I'm alive

RP blog for Emma from The Promised Neverland. To-be affiliated with FSL

[emmalive-blog1]

arquemie:

Unfortunately for the young miss Emma (no relation to the museum’s namesake), ‘Mister Julian’ is making his rounds to greet people so that his legs maintain half-decent circulation. Too much time spent at his desk isn’t good for his limbs and it is with great discipline that he emerges from his office.

He’s about to ask a family how they’re enjoying their time at the museum when he catches sight of Emma dangling from the jaw of the brontosaurus. Julian loses all sense of composure and simply gapes at the child using his dinosaur skeleton as a lookout point.

A minute of horrified silence elapses before he scurries off for the supply closet. Upon his return, he brings with him a ladder most certainly isn’t tall enough but he’s too stubborn to think up a better solution before attempting this one. Julian sets the ladder down and as he climbs the rungs, his voice grows louder with every word: “Emma! What! Are! You! Doing! Up! THERE!”

He can’t wait to hear her excuse.

It wasn’t as though Emma had exactly thought her expedition to the highest point in the dinosaur exhibit through. All the same, even she had known that a ladder wouldn’t be enough to bring her to her desired point.

“I’m just looking around! Can’t you tell?” Maybe it’s not a smart idea to lean over the brow of the brontosaurus and grin cockily down at him. Not when he’s starting to get angry like this. But maybe, just maybe, she’s having fun with the obvious defiance of museum rules. “It’s actually really nice up here, Mister Julian. Do you need help getting up?”

Any lesser soul would probably be terrified by the notion of moving around quickly on any suspended item, much less a dinosaur skull. But of course, that’s not enough to stop Emma, and she twirls around from her kneeling position to one where she’s all but posed to slide down the neck of the dinosaur.

Instead of moving down and letting gravity do its work (she doesn’t believe herself to be that invincible) she holds onto one oversized vertebra with one hand and points down towards the maze of bones she’d used to get up there in the first place.

“You wanna get your foot up on that foot there, then wedge your other one between the part where the bone splits off, okay?”

“Don’t be scared! I’m sure you can do it!”

[rpmemedumpster]

1-800-how’s my portrayal?

This mun is now accepting feedback! 

Please remember there’s a difference between hate, constructive criticism, and giving praise because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.

[emmalive-blog1]

inherlikeness:

This always happened. Every time his joy at being reunited with her started to wane and give way to worry, she’d smile at him, or laugh, or tilt her head in that inquisitive way she did, and all over again he found himself swept up in the relief and gratefulness and giddiness. She made each fleeting second so much more precious. Still, even in this place after all that had happened, she made him all the more grateful to be alive. 

(And, at the same time, all the more reassured of his decision.)

Norman squeezed her hand in turn, feeling a sense of safety and home like fresh air to a drowning man. He didn’t know that it would ever stop affecting him so deeply, and he didn’t particularly want it to. Even if this supposed destruction of their world and subsequent rescue had changed their whole situation, he didn’t believe it could last forever. He couldn’t afford to believe it, though he’d do his best to make sure it did. He’d make every moment of this borrowed time count.

“You’ll see,” he insisted, playful, and took an easy pace back in the direction he’d come from. “Come on, this way.” He had intended on getting her there as quickly as possible, intended on rushing to show her the way – but now, hand in hand, it didn’t seem so urgent. (Once, he’d never have presumed to take her hand like that at all, but he could feel in her grip that it was just as much of a comfort to her as it was to him. It had been so much longer from her perspective, after all…)

Her curiosity, beneath the affection and happiness, made it tempting to take his time, too. Just to keep her in suspense a bit longer, see her reactions, have a little fun teasing her with the mystery of it. Or maybe… “You could always try guessing what it is. Like we’d do with Christmas presents.” He’d made it a personal mission to himself to anticipate what his gift would be, just for fun. (Mama had, in turn, made it her personal mission to make it as difficult as possible. That thought didn’t quite reconcile with reality, so he put it away for another day. Maybe never.) “I’ll even give you hints, if you want!”

So it was going to be a guessing game! She’d never been as entertained by it as Norman had been, but never as disinterested as Ray had been. Then again, her strategy for figuring out Christmas presents had been to just guess and guess until it she either got some sort of breakthrough or Mama took pity on her and just gave her a painfully obvious clue. (Though that had only happened once or twice when she was very little and hadn’t really figured out how to play right. Norman and Ray had always been better at it than she had been, anyway.)

But she didn’t have anything for Norman to guess about, and it wouldn’t be fair for their game to always be one-sided. That just means she’d have to figure out some sort of present for him to find and figure out later on, though! Because right in that moment, she had much more important things to worry about.

Namely, just what Norman had up his sleeve.

It was still so weird to think that Norman was right there with her! They were holding hands already, but since it didn’t seem like they were going to have to do any running around (yet; Emma could always have her hopes up), Emma felt confident in moving to lace their fingers together and swinging their conjoined hands between them.

“Is it…some kind of food?” she asks, the half-melodic tone her voice took on just as much a signal of her willingness to play as the question itself. “C’mon, Norman. I hope it’s not something that needs to happen right now, because I’ll stand here and guess all day without one of your hints!”

[emmalive-blog1]

velvetdasher:

At the sound of a young girl’s voice, he lifts his head and tries to find its source. Whose interest could he have caught this time?

It takes a moment for him to process why she’s nudging him. When at last her words sink in, he offers her an apologetic smile and rolls over as she’d like. Before she can fret her little head any longer, he cups the crushed flower between his hands and closes his eyes in focus. Tuning into its frequency, he mends the flower once more and chuckles.

He rests upon his elbow and twirls the flower by the stem. Idly, he raises his arm and tucks the flower in her hair.

“The flower was glowing because of me, in case you were about to ask.”

As he moves, Emma takes the opportunity to pull away just a little bit and rest on her heels. She resists the instinct to show any suspicion at his preemptive answer and smiles charmingly instead.

She had been about to ask.

At a glance, it’s nice that she could barrel right on with the conversation. The problem is, having her intentions so easily guessed at brings back memories of Mama’s intimate knowledge of how her mind works. Hopefully it isn’t going to be anything like that, but…Mama had hardly been unique in their world, hadn’t she?

But he doesn’t need to know she’s concerned. It would be okay for her to just have a conversation as normal before going home to talk to Norman and Ray about this man later.

Emma pulls the flower from her hair to look at it and roll it between her fingers. It is soft and straight, showing no sign of having been crushed under his weight. “Can you make it stick? The glowing?” she asks, holding it back out to him. “I’d like to take it home to my family and show them. I think they’d like it a lot!”

[emmalive-blog1]

@ilfaux

For all of her maturity, the candy-bright lettering and logos painted on the window of a small restaurant promising sweet treats is more than enough to tempt Emma, to the point where she’s pressing her nose against the frosted glass in an attempt to peer inside.

“Have you ever been here?” she asks, peeling her face away from the window long enough to make eye contact with a boy walking along the sidewalk behind her. With his blond hair and kinda-round face, he doesn’t look that much older than she does. That lets her skip right by that initial distrust that an adult’s presence would have sparked in her and towards the friendlier conversation she’d held with her siblings.

“It looks like they have everything!” Cookies, ice cream, all the things she’d seen pictures of in the library but never had the opportunity to try on her own. “Even soda! Isn’t that amazing?”

[emmalive-blog1]

velvetdasher:

He likes to imagine that the smile he wears upon his face is permanent, that he simply cannot exist without it, but there are times when it eludes him; he feels the wind against his face and closes his eyes. He hasn’t laid in a field like this since he was a child.

Ah, there was that one skirmish…

He snaps a dandelion between his fingertips and sap stains his hand. Lyste raises his arm and peers at the distinct halves of the weed. His grip slackens and the pieces tumble onto his chest. He exhales.

“My magic could never hurt you.”

Virescent wisps waft from his hand, warbling like bubbles that have neither concept nor understanding of home. Just like him.

The torn dandelion that rests upon his tabard glows, radiating with the same light as his magical energy - the pieces quiver until they touch one another and the flower becomes whole once again.

Lyste rolls over onto his side, crushing the weed beneath his weight. “I wonder what it must feel like…”

@emmalive

There’s been enough weird things in this new world that Emma shouldn’t be so intrigued by a guy talking to himself and playing with flowers. But then there’s a swirling light that begins at his hand and moves to center towards a flower, filling it with something beautiful for a split moment before he moves and it’s gone.

“Hey, can you move?” In an instant, Emma’s crouching down right by the man and pushing at his side unceremoniously in an attempt to roll him back over. “There was a glowing flower right there and I think you’re on top of it.”

Her request is not only to sate her own curiosity; she knows for a fact that Norman and Ray would be really interested in getting to see something so obviously wondrous and magical. They could all benefit from a dose of something inhuman that wasn’t expressly out to kill and eat them. Norman at least would smile, even if it was only because she thought to bring it to them in the first place.

But that’s all assuming she could get her hands on it at all. So she shoves at his side again with all the stubbornness she can muster. “Mister? You’re crushing it.”

[emmalive-blog1]

marrygoloop:

The other girl’s statement confuses Marry, at first. Her hair flutters about, the squirrel’s taking turns to peek out at the newcomer. The birds bounce about, leaving leaves and knots as they go.

There’s so much activity going on around the two girls.

“…Yeah...”

Softly, slowly, Marry’s head bobs, careful not to disrupt any of the animals upon it.

Even when she was ‘alone’, isolated in the middle of the forest, she always had the animals surrounding her. Even if they couldn’t talk, or play games, they were still by her side–

Emma moves to sit by her side, and the birds begin to tweet and twitter a bit louder, though they make no move to leave.

“Ah… Um, I don’t mind, but…”

Marry hesitates, her eyes flitting between the girl next to her and the creature resting about on her lap. Softly, she moves to rub his ears.

“What do you think..?”

There’s a twitch of a tail, a wiggle of ears, and the raccoon lazily lifts himself up unto his feet, turning to face Emma. He watches, for a few moments, sniffs the air, before making a chittering noise as if in approval and slowly moves himself from one girl’s lap to another.

The girl’s made it clear that she’s not gonna just pick the raccoon up and hand her over. Which is probably a good thing. Emma may be impetuous, but that doesn’t mean she’s ever looking forward to having scratches all over her arms and face

For some reason, a vague memory of a book on animals rises to the surface of her mind. If it was right, she shouldn’t be trying to look too interested in the raccoon if she’s going to have any hope of tempting it over. So while keeping the space of her lap open, Emma turns her head so that the girl and her companion are hovering just barely in the periphery of her vision.

It’s hard to remember to keep breathing when she’s got the hopes of getting to hold the animal running through her veins like adrenaline. But then she feels one unsteady paw on her thigh, soon followed by another, and she breaks into the happiest of smiles.

“It’s really neat that you talk to them like that.” She breaks off her commentary to croon softly to the new weight in her lap as she runs the tips of her fingers gently over where the raccoon’s ear meets his skull. From there, her fingers dance down to scratch the lower side of his furry little chin.

“You’re a pretty little guy, aren’t you? So, so soft. Like a kid’s toy.”

She looks back up to the girl with eyes alight; her short orange hair bounces slightly with the speed she tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “And they listen to you! How does that work?”

[emmalive-blog1]

@arquemie

Emma can see everything from the head of the brontosaurus! Little kids picking their noses and wiping their fingers on the underside of the rails lining the exhibits. The dust collecting on the tops of the dinosaur’s skulls, way up high where no one could manage to reach without the use of a complicated pulley system. Unless, of course, one happens to be a particularly intrepid twelve-year-old with a remarkably strong propensity for climbing.

It’s probably a good thing that the long-necked dinosaur generally pales in comparison to the star of the exhibit: the T-Rex. That just means that not many people dared to look up at her perch with much interest, which gives Emma a chance to just hide up there without much hubbub generated by concerned adults. All in all, not an unpleasant situation.

At least, until one of the children walking around the museum looks up, tilting their head waaaay, way back until they make eye contact with her. She waves cheerily, clutching the bone and plaster below her with her other hand, before raising a single finger to her smile in what she hopes will lead to some sort of silent understanding with the kid.

She isn’t here. She’s definitely not here, and hopefully she’ll get bored and be not here somewhere else before the ever-uptight Mister Julian with his funny accent - or any of the other museum employees, for that matter - figures out she’s left her unofficial post.

[emmalive-blog1]

old timey idiom asks

beat a dead horse: What minor/silly topic always gets your character riled up? Do they keep it to themselves? Make sure everybody and their brother knows?

knee high to a grasshopper: How does your character interact with children? Indulging them, talking down to them, dismissing them?

as the crow flies: Does your character take shortcuts? Do they prefer the fastest route, the easiest one, or the one with the best outcome?

apple pie order: When your character has a big project, how orderly are they? Do they just get it done and fix the details later, or are they meticulous along the way? Are they the type to plan or to just do?

all hat and no cattle: How does your character feel toward people who are all talk? Are they like that, themselves?

hand in glove: What would cause your character to feel a close connection with someone, or to see similarities between themselves and the other person?

get it in the neck: Does your character think about (or care about) potential negative consequences to their actions? On them or on others?

call on the carpet: How does your character handle it when they feel the need to confront someone? Publicly, privately? Do they need support? Will they do it at all?

pie in the sky: Will your character do something for an eventual good result, even if the immediate consequence is negative?

the moon on a stick: What unrealistic expectations does your character have for the world around them or life in general?

call to heel: What will your character do to make someone bend to their will?

beyond the pale: What kinds of things could someone do to alienate themselves from your character on a moral or ethical level? What crosses the line in your character's eyes?

in high cotton: How does your character handle success? Does it go to their heads? Are they humble?

play the goat: How does your character react to someone trying to make them laugh?

grist for the mill: How does your character feel about trifling details that are necessary to deal with?

tar with the same brush: Is your character presumptuous about what people are like? Do they project past experiences onto current ones?

cat that got the canary: What's something your character will continue to pursue even at others' expense?

pot calling the kettle black: In what ways is your character inclined to be hypocritical?

hang your hat on: What or who does your character consider to be more reliable than anything else? Is it in a positive or negative way?

knock them for six: How does your character handle accidentally upsetting someone in their life?

[emmalive-blog1]

@shslsyoko

The glint of sunlight on glasses was the first thing to attract Emma’s attention. There hadn’t been many children at the Grace Field House that needed them, and one of them had been among her closest friends. Wasn’t there the chance that Gilda might have made it here as well?

She didn’t hesitate to yell out an excited “Gilda!” before bolting towards her. Once she got close enough, she reached out to grab her arm. “Gilda-?”

Once she actually saw her face, Emma’s heart sank. The girl’s hair was too long, she was too tall, and she was older than any of the children at the field house could have ever hoped to be. There was really no reason for Emma to have mistaken the girl for her friend except for a sudden onset of blinding hope.

“Oh.” Her smile faltered, though her disappointment wasn’t enough to wipe it away completely. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else! She has glasses like you, and I thought…” Her shoulders collapsed in a sigh. Just for a moment. And then she was back up.

“But it’s nice to meet you! I’m Emma. Sorry for grabbing you like that! Is your arm okay?”

[emmalive-blog1]

inherlikeness:

“Emma! Over here!”

The boy waved his arm for emphasis, other hand pocketing his Triplicata. He’d been in the middle of typing another text message to her to check where she’d made it to when he spotted her. His messages had been out of the blue, asking where she was and if she was busy, and instructing her to meet up with him with little explanation and dodging questions carefully. Norman felt a little badly – it could worry her just as easily as anything else, and he didn’t want that – but nevertheless, she’d have to wait just a little longer for answers.

With a spring in his step, he made his way toward her, and though he still offered no clarification, and nothing appeared to be new or out of the ordinary about him, the grin that he couldn’t help but to give her told its own tales. “I know this is rather sudden, but come with me. Not much farther. Trust me!” He stretched out his hand for her to take, ready to lead the way.

@emmalive

“Norman!”

Every time she heard Norman’s voice, it felt like some sort of ghost. Like the small whispers of encouragement, the memory of his smile rising in the back of her mind after a long day of biding her time before escaping Mama’s clutches.

But nah, he was actually there with her! How amazing was that? It meant they could do things like chat until the middle of the night, spend days together and experience new things together, or, in Norman’s case, send agonizingly cryptic messages over Triplicata telling her when and where to meet him for – well. She didn’t actually know what. But it was Norman, so it was probably gonna be a good thing? She didn’t know.

That burning curiosity was what drove Emma to run, run, run as fast as she could to where Norman was. And when she heard him and saw his outstretched hand, joy bubbled up in her chest and filled her entire body until she just had to share it with him with a smile of her own.

“You know I trust you, Norman!” she laughed as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. He was there. “Now come on, what do you have planned?”

[emmalive-blog1]

((Hey, guys!! I'm on the road back home and a few hours out yet, but I thought it might be a perfect time to finally open up an rp ad! Like if you'd like a starter of varying length, and I guess I'll cap at 6? Exempting castmates.))

[stardust-hatter-blog]

ooc;;

Hey, guys! Sorry to announce this with so little warning, but I’m leaving today to visit family and likely won’t have a reliable way to access Tumblr until Sunday the 25th. I’m sorry if I owe you a reply, but I thank you in advance for your patience.

I eagerly await the day I can come back and write stupid things with you guys again. Bye!!

[emmalive-blog1]

marrygoloop:

Marry hadn’t noticed anyone approaching, until Emma spoke out–

The older girl jumps, just a little, waking the raccoon on her lap, causing it to lazily raise it’s head in the direction of the new comer. It gives a little chortle, a bored expression on it’s face, before curling up once more.

As if comforted by the creature’s lack of fear, the fairytale princess-like girl turns her head slightly to look at the newcomer. A small bit of relief appears when she realises that it’s a girl, slightly younger than her.

“H…hiding…? Um, I’m not trying to hide, though…”

Her eyes dart to the side– Emma approaches quietly, calmly, in an attempt not to disturb any of the animals. For the most part, it works, though the squirrels stop running around and instead take to hiding in Marry’s long hair, peeking out to watch the situation.

“I… don’t know. I just sat down for a bit, and everyone came to play…”

“...Maybe I looked a little lonely.”

That part is said quieter than the rest, though that doesn’t say much given the fact that Marry was already speaking at such a low volume. The raccoon buries it’s head in Marry’s palm.

For some reason, despite the surprise of her appearance, Emma doesn’t quite seem to have spooked Marry as much as any other stranger would. Perhaps it’s because she’s so young, or that she’s speaking so softly and carefully–

Or perhaps it’s the markings on the girl’s neck, so similar to the two boys who had helped her recently.

“Maybe so! You don’t look lonely any more, though! It looks like they really like you.”

Emma can’t deny that she’s only a little jealous. Seeing how all the animals – raccoon, birds, squirrels, and what others might happen to be hiding away in her hair – swarm around the girl, finding obvious comfort in her presence, it reminds Emma painfully of all the younger siblings she’d had to leave behind when she had been brought here. The babies, the toddlers, they had all had to depend on and trust Emma in that same way.

So maybe that familiar feeling of ‘caretaker’ is what had drawn Emma to her in the first place. That, and the feeling that she looked lonely. Maybe the girl isn’t so far from the mark after all.

Deftly, she moves so that she’s actually sitting besides the other girl, her legs sticking out straight in front of her. “Can I see him?” she asks, pointing at the raccoon. “Hold him, I mean?”

[emmalive-blog1]

inherlikeness:

He’d awoken with new memories in his head. Of his siblings finding out the truth, of their desperate protests, of the younger ones’ fear and shock. Of the forced calm that he had barely managed to hold together in the face of it. Norman had lain in bed for several minutes, replaying it over and over. None of it was surprising, he’d anticipated all of it…but…

I made her cry.

… He couldn’t do anything about it now. So he dragged himself up to start the day instead, determined not to let on that anything had changed. Realistically, nothing had changed. What difference did memories make? But despite his decision not to burden Ray with it (dealing with all that had happened once was bad enough), Norman still made it a point to spend time with the other, savoring what reassurance his presence offered.

Which had translated to going to get pizza for lunch. It always excited him to try new things with his brother. Besides, he wanted to discuss the lay of the figurative land with him, and the individuals they’d met who could help or hurt them.

“He really has been more than helpful,” Norman was saying on the way. Archer was the primary invaluable asset that he had, and a likely ally, as he’d just explained to Ray. “I still think you should get to know your Servant,” he added, eyeing his brother. Ray’s reaction to such suggestions and the very notion of trusting anyone else kind of amused him…as long as he didn’t think about why he was like that. Norman wouldn’t push the issue, despite how helpful he felt another Servant would be. It wasn’t like he fully trusted them, either.

He would have said more, if not for catching sight of something that halted him in his tracks. Through the pedestrians crowded at the crosswalk ahead, he glimpsed wild red hair. Familiar red hair. His heart stopped. It had to be a hallucination, or a trick of his eyes, but he knew what she looked like, and… No, it had to be – it had to be because of his regained memories. Or something. He willed away the desperate, intangible hand suddenly clutching his throat. She wasn’t here; he’d likely never see her again – he’d accepted that reality, no matter how hard it was to live with.

But still he found himself breaking into a jog, conversation forgotten. He pushed through to the curb and tried to see through the people at the other side, wanting to call her name, just to see, but holding his tongue because he had to be wrong. The voice had said that their loved ones were here, but…he didn’t dare to hope, to let himself hope. The traffic light changed, he crossed, and –

She peered through a store window like a curious child, bright-eyed and safe and alive. Real, so far as he could tell. There was no reason his mind would hallucinate her with a bandage over her ear. She’s… She’s okay. She’s okay! His eyes began to sting as he stood, speechless, for a moment. The suffocating feeling rising like a flood in his lungs didn’t keep him from bursting out, “Emma!” He started to reach toward her, then hesitated. The last time she’d seen him, he… How long had it been, for her? Months, like Ray? How would she react…?

He tried to hold onto his composure, though emotion was thick in his voice. Better to give her the chance to process what she was seeing, regardless of his relief, his need to reach out, to reassure himself she was real. It took all he had not to grab her in his arms and pull her to his chest, every muscle taut with emotion that had nowhere to go.

But nothing could keep the smile off his face, nor did he want to. “You’re here… You’re okay.” The mantra reverberated in his head over and over, a desperate reassurance to himself as much as anything else. It didn’t keep him from trembling.

@emmalive, @pissethoff

Cupping her hands around her eyes allowed Emma to shut out most of the light shining on the store window and actually see through it. Inside was the most beautiful display of toys and gadgets she’d ever seen, all propped up on twirling stands and accompanied by what she guessed to be a music box. It was one of those sights that she wanted to cement in her mind, in the hopes that she’d one day be able to tell Phil and the rest of her younger siblings about the extravagance.

“Emma!”

The hair along the back of her neck prickled as a chill ran down her spine. The sound of her name sounded like it came from the side of her missing ear. She’d heard of phantom pain from missing limbs; maybe it was possible for there to be phantom voices when it was an ear she had wanting? So obviously she looked in that direction, trying to determine two things.

One, who in this world knew her name? Two, why did that voice sound like Norman?

Her heart stopped; her brain raced. Hadn’t Mama taken him away, just like all the others? Sure, maybe that ‘messenger’ had said pretty much everything was possible, but could that even mean seeing someone who was supposed to be dead?

There wasn’t anything on that side. Maybe her mind had been playing tricks on her. She took a quick glance to the other side, make sure that there really wasn’t anything to be done about this ghost of a voice. Despite her fondest hopes and dreams, there was nothing that could have prepared her for the smile stretched across Norman’s face.

He was saying something. “You’re here. You’re okay,” but it all faded – his voice, the people moving through the crowd around them, until it was just Norman. And Emma. The tip of her shoe bumped up against a crack in the pavement below her as she bolted forward to greet him. It was only because of his closeness to her that she managed to throw her arms around him and bury her face in Norman’s oh-so-familiar sweater

“You’re here!” Now, Emma rarely cried. Anyone, Norman especially, could attest to that. But as she clung tightly to him, her fingers digging into the fabric at his back, maybe one or two droplets of joy managed to squeak out.

But just what to say! So many thoughts ran through her mind – how did he make it to this world? What had happened with Mama? She pulled back slightly from him, keeping her hands tightly on Norman’s shoulders as though he was going to disappear the moment she let him go. “We did it, Norman!” she said, happiness granting her a most bold and bright smile. “We made it out, just like we planned! All of us!”

He hadn’t died for nothing!

“Is Ray here?” Still not letting go of her brother, she looked around with wide eyes glowing with excitement. If Norman was here, couldn’t Ray be too? She couldn’t keep her hopes from getting up, not after this. All she needed now was to find a familiar shock of black hair and a self-satisfied smirk, and nothing could ever go wrong again.

inherlikeness -> emmalive -> @pissethoff​

[emmalive-blog1]

marrygoloop:

@emmalive

Long hair, apparently, makes a good nest. At the very least, that’s how it seemed, with a small girl sitting in the middle of a park somewhere in the corners of Utopia, surrounded by small animals of all sorts.

“Hehe… It must be cold, right…?”

Marry’s hood hangs at her back, all of her hair flowing freely. On top of her head, a small group of birds have flocked, and they chirp contentedly. On the girl’s lap, a large raccoon lounges happily as Marry runs her hand along it’s back.

Squirrels run circles around her, chasing each other and squeaking playfully—

For the girl who lived over one hundred years in the forest, this was comforting. The company of animals was something she was much more used to, than the company of humans. 

Coming from behind, it almost looks like a bush! Complete with animals and everything! It reminds Emma of a picture from a book of fairy tales back at the House, and once she skirts around to see just what is under all that hair, she gets the feeling that maybe one of the princesses in the illustrations bad been based on this girl here.

“You must be really good at hiding!” Laying down on the ground, animals crawling all over her like there’s nothing weird there, it must be an ideal situation! The girl might have even been able to hide from Norman, if only the color of her hair had been different.

Emma crouches down beside the girl, trying to move as slowly as possible to avoid scaring away the birds or any of the others. Her voice is at the tried-and-tested volume to avoid waking up sleeping siblings in the hopes it’ll have the same quieting effect. “How do you get them to stay with you like that?”

[emmalive-blog1]

futureflash:

@emmalive

He isn’t free of memories. It doesn’t matter how fast he runs. It doesn’t matter what he does to replace them, to forget them, to remove them…They’re still there.

Walking down the street after dark doesn’t always remind him of that one fateful night, but today it does. It’s just rained. The streets are damp and the light of the streetlamps reflect off the wet pavement. There’s just enough of a breeze for it to sneak under the folds of his jacket, weaving through the fabric of his shirt and right to skin.

For a split second the street is replaced. He’s in Central City, not Utopia. And he’s smaller, younger. Eleven. Screaming. Running. Why is he out here? He was home a moment ago. Yellow streak. Impossible. Nothing can move that fast.

Mom.

Mom.

A blink and he’s back. Savitar stops midstep to make sure. It hasn’t as though he hadn’t accidentally travelled through time before, but this would be the first time since his rebirth in Utopia.

However, he seems to be exactly where (and when) he was a moment prior and so he relaxes, resuming his slow walk through the city. The wind picks up, tugging at the lengthening strands of his hair. Eventually he needs to get it cut but he always had trouble sitting still long enough to get a hair cut, even before he’d gotten his powers. It’s nigh impossible now.

Though there was that one time Iris had cut it for him…

No.

Not Iris. Never Iris. He isn’t allowed to think about her anymore.

Realizing that the scream ringing in his ears isn’t the memory of one of his own, Savitar turns his head, trying to track down the source of the sound. His ears lead him down to an alley and he leans against the brick wall, watching impassively.

Three against one. Well that isn’t fair. Never mind that it’s a small one. She’s a child. Barely twelve. Maybe eleven. The same age he was when…

His hand twitches at his side. He can’t hurt, not without Julian’s say-so but…

He zips forward. In a flash he has the girl scooped up and out of there. He’s by the lake by the time he stops, setting her down carefully. Sav blinks for a moment, suddenly unsure, and then shrugs, turning away.

“Be more careful next time.”

Emma can read the movements of the shambling people well enough to tell that the infected aren’t stupid. They’re just single-minded! And they aren’t as half as concerned with her as they are with trying to get the blue shard that had been shining out from the gutters, the one she had scooped up out of curiosity and shoved deep in the pocket of her greying white skirt.

It’s definitely possible to distract them when done properly, so the scream that rips from her throat is completely planned.

Unfortunately, it does more than distract the three enraged adults trying to take her down. it also brings some other guy with a deeply shadowed face to the entrance to dead end of the alley. But before she can throw her handful of gravel in the faces of the people, make her cautious yet adrenaline-fueled jump against one of the brick walls she’s cornered by so that she can bounce off of the other and make her triumphant escape over the heads of her assailants, there’s a flash of colored light and she’s suddenly surrounded by the familiar feeling of being cradled against someone’s chest.

A few seconds of intense pressure, where it feels like her ears are about to pop and her hair is about to be ripped from her scalp, and suddenly she’s stumbling out of the strange man’s arms onto the soft ground of the lakefront. The sudden change in balance does nothing to topple her over; she lands on her feet easily.

“Will do!” Lacing her fingers behind her back, she quickly pads around to cut the man off from his exit.

“Look, I got one of these away from them,” she chirps, her glowing prize making an appearance with a flourish of her hand. She could be upset that she hadn’t had an opportunity to execute her astounding escape plan, but why be like that when she can just be glad to have gotten out of the situation without a scratch? She might as well show her gratitude! “You want it? I heard there’s a prize if you get enough, but you got me out of there!”

There’s no threat to her tone, in her posture. Nor is there any deal of obvious suspicion. She’s lived for too long knowing secrets and making plans to let her general distrust show so easily. Instead, she offers her savior both the shard and a bright, beautiful smile.

“Go ahead, take it!”