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Snippet #2731643

located in Pennsylvania, a part of Bellingstone, PA, one of the many universes on RPG.

Pennsylvania

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Poppy Clarke Character Portrait: Andre Clarke
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P O P P YXC L A R K E
_____ T H EXA R T I S T_____

Outfit: Link Here
Location: Poppy Clarke's Condo
Dialogue Color ✦ #E8ADAA
Thought Color ✧ #985D5A




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Image
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Image
_____ T H EXP R O T E C T O R_____

Outfit: Link Here
Location: Poppy Clarke's Condo
Dialogue Color ✦ #DEB887
Thought Color ✧ #8E6837



Last night was the first night in two weeks that Poppy Clarke had stayed at her own place.

Poppy had been in the city when news of her father's death had reached her. Andre had driven over himself, waiting until he knew for a fact that she was off work and just leaving the museum to scoop her up and tell her. Poppy had been inconsolable then, she recalled with another sip of her tea, the astringency of the hot liquid peeking out over the sweetness and creaminess that came with her addition of cream and sugar. Andre had steeped the leaves for a little too long. He had never been very good at making tea, which was understandable given the fact that he wasn't the one who drank it at all.

Nevertheless, Poppy had been unable to stomach the idea of staying in this condo by herself, not with her aunt having flown in and deciding to stay at their family estate and the loss of her father cutting her so deep that she had felt too raw and ready to lash out at any and everyone. Though both of the Clarke children could always be looked to for their debonair attitudes as it came to the public, there was a notable difference, especially in the wake of this recent loss, between them that had little to do with their genders. Andre was the pillar of strength, as most had noted. He had been refined in this time, despite his own grief, and had thrown himself into handling all family affairs. His father's things still needed to be cleared out of the mayor's office, but Andre had handled the funeral arrangements and any other pressing matters. He accepted food offerings and condolences with a polite smile, and remained collected though notably affected. No one could say that his mannerisms had left them unable to see that his father's death had very much shaken the young man. It was that very sophisticated air about him that reminded so many of the townsfolk of their once beloved mayor. It reminded them of how much he stressed the point of appearance to his kids. Poppy, on the other hand, had always been given a freer upbringing and with that came the very fact that she was far more emotional, a volcano waiting to erupt. Poppy had class, yes, but less tact.

Poppy had bristled at recollections of past bonds with her father when shared, disallowing other relationships he had formed to lessen her own grief or keep her from side-eyeing anyone who had truly believed the cause of death the coroner wrote down. She gave one hell of an impressive growl at the thirteenth offer of help if she were to ever need it, unable to accept that everyone saw her as some needy little brat who needed to be coddled. What she had needed was the truth. Her father didn't just up and die out of nowhere. They had literally spoken a few hours before his death, laughing over his buying a painting of her colleagues that in all honesty, neither of them could truly understand the story of, despite the artist's lengthy description. Poppy knew, to some degree, that her grief made her a touch petulant, too quick to rise. She even apologized the day after the wake for fear of offending everyone. But it did not make her ire about her father go away, nor did her suspicions regarding his passing leave her mind. She just learned to keep a glass of wine on her person at all times when she had guests nearby and prayed like hell that she didn't fall on her ass in the middle of their hardwood floors with half of their town in various areas of their estate.

"I didn't make this for nothing," Andre called from inside and Poppy glanced over her shoulder to glower at him, elbows holding up her petite frame with the support of her stone railing. Andre had followed her back to her apartment last night simply to keep her company for a bit, but as always, his "bit" included staying the night most of the time and forcing her to eat the next day. To some extent, it was heart-warming. Her brother cooked for her when he would not do the same for any other. At the moment, especially after her run on her favorite path in the woods, it was more grating. "Not hungry." She spoke the words after another sip of her tea, allowing the liquid paradise to slide down her throat and warm her from the inside out. Her gaze lingered on the traipsing denizens before she officially turned and headed back inside, closing the door to her balcony and locking it as she went. Andre, nonplussed by her pensive nature, set a plate down on the stark-white counter, the Caribbean spices wafting up to her nostrils enticingly. Her stomach refused to agree with her mouth then. "Good thing it's not up to you, but your stomach. Now eat." His tone brooked no room for argument and Poppy bristled, shooting him the third glare of the morning but promptly sat down on one of her chairs, plucking one of the chocolate-filled croissants she had bought in a platter from the shop downstairs.

Andre had been somehow slipped back into the normalcy of life after their father's death. There was a cooler edge, yes. He was still tense, but he had somehow been able to maintain easy camaraderie with everyone he came across. Inside, though, especially from what Poppy could see, he was guarded. And more attentive, which for her, was both a good and bad thing. It meant a more protective brother than the already over-protective one she had grown up with. Lucky me, she thought sarcastically, using her fork to break into the yolk of her fried egg. She watched yellow rivulets as they cascaded down the small mound of oxtail hash, shocks of orange from the sweet potatoes peeking out in the brown broth. "Did you know Albrecht Wolff was back in town and running for mayor?" Andre gathered both a mug of coffee for himself - Poppy may roll her eyes at her brother's insistence upon staying with her occasionally, but it didn't mean that she didn't look out for him to some degree during his stay - and his own plate before rounding the corner to come sit beside her at the counter top, pausing only to inquire, "And where'd you hear that, sis?" Poppy stopped short of lifting the forkful to her mouth, eyeing him. "So, you're not even gonna deny that you knew, all this time." It wasn't a question. Andre only gave her a long look before beginning to dig into his food. Poppy narrowed her hazel eyes at him, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face since it refused to be tied up in the messy bun she had thrown her hair into before her run. "I heard it from Mrs. Wilcox on the way back in. She was gossiping with her niece, as usual, downstairs while they were waiting for their coffee. Don't think she even realized I was behind her 'til she paid for her stuff." Andre snorted, using his coffee to wash down the remnants of food in his mouth. "Oh, she knew you were there. The old hoot probably wanted to see how you'd react," he told her with certainty, mixing his food up to incorporate more of the egg into every bite. "And I knew he was back. I didn't know he was running for mayor." When something hit the rumor mill in this town, nine times out of ten, there was some truth to it. Andre had yet to see Albrecht Wolff, but he definitely did believe the little old ladies who ran the farmer's market when they said that he was definitely back in town. It was too specific of a rumor for them to have just made up.

Poppy waited until she finished chewing before speaking again. "And you don't think that's suspicious as hell?" When Andre gave her neither a considering look nor spoke a word for a minute, Poppy followed up, incredulous, "Dre, c'mon. The guy stole away like a thief of the night with neither hide nor hair of him. Now he decides he wants to come back and run for mayor of all things? His parents were devastated and Axel - " Poppy had to break off then, forbidden concerns for the diner owner arising. It didn't help that Andre's eyes seemed to darken upon the notable stain of softness in her voice when Poppy had just been about to mention him. It never was a good idea to mention her past with the man in her brother's appearance. It always brooked a headache. "They aren't your concern, Pops," he stated flatly and Poppy set her fork down, taking her mug into her hands to warm them in lieu of the frostiness in her brother's tone. "If there's one thing Dad being mayor taught us is that above all things, we need to worry about ourselves first. Whatever happens with that mayoral office has nothing to do with us now. What we worry about is ours, and that includes any and all suspicions about what happened to Dad. Do I think it's suspicious? Hell yeah. But what you're not gonna do is concern yourself with Wolff right now. Either of them." Poppy watched him return to eating, the uneasiness in her stomach disallowing her to pick up her fork just yet. "Then what am I supposed to do, Dre? 'Cause I know that you don't just expect me to sit back and just let things happen." Andre took a strong swallow of coffee before answering her. "That's exactly what I expect for you to do. That ain't got nothing to do with you - with either of us. Let it go, Pops." Distantly, however, they both knew that that was not going to happen.