#samaiin

She hovered behind him, face creased with worry. Once he was curled up in bed, she climbed in behind him, dragging the covers over him before draping an arm over his side. “What’s wrong?”

                              Two weeks wasn't a terribly awful time to keep someone waiting-- and she knew that was exactly what he would be doing. Waiting for her to come back, because he knew she would. What other choice did she have? Wait out the Harvest Moon, risk killing again, as was certain every Halloween? And what she had to lose was minimal; at least, with her Grandmother's colt python in her belt, that's how it felt. She had parked on the edge of the forest half an hour ago, and now the bottle of Red Label she had nursed grew warm in her hands. Tossing it onto the passenger's seat, Red pulled on her boots, checked the safety on the old revolver, and left the door unlocked, should she need a fast getaway. God help me.                        The deer trail was easy enough to find, scent curiously absent, and as the forest grew deeper, her nerves were set on edge. Several times she considered turning around, and she hated it, hated him for losing her courage. By the time she found the cabin she still hadn't caught his scent. Laughing quietly to herself as she walked up the steps, she thought perhaps he had taken a bath after all.

i rescind my like B|

whining symbiote

is that what u want hal

is it

lookit dat face