#mlotov

send ‘💋’ if your muse thinks mine is kissable, @mlotov

She wiped the dirt from the face of her wristwatch to see that the hands had died at twenty five minutes past one. With it, the monotonous ticking she had grown so used to departed like the final resounding bang of gunfire, propagating the land with a concluding crack before decaying into ghostly silence. 

She closed her eyes when it happened, and saw herself standing in a field surrounded by other people. They were soldiers experiencing the first peaceful moments of normalcy after a long awaited ceasefire. Confused at first, but as they slowly realised what was happening the confusion gave way to insurmountable joy washing over them like a tidal wave. They had made it. They had endured. 

She stared at the door to her prison. Any moment now they would fly open and she would be free to experience that overwhelming sense of joy. But it never did, it never came. She had not made it. She had not endured. 

She named it “the time of her death”, and laughed about it until that laughter dissolved into hopeless wails from the deepest part of her. Then she fell asleep.

Fingers stroked through the soft hairs at her temple and she stirred, body aching and hollow, curled up against the numbing ground of the bunker for who knew how long before then. There was a gnawing in her stomach. She rolled onto her back, holding the tender swell of her belly, and opened her eyes. Silence...

“Are you real?” She whispered meekly, staring up at the face staring down at her, her head resting in a lap. Mary’s lap. Mary’s hands. Mary’s eyes. “Mary, Mary...”

SEND IN 📜 AND I’LL USE THIS INCORRECT QUOTES GENERATOR USING YOUR MUSE AND MY MUSE.

It had been a few weeks since the peggies had been cleared out of the main drag in Holland Valley. It almost seemed peaceful to the short red headed woman. She had been talking with Pastor Jerome for the past few days, trying to get some kind of plan in the works for a way to stop this cult from picking up bystanders off the roads in the county. 

All the planning was honestly giving her a headache at that point and all she wanted to do was have a good drink and pretend for a night that she wasn’t trying to help an entire county eradicate a cult.

Heading to the Spread Eagle drew a smile on her face. She didn’t know Mary May as well as Joey or Staci did but she liked to consider them friends. Especially now with everything that was going on. Entering the bar to see Mary May diligently working to get the bar running up to her father’s standards made Piper smile even more. 

“Can I get a double rum and coke?” The shorter woman asked climbing into the bar stool across from the blonde. Patting her fingertips gently against the wooden surface of the old bar top. Watching the blonde pour out the requested drink had a feeling of dehydration and finally getting to see water. An exaggeration, yes, yet that was how Piper truly felt sometimes. 

“You know what we need?” Piper blurted out taking then taking a sip of her drink. “We need something to lighten the mood, and something that will piss those siblings off like no other.” She rubbed her temple as if thinking was the hardest thing in the world to her after those few days with Jerome. 

“You got any ideas MM?” She looked at the blonde with hopeful eyes. 

Normally, the only tell-tale sign that she was in any way scared of a situation was the blanched, silent looks she gave. But a lot of things scared her these days; a loud noise she wasn’t expecting, like a door slamming shut behind her or a car backfiring. Those things had her heart racing as fast as a dog licks a plate. And then her body would start shaking, and she would look like she was having a tiny fit. She couldn’t hide behind that pale, vacant mask tonight. Fear was all twisted up in her face, clear as day. She was crying, though she didn’t know it. When she fell into Mary’s arms and held on to the back of her with a grip as firm as Death’s, she pressed her wet cheeks to the collar of Mary’s shirt and groaned. 

         “Faith.”   

The name fell like a weak wisp between gritted teeth. She didn’t want to say it too loud. Faith. Even saying it once made their shed, their safe place, feel colder, like Faith was a spectre who appeared whenever its name was uttered. Faith. It was all she could say. It was all she needed to say. Mary didn’t need the details. Zelda was tearing at the seams. But she was trying so hard. So hard, always, to stay stuck together. 

Sometimes it all felt like too much, all the stuff she had to keep holed up inside of her. The only person she could talk to was Mary, but those were rare times, and Mary had her own troubles. She didn’t need Zelda’s to add to them. Zelda pressed her face into the hot crook of Mary’s neck. Felt her pulse at her mouth. Smelt her sweet skin. She kept her eyes shut. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Faith was laughing. Zelda breathed Mary in deep. Allowed herself to melt into her warmth.

It was almost sweet. Little Mary-May. Hos brother had a weak spot for the bartender. That was all that saved her from being thrown to the wolves. Jacob just glanced at her, as two of his Chosen kept her in place, seated on one of the chairs of her empty bar. No one was here. No one was around to help her.

“Shsh...”, Jacob shushed her with his hand coming up to grab her by the chin. Hard, to force her to look up to him.

“Your parents aren’t here… but your brother has been missing you. We are just going to take ya to him...”