❝ 𝗢𝗵, 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴... 𝗶𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹. ❞
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Marion "Mae" Lameraux had spent her entire life running away from the internal demons which haunted...
𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗻 - 〚 top of the clock 〛 date: 1.1.1929 ╰┈➤ 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛; Marion welcomes the new year bittersweetly; Alastor plays dumb regarding certain events, Marion allows it, and chaos eventually ensues.
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TW; violence... more so than usual. with that, enjoy the update!
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There was something about winter that Marion always found to be rather enjoyable; the season brought forth an odd sense of comfort which was seldom experienced any other time. She couldn't necessarily explain the reason for just fondness when referring to the season — it was simply just there.
Yet even so, there were two things in particular that brought forth disdain for the later months. One of those issues was to not be currently discussed; but the other, and the arguably more prevalent, was the notion of the cold itself.
Oh, how Marion truly hated the cold.
And waking up with her face against an unforgiving wooden table reminded her just how cold the world could be sometimes — and just how much she loathed it with every fiber of her being. Sitting up with an irritated grumble, she dragged a hand down her face to rid it of the stifling sense of numbness that had overtaken her features. Why was I sleeping against the table...?
Wait.
Oh no.
Upon the internal realization, Marion brought a hand to her face, expression scrunched up in self-loathing as she recalled her words from the previous night. The way she sat so calmly, inhibitions immensely lowered as she professed the one secret which she had once swore would never spill from her lips.
"Well, because I love you, silly. Why else?"
It was at that moment, feeling as if her heart had dropped from her chest straight into the abysmal pit of her stomach, which Marion became wholly aware of the notion that she was absolutely fucked.
The eventual walk to her shop was downtrodden and filled with hesitant steps, mind racing despite the somewhat calm demeanor she externally projected. She fought to keep the neutral expression on her face, hands constantly reaching up to anxiously fiddle with the dark blue scarf draped around her neck.
