#meternal

          abigail never knows quite what to think when olivia starts talking to her, never knows what to say. after all, what do you say to the woman who murdered you? especially when she doesn't remember most of the time. how did one casually drop that into conversation? oh, sorry, but do you recall slipping rat poison in tea meant for your kids and giving it to me as well? that wouldn't go over particularly well, even the young girl knew that. with olivia's tendency to walk the fine line of coherent and decidedly not almost always into play, it was a toss up of what version she'd get of her on what day. normally abigail would try to avoid her, to skirt the halls and stick by her grandmother's side. but today she had appeared without warning, as she was wont to do sometimes, and had immediately started rambling. about murder. wide stormy eyes blink up at the other as she carefully places the tea cup down that she had been playing with, lips thinning out in careful consideration. who had olivia been talking to this time?   "of course you haven't, mrs. crain."   soft words are paired with a small (  mostly forced  ) smile, fingers spreading out on the table in front of her. she gives herself another moment, just one, before she pushes out and stands up.   "where have you been?"   who have you been talking to?

once  abby  doesn’t  really  respond  to  her  request,  she  moves  to  a  question.   ‘   why  am  i  even  here  instead  of  my  room ?  ’    she  doesn’t  exactly  remember  how  she’d  ended  up  in  their  makeshift  med  bay.  only  waking  up  there  with  abby  telling  her  she’s  sick,  which  is  probably  the  reason  why  she  doesn’t  remember  it. 

             SHE   EXISTED   BECAUSE   OF   MOMENT’S   LIKE   THIS .   she   was   a   beautiful   figment ,   cloaked   in   milk -  white   skin  &   draped   in   olympic   blue .  the   woman   that   he   needed              now   especially .   he   knew   exactly   what   she   would   say ,   her   voice   eternally   soft   &   patient .   ❛  it   probably   always   will   be , ❜  she   stands   behind   him ,   though   raises   a   hand   to   sift   her   fingers   through   the   hair   at   the   nape   of   his   neck .   ❛  but   we   made   this   beautiful   family ,   and   they   will   hold   the   pieces   together .   you   just   might   need   to   help   mend   theirs   first . ❜

          it's this uneasy feeling that has her picking up the phone in the end, easily finding the number that hasn't been used in a while. when was the last time she had talked to her dad over the phone? weeks, at least. they had their monthly letter, of course, she had made sure to send that no matter how scattered her mind felt lately. but phone calls? nellie felt more and more like she was losing pockets of time, and it was impossible to keep track. she doesn't take into account what time it is, the time difference, or even register that it almost goes to voicemail. all she knows is that he answers, and the little girl inside of her crumbles.   "daddy?"

      ❛    how did you even live without her    ?    ❜    the query surprises him    ,    not sure why he’s even speaking.    perhaps it’s the awkward silence that tugged it out of him    ;    perhaps it’s a genuine answer he’s looking for    :    how does he live without nell    ?    ❛    you ever    –    you ever feel like    –    like she’s still there    ,    like you can feel the cold    ?    ❜

                                 what blossoms upon such delicate features is nothing short of IRRITATION / tinged so gently with vague amusement as she cocks her head at her elder sister . a pause , words held upon the tip of her tongue , pressed against her teeth , && she offers only a shake of her head before stepping forwards , hands held outwards , palms forward .     ‘ or , ‘       placidness , as though she were speaking to a child .     ‘ you could simply GIVE ME the vase , bella . ‘                                  held within sisters hands was hardly something of sentimental value to the youngest black , but she knew the hell there would be to pay were it to BREAK -- more so if it were her sister who broke it . a heave of her shoulders , && narcissa takes another step towards her sister .                                            ‘ please . ‘

             “  ingrid?  ”  voice calls out into the shop, the bells on the door still ringing behind him. emil adjusts his grip on his backpack strap slung over his shoulder. gaze shifts around the space to find signs of the woman. instead he’s met with the sight of his cat jumping off the check out counter to bound towards him with some indignant chirps. he can sense she’s here, or has been here recently enough to not be far. emil pauses to squat down and greet arthur rather than making his way to the back. he speaks up again, hand running over the animal’s fur  “  i was gone barely a week and he already looks fat. the hell do you feed him?  ”

That time of the month and ya'know what that means... Insane emotions overwhelming need for chocolate stupidly turned on 90% of the time crazy anger issues and feeling broody/maternal as hell. I mean who the fuck invented periods. Prick