(no subject)
WHO: Hayley Stark & Rex "Cobra FUCKING Commander" Lewis
WHEN: Last day of Breach flood
WHERE: Out in ze woods
WHAT: Hayley hates her life, Rex comforts her.
WARNINGS: None
Hayley was tired, the kind of tired that sleep couldn't cure. Every year at Camp Isukketpuns, she was expected to be a million different things, most of them not particularly her natural state. To be the rich bitch, to be excelled in reading and music and other intellectual pursuits, to be elite, to make elite friends, and to look down on those that were less than she was. It was exhausting to put up such a facade so often when, most of the time, she couldn't care less about whether or not someone was wealthy as long as they could hold an enjoyable conversation.
Breaking up with Jay had pushed her to a place she'd never been before at camp. She had meant for it to be a warning, for him to come crawling back to her after he realized that he'd sincerely done something wrong. Instead, her now-ex had moved on to better and brighter things and she had been left alone. A few days had passed, however, which was plenty enough time for her to begin focusing on the bad parts of Jay rather than the good; he never listened, he was selfish and rude, and he was always getting into trouble. He was neither wealthy nor stable in any way and sometimes she wondered at how intelligent he truly was.
Alone, depressed, the girl was sitting out in the woods. The French copy of Three Musketeers she had been toting around was beside her; Hayley barely knew enough French to read a children's book, let alone a Dumas novel. Instead, her attention was on a single leaf she had just picked and she was spinning the stem around in her fingers, sitting in skinny jeans and an elegant white halter with her knees pulled to her chest.
"Look at you," she chided the leaf idly, not realizing that anyone else was nearby.
WHEN: Last day of Breach flood
WHERE: Out in ze woods
WHAT: Hayley hates her life, Rex comforts her.
WARNINGS: None
Hayley was tired, the kind of tired that sleep couldn't cure. Every year at Camp Isukketpuns, she was expected to be a million different things, most of them not particularly her natural state. To be the rich bitch, to be excelled in reading and music and other intellectual pursuits, to be elite, to make elite friends, and to look down on those that were less than she was. It was exhausting to put up such a facade so often when, most of the time, she couldn't care less about whether or not someone was wealthy as long as they could hold an enjoyable conversation.
Breaking up with Jay had pushed her to a place she'd never been before at camp. She had meant for it to be a warning, for him to come crawling back to her after he realized that he'd sincerely done something wrong. Instead, her now-ex had moved on to better and brighter things and she had been left alone. A few days had passed, however, which was plenty enough time for her to begin focusing on the bad parts of Jay rather than the good; he never listened, he was selfish and rude, and he was always getting into trouble. He was neither wealthy nor stable in any way and sometimes she wondered at how intelligent he truly was.
Alone, depressed, the girl was sitting out in the woods. The French copy of Three Musketeers she had been toting around was beside her; Hayley barely knew enough French to read a children's book, let alone a Dumas novel. Instead, her attention was on a single leaf she had just picked and she was spinning the stem around in her fingers, sitting in skinny jeans and an elegant white halter with her knees pulled to her chest.
"Look at you," she chided the leaf idly, not realizing that anyone else was nearby.