#mara.

Desde el segundo piso, con manos puestas sobre la baranda, admira a los vástagos que se pasean en el nivel inferior. Eran momentos como aquel que imagina cómo sería controlar la dominación como Tatyana, su sire, y saber qué pasa por la cabeza de segundos, terceros, cuartos ⏤ "Vaya prueba de fortaleza nos ha presentado el príncipe." Es imposible no sonar irónico hablando de esa figura en específico, pero su semblante está inmóvil. "Sed, sueño, aburrimiento... paciencia. Por nuestro bien ¿no?" Se las arregla para casi sonar divertido con la situación.

𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘. 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒. @maraxsinclair​

In the days that follow the outbreak, novelties like peace evade the confines of Idaho Falls. Between murderers, dictators, and the infected, there always seems to be a new threat staring Teddy and his family in the face. The horror of the outbreak serves as a wakeup call, a reminder that any incendiary actions or sparks of rebellion that may form are useless if they all become infected. In the aftermath, they would all do well to remember that.

Sent out to patrol the perimeter of the QZ ( his shift still on the schedule despite the sudden, unaccounted absence of his assigned partner ), Teddy sees this as an unprecedented opportunity. He invites Mara to join him on his route outside the walls, and lets their quiet walk together through the trees remind him of Boston, of simpler times. As they pass a thicket of larkspur, the path ahead of them lies still, no danger in sight or earshot. For some time, Teddy’s able to pretend it’s just the two of them in this whole wide world, and so he lets go of Mara’s hand to kneel down and pluck a few of the purple flowers. 

“For my Mara,” he says sweetly, presenting her with a bouquet of the wildflowers before them.  Things as frivolous as gifts and celebration are rare in a world as cruel as theirs, but Teddy still loves the way this small act lights up Mara’s face. “Maybe we can trade some venison jerky for a bottle of potato vodka to go with that.” It’s not quite as romantic as a bottle of merlot, but it would have to do, considering the circumstances. Teddy supposes that soon enough, they’ll be trading venison jerky for everything, relying on their contraband as a means of survival. His hand lingers on Mara’s waist, holding her close to him. “When’s the last time you and I had a proper date, anyway?” What is a proper date these days, when times like these are so precious?

Daiyu prefers to ignore memory. It is easier to live in this zone when one looks at just what’s in front of them, after all: to not focus on what dreadful future awaits and what horrible past lies behind. But it’s hard to practice that tonight, the memory of the man from the Purged gasping for air. It’s like she’s eight again, watching her father next to the dangling bodies of FEDRA soldiers, claiming victory. A finger on her chin, demanding her to take it in. Don’t cry, Daiyu.

She doesn’t cry any more, that’s one thing that has changed since the uprisings. She didn’t look away either, but now that she is attempting to sleep she finds that she can’t close her eyes without seeing the days events unfold again and again. A noose around a neck, scrambling hands, twitching legs, the loud snap! once the body fell off the truck.

So here she is. Not wearing her usual get up, but whatever passes as pajamas these days, moving towards the infirmary. They were once conference rooms — Daiyu thinks the old world should’ve done a bit more fucking conferencing to avoid this mess, most of the time. Once there, she peeps around the corner before slipping in. No unfriendly faces, at least. She approaches Mara with little thought, the other having seen her in plenty worse shapes. It’s not a comfort, but not a discomfort either. “Hey.” Her shoulders are tight, fingers tapping against the desk. “Got something to help me sleep?” It’s past 3am and Daiyu isn’t sure if she can take any more of the laying awake. She swallows, looks around the place for a moment, feeling rather selfish on one hand but simply wrung out on another. Sleep deprivation is a familiar enemy. “Everything alright ‘round here?”