It’s a beautiful day, all things considered. The leaves are beginning to turn, the temperature beginning its slow descent into the heart of autumn. While Molly didn’t know the exact day, it felt like it would be Halloween soon. Weird that somebody could just sense something like that. Or she could be completely wrong--wouldn’t be the first time.

The knife driven above her head was enough to tear her from her thoughts, and Molly was once again forced into reality where this guy, this prick continued to make his demands. More things. More stuff. More, or she’d lose the inn. The only reason she’d played nice was that he and his men had forced her hand--without the inn, Molly felt like she had nothing. No tie to her uncle, no tie to the life before the dead took over. So, she let them try to intimidate her, and she met their demands, because as it stood now...there was nothing else she could do.

Frank’s eyes bolted open, the light almost like daggers in his brain. Concussion…great. He glanced around the room before he registered anything else to assess where he had been dragged off. It looked like…a modest apartment if he was honest with himself. A little chaotic, but all the essentials were there. Once his eyes fell across the figure knelt down beside him he let out a pained groan. “Who the fuck -”

"Probably better to stay still, bud." A gloved hand gestures to her masked head. "You got knocked around pretty good. Your noodle's probably all sorts of scrambled, huh? I'd feel worse if you hadn't have swung at me." Had it been in the heat of the moment? A guy half-out of it, just trying to stay alive? Of course, and she got that.

In the Meme Vault

I meant to tell you something earlier, but I didn't get the chance. That's all. What was it? It doesn't really matter anymore. It matters. I mean it. I want to know.

Molly gaze danced between his, seeking truth in those dark eyes that had never told her anything but the truth as long as she'd known him. Maybe it did matter, in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things? Maybe it was because they were at a friend's wedding, seeing what should have played out for them a while back. So many emotions, they hung in the air like a thick perfume. But if she would ever have the courage to look him in the face and say the words, I still love you, it would be now--

She was startled as the door behind them swung open, and while it was only the bride's aunt exiting the women's room and not the woman they both expected, Molly was quickly brought crashing back down to earth. Eventually his date would return to his side. The woman that seemed his perfect match, with her angelic face and sweet voice and kind words and her stupid, perfect smile...

It really didn't matter, in the grand scheme. He'd already moved on.

In the Meme Vault

"Hm?" The distracted hum was the only response so far, as Molly had yet to look up from her book. Something apparently had seemed important enough to mark, as she'd uncapped a pen with her teeth and circled a passage on the page. What could she say, medieval weaponry was a fascinating read.

"Hm?" She hummed again, and glanced up at him in an effort to bring understanding to what he'd said--it had sounded like a mumble, in all honesty, but it didn't feel like he'd appreciate having to repeat himself. Have...Eaten...

In the Meme Vault

She couldn't help the goofy smile, one that no doubt filtered into her tone as she replied, "I miss you too, big guy." The calls were rare, and growing even more so as the end of his deployment neared. Molly did her best to keep from being too worried about him--hell, if anybody would survive and come home, it would be Frank. He was way too stubborn for any other outcome. And that was fine, he could be a stubborn ass...just as long as he came home to her.

MISTLETOE!

For one of the most populated place in the world, the sheer number of mutual friends they apparently had had been staggering. They'd affectionately dubbed themselves The Group--which, as Molly had stated, sounded a lot more like a sad 90's boy band than a gathering of marines and miscreants. It seemed like a no-brainer to gather for the holidays and spread a little cheer, and admittedly, she was more than a little excited about the prospect of seeing Frank again.

They spent a decent amount of time with one another, but it had always been in the company of The Group, even if they did find themselves wandering off on their own at some point in the night. Tonight, there simply hadn't been time to do so; enough people and enough to do to keep their attentions elsewhere.

That was, until the mistletoe.

He'd handed her a drink as he lingered in the doorway of the kitchen--something that was a little more booze than eggnog--and as she lingered nearby, the mistletoe was pointed out with a touch more zeal than necessary. Trust her brother to seize the moment. With a giddy, inebriated round of chanting kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss--Molly leaned up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. The intent had been a chaste kiss, anyway, but lingered a touch too long, her fingers curling lightly into his shirt.

Escaping the palace had proved to be merely the first hurdle in what was turning out to be a long and near-torturous journey. She’d counted herself lucky to have had some element of awareness; the instinct to watch her back and not grow too comfortable with her surroundings simply because they were gilded with gold and velvet. Molly had hardly even begun to change into her nightgown when the attack began; apparently the king had already decided he didn’t wish to be married, after all.

Some wedding night.

The escape had been a blur, her mind and body riding high on adrenaline, pushing for survival. Here, she could trust no one. She simply needed to make it to her home borders--there she would be safe. Even with the crack of thunder above her and the rain softening the ground underfoot, she pushed on. When she spotted the hut in the distance, Molly didn’t even consider the potential for danger...it couldn’t be any worse than what she’d faced before. She nearly stumbled into the door, banging on it with renewed vigor