Discoveries | TMR | Three

4:7

"Maggie, stop!"

A metal bowl hurtles toward Adeline, crashing against the door with a resounding clang. Just in time, she ducks, narrowly avoiding the projectile, then straightens up and unleashes a scream at the girl for what seems like the millionth time.

But Maggie remains deaf to her pleas.

"Maggie—" Another bowl flies through the air. "Maggie, stop it!"

"Why should I?!" Maggie's shrill voice reverberates within the cramped confines of the boat, morphing into a low growl as she hurls a pile of empty glass vials at Adeline. "You killed my mother!"

Adeline flinches, her arms instinctively pulling back as her body twists away, her head dropping into her hands at the sound of glass shattering against the wooden door before her. This chaotic scene has been unfolding since they stepped inside; Maggie has been relentlessly bombarding her with anything she can grab, all while hurling venomous accusations.

Throughout this ordeal, Adeline has resigned herself to her fate. After all, it was her decision - her insistence - to spend the night here, and she would have been naïve not to anticipate some level of aggression from the girl.

She draws the line at fucking glass, though.

Adeline's determination falters as a significant portion crashes down onto her head, forcing her to grip the door handle tightly to hoist herself onto shaky legs. The metal feels cold and unyielding in her grasp as the world around her swirls in disarray. It seems like an insurmountable challenge, yet as the cascade of debris lessens to a light drizzle, she quickly retrieves her pocket knife and turns to confront the blonde. "That's enough!" she shouts, her voice trembling with intensity.

Digging half-moons into her palms, Maggie glares at Adeline with a fury so intense it seems to vibrate through the very walls of the boat. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes, and despite her desperate attempts to blink them away, they linger, yearning to escape the emotional prison she has built around herself.

Adeline takes a moment to recalibrate her thoughts, drawing in a sharp breath as she contemplates her next move. She's trying to devise a way to calm the girl down without becoming the target of another onslaught. Time seems to stretch for her, marked only by the tension coiling in her arms and fingers, and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead from dodging Maggie's relentless outburst.

Though her movements may be sharp and unnerving, Maggie manages to still carry herself with a slightly more controlled bearing that seems almost robotic, each step calibrated to deliver minimal exertion, yet maximum vigilance, as if waiting for the redhead to say something stupid.

The sting from the bite radiates up her shoulder and along the side of her neck, just grazing behind her ear, yet there are no visible signs of infection. No grey pus or unusual discharge, no dark spots or veins creeping around the injury - just dried blood. Her eyes remain a vibrant green, untouched by the milky haze that often signals the onset of infection.

That's got to be a good thing, right? Adeline is all to aware of the affects of the Flare, and even when the bite is at the furthest point it can be from the brain, the eyes are always the first telltale sign that a bitter end is near.

She raises her hands in a gesture of peace and begins to speak, "Maggie—," but the words falter in her throat. She watches as the blonde starts to pace, clearly trying to devise the most effective strategy for confrontation.

But we all know Adeline.

"I know you're upset, but-."

Maggie scoffs, her smile screwed on too tight. "Upset," she sneers. "That's one fuckin' word for it, I tell ya."