#marcarn

send me a character/pairing and a prompt, and I'll write you a three-ish sentence fic!

Marc flatters himself that he's been through a lot of strange events in his life, especially in the past handful of years, but this--this is different.

"Hello, lass," Marc says softly, holding a hand out, crouching down and making himself as small as possible--not very small, especially compared to the skinny-limbed thing hiding under the bone-bare twigs of the dead hedge, her hair like a wild shadow around her and her silver eyes shining like mad stars. "It's mighty cold out here, so I thought you might like to come out and warm up while we figure out what's going on."

The girl, wearing a too-big shirt barely held up over her point-boned shoulders, eyed him suspiciously for another long moment before she reached out, clawed fingers blanched blue and trembling with cold, and let him draw her out of her hiding place.

Marc figures her for about five or six--maybe a little older, if his lady's always been as fragile-looking and big-eyed as she is now--and her weight is nothing at all as he picks her up, carefully, and tucks her into his jacket.

Jame: Always am.

[long silence]