Siberia | S. Rogers

eighteen

.18 | a name

Merida's fingers delicately pressed the piano keys, finding herself in the rec room again with the beautiful instrument that gave her so much solace and peace. She was wearing new clothes;  quarter-length blue and red sweater, a pair of dark skinny jeans paired with black boots that she had tucked the jeans into around her ankles.

It was such a nice outfit...she hadn't worn things like this with Killian - she mostly got scraps for clothes and hand me downs from other circus performers. Not like she fit into most of their stuff due to her tiny size.

It had been a whole day since the incident with meeting Thor.

He had been kind enough to explain Asgard and who he was that day that they had gone to the break room to get pop-tarts. For being the God of Thunder, Merida had found him warm, quirky and charming all in his own right.

He had, to the best of his ability and for lack of her knowledge about most all things Asgard, spoke of his trickster brother, Loki and briefly mentioned the battle of New York, which brought back an instant memory to the evening after it had all happened.

She had been on the opposite side of the states when it happened, near Oregon, but word had traveled fast, like lightning.

The FM/AM radio that Fran had commandeered from a local shop was feeding them play by play of the scene that had unfurled that day in New York. Merida had been frightened to hear about the aliens, but even more frightened for the people who were on the ground battling unknown forces.

She remembered that evening, huddled over the sleek black radio, her arms breaking in goosebumps from the bleary weather that day in Oregon.

"Do you think that man with the shield is out there fighting too?"

Merida could hear her chattering words echo in her head.

Fran had given her a solemn nod that evening, but smiled cryptically that night and added for Merida's benefit, "I have a feeling they will triumphant," 

It had been a distant memory, but one that stood clear in her mind. She had found herself recklessly wishing the aliens would come and attack Oregon where their campground was, for maybe then Fran and her could be rescued from Killian's onslaught of abuse.

She hadn't been proud of the silent wish, but there were night's her mind would grow dark and the beast within would thirst for Killian's corpse.

Merida quickly shoved this memory from her mind.

The one thing she had noticed with the Avengers was that were no shortage of food, due to their strict training and able bodies, there was always food around. Merida relished the taste of the pop-tart with Thor as he spoke with candor and pride of his travels and sights. She listened in awe, chewing her pop-tart slowly to remember the taste and take it all in. She had never had access to food such as this, nor a never ending supply of it.