#thinkscalm

DRUNKEN CONFESSION    //     NOT ACCEPTING .

       ❝  For me, there is NO such thing as runnin’ away, miss.  ❞

WITH THE FIRST GLASS poured & questions asked, it suddenly dawns on him that there is no such thing as an escape from their conversation. Scotch, rum, the occasional beer… All for the benefit of the two. All inevitably leading to inebriety, almost as intoxicating as the crowd he finds himself seated with. The young girl piquing his interest. The blonde hair framing petite features & BRIGHT blue eyes. Fascinating to look at. Interesting to listen to, with a way of questioning him in a manner he can’t quite place — along with a proper answer. Perhaps that part is solely the alcohol speaking.

Aidan O’Malley —He feels himself sinking deeper & deeper into his thoughts. The simple question trapping him in a web of lies & reveries. Suddenly he feels the cover story he has spun, slipping from his fingers — doomed by the words spoken with his silver tongue.         ❝  Everything requires sacrifices. My line of work is no work at all. It’s my life — LEGACY & … my family. The only one I’ve got. I would readily DIE for it if I had to. Runnin’ away has never been an option for me. Only fightin’.  ❞ Still eloquent, even when drunk as a lord. Honesty soaks the words he speaks, like the vigorous scent of alcohol on his tongue. 

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse —

Reminders were everywhere. No matter how much they fled, how long they ran, wherever they wound up, there would constantly lay a reminder about something. Shane had resigned himself to a fate of running, ever since the earth had decided to up-heave the dead and cause them to live in the most grotesque manner. The dead are a constant reminder of the only predictable factor in life - it's unpredictability. And it comes in so many shapes and forms that sometimes Shane wonders if preemptive planning actually fucking means anything, anything at all anymore.They've managed to receive a respite, however short or long; he certainly won't waste it, backpack slung heavily onto the forest floor to check their provisions. After about half an hour of securing the area with string, tin cans dangling upon notches, luck seems to apprehensively be on their side. It's a safe place, for now. A patch of dirt that isn't swarming with walkers is truly solace, and he's grateful, if not still leaning on the side of caution. Once they've gotten some manner of sustenance, Shane's the first to pull out their small medkit. It isn't equipped with every essential, but it carries enough that they've been able to get by. Along with gauze. "We need to re-dress it," He's ninety-nine percent sure Colleen knows what he's referring to, if the purse of her lips is anything to go by. Still, she's compliant in shrugging out of her coat, what's left of her upper arm is displayed for him to work with.

emotional starters

It's been intentional, but it hasn't been easy in the slightest. Though this isn't the first time he's been called out on aloof behavior; certainly won't be the last. Though there's a hint of skepticism, lips parted and a curious gaze cast towards Colleen. "Y'said I was "hoverin' ", wasn't that right? Well, now I'm not," A shake of his head, eyes re-focused on the work of getting a fire started for them, "Thought y'might be relieved to get some space from me," Inwardly, he winces at the bite lacing those last few words. Too late to take it back now, though. Instead he'll ready himself for the chastising his attitude is definitely going to warrant.

“I know this seems tedious, Colleen, but you’ll reap the benefits soon enough.” If there was one benefit to the forests of Colleen’s native Ireland, it was the druid’s magic was strong here. The magic of the fae he admittedly consorted little with, but it was an outlet that was happy to use him as a conduit to artificially summon what the redhead might not be able to yet. Filtering through the vacuum of space and time that had once been purer in the time of fairy queens and storied princes and Robin Hood. Within the shamrock and lichen-lined stones of the verdant underbrush besides a clear, trickling stream shaded by high umbrages, that served only to amplify it. 

ARMISTICE HAS BROUGHT GIFTS / @thinkscalmaccepting

    Armistice always knew how much ‘Lleen has loved animals, couldn’t help a soft smile with every time she fawned over a cat or a dog on their passing. So one Christmas day she shows up to their home (note im saying THEIR) with: