The Mark of Cain

cain-blood‌

Cain couldn’t stop it, he laughed hard. “I can’t, I can’t keep it up, you’re ridiculous…”

Sing squatted, crossing his arms over the other as he made victory symbols. “Don’t know what you mean.”

He placed one hand on one of the chairs in the dinning table, but before he could pull it out he looked at the Morrisons again and quietly asked. “ Are you sure ? Are you sure sure ? Because I can just leave the red wine and leave you guys be if you’re not. “ 

“It’s not really polite to pull knives at someone else’s house.” He laughed, turning away finally to start getting himself a plate of food. “Maybe if your brother thinks its okay, I can show you somewhere that isn’t packed with your family.”

You hide your pain behind a mask,. Maybe you feel you can't be helped, maybe you think no one cares, maybe you don't want to hurt anyone else with it, you're afraid of being judged, or maybe there's another reason. But whatever the reason, you fake a smile and try to function normally even though you're one step away from falling apart. Secretly, you wish someone would notice it's a mask, ask you if you're really okay, see right through and make it be okay somehow. You're hurt and a little angry that no one's noticed yet, but you'll never admit it. White lies, not that bad... Are they?

tagged by: I stole it from myself

cain-blood‌

“Hey I’m morally decent!” Cain insisted, laughing. “At least, usually. But we’re gang leaders, are we really supposed to be morally decent?”

“Absolutely upright. I got morals for days.”

This or That

Tagged by: Nobody I stole it from myself

coffee or tea early bird or night owl chocolate or vanilla spring or fall silver or gold pop or alternative freckles or dimples snakes or sharks mountains or fields thunderstorm or lightning egyptian or greek mythology ivory or scarlet flute or lyre opal or diamond butterflies or honeybees macaroons or eclairs typewritten or handwritten secret garden or secret library rooftop or balcony spicy or mild opera or ballet London or Paris Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet denim or leather potions or spells ocean or desert mermaids or sirens masquerade ball or cocktail party

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“Uh huh.” Cain pulled his shirt on, then looked at Sing. “Better?”

“At least you’re decent in clothing, if not morally.” Sing scoffed.

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Cain nodded, a little more relieved. If anything happened to Skip on his watch, he’d be devastated. “Thank you, I worry about you Skip, y’know? You’re too young to be in a gang.”

“You don’t have to worry. Ash is pretty responsible and strong, you know, and it’s not like I’m out there fighting and stuff.” Skip assured him, shoving his hands in his pocket as he nodded in the direction they needed to go.

“I just thought, you know…” the lynx said, vaguely gesturing to the whole place around – to the food, to the decorations, to the family that was not his all around. “ it’s a family thing and I didn’t want to impose myself where I shouldn’t be….” 

“Child, I wouldn’t have asked Obadiah to invite you if I didn’t mean for you to be here as part of the family.” Charity pointed out, keeping her voice at a normal level, but still managing that motherly tone of disapproval. “Your house is always open to us. Territory or not.” She looked at Cain, who raised his eyebrows.

cain-blood‌

“You are a little bit.” He reached for a clean shirt to put on, grinning.

“Am not!” He denied fiercely.