#braccati

        “Hey,” a booted foot kicks the inside of her car door, a loud thud emitting from both inside and outside the vehicle to acknowledge the hellhound standing outside. “Go away. This is my dissociation spot.” The empty parking lot of this Burger King? Hers. She’ll be damned if it’s taken or if any of the fries in her lap are stolen. 

        “Do you know how?” The arsenal is rolled out onto the table in front of the pair. Mostly daggers, a few throwing knifes and stars, two pistols and a sub machine gun. “Your girlfriend’s got that pretty blade,” she muses. She wants it. Knows she can’t have it. Moves on. “There’s a bunker a few miles north.” A pause, to check the hand cannon’s clip before reloading. “Military. The good stuff.” Unspoken, she’d like a partner. 

@braccati

Clarice demands she gets to brush Ren's hair at least everyother day, Ren's hair is stunning, and Clarice loves it.

   Armistice is also overdue for a pirate affiliated verse.

‘ ‘  that’s just...cruel. fuck elsie, marry armi && kill hale, i think --- sorry baby.  ’ ’

She greeted Angela with a hug when they first met after the revolution began.  

Only murderers knock on doors at two in the morning during a storm. The only reason she’s out of bed is because it could be an emergency. A lot of the kids from her scouting group went night hiking. They made a game out of chasing one another and “killing” each other, but they got carried away sometimes. The boys, mainly. It could be Barry’s mother, come to tell her he’s jumped into yet another barbed fence and ripped the skin right off of his other shin. So she turns on the landing light and steps warily down the stairs, tugging her sweatpants over her hips as she goes. “Who is it, then?” Zelda calls out, opening the first door and flicking on the porch light. Maybe their car has broken down, or they are lost, or it really is a murderer. No one would know it, out here in the countryside!