Post by ylva torhild skjeggestad on Apr 21, 2020 11:12:55 GMT -5
Ylva wasn’t usually in the city this long. Normally she was off planning her next collection of stories and tales before her last was through publication. She wasn’t a well known writer, not by mainstream standards, so she didn’t have to stick around for book signings or tours. Her work was mostly non-fiction, regarding cultural superstitions or mythological beings from around the world. Sure, a lot of the information was probably on Google nowadays, but Ylva went and found locals and people who had ancestors rooted in these beliefs. She made stories seem personal, put names and meanings to things Wikipedia could not. She had been contacted by one or two college students when they referenced her material, and that alone was enough for Ylva. Plus, she didn’t crave fame and fortune like some people might have done. She had glimpsed enough of it when she was a child, now forever dropping her last name and using her middle on publications so no Google search would dredge up old news articles of the kidnapped kid, presumed dead, who came home after three years. She didn’t need that still tied to her life now, fifteen years later. The fear of basements was enough of a throwback for her.
Still, Ylva hadn’t settled on her next travel itinerary. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to return to South America or Europe next, with plans of writing about both eventually. She didn’t like to board a plane without having a plan in place, with rooms booked and guides contacted. She figured if she was sticking in the city for a while then she may as well enjoy it. Brynjolf and Lovelle wouldn’t want her crashing too many date nights when she grew bored or had left something at their place, so she took Schuyler up on his offer for a night out. Her friends in the city were few and far between. It was difficult for some people to maintain a relationship with her when she was flying out everywhere, seeing all kinds of beauty around the globe. Some she put down to jealousy, others she figured just couldn’t be bothered. Ylva loved her job though, and more often than not it was a great conversation topic since people were often fascinated by superstitions or legends, and not everyone knew much more than the infamous Greek Gods.
She hadn’t been to The Museum before, but Bryn had told her it was pretty new; which meant it had come on the scene when Ylva was away. He said it was casual enough that she didn’t need to dress to the nines, so Ylva opted for jeans, a pair of heels, and a top she borrowed from Lovelle because she was slacking on the laundry again. Ylva still had a few trust issues from her childhood experiences, so she had told Schuyler she’d meet him there, and had told Brynjolf exactly where she was going and when. If the plans changed, she’d text him, too, along with letting him know she made it home in one piece. Schuyler was already there when she climbed out of the cab, and she greeted him with a smile. “I’ve never been here before. Is it good?” She asked, glancing up at the building and trying to scope out what it was going for. Ylva’s usual nights out were heavy metal concerts or horror movie showings at the cinema. She wasn’t a “paint the town red” sort of girl – unless Lovelle was dragging her out.
• • •
TAGGED! Schuyler Pacey Sorenson
WORDS! 588!
LYRICS! Pirate’s Life - - - We Cut Corners
NOTES! <3
