the blood of the innocent.

anxiety threatens to overwhelm her, with hands shaking uncontrollably to breath coming in and out in sporadic, high-pitched bursts. everything that had happened did so so quickly that nicole couldn't be positively sure what exactly occurred. they'd been hole up in an abandoned park ranger's shack, connor gone with his father and shane to check the traps that they'd set early in the morning, and to scavenge what they could in preparation for the last leg of their journey. she and cait had been attending to a stew brewing in the fireplace when footsteps sounded on the porch, not a second thought given to who they'd belonged to ⸺ until they got heavier, hesitated, and then splintered the door off of it's hinges. they were lucky in the grand scheme of things: the lone man that came through the door was not much bigger than either of them, but the look in his eyes was enough to frighten nicole to her core. there was the briefest of seconds where they were all just staring at one another, and then he lunged; and when nicole opened her eyes, he was dead on the ground and caitlin had a blossom of blood forming in a circle on her pant leg around the blade that had previously been in the dead man's hand.

the pain is unbearable. lower lip quivers as tears pool in blue eyes, hands covered in crimson blood. caitlin roth was many things. a daughter, a wife, a sister, a mother - but a doctor she was not. only knowledge gained from book and film. when a knife was stuck in you - you weren't supposed to pull it out for risk of bleeding out. right? doubting herself, feeling lightheaded ... looking down at her leg, then up at younger twin sister. it wasn't nicole's problem, but her own. eyes blink, and she struggles to speak through clenched jaw. ❛ g - go get mike, he'll know what to do. ❜ a decoy, all part of her plan. can tell nicole is doubtful, but she waits until sister is out of sight. pale hands, whiter from cold weather - or maybe loss of blood ( or both? ) grip handle of knife. might be a mistake, but its the only choice she has.

this couldn't be her reality. sam had to be living in an alternate universe. how could her mother let that girl sit in their dining room after destroying it? how was she convinced into giving the final blessing that allowed tory back into their school? everyone deserves a second chance. she's trying to remind herself. but why couldn't she have her second chance someplace else? somewhere far away from here. it was bad enough the two of them had crossed paths outside of school, but now it was every single day. luckily, she had prom to look forward to.

❛ stalking you? ❜ cannot help but to laugh, although with undertone of annoyance. teenage girl, sick mom. was it that bad to want to be normal for a few hours? to just have a fun time with her boyfriend for a short time. couldn't even have that without the larusso girl causing problems. fingers run through dark blonde hair, sip taken from red solo cup spiked with who the hell knew what. one night to just be normal for a few short hours was just too much to ask for with larusso, she supposed. smirk appears as robby walks into room, standing beside her. his arm wrapped around her waist, she stares at samantha - not breaking eye contact out of pure spite. a quick glance shot in robby's direction, to make sure he was okay. wouldn't be surprised if a fight broke out. it seemed to be the status quo after all for any little interaction they had.

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , updated .     (  a  collection  of  various  settings  meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts .   )

starter call 2.0   feel free to combine prompts !

@innocentsbled liked for a closed starter, from the starter call posted here.

heart races, quick breath taken in and held to conceal the fear she feels. SHE IS A JACKAL, but holds steadfast to her more human emotions. the mother and the son margaret daino never wanted face to face. how did this happen? she's tried so hard over the years to mask her true identity. if he'd found her ... had they as well? wheels turning in her head, forming a plan as eye contact is exchanged on how she might get out of this. brows furrow with next question asked. who are you? is it all a ruse to have her drop her guard or is he sincere in his question?

HIS ARMOR HAS SETTLED HEAVILY since the addition of his new adornments. [ hand of the king ], a smirk threatens to surface at the mere memory of ser hightower's response. the initial recoil, denial, spiraling down into the truth of his defeat. & ALL FOR THE SIN OF INACTION, not only his own. the complacency of the small council to sit about their chambers & bicker over strategy while the dragons gather their flame.

she keeps her head down, best to avoid any kind of attention - WHETHER POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE. if found, repercussions are not only her own. the world on her shoulders most literally if found. a sister she'd never known and a daughter to take care of. westeros as good a place to call home as any, far enough from the people looking but she had to be safe. a few months in her new home, and not once had anyone of any importance approached ... until now. head bows to the new hand of the king, careful to show respect to his new title. quiet and observant, margaret daino knew far more than she should about the royals around. for example, she was well aware of the hand's affair with the queen. a weapon in her back pocket, should she ever need it for any reason.

starter call : kinsey oliver.

it's a strange sensation, to look in the mirror and not recognize the reflection that looks back at you. sure, there were glimpses but it wasn't like she got to flip a switch and make the choice. coffee in hand, warming her from inside out even with the california heat. a bead of sweat drops from her brow as brown eyes look his way. impossible to ignore his stare even though not facing his direction.

there was no rulebook written for the end of the world, not one that zach had been aware of, at least. no way to navigate their way through their new normal without hitting a few road blocks along the way. but for all that they’d been through, all of the newness that they had been forced to adapt to, they’d come out the other end ⸺ not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. ❝ who is “they”, anyway? ‘cause they sure do have a lot to say about everything. ❞ grin spreads at her observation, head shaking as he abashedly looked towards the ground. ❝ sorry, you both rubbed off on me more than i thought ⸺ always made me think back to when i was in sunday school. guess seein’ you now just brings it all back again. ❞

searching the depths of her broken mind, beth greene cannot remember the last time she'd been touched with such care. still the same zach she'd remembered from when they were young. innocent, unaware of the horrors they were yet to face. ever since the loss of him, her father - noah, and so many countless others - her relationship to touch had been a violent one. never with the kindness or love of arms that now had her held tight. for the first time that muddled mind could remember, beth felt safe. unwilling tear falling down rosy cheek, one she quickly wiped away ( hopefully ) before he was able to see.

nicole could sit in front of a mirror and try and convince herself that pj wasn't a replacement for alice ⸺ but she'd only be lying to herself. a young mother, she hadn't been prepared for the title, but once she held that little baby in her arms, once she looked into those big blue-gray eyes she knew that that was where she was meant to be. and so, when alice was lost & thought dead ― a piece of herself had gone missing, too. a sliver of her soul struck off without warning, leaving an ugly, gaping void behind in it's place. for a long time, she was hollow. she needed a reason to pull herself out of depression, to continue pushing forward in spite of all that she had lost. pj had been the temporary solution to that problem, but guilt quickly replaced emptiness and swallowed her whole. i'm just a guest here ⸺ another blow to her gut. only here for a short time, nicole hoped that daughter would make the decision to stay, still, the choice remained hers. if she was uncomfortable, if she felt like an outsider looking in, nicole would only hate herself for forcing her to stay.

the epitome of small talk, the post apocalyptic version of ' so how about the weather. ' a skirting around all the things the both of them probably wanted to say. mother and daughter. strangers. by no choice of their own. circumstance, an unfortunate twist of fate if you believed in that sort of thing. alice didn't. destiny of her own making, it had not been fate that had alice sitting in this room but a series of choices in all her years of life. the choice that led to the loss to start with, leading to the severed bond of the two women in this room. a little girl's choice to run out of the house when she saw fire break out. she'd done the only thing she knew to do in the face of danger - to run. it was what she was good at, even now. the urge to run even now under the surface of her skin - just begging to claw its way out. but alice was sick of running, sick of hiding from everything that scared her.