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ꜱʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ.
"ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ; ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ."
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ.
In which (y/n) thought she had seen the last of Isabella when she left her at the wall. 19 years later, sh...
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(n.) lack of self-control
♡♡♡
On the slope of a steep hill, two figures stand side by side. One is smiling sadly. The other towers over her, patting her shoulder gently. They discuss the unthinkable. I mean, human children- who would've thought?
"I seem to remember, you used to have an interest in hunting humans." The small one chimes. Her name is Mujika. The tall one, Sonju, sneers.
"That was many years ago. It's a repulsive idea." He states. Mujika eyes a small object in his hand. Just bigger than a coin, he figits with a dark, wooden button. It's a familiar object. In fact, she can recall carving multiple out years ago, for a young girl's winter coat. She decides not to mention it, but looks away with a knowing grin.
"Those children grew on her quickly." She comments. It's true, but nothing he didn't already know.
"Her heart's a lot weaker than she likes to believe. It was her head that made her think she could push away any attachment to the kids." Mujika laughs. Watching her daughter awkwardly try to push away the kids over the past few days was exactly like watching Sonju. He had acted the same when (y/n) was young.
The two watch for a little longer in silence as the group of humans slowly gets smaller and farther away until they are no longer visible. It's a bittersweet moment, because despite what (y/n) had insisted about coming home soon, they both knew that it would be a while before they saw her again. Sure, when she lived on her own they didn't see her all too often, but at least they knew she would be coming home.
"Could you carry me back?" Mujika asks. Sonju chuckles breathily.
"Any particular reason?"
"Not really..." She sighs. Sonju hums and lifts her onto his back. She silently cheers, wrapping her small arms around his neck.
"Let's go home..."
I had the faintest idea of what was going on. Standing in the middle of nowhere with an angry riot of children and a magic pen, that wasn't saying much. All I knew for sure was that Monroe was a filthy liar. Monroe? I think his name was Monroe. Whatever.
Being that this was officially my third all-nighter in a row, I was barely functioning. That's how it's always been. Nights 2-3 were the hardest- being a downward spiral, and nights beyond the fourth we're a hyperactive fever dream. If it tells you anything, Ray had to throw a water bottle at my head earlier today for me to realize he had been calling my name for a few minutes.
That being said, I wasn't so disoriented that I missed saving Rossi from the commotion the children caused. And believe me, they can get loud. Their outburst was like an explosion, or rather, a bunch of little firecrackers. Rossi was trembling. The flame was eventually extinguished, but I held on to the kid for safety reasons. I shift my vision over to see Emma and Ray, who were staring at the blue screen that the pen created. Both were deep in thought. I nudge Ray with my leg.
