Sarah / Interactions. - Tumblr Posts

🪐 — new muses / tags 001.

🪐 — ROBIN BUCKLEY​  for  sarah !

        They were sat opposite each other at the designated cafeteria table for band nerds, usually a hive of excitable energy about the latest piece of sheet music they were learning for recital, or a place to vent about the unoriginality of pop music these days —– however, on this particular Thursday lunchtime, an inexplicable cesspool of teenage hormones and gossip, too. Robin had thought the advent of puberty and shift to relationship-obsessed student body bad enough in Sophomore year, but in Senior year? Apparently the future of both you and your significant other was just as important as the strive for good grades and a college acceptance letter. She arched a brow across the table at Sarah with a smile. “ Because I’m not scrambling over the pick of the boys in marching band? ” She cast a pointed look at the other end of the table, where Dean Lewis was picking his nose and Tony Cooley and Leah Page were currently too busy eating each other’s faces to actually be doing the same with their cafeteria lunch. “ You don’t seem to particularly care for them either. ”

         SOMETHING STRANGE WAS HAPPENING  in the minds of her classmates.  sarah swore she could remember a time not that long ago when they had intelligent conversation over lunch, when they actually voiced opinions about things they cared about, rather than just fawning over the shiny new couple of the week. it was just so boring,  &  she refused to participate on principal, choosing a seat at the far end of the band table from tony  &  leah’s rather aggressive game of tonsil hockey. but even there she wasn’t alone as she’d expected she would be, robin from the trumpet section opting for the seat opposite her instead of one of the several vacant ones closer up to the crowd.  ❝ well, yeah, ❞ sarah replies, shrugging as she chances a glance over to the other end of the table  &  giving a roll of her eyes at the sight.  ❝ you’d think that the percussion boys were all  made of cake  the way the girls in the woodwind section want a piece of them. ❞  &  she takes a pause from moodily picking at the hawkins cafeteria’s sticky orange mac-n’-cheese entree to glance up at robin instead. they haven’t talked much  — different sections  &  all  —  but sarah chances a small smile anyway, just glad that there’s still someone in band besides her who hasn’t totally lost their brain. ❝ to be honest with you, i think they’re all about as appetizing as, well, this, ❞ she says, using her plastic fork to point at her uneaten meal.

🪐 — NANCY WHEELER​  for  sarah !

nancy   wheeler   has   a   way   of   getting   herself   in   trouble.   usually   she   isn’t   alone   to   deal   with   it.   she   thinks,   well   no,   feels   that   although   it’s   not   the   smartest   move   it   is   perhaps   the   most   empathetic   one.   sarah   fier   needs   help,   and   nancy   wheeler   can   provide   some   sort   of   help.   and   in   the   middle   of   helping   she   can   also   get   to   the   bottom   of   this.   it’s   basically   a   win,   win   situation.   she   just   has   to   be   careful   on   how   to   approach   this.   she,   after   all,   is   a   stranger   to   sarah.  “-well,   the   situation   is   much   more   complicated   than   you   might   think.”   she   starts.   looks   at   sarah   from   where   she   is   standing.   decides   then   to   sit   in   front   of   her.   levels   with   her.   “-and   if   you   aren’t   guilty   of   the   things   happening,   i   can   help   you   prove   that.   i   want   to   get   to   the   truth.”   it’s   never   fun,   doing   this.   but   if   she’s   not   doing   it   then   who   else   would?   

     IT’S HARD TO TRUST ANYONE  in hawkins, even on her best day.  &  today was definitely not her best day.  sarah had always been disliked by pretty much all of the so-called respectable people within the town limits after her mother had died  &  father had fallen off the wagon  &  right into the trailer park. since then, she’d been a beer baby. trailer trash. the resident weirdo. but whispers  &  snickers were one thing to contend with. now, it would be downright dangerous to show her face in public if she wanted to keep it in one piece. which was why she’d hidden, after, run as far  &  as fast as as she could until she disappeared into the trees, found a dark little grove of woods somewhere far from the trailer park  &  tried to will herself to disappear.                   of all the people who she anticipated might come looking for her  —  ill intentioned or otherwise  —  nancy wheeler was the absolute last on the list.  &  sarah feels a bit like a cornered prey animal at first, her eyes blown wide  &  her heart fluttering in her chest as she glances behind the other girl for any signs of reinforcements. but it’s only nancy, sitting there on the forest floor in her prim little sweater  &  skirt. it doesn’t make any sense, why she of all people would believe her  —  she didn’t do this, but she couldn’t explain it either — but if she does, she might also be sarah’s only hope.  ❝ i’m not, ❞  she says, her voice firm  &  certain in spite of the lingering fear.  ❝ guilty, i mean.  i didn’t — i didn’t hurt her.  i wouldn’t. ❞  the imagery is still fresh, the clean snap of the cheerleader’s jawbone replaying sickeningly in her ears without invitation.  &  sarah shudders, shaking her head back  &  forth rapidly as she tries to rid herself of the the horrible memory, the loose curls around her face wild from her long day in the woods.  it takes a moment for her to still herself, arms wrapping protectively around her torso, but after a few breaths her wide clear eyes land back on nancy, almost not daring to hope for her help.  ❝ you really think you can help me prove it ? ❞ 

🪐 — EDWARD TEAGUE​  for  sarah !

     “Oh?” Presumably, she had just seen him attempt to assemble a trumpet. An endeavor that had taken him far longer than it should have- he still wasn’t sure if he had done it right. Teague awkwardly gripped the instrument. Give him a violin or even a set of drums and he could eventually figure things out. These brass instruments were another beast entirely. The mechanics of the mouthpiece alone was a nightmare. Still, Teague was determined to figure this out for no other reason than because he had little choice. Of course, he couldn’t do that with some nosey teenager breathing down his neck. Teague shrugged and turned away refocusing on the trumpet. “ The bell is about to ring. Go to class. ”

   SHE DOESN’T EVEN PLAY BRASS,  but sarah can still tell that the finger valves are upside-down on the trumpet the new band teacher is holding.  ❝ i’m pretty sure that front valve-slide goes in the other way, ❞  she says, a brow quirked curiously. mr. teague, as the principal had introduced him on the first day of band class, had so far defied all her expectations of what a band teacher would be like, barely even seeming to care about their marching formations or their symphonic arrangement. but when sarah had slipped into the music room after third period, intending to retrieve her sheet music so that she could run through the most challenging bits over her lunch period, she hadn’t expected to find him trying  &  failing to assemble one of the horns.  ❝ you sure you don’t want a hand ?  kinda looks like you’re struggling over there, mr. t. ❞  &  she smiles slightly, a tiny signal that his secret is safe with her  —  sarah may be a little weird, but she’s no snitch.  ❝ it’s just my lunch now, anyways. ❞

🪐 — MR. TEAGUE   for  sarah !

     TEAGUE’S HAND HOVERED over the incorrectly placed valve for a moment longer than was necessary before dropping back to his side. Perhaps he should have been more concerned that he had been caught. But if the kid really wanted to ruin his day she would have just marched over to the principal. He suspected he was already on thin ice. Finding out that their newly hired band teacher had no idea what he was doing would have surely been grounds for firing. By the looks of it, the student had no intention of snitching on him. Yet here she was, offering to help. While Teague wasn’t the kind of person to put his faith in the trustworthiness of others, especially a random teenager, he really didn’t have a choice. With a look of resignation Teague handed her the instrument, “ it’s Sandra, right? You play the saxophone, second chair. ” He watched with thinly masked interest as she began working on the trumpet. “ What’re you even doing wandering the halls?I thought lunch was supposed to be everyone’s favourite period.  ”

    ❝ IT’S SARAH, ❞  she corrects him, but her her tone is more curious than annoyed.  little awareness about the layout of a fairly basic instrument  &  he’s also bad at remembering the names of the relatively small number of students in the marching band ?  yeah, this guy definitely wasn’t a teacher.  or at the very least, he was brand new to the profession.  &  that observation combined with his accent  &  his habit of pushing the hawkins high dress code to its limits officially made the new band teacher the most interesting person on campus.  so maybe spending her lunch hiding out in the music room wouldn’t be so bad after all  —  even if it did include helping him assemble instruments.  ❝ yeah, well, it’s still better than algebra, ❞  she says, dropping her bag  &  sitting down cross-legged beside it on the tile floor.  ❝ but honestly, it’s just been a bit of a zoo out there lately.  &  i’m not interested in fighting for territory or finding a mate, so.  i thought i’d come in here to get some peace  &  quiet instead.  ❞  &  sarah sets the trumpet in her lap to slide the valve into place.  it’s a little sticky,  &  could use some oil, but at least it’s put together properly now.

🪐 — THE PRIESTESS  for  sarah !

The priestess eyes remain closed as the bones rattle on the ground. The girl's voice is distant, so distant that if her focus was to shift she'd be gone completely, returned once more to the oblivion that had once received her. A wayward soul that remains for no shepherd to guide her. Whether back to the oblivion to embrace her into what came next or back to this world to where there were still so many strings attached.

She could see them in the air like they were made out of pure light. Strumming with each word the other spoke.

  “It is not blind faith when you know the powers that be help in your desperate search for help."

She had just been perhaps only a few years younger than this girl when she found faith for the first time, truly allowed herself to listen. Only a few years younger than her whose life was snuffed out by those that would claim faithful. Those that would summon twisted visions only in search of any means of self-aggrandizing. They would destroy the world if it meant that only they and they alone would be the mouth of the Gods. The Gods did not care to speak only through one. Only act through the two limited hands. And to think that one was so important as to occupy that space, well, those were the beliefs of a lost soul.

  “The world is an ugly and cold world, child. Faith was the only thing that kept me alive, safe when I was at my most vunerable." she pauses. Her mouth is dry and the taste of copper hangs on the back of her throat. Her eyes flicker only by an unconscious demand of her body to keep them humid, and functional "I struggled to accept it until I realised that it was only because of it that I was able to keep myself sane."

Only when it became physically obvious - only when their promises came to fruition, did she allow it to come in. There is no blindness in demanding proof. The proof, however, didn't always take the shape and form that one might expect "There is no shame in asking for help when you know you need it."

Both hands open, scarred, face the ceiling of the small cabin. Was your life not sacrifice enough? Your happiness? Was your pain not enough? She would not give her own body but she could tether her to these grounds until a vessel came to be. It was not work that she enjoyed, work that she agreed with, but she could not deny one's desire for justice. For having her sacrifice be acknowledged and made right.

  “Let me help you."

  FAITH HAD BEEN USED AS A WEAPON  all her life.  pastor miller spoke of a darkness lurking at the edges of union, devils in the woods.  but when she had still had legs, sarah could remember having danced in those same wood at night.  &  when she had still had a right hand, there had been another’s to hold.  with hannah at her side, she had found the night to be bright beyond all expectations, illuminated by starlight.  she had wondered at the time why the lie existed at all.  but now she knew  —  those sermons were designed not to inspire faith among the pastor’s flock, but fear.  for any farmer knew that if sheep were afraid of what was hidden in the wood, then they would stay in the fields of their own accord, leaving no need to struggle to keep them obedient.        sarah had felt the consequences of fear for herself.  when evil had come to union, it had been so easy for the villagers to blame her  —  the strange motherless child who walked in the wood  &  dared to dance with another girl under the moonlight.  &  when seeking something to protect herself from them, she had discovered the truth.  &  for those crimes, she had died.                                           no, not just died  —  she had been killed.   &  the man who had killed her was still alive.  the devil had been real all along, but he was not hiding in the darkness  —  he was walking proudly in the light, thinking himself untouchable.  &  sarah knew that the dark ritual would not end with her.  her own blood had only fed into it.  made it stronger.  &  as long as goode  &  his descendants lived, more innocents would die at his hands, just as she had.          &  yet in death, where the pastor’s wife had often promised that the fires of hell would surely be waiting for her, sarah sees  ( though how she can receive the vision without eyes, she cannot say )  the form of a woman among the nothingness. hands extend from her sleeves, palms upturned to reveal uneven scar tissue.  she does not seem like a demon, but nor does she appear to be any kind of messenger from heaven.  instead, she offers help for sarah’s restless spirit,  a new kind of faith that she has never considered before.    to trust an offering of help from such a being seemed foolish, but what other choice does a dead girl have ?  there is nothing else for sarah here, it seems, other than more darkness.  this may be the only way to kill goode  &  break the curse.  ❝ yes. help me. please. ❞  she asks.  &  with no lips to speak from, it takes all her energy to form the words, her very soul straining to be heard.   ❝ i want to go back.  i’m not finished. ❞   desperately now, sensing this may be her only chance sarah attempts to pull herself closer to the woman, imagines herself reaching for that upturned hand.  ❝ what must i do ? ❞ 

🪐 —  ROBIN BUCKLEY​  for  sarah !

        Sarah wasn’t somebody that Robin had ever really talked to much — and she was already questioning why that was. For all that plenty of them in marching band thought that they were above it all when it came to high school politics, most of the time they still separated into their own cliques, normally based on the instruments they played. As soon as someone from one section became romantically involved with someone from another ( as was the case with Leah and Tony ), it became all that anyone here wanted to talk about. They were all just as much victims to the system as the jocks and cheerleaders they purported to hate. “ Gross. I doubt any of them taste remotely like cake. ” Robin wrinkled her nose at Sarah with a faint laugh. She’d never even been curious to know what a proper kiss with a boy was like, but, thinking about it now, they probably all tasted of sweat and cigarette smoke and unwashed body odour. No thanks. Her smile widened as Sarah gestured towards the mac n’ cheese in front of her on the table. “ Yeah. Cafeteria food is way more like it. ” She glanced down at her own ham sandwiches, brought in from home. Mac n’ cheese day was always the worst. Her dad made far better whenever he was home. “ And yet people here seem to lap it up no matter how bland it is. ” She glanced back at Sarah and her uneaten meal, then, wondering whether she had anything else for her lunch. “ You can borrow one of my sandwiches if it’s really that bad. I mean, not borrow, obviously. You can have it. I always avoid cafeteria food on Thursdays. ”

    ROBIN LAUGHS JUST A LITTLE,  &  sarah can’t help but notice the way a few small creases appear across the bridge of her nose with the expression.  all at once, the sour look on her own face brought on by the unappetizing display at the other end of the table has all but melted away, the other girl’s smile contagious.  ❝ can’t blame them when it’s the only option, i guess.  but i personally think we deserve just a little bit better. ❞  given her lunch bag, it seems that robin had wisely thought ahead to spare herself the indignity of today’s cafeteria fare, choosing instead to bring something from home.  &  sarah is just making a mental note to herself to make a sandwich for herself before leaving the house next thursday, when robin offers one of her own.             ❝ oh.  um, i’m ok.  i had a big breakfast, ❞  sarah protests, but her stomach chooses that moment to loudly disagree.  &  when she glances back down at her tray, she knows that the sticky orange glob of already congealing pasta just isn’t going to cut it.   ❝ i mean, unless you really don’t want it. ❞  &  as she accepts the generous offering, pushing her tray aside in favor of unwrapping a ham sandwich, sarah finds herself wondering why she hasn’t really hung out with robin before now.  ❝ thanks — this is like, really nice of you. ❞   to not only remember to bring your own lunch on mac-n-cheese day, but also to be willing to offer half of it to someone who hadn’t, robin must be both smart  &  kind  —  a combination which was a real rarity amongst the students of hawkins high.  thoughtfully, sarah takes a bite of the sandwich,  &  as she chews, her eyes go wide.   ❝ oh my god, this is amazing, ❞  she says even before her mouth is empty, one hand raising as if to cover her bad manners.  ❝ did you make this ? ❞ 

🪐 — @trickstercaptain  sent   a meme   for  sarah   :

50  —  i'm fine  by  daði freyr   ▶︎

     ❝ I KEEP MAKING PLANS, but i guess keeping them really isn't my style. ❞