plank
she/her
seventeen
march 19th
pacifidlog town
homosexual
rocket grunt
grunt
what's wrong? does nobody here love you? do you feel alone? need somebody to hold you?
TAG WITH @plank
peggie vela
phantom force [m]
POSTED ON Mar 22, 2021 2:45:15 GMT
[attr="class","spiral"]Crying with an audience isn't something Plank allows herself. Not something she's often been allowed. It's a thing she snuck off to do in gas station bathrooms or the alleyway outside. Something she stole for herself between midnight and sunrise, or in the moments between offloading and setting sail. So it's awkward, to break down so openly here in this musty apartment building. With the recruiter looming only a couple feet away. Awkward already in the silence that allows her to at least pretend she's alone. Much worse when he speaks. It flips something in Plank's chest. Nerves. Shame. Fear. Something. She stops crying. The recruiter's attempts at comforting her are weak and ineffectual, but noted as she shifts her head where it rests on her knees. Rubs at her eyes without looking up. "Yeah, sure," she croaks before finally lifting her head. Her nose is red, as is the skin around her eyes where the salt and her rubbing have irritated it, "I'll take that."She lets out a shaking sigh before lifting herself to her feet. Wincing again when her shirt and sweatshirt brush over her scraped up lower back on their way back into place. "Figure it was inevitable," Plank continues, phrasing vague on whether it's addressing her new knowledge of the 'ugly truth' or her fresh part in it, "Best t' get it outta the way early."Her wording is intentionally flippant. An attempt at affecting strength she doesn't have, undermined by the way she still sways in place. Crying always makes her so fucking lightheaded. [newclass=.spiral]text-align: justify;font-family:calibri;font-size:14px; margin: 0 auto; width: 300px;[/newclass] [newclass=.spiral b]color: #f9993d[/newclass]
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