#directly to hell

@trvehearted​ asked: " Mi vida, you're the last person I want you to see me like this. " There was a weak chuckle escaping her. Hair down & in anything but her usual matriarchal attire, she reached out to her as she sat next to her. They both knew time was delicate more than ever, therefore she wanted to make sure nothing was left unresolved.

They were doing better, much better, compared to the past, & that alone was something she was more than grateful to have experienced with her.

" Pero since you're here...there's something I want to give you. " On the nightstand was a present waiting for her, & when she opened it, it would be her chatelaine. " You've earned it, & so much more. I'm so proud of you, amor, " she said, now cupping her cheek in her hands. " You shine so brightly, & burn fiercer than the sol. & if you ever need me...know that I'll be with you in your corazón. So don't be sad for me, okay? I only want nothing but the best for you, mi mariposa. I believe in you. " (dunno if this was the surprise u were thinking of but u know who it's from c:)

🦋 – She hated time. She HATED how it tick tick ticked on without a care for the people it left behind. She hated how the hourglass would eventually run out of sand on one side, and she’d have to deal with everything’s that passed. She hated how the hour hand on a clock moved so SLOWLY when she looked at it, yet passed so QUICKLY when she dared to look away. Like a CRUEL, greedy creature, time takes everything. This would be no exception. 

🦋 – Alma looked ... she couldn’t even bare to think it. She looked FRAILER, completely different from the matriarch she’s grown too known. It makes her stomach KNOT. Mirabel reaches out to her hands, squeezing them both tightly. “Something for me?” She asks, looking over to the box on the nightstand. She takes it in her hands, opening it. The sight is enough to make her tear up. She takes the chatelaine out of the box carefully, eyes widening. She KNOWS what this means -- she knows why she’s being given this. And she doesn’t want it. “Abuela, no, i couldn’t --” The words get stuck in her throat. She nuzzles her cheek into Alma’s palm, the tears spilling down her face.

🦋 – Mirabel puts the box back on the nightstand, and moves to hug Alma. Burying her face in her shoulder, the only place where she feels SAFE in that moment. Safe from TIME, safe from the ever marching arrow on the clock.