#crisroe

( @crisroe )

For over a week that small piece of paper had weighed heavily in her pocket, in her mind. It was crinkled, slightly torn at one side, a bit singed from the flames that licked at Fall City too, but the depiction on the small square was one that both warmed her heard and made her blood run cold. Cristine and a young boy, probably her son by the way she looked at him.

Juliet had kept the photo safe somehow, intending on returning it to its rightful owner, the image depicting happier, better times. And while it had no sentimental meaning to the blonde, her mission of returning the photo being a reason to keep going through the never ending forests, ignore the butting of heads that had inevitably come to pass.

And now, seeing everyone who had survived all crammed into one part of an old abandoned hospital, Juliet had let out a sigh of relief. Things were different, but some things stayed the same, something she realised as she spotted Cris chatting with someone, talking animatedly, and she moved closer. “Cris… I think I have something of yours.”