"You're new to town, right?" Thatcher questioned Alaska, though his head faced his feet. They'd strolled out of the school, and currently walked the cobbled path down the road to nowhere in particular. His shoes seemed new but well broken in, with undone laces, and they were now kicking a small rock along the street.

Alaska glanced down to her hands, and played with one of her rings. She'd have to be careful how she answered, careful to not say anything which could trickle into a lot of questions. There was no need to pull anyone else into the murky waters of her grievous history. Stiffly she nodded, clamping her teeth on her tongue for a moment before speaking.

"Yes, in terms of actually living here. I've visited a few times before though."

Birdie laughed, a sound free as a sprite and glittering with mirth. "You visited here?" She shook her head, springing to life the tight curls that hung around her shoulders. "Let me guess, the beat down gas stations and dilapidated churches at every turn drew you in?" Light sarcasm dappled itself throughout her tone.

Alaska cracked a tight lipped smile. "Something like that," she said vaguely, pulling her eyes back up and setting them on the area. Birdie's point was fair, Alaska couldn't walk down a street without seeing a chapel's semi- threatening sign outside it. This town had never called to the girl.

It was beautiful, that was a given. It was a display of the greenest trees she'd ever seen, and their lush leaves. The haze on the horizon of the smokey mountains caught Alaska in a daze, and made the cliffs seem like they had their heads in the clouds. Not to mention the flowers growing in patches of sunlight on the highways, and the clean scent of the air.

New York smelled like piss and gasoline.

Still, the city and the country were two different beasts. Alaska had made friends with the monsters lurking on every corner in the city, mastered the art of working with them instead of against. North Carolina was full of quirks and demons she had no idea how to navigate, and she didn't really want to learn.

"Where are you from?" Thatcher once again was the one to ask questions. This time he did spare Alaska a quick glance, followed by his focus returning to the stone he kicked. "The north, right?"

"Why do you say that?" Alaska had a creeping suspicion she knew the answer before he said it. She stuck out here, it was evident, if not somewhat regrettable.

Thatcher's shoes scuffed to a halt, stopping so quick Birdie ran into him. She stumbled more than him though. He appraised Alaska, dawned in a suit of amusement as he did. His movements were somewhat theatrical, she had noticed. Sweeping, and grand like he was always awaiting an audience. "Because people from the north are usually a little mean, and standoffish." Thatcher put a heart over his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt in an exaggerated motion. "As well drop dead gorgeous."

In sync, Alaska and Birdie rolled their eyes at the boys antics. "Now would be a good time to mention that Thatcher is from Vermont." Birdie sharply pronounced the T in Vermont, so it sounded more akin to the click of her tongue than anything else.

"Ah," Alaska nodded. "I'm from New York."

"You left New York for Alderwood? Alderwood North Carolina?" Birdie replied in disbelief, her southern accent peeking out stronger. The surprised sentiment left Alaska a tad melancholic. Nostalgia's knife drew into her skin once again, pouring the memories of city streets and dashing lights from her last good vein.

"It wouldn't have been my first choice," she said, her words twinged with a lack luster laugh. "There are too many dead ends for my taste, but as someone who didn't grow up with the views, it's got some beauty too."

"I guess," Birdie said in a way that signified she clearly didn't believe what she said. "I just can't imagine deciding to move here unless you have family here or something," she shrugged while stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets.

Alaska couldn't either. Her mother and Cassian had grown up in New York, though her uncle had longed for somewhere more subtle. A secluded spot to envelope himself in his work, and a small southern town had been the place he decided to hide. His lust for lonesome was the reason Alaska was here now... and her mother's pill addiction.

She huffed a chuckle, tilting her head from side to side while reaching into her jacket pocket. She pulled out a carton of cigarettes, as well as an old metal lighter. "Either of you smoke?" Alaska asked, holding a cigarette for either to snag if they so desired.

Thatcher reached his hand towards the smoke, but before he could take it, Birdie's hand stopped him. "Do you really want to have to quit for a third time?" The girl scolded, tugging on his sleeve with a pout.

At this, Alaska retracted the cigarette. "Never mind," she shook her head, sticking the cigarette back in the half empty carton. "I won't tempt if you're trying to quit," she added.

She knew a thing or two about addictions being tempted back to light by devils in halos. Not firsthand, the only vice Alaska had ever been truly hooked on was cigarettes and she'd never tried to quit. She had seen her mother claim sobriety a million times though, only to get infected by her addictions by evil influences. Boyfriends, or casual sex depending on what the vile men wanted from her mom.

"Thank you, Alaska Monroe, you're an upstanding bad influence," Birdie nodded in a stern but appreciative way. "Next on the agenda is getting you to quit," she continued. "Those things will kill you, you know."

Thatcher groaned, stepping back and kicking his little rock too far too the left while grumbling something Alaska couldn't hear enough to decipher.

"Oh, I know," Alaska nodded. "I'm trying to carry on a family tradition," this sentiment left her mouth in tides of amusement, yet they were drowned in truth. Her father had taken enough drags for a house fire's worth of smoke, and lung cancer had been what had taken him out. She hadn't even known he was sick until the widow of his second family called to tell her.

Still, she smirked to herself, watching as they words rolled past both the kids like a breeze you couldn't catch. It was funny to Alaska, in the most bitter tasting of ways. "I should probably get going," she said hastily switching the subject before any thought could be given to her joke. "I'm supposed to be helping my uncle at his shop, and i'm about twenty minutes late," she pointedly looked down at her watch.

"Who's your uncle? And when do you get done helping at mystery uncle's shop?" Birdie leaned forward on her tip toes, biting back a smirk which begged the crawl across her smooth lips.

"Cassian Monroe, and around six probably. Why do you ask?"

"Ohh," Thatcher tuned back into the conversation, sweeping back over to the girls. "He owns a tech shop, right? Scruffy beard, kind eyes, really hot?"

Alaska couldn't help but wonder if Thatcher wasn't as straight as she had originally thought.

She awkwardly cleared her throat, snarling one side of her lip in distaste. "I mean, as someone who's related to him I wouldn't call him really hot, but yeah. That's him, I guess," she folded her arms over her chest, thumbing over her arm gently and tracing circles.

"My dad got his computer fixed there once!" Birdie beamed, clapping her hands together softly. "He is hot," she agreed, making Alaska frown again. "Anyway, that's perfect because I want you to come to our celebration tonight."

Thatcher tossed his arm over Birdie's small shoulders like she had done to Alaska earlier. Alaska opened her mouth to voice a question but Thatcher cut in just before the words formed.

"What are we celebrating, you ask?" He rose his eyebrows, smirking as Alaska's mouth closed and she nodded silently. "Every year since eighth grade we've celebrated the start of the school year together. It's a very exclusive way to bring in the year, and you're the only other person who's ever been invited."

"So, what do you say?" Birdie asked.

———-

"You're late, i'm deducting it from your pay," Cassian was quick to say as soon as Alaska entered his shop. She almost didn't hear him over the sound of the bell ringing above her head.

"I'm getting paid?" Alaska rose her head to search for him over the columns of supplies before her. She gazed past the nuts and bolts, the tiny screwdrivers and loose wires until she spotted him inside what seemed to be a heap of unopened cardboard boxes. "How did you even know it was me coming in?" She asked, being that the boxes were stacker taller than his eye line.

"You get paid in a roof over your head and love," Cassian emerged from the boxes from the side of the stack, and Alaska could feel the rampant stress exuding off him. He ran his lanky fingers through his hair, huffing out a worried chuckle. "And I knew it was you because the birds stopped singing, and the sun seemed to retreat behind the clouds," Cassian said with an 'innocent' smile.

Alaska walked over to his desk and dropped her backpack down behind it. She rolled her eyes lightheartedly and turned to him with her arms crossed over her chest. "How does deducting a roof and love from my pay work? Is it a shingle by shingle situation? I lose one for every hour i'm late? And if i'm late enough time i'll get demoted to you just liking me, or...?"

"Seems fair to me," Cassian agreed absentmindedly in the midst of picking up what Alaska guessed was the deconstructed hard drive of a computer. He turned it around in his hand skillfully peering into it like he was waiting for the thing to tell him where it hurt. He frowned eventually and set the thing back down on a rickety little cart. "Mrs. Henderson's broken computer is going to make the rest of my hair grey," he ran a hand over his face.

"Either that or the pillar of unpacked boxes over there. Or, maybe they'll be what makes my hair start greying if i'm guessing correctly," Alaska combed her hair with her fingers, the same place she had the night before, and internally cringed at the sting from where her nails had dug in so deeply.

Cassian put a hand over his chest, then gestured in a broad outward motion. "You're so smart," he confirmed, smirking still and holding up a box cutter. "Speaking of being smart, I didn't get any calls from the school saying you cut class or starting smoking in the bathroom so that's good," he teased. Cas walked a few steps to approach her, and gently snake behind her at the desk until he was beside her. "How'd it go?"

You know when you can tell it's about to rain? The clouds slowly darken, evoking shades of grey only found in the saddest of souls, the earthy smell rises from the ground like a hand of the dead... that's how Alaska felt. The atmosphere between herself and her uncle was dampened, growing steadily darker as the elephant in the room became unnoticeable.

Alaska tapped her nails across the desktop and pursed her lips. "There was a close call, I almost got out my weed grinder when the home ec teacher asked if anyone knew how to cut up oregano." Her lips threatened to twitch from the flat line she'd pulled them into, attempting to lure Alaska into a smile.

"Ha ha," Cassian rolled his dark eyes, which happened to catch just enough of the yellowish light to look like caramel. "That's an excellent attempt at dodging my question." He swiftly moved behind the desk, fiddling a few different gadgets that were strewn about while occasionally casting a glance over his shoulder at Alaska.

She relented by sighing and holding her hands up in mock defense. "It's was fine, uneventful, even." Alaska picked up a pen for the simple purpose of taking it apart so she had something to do with her hands.

"Yeah? And how are you?"

"Fine, peachy."

"On account of the fact that I hate the feelings of deja vu, i'm going to ask again and hope for a different answer," Cassian exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm with his feet turning to face her. "How are you? And why are you so damn tight lipped about how you're actually feeling?"

Alaska considered sending a prayer up to the sky because in the knick of time a costumer walked in.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Cassian muttered under his breath. He pointed a finger at her, poking her in the chest lightly. "We're going to talk about this eventually," he assured.
Then it was a bright, costumer service smile and Alaska grabbing the box cutter and getting to work stocking the shelves of materials.

Cassian was right about about something she couldn't deny. Her emotions were locked up, chained to her ribcage and heart, and they key to set those feelings free was somewhere Alaska didn't even know. It had become armor to keep the sadness and rage pent up inside, if only to keep her mom from wielding them against her.

While Alaska's body was in the shop working, her mind wandered far past her grasp. She couldn't catch her thoughts in time to reel them in and halt them from venturing to deep into the past. Her mother's hatred seeped back into her skin, echoing the walls of her mind cruelly.

Every mother's day that had gone by, being reminded that Alaska was a mistake. The taunts, the remarks meant to tear Alaska apart even when she was a kid who couldn't understood what it meant to be so unloved. She hadn't been able to comprehend that she was, for lack of a less archaic term, a bastard born from lust and betrayal. That her mother had been left in tatters by her father, pregnant and begging him to leave his wife and other kids.

That she had been this thing her mother never wanted, that Alaska had destroyed her life and could never be forgiven. It was a burden of guilt Alaska had quickly learned and would be forever stained with.

Because Alaska Monroe was the first mistake to a woman's undoing.

~what hogwarts house would you sort the characters into?~

Hello lovely readers! I'm so sorry about the odd pacing of this chapter! It didn't turn out how i originally anticipated, but the things i had planned for this chapter will happen in the next one which includes some background for Alaska! Anyway, still if you enjoyed the chapter please let me know in the comments and give me a vote if you'd like! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day/night!