She likes her Uncle James. He was always the gentlest of all the people that she’s ever encountered. And at the same time, the tallest. It was a wonder when in all the stories the big people were always the scary ones. But not Uncle James. And now slowly now, spending more and more time with him was becoming a norm. Especially when it meant doing new things. Oh- she pauses when he stops her from pricking herself. “Uncle Jam, did you fish like this all the time when you were the same age as me, with grandpa?” Minnie asks, unable to help herself as he did the correction.

     When Mary shifted away to work on the dough, Minnie set about finishing up on slicing and dicing up the vegetables. And in this particular case it was bits of potatoes that she figured made her hands ache after one or two of the spuds. Mary was more than a cousin to her, with how close they were raised, she was more like that of a sister, and Jimmy a brother. They had played together long before Liam was born, and little Mark before that. So with the situation with Mary taking a turn for the horrid. She was more than sympathetic, she was seething. Yet with her sister, she made sure that she remained tender. She wanted to go over and finish the job that Mary had done, show him a thing or two about hurting their family.

      “She didn’t say-.. reckon it just might be- saw her shootin’ earlier, think she might be intent on doin’ just that.” Minnie responds, figuring that Nan intended on making Mary’s favorite. She was always good at handling the worst situations.

   if there was any rage in Minnie’s eyes, Mary likes to think that she caught it. a brief enough flash in the dark of her eyes is all she did, and she wonders if she was expecting her to return to the family ranch with her head bowed and her lips full of apologies. there was no shame in having loved, Anne had told her. men were horrid, brutal creatures at times and it had taken everything in her power to stop her nan from getting her guns from the shed and parting the lad with his own fingers. a small part of her had wanted her to, just so he might suffer as she had with the stiffness in them; suffer the same rage that burns in her even now as she lay out the dough against a floured table. mary’s hand clenches into a fist and the first thumb of her fist against it makes the table rattle.

     “Hey, there-…it’s okay.” Words are comforting as she gently reaches over and sets her hands along the undamaged part of Mary’s wrists. There had been a gentle weight in the air since Mary had returned home to their Nan’s door with her face black and blue and bleeding on her hands to show for the night’s scuffle. Nan had pulled Anne aside and had told her very clearly to not say anything, to not press the matter or push for answers. So she didn’t, and instead she came to her in hopes to get her mind off of everything with conversation, it’s the least she could do.

      “I got it, I’ll finish cuttin’ this, how about you roll out the dough for Nan?”

       @blednite​ / Mary Kidd, cause I still love you.

    if there were anything that would remain consistent in her life, it would always be the love of her family. there was a small part of her that figured that she got what she deserved for chasing after a love that wasn’t good for her. Nan never liked him, and for the most part, nan liked everyone. Mary’s hands are still red-raw, and while the state of her face had raised an eyebrow or two, Mary thinks that they’d been told not to mention it. for that, she would be completely and utterly grateful when push came to shove. as much as she longs to laces her fingers with Minnie’s, it hurts. “Could do,” she replies, moving to the large ceramic bowl where aforementioned dough was resting. 

“You would call that ‘resolved’, I however would describe it as ‘destroyed’.” The sorceress was perching like a crow on the windowsill, her slender arms folded tightly across her chest. “Would you like to perhaps stop moving, and listen, and accept my help out of this situation you have managed to create, or would you prefer for me to leave you here and let the owner of this establishment handle you? I think they still use the stocks and rotten eggs on miscreants in this town, actually.” 

open! 

        there had been a plethora of circumstances where one might find themselves feeling like a rat in a cage. the first would be the imperial prison, with the damp and the smell of mould that never quite left after a short stint in there. the second would be barricaded within an abandoned house in the temple district and praying that the guard prowling just outside of the door wouldn’t find her. the stocks didn’t sound too awful, but the accompaniment of rotten eggs and whatever else they saw fit to chuck at her wasn’t all that appealing. depsite being a brilliant thief, the windows were barred and there felt like no way out. not through the sewers, not through the back door (unfortunately barred also). the unflappable methredhel has found herself trapped with no room for escape.