#foughtdeath

she’s not sure if he’s going to leave, only that she’s seen flickers of it. of course it wouldn’t surprise her if he did, she had foreseen that there would be problems convincing him to trust her. still, she had to try something and so she finds herself in front of him, daintily standing on tip toes in an effort to stare straight into his eyes.

so she found herself in her garden, admiring the flowers she had planted and tending to the ones suffering in the winter. she found her thoughts came easier to her amongst the dirt and muck and was knelt in the dirt pressing down in the soil when she sensed him. her son probably come to check on her - it seemed they had some sort of schedule where they’d seek her out. of course, with jasper it was hard to know. he never did what was expected.

❝     I  FIXED  YOUR  SWEATER  FOR  YOU  --------     i  know  how  much  you  enjoy  this  one.     ❞            a  gentle  smile  curves  the  immortal’s  lips  as  she  holds  up  the  sweater  ,  patched  so  well  it’s  hard  to  tell  it  wasn’t  brand  new.           ❝      i  saw  it  in  the  trash   ...    i  hope  you  don’t  mind  me  saving  it.    ❞

❛❛  are  you  sure  this  is  gonna  work  ?  i  mean  .  .  .  the  last  few  go  rounds  you’ve  had  with  it  haven’t  really  been  .  .  .  successful.  ❜❜

​          ❛❛  jasper.  ❜❜       everything  hinges  on  possibility.    the  notion  that  if  someone,    somewhere  were  to  drop  a  marble  and  watch  it  roll       [   . . .   ]       any  number  of  things  could  change.    one  misstep  can  end  a  fragile  human  life  and  erase  with  it  each  possible  outcome.

alice  can’t  remember,    but  she  can  picture  it    :    a  little  girl  with  glossy  braids    ‒‒‒‒    running,    tripping,    falling.    falling  to  her  death.    or  him    ( from  what  she  learned )    :    young  and  sun‒touched  and  tough  like  tanned  hides.    trampled  by  a  horse  or  hit  by  a  stray  bullet.    cut  down  before  the  golden  hours  where  their  pain  and  loss  could  gather  into  something  meaningful.