"I ain't good with words."
"You don't have to be."
When Lunette Sallow gets thrown into a world overrun by the walking dead, she finds that she is able to find her place there. Never truly belongin...
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Mira sat at a small, rickety table under the shade of a large tree, flipping through the pages of a well-worn magazine. Around her, the sounds of laughter, music, and lively conversation filled the air as the residents of Woodbury enjoyed the festivities. The party was in full swing, with everyone seeming to have a good time. But for Mira, it felt like she was in her own little world, isolated from the merriment around her.
With Neil being sick and not having any other friends, she was left to entertain herself. A glass of ice-cold lemonade sat on the table, occasionally sipped by Mira as she she read her magazine.
Her father was, as usual, nowhere to be seen. He was likely mingling with the townspeople, maintaining his image while neglecting the one person who needed him most. Mira sighed and turned another page of the magazine, though her eyes barely registered the glossy pictures and articles.
So absorbed was she in her reading that she didn't notice Michonne approaching. The woman moved with a quiet grace, almost ghost-like. Without a word, Michonne pulled out a chair and sat across from Mira.
Mira blinked in surprise, momentarily unsure of how to react. She wasn't used to anyone showing interest in her, especially not someone as intimidating as Michonne. Slowly, she closed her magazine, her fingers lingering on the edge of the cover.
"Hi," Mira said hesitantly, unsure of what else to say. Michonne didn't respond immediately, her eyes scanning Mira's face as if trying to read her thoughts.
After a long pause, Michonne finally spoke, her voice calm and measured. "You don't look like you're having much fun."
Mira shrugged, looking down at the closed magazine in front of her. "I'm not really into parties," she admitted. "And Neil's sick, so... it's just me."
Michonne leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Mira. "Parties aren't for everyone," she said softly. There was a pause before she continued, her tone gentle but probing. "Your father must be pretty busy with everything going on here."
Mira nodded, her gaze dropping to her lemonade. "Yeah, he is. He's always busy."
She looked up, meeting Michonne's eyes briefly before glancing away. There was something intense and sincere in Michonne's gaze that made her feel both seen and scrutinized. She took another sip of her lemonade, trying to mask her discomfort.
Michonne nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "Woodbury seems like a nice place," she remarked casually, though there was a hint of skepticism in her tone.
Mira shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. The last thing she wanted was to be overheard discussing her father. "It's... fine, I guess. My father takes care of everyone."
"Does he take care of you?" Michonne's question was pointed, and it hit Mira like a sharp prod. She bit her lip, unsure how to answer. It wasn't like she could complain openly about her father, not without risking backlash from the loyal townsfolk.
