy:
Rootbeer floats.
She put an absurd amount of effort into this. The diner Lemony goes to solely for the rootbeer? She shut it down after anonymously reporting several health code violations. Every rootbeer bottle Lemony gets from the store? Thoroughly shaken by Ellington. His ice cream? She takes it out of the freezer and lets it melt, or if she’s feeling particularly evil she eats all of it and sticks it back into the fridge.
Lemony thinks that this is the behavior of other volunteers, ones who have no regard for the possessions of others. It’s not until the Baudelaire mansion burns to the ground that Ellington reveals herself.
“Snicket.”
“Feint.”
“Your suffering brings me great joy.”
“You… you killed Beatrice? You left their home in ashes just to get back at me.”
“What? No, who are you even talking about? I’ve been preventing you from having decent rootbeer floats for the past fifteen years.”
“…”
“If I was going to kill someone, it would be you.”
“My rootbeer… how could you?!”
“You don’t deserve rootbeer!”
“Ellington, that’s like saying you don’t deserve coffee!”
They proceed to have one of the most petty arguments recorded in history.
“And you know what?! Your sister’s been helping me get my revenge the whole time!”
“Just because I killed your father?! Does that warrant such atrocities?! What did my rootbeer ever do to you?!”
jazz is so good. have you guysheard of this shit theres tumpet
ellington feint in all the wrong questions
requested by @volunteerfelinedetectives
1000 x 1000
like or rb if you save
Little Ellington Feint doodle for the ATWQ fanart contest :-))
*sorry for the bad quality picture..*
Everyone please boost my girl Ellington NOW
Wrote this chaotic little piece for @cherrycokeisnice, basically everyone gets snowed in together. Cleo/Jake, all the friendships, and Moxie/Ellington if you choose to read it that way. Huge thanks to @asouefanworkevent for organising the exchange
The first day went off without a hitch. Moxie and Kellar were of course the first to arrive, Moxie bright and eager as always as she stepped out of the Bellerophon taxi, typewriter for once not in her hand.
Instead she was helping Pip and Squeak carry in all the admittedly rather surprising stuff Cleo had sent them out to find over the previous week, blankets and houseplants and cooking utensils and lamps and absolutely anything colourful, to match with Cleo’s rebellious addition of more and more bright clothes to her wardrobe. Kellar had somehow obtained an enormous antique metal umbrella stand which he was trying, without much luck, to haul up the front steps. Ornette Lost and Lizzie Haines arrived last together, Ornette dragging a sledge loaded with wallpaper and paint through the quickly falling snow and Lizzie staggering under the weight of a heap of curtains and canopies in a rainbow of colours and fabrics.
“Is that everyone?” asked a slightly exasperated Jake, his clothes covered in flour from a mishap involving Moxie, an overfilled storage cupboard and an enormous high-tech blender they were trying to carry.
“Not quite,” replied Cleo calmly once the entirely responsible journalist was out of sight, reaching up a slender hand to brush some additional flour from Jake’s cheek. “I have an associate coming to live with us for a while. In fact, I need to go and meet her in the library now.” And with that she grabbed her coat and bolted out the door, leaving her sweetheart bewildered and suspicious in her wake. Jake shrugged, and went to help Moxie out in the kitchen.
The morning was a blur of constant activity and almost as constant accidents, and by the time everyone settled down to lunch (stuffed mushrooms involving more herbs and spices that anyone in the group apart from Jake could even name) they were all regretting not arriving in more casual clothes. The source of all the chaos was not incompetence on the part of any of them, indeed the living room was looking far more beautiful than it ever had from the work of endless interior designers hired by Ignatius Knight. Instead the problem was, bizarrely, that the place was overrun with stray cats. Yes, you read that correctly: glassware was crashing to the ground everywhere, wallpaper had been scratched down as soon as put up, and a particularly large ginger moggy seemed to have decided Moxie’s typewriter was a bed. This was the last straw. Moxie had her suspicions about who was behind this, and fortunately one of the troublemakers had left a convenient trail of painted paw prints for her to follow. She grinned to herself as she trailed them up the stairs and along the corridor to the study door; mysteries were almost never this easy to solve.
The door to the study was slightly ajar, and it the creak it let out as she pushed it open was loud enough to make her jump back before tentatively making her way in. All four walls were lined with huge and heavy-looking books, and at the back of the room a leather-cushioned chair faced a massive desk carved from a disturbingly familiar dark wood. Slowly, the chair begun to swivel round, and Moxie’s heart threw itself against her chest as she saw who was sitting there. Hair so dark it made the blackest of ink look grey, eyes almost luminescently green. She wore a long, luxurious black silk dress Moxie was pretty sure was Cleo’s, and her long fingers were resting on the head of a white Persian cat with electric blue eyes, which bared its teeth at Moxie as she tentatively approached.
“Hello, Moxie,” Ellington greeted in a slow, honeyed voice, smiling a smile that might have meant anything.
Out of all the people Cleo could have been inviting over? (She had overheard, of course). Ellington?
Moxie did her best to disguise a grimace as she looked the older girl in the eyes. She cut straight to the chase.
“What are you planning this time?” Ellington’s smile faded and her brows furrowed as she began to slowly steer the chair away from Moxie. “I don’t know what you mean. I needed a place to hide from the police, that’s all.”
“You’ve completely flooded the house with every stray cat in town, Ellington.”
She grimaced at the interruption, but carried on speaking.
“I was looking after all of them when I was living in Black Cat Coffee and I don’t know where else they could go. Cleo invited all of them here with me, she told me we’d be safe.”
“After everything that happened? She still trusts you?”
“Listen, Moxie. I’m not another story to be told or case to be unravelled. I’m not here to hurt anyone or sabotage anything. I’m just trying to live, like we all are. The only difference is that I don’t want to simply forget it all.” To Moxie’s horror, there were tears welling up in Ellington’s eyes.
“Wait!” Moxie called out, but she simply pushed past her and ran out of the room, feline draped round her shoulders like a living, breathing fur collar. Moxie wanted to be here, she really did, but she was still uncertain of Ellington and whether she really did mean well. She drifted towards the window and watched the snow that had begun to fall outside, concealing all of Stain’d-by-the-sea’s secrets and dangers beneath an unassuming canopy of white. Part of her imagined that once the snow melted away the town would be rewritten, all of its dark history washed away as it emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. She knew that made no sense, but what was it that Lemony had once said? ‘There’s nothing wrong with occasionally staring out of a window and thinking nonsense, as long as the nonsense is yours.” Something like that, at least.
She was startled out of her meditation by Cleo’s voice calling her up to the guest bedrooms, sounding more than a little exasperated. She found Cleo sitting just outside a huge, empty room, furniture cluttering the hallway around her.
“I’m sorry if I worried you, I just need someone strong to help me get all this stuff in here. “
Moxie nodded, ready for the task. She was used to carrying things, and any opportunity to spend more time with Cleo was an opportunity she was willing to take. They were in reality very distant cousins, but Cleo seemed like a sister to her nonetheless. They got to work, Moxie carrying or pushing the furniture to the right place and Cleo stringing up fairy lights and heaping blankets and pillows onto the bed, chatting all the while about their universally agreed favourite subject, literature.
“You need to read Fahrenheit 451 if you haven’t, it’s a masterpiece of dystopian fiction,” Cleo was saying as she attached a hanging basket of ferns to a hook at the top of the wardrobe.
“I have,” Moxie replied, bending down to tighten a loose screw on the desk. “I know it’s unfair to compare two completely different writers but when it comes to classic dystopia I’ll always prefer 1984.”
“Much as I love 1984 as well, Fahrenheit 451 feels so much more real to me, like that’s slowly becoming our world.“
A good natured argument does indeed firm up a friendship, and this particular one became so engaging that Moxie completely forgot to ask who the room was being prepared for until dinner that evening. Crab linguine, to be precise. Moxie spent a long while thanking Jake for preparing the food, as well as helping to lay the table, so by the time she could sit down there was only one remaining seat between Kellar and Ellington. She reluctantly took it, avoiding the older girl’s gaze until she felt a tap on the shoulder.
“Thank you for helping with my room,” Ellington whispered, twirling the pasta absentmindedly round her fork.
“That was yours?” Moxie asked, a little too loud for her liking. She wasn’t too keen on the fact that she’d unwittingly done a large favour for Ellington, but thought that perhaps at least appearing to trust her would be the best way of finding out what she was planning. So she lowered her voice, leaned in and said, “Look. I’m sorry about accusing you of doing something bad earlier, I just find it hard not to question everything after all that business with— with your father.”
Ellington shivered; actually trembled despite the warm fire burning in the hearth, and for a moment Moxie was afraid she’d said the wrong thing entirely. But then Ellington turned to her and their eyes locked together as she replied.
“I know exactly how you feel. I spend most of my time afraid I’ll never be able to trust anyone ever again. If even the kindest man I knew was capable of such treacherous things…,” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the second clause hung in the air between them like an echo. …then there is no telling what anyone will do.
They ate the rest of the meal in an amiable silence, trying to keep track of the others’ conversations but finding that they faded in and out, the mingling voices unable to compete with the endless questions and contradictions swimming through their minds. The plan was for everyone to stay the night, and they did, but for reasons unique to each person nobody went upstairs to bed. Instead those who managed to sleep at all did so on couches and chairs in the lounge, books still open on chests that rose and fell like an untroubled sea.
“It’s… 5 o’clock in the morning…” Jake blearily checked his watch then turned to face Pecuchet ‘Squeak’ Bellerophon, who had been vigorously shaking his shoulders for the past three minutes.
“It’s the snow!” Squeak exclaimed without so much as an apology or a ‘good morning’. “It’s too thick and the doors won’t open. We’re snowed in!”
Jake grimaced as he pulled himself up to look; he was hoping to tend to the garden that day, but it seemed like that would be impossible. Sure enough, the snow outside was several feet deep, and so dense it was impossible to even open the door to shovel a path. He tried the other doors and found it exactly the same. They were well and truly trapped. He sighed and went to get the others up from the numerous pieces of furniture they were draped over, with the exception of Cleo who hadn’t slept a wink that night and was now standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand, slathering concealer over the dark circles beneath her eyes. She headed for the door the moment she saw him, not even giving him the chance to say good morning before she disappeared up the stairs. No doubt she was extremely busy with something, he thought; he’d get her a bit of breakfast, something to keep her going during the day. He brought the omelette up to the study and poked his head round the door; she was writing furiously in a black notebook and seemingly didn’t even see him as he placed the food on the desk and a kiss on her cheek. Cleo worked so unbelievably hard; he acknowledged that fact with that rare, perfectly balanced mix of admiration and dread.
“105…106…107…” Cleo wasn’t the only one already going stir-crazy from being stuck inside. Ornette had seen potential in the endless scraps of wastepaper left behind from the previous day’s activities and was now attempting the age-old tradition of folding a thousand origami cranes. Once they were done, she decided, she would string them together into a huge canopy of folded paper birds, her most ambitious project yet and a symbol of all the hopes and wishes she had for her re-emerging town. Already there were birds made from every possible type of paper in every nook and cranny of the house, and Kellar Haines, who had been watching with eager curiosity and gathering the creations together for her, could see that she wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.
And Moxie was sitting at her desk in the guest room that had been specially set up for her, just writing and writing and writing. Getting everything from the day before down in great detail before typing out an impulsive opinion piece on Lemony Snicket, which had very few good things to say. She was right in the middle of a particularly scathing paragraph when she heard a knock on the door connecting her room to Ellington’s. Ellington herself breezed in without waiting for Moxie to answer, brushing a stack of books carelessly aside as she perched herself on the end of the desk. Moxie wished she could be annoyed at the way Ellington treated the world like she owned it, but the truth was that everything in her vicinity did seem to suddenly revolve around her like the Earth’s gravity pulling meteors into orbit.
“Sorry to intrude,” Ellington said after an awkwardly long period of Moxie looking up at her in silence. “But window in my bedroom is tiny and I needed somewhere well-lit to read without going downstairs and waking anyone up.”
Despite it being seven in the morning, everyone was already awake, although Ellington had no way of knowing that.
“What are you reading?” Moxie asked, eager to strengthen the bond that was growing between them. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But was she an enemy? Whatever she was reading, it was obviously good, as she didn’t seem to hear what Moxie had said. So she moved her typewriter onto the bed, keen not to disturb her for some reason she couldn’t possibly understand.
The Associates were quieter than they had ever been in one another’s company, as if the snow had buried all their memories, their shared aspirations and dreams. But one thing that couldn’t be buried was how safe they felt around each other, the knowledge that they could make mistakes without everything they had built together falling apart. Which was why Jake hadn’t bothered Cleo in her study at all that day, however much he yearned for her company. He understood her need to always be working hard, always striving to compensate for everything her parents did. But sometimes she forgot that she too was worth something, and when 4 o’clock in the afternoon struck and she still hadn’t come out or said a word to anyone, he decided to finally knock on the door. She opened it and her hands were deathly pale and trembling, exhaustion in her icy blue eyes which she had been trying to fight with the five or six now empty coffee cups scattered around the room. She pulled him inside and kissed him almost desperately, and he leaned into her, keen to give her the support and affection she clearly needed so much. Cleo was on one side of him and the study wall was on the other, and in the moment the whole world seemed that small, that perfect. She pulled away, a rare sheepish smile creeping up her face. “Sorry, sorry, I just— I really needed that,” she whispered breathlessly, running a hand through Jake’s hair as she pulled him down onto an ottoman in the corner of the room.
“Don’t worry,” he replied equally breathlessly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything with me, I’m here when you need me, here because you need me here.” Cleo was chaotic sometimes, troubled and secretive, but Jake knew he could never love anyone else as much as he loved her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, resting his head on Cleo’s shoulder as she picked up a book from a nearby table, taking the break she needed at last.
While the two of them sat together in silence and Kellar was still trying to gather the folded paper birds scattered all over the building, something rather exciting had been unearthed in a suitcase upstairs.
“You have what?” Ornette shouted, gazing at Ellington bug-eyed. “You could sell that for enough money to get you safely out of the country for the rest of your life!”
“Well, maybe I love these songs too much to do that. It’s nice to have music almost nobody else has heard, something I’ll only share with the right people.”
“She’s right,” Lizzie chimed in. “If everything can be bought or sold or invested then it loses its original purpose entirely. Auction that CD off and it’ll never be played again, just sold off to richer and richer people at higher and higher prices.”
Ellington reached out a long fingernail to press the button on the CD player, and placed the iridescent disc in its slot, and Ornette was overcome with a rush of endorphins as she heard a familiar voice sing new melodies, new words.
“Hold on, I know someone else who might want to hear this,” Ornette interrupted, moving towards the telephone, picking it up and dialling a number.
“Moxie, come up here! You won’t believe what Ellington has! No, not a weapon, not anything even remotely sinister. Illegal, yes, but purely noble in its intentions. Yep, a pirated CD containing Melanie Martinez songs that were never officially released and might not be found anywhere else in the world. Yes, I’m serious.” Ornette hung up the phone and spun to face Ellington and Lizzie with a thrilled expression.
“She’s coming!”
“So his name actually was Lemony?”
“I couldn’t believe it either until his sister told me. It always sounded made-up, like the kind of name you’d tell a company to avoid getting newsletters.”
She was always going to mess this up, Moxie thought to herself. The plan was to keep a close eye on Ellington and prevent her from getting into any mischief, and it wasn’t supposed to involve sitting cross-legged on Ellington’s bed with her hands temporarily incapacitated by the black varnish drying on her nails, courtesy of Ellington. It definitely wasn’t supposed to involve Moxie having the time of her life hanging out with her. Maybe it was just the excitement of her first proper sleepover, but she was finding Ellington surprisingly fun to be around when they weren’t directly in the midst of intrigue. The evening so far had been a blur of music and games and conversation, over the course of which they had all ended up with completely new hairstyles. Ellington’s hair had been plaited and wound into a spiral at the back of her head, Moxie’s straightened into a chin-length bob, Lizzie had a new fringe which cast her eyes in shadow and Ornette’s was let down from its usual yellow scrunchie and pulled into row upon row of tight braids decorated with colourful beads. Moxie thought they all looked transformed, shifting rapidly from the uncertain girls they were six months ago to the wilder, freer ones they were becoming. The connection she felt to them was new, unfamiliar and exciting, and even though she still had her doubts about Ellington her bed was so comfy and she was tired…
The rays of the sunrise shone through the curtains over the East Window, waking her up the next morning to see Ellington bringing over a tray on which were two steaming cups of coffee. Really, Moxie? Falling asleep in Ellington’s bed?
“Sorry I didn’t wake you up,” she said gently, brushing a lock of hair out of Moxie’s face. “You just looked so cosy there and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Don’t worry, I think the couch in here is even more comfortable than the bed!”
Moxie reluctantly took a sip of the coffee Ellington had handed her, and discovered with reluctant gratitude that she had prepared it with milk, sugar and cinnamon, adding a delightful mild sweetness to a normally bitter drink. The coffee reminded her somewhat of Ellington herself that morning, everything dark and sinister had somehow melted away and she seemed kinder and less villainous than she ever had before.
Meanwhile, Cleo awoke to the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, something that would be comforting to most people but made Cleo’s heartbeat quicken and her breathing stop. Here she was, in her bedroom in the family home, the familiar smell of cinnamon rolls that were never for her wafting up at her from the kitchen. Had she only dreamed all the friendships she had made over the past six months, or that she was free from her parents at last? Without stopping to get slippers or a dressing gown, she bolted down the stairs to the kitchen where she was greeted by a rather bemused Jake.
“Are you ok, sweetheart?” he enquired with a nervous smile. “I made you breakfast.” Cleo managed an equally nervous smile back as she hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter and pulled Jake closer to her, kissing him softly on the forehead.
“Everything’s alright, Jake,” her voice tapered off ever so slightly. “It’s just that I’ve never actually had a cinnamon roll before. Zada and Zora always made them, but my parents had me on this ridiculous diet. I wasn’t even allowed a slice of cake on my birthday.”
“That’s dreadful, Cleo! We need to fix that, right now.” With mock solemnity, he fetched the tray from the other end of the room and handed her one of the warm pastries, oozing with cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. She bit in, and in that moment she could have sworn she had never tasted anything quite as heavenly.
“I can make them for you more often if you’d like,” Jake told her, grabbing one for himself from the tray. And this, she always said, was the moment the full extent of her newfound freedom hit her. It was also the moment she ran to the window and discovered the snow had melted just enough for them to go outside again.
Back upstairs, Moxie and Ellington had almost finished their coffee.
“You know,” Ellington declared suddenly, “I might actually try and sneak out today given the snow’s melted.”
“It has?”
“Not completely, but enough for us to leave the building.”
Ellington pulled on a black trench coat that was draped over a chair in the corner, and half-ran, half-leaped down the main stairs in the centre of the building, landing in the hallway with cat-like precision and gliding towards the door.
She knew that this was a rather silly idea, but she was never the kind of girl to allow herself to be contained for long. The world, or at least Stain’d-by-the-sea, was beckoning. As she turned the handle on the door she felt Moxie come up behind her.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, and Ellington smiled deviously to herself.
“Of course you can, a walk is almost never any fun when you’re alone,” Ellington replied, doing her best to sound casual. “But I’m not carrying that typewriter.”
Moxie laughed, flinging open the door with her typical enthusiasm and taking off running down the path towards the town while Ellington lingered behind, bunching up snow in her gloved hands.
The snowball hit Moxie on the back of the head, almost knocking her hat off. She rapidly turned around.
“What was that for?” she shouted.
“What was what for?” Ellington replied innocently, hurling another snowball in Moxie’s direction. To Ellington’s utter astonishment she caught it and threw it right back, hitting Ellington before she had time to recover from the surprise and dodge it. Of course, there was now no way of deescalating the situation, and of course, like with most snowball fights, others began to join in. Namely, Pip and Squeak, who had observed the action from a window and had jumped at the opportunity to cause mischief. Much to Ellington’s chagrin they were fighting firmly on Moxie’s side, and she didn’t stand a chance until Ornette dashed in front of her out of nowhere, carrying a small arsenal of snowballs she had been surreptitiously preparing in the yard. Soon everyone was involved; Jake and Kellar joining Moxie’s side and Cleo and Lizzie teaming up with Ellington. It was the first snowball fight any of them had had in years, and it was wonderful just to play like the children who they’d never been allowed to be, all system of teams and sides quickly forgotten as they ran shouting and laughing down the slightly less empty streets, much further than Ellington was technically supposed to go from her hiding place in Cleo’s home. Many years later, Moxie and Ellington would always say this was the moment that any trace of a rivalry between them disappeared, and they were just two girls on a winter morning, holding hands as they ran to catch up with the others by the sea.
Cleo drew her coat around her as she sat down on the pier overlooking the restored sea, the dams holding it back from the town’s edge having been long since destroyed. She shook the remaining snow from her hair, accidentally elbowing Jake who had come to sit down next to her. He rested his head on her shoulder and took her hand in his. “You’ve done so much more for the world this year than most people do in their lifetimes, and you’re still just sixteen. Look around at what you’ve made, Cleo,” She turned and saw Ellington smiling shyly, drenched through from the still-raging snowball fight, and Moxie draping a coat over her shoulders, their faces illuminated by the golden dawn. She saw the cobbled road cutting through the houses to the town square, and the empty pedestal awaiting the planned memorial to a great sub-librarian they once knew. And she saw the pen-shaped building she once looked upon with shame rising high above the town, no longer looking like it intended to cross it out, but instead poised ready to write a new beginning. “We’ve got whole lives ahead of us. Let’s go live them.”
It's Wicked Way Exchange day!
I made this piece for @miriel-therindes for the prompt of the Stain'd-by-the-Sea crew hanging out and playing games. I hope you like it!
And thank you, @asouefanworkevent for organizing the event! It's the first time I participate on something like this and I'm loving it <3
(the drawing was loosely based on a template you can see under the cut)
Why does the song Family Line by Conan Gray fit every single ATWQ kid? Never mind, I know. It’s the overarching narrative theme of young people being left behind to fix their parents’ mistakes.