treasure

Her eyebrows raised at the mans words, looking around her. She was always careful around police and in public. She always had stolen goods on her. Just a habit, really. “True,” she said with a nod. “If you ever do, don’t tell anyone, but I’d be willing to help hide the body if you need.”

felt pressured. could a tortoise feel pressured? voldetort probably could. she laughed as the other girl reached down to pat the shell of the tortoise, knowing fully well they all loved him too much. “that’s probably because tortoises aren’t supposed to go on walks outside. or are they? voldetort can be an exception. either way, i feel like a proud mother he made it across the street.” scarlet raised her brow at the other girl, an amuse smile on her face. “oh really? what were you talking about?” she asked before pondering the girls next words as she pursed her lips in thought. “probably just a medium chocolate cone. what are you guys getting? i don’t think they sell something his size.” 

i’ve been struggling with muse for scarlet, so this is just an update on how it affected her mentally as well as how her injuries are healing. mostly just for me, but feel free to real about my smol bean!  trigger warnings: physical harm (in the past as it just lists off how her injuries are healing). it also goes over her personality as the aftermath of the cages. it’s a bit sad with a mixture of anger? just a lil warning there.  tl;dr: it covers her injuries and how they are healing, her menta statel/personality, as well as her current appearance. 

She was careful to approach the motel. Natasha knew that it was occupied by a group and she couldn’t be sure that they weren’t dangerous. But, she couldn’t stay on her own any longer. She was out of food and desperate. She wanted to sleep more than anything, but first she’d have to make herself known.

Natasha sucked in a breath of air and made her way to the first motel room door. She was mentally crossing her fingers as she lifted up a hand to knock. What would she even say when they opened the door? Her name? Her sector? Just as the thoughts consumed her, she noticed the door open.

“Hello,” she breathed out.

Scarlet had been napping, preparing for a night full of adventure when the noise of the door traveled to her ears. Did the group need something? They couldn’t be leaving so soon could they? Was Art okay? These thoughts ran through her mind as she walked sleepily to the door and yawned as she opened it. Okay, who was this? She stared at the girl strangely before responding. “Hello. Can I help you?” 

“I’m not tall ‘as hell,’” Fitz responds, chuckling. He’s about two inches below six feet, which hasn’t always made him feel very tall amongst some of the others around. He wonders how much worse it is for those shorter than him. He pretends to flinch harshly when she taps the top of his head, though he gets his revenge the moment she screams. At the sound, he bursts out laughing — a ridiculous huff that leaves him grinning. “This big asshole is giving you a piggyback ride, might I remind you,” he tells her. It’s odd how easy it is to smile around her; for once, however, he’s not too bothered by the fact. When she pauses mid-sentence, Fitz swallows — that really isn’t what he’d want her to talk about right now. Humming, he does a little hop — again to startle her — and proceeds to tickle her lightly beneath the knees; not enough to get her to flinch and ruin his balance, hopefully, but enough to snap her attention back to him. “Hot springs sound like a treat. Don’t know if we’ll find any, but if we ever come across a tub or something, we could boil some water in it? Not the same, but… beggars can’t be choosers?” He shrugs, “That’s true. Never enough to really go around, but as long as we’re all still kickin’, hey?” At her last words, Fitz nods. “Yeah. I still remember around the tail end of my Sector Five existence —” almost nine years back, now, “— that the vents were gettin’ real hard to crawl through.”

“Fitz, you are like empire state building tall, and I’m a tiny ant.” She didn’t mind being short, as it often has it’s advantages. Such as good hiding places and not taking up a lot of space in sleeping bags. She leans down to whisper, “still the biggest asshole, but a kind asshole.” She doesn’t scream this time when he hops her up, but instead just taps him on the head again, but not before he’s tickling her and she’s squealing and kicking her legs to get him to stop. “Oh my god, Fitz, stop!” The thoughts are gone and she’s back to him. No cages, no wounds. Just Scar. She swings her legs a bit, but stops after a few moment and sighs, thinking of hot water again. “I would kill for anything with hot water, honestly. So if you have access to hot water, watch your back.” She nods as he speaks of food, agreeing that while she’s never had a whole lot to eat, she was never starving. “Wait- Fitz. You crawled through vents? Okay, spill the story.”