( » » escape it all. )

Untamed, we are godless & malformed. We unearth & fight our whole lonely, our despicable traumas, in curses & slammed doors & we shun & shame & fuck & surrender nightly to the bottle & this goes on. For me, the endless promise of pills & the threat of pills, the promise of leaving or being left & the scathing ache of failure upon failure.

[pencap]

See, son, you are a blizzard,      born of an hailstorm. you are an inferno,      born of a hellfire. you are a marble statue,      born of a carved stone. ah, my golden-haloed iron-voiced son, listen to my rusting words: you and i are not that different.  you and i are really all the same. you burn just like i do. you freeze just like i do. you are just as immovable i am,      just as unstoppable as i am. i did want you to be different, you know. i did try to teach you to be better. but i suppose wildfire can do nothing but spread.  i suppose icestorms can do nothing but frost. i suppose marble can do nothing but be sculpted or shattered.  i suppose a wolf can do nothing but raise a wolf.  maybe that’s why we couldn’t help but fall          a                   p                a                       r       t

like father, like son, as they always say ( j.p. )

[resourcesfortheavergaeroleplayer]

Send 🎶 and I'll create a mini playlist (3 - 7 songs ) for our muses relationship

[copper-choked-capillaries-blog]

( @privilegc ​ )

    He senses the discomfort in the other immediately but his fear is overriding everything else right now and oh god are they moving? He’s pulling the other along, dragging him almost and then, just as suddenly, there’s an absence of touch. Kevin hates it hates this nothing feeling where he longs for warmth but there is n o n e.

      He lets his gaze drift to the sound of something dropping onto the dirt. Was that.. oh jeez it fucking was. An NA chip the same chip Kevin had never actually received but still it seemed to be a fixture in his life.  Wrapped around people’s wrists like a rosary, jangling proudly from their throats. Hastily tucked into pockets before they journeyed with their owners to another drug deal. His face paled even further and fuck the noise was driving him crazy. Why had the man dropped his hand? His thoughts were disjointed through all the noise. Still, his stomach dropped, it was disgust. (He was a disgusting piece of shit, he was garbage, he was nothing how dare he touch him, he was obviously trying so hard and here Kevin was, a druggie, touching his sober, clean, good counterpart.) He let his body was shake and jesus fuck he couldn’t tell if it were fear or withdrawal. Or worse anxiety. (If he had a fucking panic attack right now he would kill himself.) 

      Eternally grateful for his sleeves he begged the gods of the day that maybe perhaps the man didn’t know he was a junkie. But of course he knew. It were obvious to an unskilled eye but…someone who had been through it before…he would definitely know. He felt ill, this man, had beat his addiction (quite literally single-handedly ) and Kevin..fuck he couldn’t even stop shaking let alone get rid of his stash. (He was trying so hard to stop) but fuck it he needed a hit. He snapped out of his frantic anxiety driven thoughts and turned back to the man. “S-sorry I um..” he took in his words, thinking them over. This man, despite him being a waste of space junkie was..willing to let him tag along? To the place he slept? He supposed anything would be better than being outside another night especially with that siren but..he really couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was being..nice to him. Especially after he had grabbed him so aggressively (though it had been out of fear..not that he was afraid.) “a-are you sure that’s okay..?” (His voice was shaking just as bad as his hands and it was scaring him, he didn’t normally get this bad.)

[privilegc-blog]

When his coin clattered to the ground, his counterpart paled, like a ghost had just walked through him and taken his spine with it. He had felt the same way when his first sponsor had first pulled out his, attached to a rosary he carried around in his pocket. The man was buried with it a year after he met him. Blair understood how hollow and pointless seeming that small metal disc was, he had relapsed again since getting it, but it was the only constant in the last few years of his life. It had been there through everything, anointed with his blood and sweat and tears and the dust and dirt of where he had been. It had seen him through everything since the world had gone to hell and Blair valued it for that, not some ideal of sobriety and sainthood. It was a symbol of his weighty past — a solid, but light enough to carry, presence in his pocket to remind him of all his struggles he had survived so far. So he understood the fear he could see in the man’s eyes, panic at seeing the disc and thinking ‘I’m not worth even that.’ He knew.

But Blair refused to feel pity for this man. He knew how hot of a knife that ugly offering was when it was etched across another’s face or laced through their words. Instead he slid his coin back into his pocket and rolled out his shoulders, bunched up as they were from tension, then planted his eyes firmly on his opposite. He would face the pain here head on, however much it scared him and however much his mind was screaming at him to look down and cower away. Blair knew he could be exactly like this man, a wreck relying on some powder or some pills or a needle to survive the storm raging inside of him. Hell, he had. He had, he had dry swallowed pills to keep memories at bay, and when that didn’t work, crushed and snorted them. But it was thanks to his sister and guard that he had survived that small hell. If they hadn’t stepped in, he would be dead in a ditch somewhere, robbed of his life for the pills he use to carry, or overdosing in a home that wasn’t his. So maybe, maybe this man just needed a caring hand extended towards him like his family had offered.

And offering him a refuge from the god awful noise of that siren seemed like a good place to start. Of course, the possibility of this man causing a relapse crossed his mind, but he never wanted to endanger his sister again. So Blair would resist whatever temptation he carried and protect the others from it. “Yeah, we have a lot of people there, nobody would mind you staying — at least until this noise stops.” He noticed the shake in the man’s hands and had an insane urge to grab them and hold them so they would stop but resisted it. “I’m Blair, I don’t think I got your name? Follow me.”

[privilegc-blog]

notnaivc:

          if it weren’t for the way he’s holding himself and his speech, it’d be hard to tell that something is wrong with the twenty year old. his sour attitude is nothing new, something every member the the elementary school group has had the chance to experience one or twice but now, sitting there feeling like he’s about to keel over, he doesn’t have the energy to be angry, even though his body is fighting hard for it.

          he’s never been good at admitting when something was wrong, even before the outbreak. the thing is, the consequence to his recent feelings is far worse than a simple slap on the wrist – it could be his downfall. maybe that’s why, instead of snapping at blair once more, he shuts his eyes tight as he speaks softly. ❝ i’m a diabetic. s’pretty much a death sentence at this point but, y’know. pancreas isn’t making insulin, blood sugar spike and then this – ❞ he gestures to is current position. he’s not looking for pity, but it’s hard not to get it when he’s like this and he knows it. ❝ m’fine though, just – just need a minute. ❞

“Damn, Jack. Why hadn’t you told anyone?” He didn’t attempt to touch or reach out towards the younger man, unsure if he would be causing more pain. “Head between your knees, that’ll help with any dizziness.” He knew that from trying to prevent plenty of people from passing out over the years. “Is there any way to control your blood sugar and insulin without medicine? I’ll keep a look out for anything when I go out for trading.”

[copper-choked-capillaries-blog]

-Siren call (open)

When the noise first went off kevin jumped, he quite literally jumped about a foot in the air his hand flying to his chest and gripping the thin fabric. “W-wowzers” it came out weaker than he intended. “What in the fuck?” His pace picked up a bit and he grabbed the others hand (perhaps too tightly) as he began to run. The sound seemed to be coming from all directions and Kevin’s fight or flight instinct was coming into play with hard. Generally speaking he was a fight type of guy (or at least he liked to pretend he was) but how in the everloving fuck was he supposed to fight a sound?! So he ran, taking them with him, hopefully away from the sound and whatever was causing it.

[privilegc-blog]

Blair had come across the guy on a trip to the V.A. camp, an evening run that would have him staying at the run down hospital until morning. The minute the stranger approached him, Blair gripped his NA coin tightly. He was like a ghost from the past, twitchy and pale, and if Blair pulled up the man’s sleeves or checked his gums, he was certain there would be blood. Blair looked like him at various points in his life and Blair wanted to get away from him. Yet he stayed, speaking with the stranger until the loud siren started screaming in the distance. The man grabbed Blair’s hand from his side, pressing the coin between their palms as he dragged the trader along. Blair finally got the man to stop with a sharp tug. “Let go of me!” The tug separated them, and Blair’s coin clattered to the ground. There was still enough light to find it and Blair had to thank his lucky stars. “If you want some place that might be safer, we need to go to Saddleridge, my camp.” 

[fckoffhamlet]

criminal au

send me an au and I will write 5 ideas/headcanons for our muses in that au || NOT ACCEPTING! 

Ophelia Lucas never got adopted by the Richards and aged out of the foster care system, not having a family to fall back onto she turned to a life of stealing and selling drugs ( mostly weed and cocaine ) to get by. Blair Blackwood the party boy of his family slipping further into his addictions finally gets disowned by his parents after one large night of partying goes a bit haywire. 

Blair and Ophelia meet one night at a party hosted by a mutual “friend” of the two where O was dealing was and Blair was there to forget. They ended up spending half of the night laying out on a couch getting stoned out their minds talking about their lives, finding some common ground in the way that they lived. Ophelia offered to help Blair get back onto his feet at said event if he helped her deal, needless to say it was a yes from the man. 

It took them both awhile to get used to the new set up, but as soon as they did it the “business” started to take off due to Blair’s old connections and both of their charms. You can bet though Blair had to school Ophelia on her attitude a bunch of times, it was like training a small angry puppy ( charm school basically for how to deal drugs and steal from/to rich brats by Blair Blackwood for his pain in the ass partner ). After awhile they didn’t really have to steal as the drugs were getting them by, which for them was nice because they finally moved into a decent apartment rather than the other one which was um let’s just say no human should ever have to live there. 

Durning the rise of their reign of their small little empire Blaire got kidnapped by a rival group of drug dealers and rather than tell the people anything about their small little operation he got beaten and his arm chopped off. The people were stupid enough to just deliver him to Ophelia’s door step right after that because she called a very crooked doctor she knew who dealt with this type of shit.  A full day, a fat stack of cash, several blood bags, and just one very pissed of redhead wishing death at those who did this to her partner in crime; Blair’s finally eyes were open. Least to say when he was walking and talking again, the two had fun destroying the people who did this. 

It’s a working relationship and personal one as these two care about each other on some level because y’all know Ophelia cares no matter how much she fights it so like she now she’s trying to help him adjust to his arm and making sure he eats, sleeps, etc like the annoy ass little sister she can be. Blair most likely just stops Ophelia from killing herself with fighting everyone and everything but like that’s his version of caring, he also most likely will put Ophelia to bed durning the bad nights - think of it as a v fucked up brother sister vibe. 

[bludsucker-deactivated20171127]

i have forgotten where my body begins and the world ends; i am nothing but hunger, hunger and the emptiness that calls my body home. there is no glory in this struggle of flesh and blood, no dignity in the war i wage against myself. something dark has carved my skeleton into a weapon, and i cut myself on the razor edges of my own bones. longing has lodged itself in my throat and every breath i draw copulates with a singular kind of need i have no name for, dreams i’m too terrified to define. i think: this is enough. i think: this will kill me. i think: this is what it means to swallow eternity and come up wanting.

i wasn’t meant for this world | a.d. (via ocsarwilde)

[privilegc-blog]

( » » tasks | 028 ; case file. )

Full Name: Blair Sebastian Lafleur Blackwood.

Preferred Name or Nickname: Blair.

Known Aliases: Blackwood, Seb. ( Only called this by his sister. )

Date of Birth: November 12, 1987.

Current Location: Cheyenne, Wyoming. ( Saddle Ridge Elementary School. )

Previous Locations: Calabasas, California. New York City, New York. Marina Grande, Capri, Italy. Paris, France. San Francisco, California. Austin, Texas. South Lake Tahoe, California. ( Major locations that he has resided, pre-outbreak. ) Placerville, California. Albuquerque, New Mexico. Santa Fe, New Mexico. Pueblo, Colorado. Colorado Springs, Colorado. Denver, Colorado. Fort Collins, Colorado. Mobile, Alabama. Munson Island, Florida. ( Locations visited, post-outbreak. )

Arrival Date to Cheyenne: February 28, 2016. ( First Arrival. Leaves May 30, 2016. ) April 14, 2017. ( Return after finding father. )

Duration of Stay in Cheyenne: 3 months, 2 days. ( First period of stay from February 28, 2016 to May 30, 2016. ) 1 month, 9 days. ( Current period of stay from April 14, 2017. ) Total of 4 months, 12 days. ( As of May 23, 2017. )

Kill Count — Human: 0.

Kill Count — Infected: 194. ( Estimated at a one every five days kill count with 973 days passed since the outbreak. )

Current Inventory: Buck 119 Special knife, backpack, water bottle, a bag of trail mix, flashlight, matches, notebook, pen.

Open to Trading: Yes, as a trader for the Saddle Ridge Elementary School camp it is his job.

[privilegc-blog]

notnaivc:

privilegc.

          even though he’s been at the school for quite for over a year now, it doesn’t mean he’s made many connections within the camp. he stays because his father has always taught him that there was safety in numbers, a statement he’s started to doubt recently. he refuses to put his sister in danger but, the day this place goes back, jack won’t hesitate to grab her and run. that is – if he’s still ALIVE at that point.

          he thought he was alone, up until he senses someone crouch in front of him. he looks up, irritation clear on his face as he looks up at the other ( the crouching isn’t helping; it makes him feel like a child ). ❝ i’m FINE. ❞ he’s quick to snap, rubbing his eyes before trying to focus on the blair. his eyes don’t quite focus right, but he won’t admit that right now. ❝ jack, yes. hunter, yes. ❞ he checks off, sounding a little more breathless than he’d like. ❝ if y’need people, y’wanna talk to ponyboy, other hunter. more of a people person. ❞ his speech is slurred and breathy as he leans forward again, letting his head fall between his knees again, running his fingers through his own curly locks.

Jack was dismissive and withdrawn, answering in short statements that made Blair almost think he had done something wrong. Yet Blair knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t mean in how he asked or confrontative in his demeanor. Was he too familiar in his nature? Blair shook off his racing thoughts, the barreling train of self-doubts and second guesses — he knew what he was thinking about wasn’t something that Jack was probably thinking.

As Jack’s speech progressed it got further and further slurred, something Blair was intimate with. His speech would slur after the interrogations, from blood filling his mouth from cuts and swelling of his face, so Blair knew something bad was happening to the younger man. When Jack gave him a final dismissal ( to go find Ponyboy? Ponyboy was already outside of the camp, something must be seriously wrong if Jack didn’t know that ) and then leaned so his head was between his knees, Blair was worried. His hand hovered above Jack’s shoulder, unsure about how touch would be received. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

[notnaivc-blog]

open.

          he’s irritable. well, he’s ALWAYS irritable but the last three days have left the twenty year old a lot more snappy than normal, even towards his sister. he’s tired, CRANKY and downright sour, sitting down with his head between his legs. a second of REST, he tells himself, a second before he keeps moving, pressing on to do his job and get back home. the thing is, he KNOWS this feeling, recognizes the lethargy and anger settling in his bones as it has several times in the past. the truth is, his TYPE I diabetes has always been unchecked, always taken a backseat to everything else and even worse now that the world’s gone to shit, allowing his blood sugar to spike which causes days like this, leaving him tired and breathless and, most notably, ALONE.

          he should probably try to get to the hospital. he needs INSULIN, his pancreas needing the extra help because, if he keeps going like this, he’s not going to make it very long. ❝ fuck. ❞ he breathes out, running his fingers through his hair. he needs to get up, needs to do SOMETHING before his body gets any angrier than it is now, because it GIVES OUT on him.

[privilegc-blog]

Blair was still getting use to the school, to being around more people than he could count on a single hand. Increased people meant an interconnected webs of relationships, which meant he had to observe better in an effort to not piss them all off. But sometimes, there were people who were just already pissed off. Included in that count was a young man that reminded Blair of himself a lot. The younger man had a sister and he seemed just as devoted to her as Blair is to Ivy.

“Hey, Jack right?” He crouched down to speak level with the man. At least he thought that was the name of the younger man. “You’re a hunter right? I can tag along but wanted two people on this job. I was wondering if you would be able to help me find —” He broke off, noticing the shakiness and general not well demeanor of the younger man. “Hey, are you alright?”

[bpdslime-blog1]

“what motivates you?”

[dailymarvel]

[privilegc-blog]

rebcund:

Middle school had been an invaluable adjustment period for Luz. While she had the experience of being small, latina and inquisitive she had yet to learn the frustrations that Sherman faced in being deaf. The patronizing nods, the ‘good boys’ and the looks that Grace received from PTA moms that said ‘I admire you, but I’m glad my kid can hear.’ All the little things she learned to dread as a part of his reality made her more considerate, more thoughtful, and a hell of a lot less pitying. Aside from a generous helping of tact and enthusiasm to help the man as she could, Luz chose to ( more or less ) ignore the arm. For all she knew, he’d been without it longer that they’d been without wifi. Regardless, if he was alive, he could handle whatever it was in his way.

“Gross, dude, what the hell does that mean?” Laughter interrupted the sentence and spread the words across it in broken parts of the amused whole. “Nevermind, man. I don’t want to know.” After a few bouncing steps, she chuckled to herself thinking of things that smelled worse than they did. “What about, like, old gym socks that got wet and were left in the bottom of a locker for like a week over spring break?” Not that she was speaking from experience. “A box of leftovers that got lost under the passenger’s seat of your car overnight on a hot summer day?” Smiling at his introduction, Luz took his hand and shook it firmly, shrugging at the thanks. “Whatever, man, we gotta look out for each other out here, right? It’s nothing. De nada.” Taking her hand back from the introduction, Luz laced her fingers behind her head, stretching her back as they walked. “Luz, like loose change, get it? And yeah, I’m a hunter there. You going there to trade or just like…really interested in zoning regulations?”

Blair wasn’t the most tolerant of people, he had to admit. High class sensibilities and expectations made damn sure the perfect stayed with the perfect. There wasn’t much exposure to different lifestyles or abilities and if there was, you were expected to avoid them at all costs. He certainly ran into his fair share of characters during his drug induced hazes, but he could hardly remember any of them. Yet an apocalypse was a great equalizer. Blair knew there wasn’t any way you could judge a person’s character by their appearance. That was true for every person who got captured and thrown in with him. The strongest man could piss himself the first night from Blair’s screams down the hall while the smallest and weakest of young girls could hold his head in her lap and sing him to sleep when the pain was too much. He wasn’t going to judge this woman on her appearance or the fact she could handle herself alone. Her humor endeared her to him but aside from that, he was still not sure what she was.

“No, you really don’t want to know.”  He followed her, casting a watchful eye behind them ever so often while listening to her inquiries. “Worse.” Moldy socks certainly didn’t smell like human waste inside of a locked room. “Even worse than that, though that is bad.” Gangrene was a different kind of rot, far deadlier than food gone bad. “Yeah, as long as you don’t try to kill me or I don’t know. Cut off the other arm?” He had taken to joking about the worst moment of his life instead of crying or being angry about it. Better for him to cope in that way than to turn to a bottle. “Oh? How’s that job working out for you?” He laughed at her mention of zoning regulations. “Maybe before I would have been. Zoning controlled the landscape of cities and thus, the flow of cash. But no, I’m here to trade.”

[privilegc-blog]

blair + ingrid: old west/american frontier au? (random aus are my kink just indulge me)

( » » give me an au and i will write 5 ideas/headcanons for our muses in that au. )

Ingrid is one of the founding pioneers of a small town in the area that would become Wyoming. She’s the schoolteacher, a little young to most but strong enough to help establish a town. Blair Blackwood, son of an English immigrant who became a railroad baron, comes to town one winter and wants to lay an iron line for a great thundering beast straight through the center of her town.

Ingrid is one of the few that oppose him. She has heard in letters from her sister about the life in a rail town, her little sister who ran away to become some gentleman’s bride but lived in a house of men that wanted her body without a ring to tie them to it. The young schoolteacher knows the negative affects, knows half her money goes to support her sister because the people in rail towns don’t care a lick about their neighbors and only look for the next drink or clinking of coin.

She stands up to him in the church, where he’s offering to buy the land right out from under some of her student’s families. Blair is surprised and dismisses her, saying she must be going into hysterics, but her voice — trained in overruling unruly children — rings out over his and says she refuses to watch their town descend into lawlessness and degradation because some mighty man in a fine suit wants to add some more coins to his coffers. She storms out, leading the rest of her fellow townspeople from the meeting.

Blair stays, he knows he must build his railroad nearby, to reach the rich forests of the new Oregon territory. He wouldn’t be the first to stretch across the country but he would be the one to make it to far corner of their newly found nation. And a smarmy schoolteacher wouldn’t stand in the way of his railroad. So he used their little town as the base for his plotting. Blair decides, since the town won’t sell itself to him, he’ll go around the town and watch it die.

Years later, when his railroad company folds and the rest is bought by Union Pacific, Blair returns to that town, wondering if they ended up better than him. He mets Ingrid again, still a teacher, but a grown woman now with her sister living with her. They sit down for tea, a surprising thing to Blair for all the fury she had shouted him down with in the church that still stands in the center of town. Ingrid is silently satisfied that his empire had crumbled, but is polite and kind. She tells him about how her town has survived despite his railroad not running through its heart, despite him. And somehow, Blair is grateful he didn’t kill the passion that lived here.

[privilegc-blog]

gimme that sky's still blue blair & gwen feels

( » » give me an au and i will write 5 ideas/headcanons for our muses in that au. )

Blair Blackwood was sent to Cheyenne to campaign for his father, offering James Blackwood’s considerable patronage to the leader in the Representative race. In exchange he practically bought a political mouthpiece for his father’s varied conservative interests. He won the man’s loyalty ( like always ) but the on the drive to the airport to fly back to California, his private town car was hit. The hired driver had been drinking and missed the red light. However, the garbage truck didn’t miss their car. The driver was killed on impact and Blair’s left arm was so damaged that reconstructive surgery was impossible, so it had to be amputated at the elbow.

His father blamed him for the accident ( just like his father would have with anything else that went wrong ), as if he had been the one to force the driver to drink. James paid the cost of his medical bills but when Blair started relying a bit heavier on his pain pills, he turned a blind eye. Blair stayed in Cheyenne, a ghost haunting the place his old life died.

He met Gwen when he was locked to a hospital bed for yelling at a nurse after being picked when a drug exchange went wrong and he got beaten for it. She came in once he calmed down, and he begged her to be released. Instead she convinced him to go into rehab and became the first person in Cheyenne to be on his side and want recovery for him.

When he relapsed again, she was the one to pick him up and drive him to rehab when he came down. Gwen was also the one waiting outside in the parking lot when he was released, itching for a fix. Her boyfriend was suspicious of him but Gwen was still the person he went to when he began injecting, when he became scared of the bleeding sores on his arms. She was the one who got him into a shelter when his father cut him off, she was the one to tell him the truth of things and not try to disguise it all under gold.

And she was the one there when he finally got clean entirely, got a job, got an apartment. Gwen was the one who took him shopping to fill an apartment that his sister would visit. She was the one he was grateful to, more than his father’s God or Naloxone or locked wards or a shelter or clean needles. He knows he was a burden on her, but he hopes his thankfulness was worth it. Blair thinks it was, as he remembered her talking to him as he fell asleep on her couch, a line always leapt out: ‘if you save one life, you save the world entire.’ He was never sure what it meant or where it came from but he knows she saved him and gave him a new world to live in.

[privilegc-blog]

rebcund:

The guy wasn’t known to her, not really, but Luz had seen the difficulties missing pieces could pose in survival ( an arm was vital just like hearing ). Never one to coddle or baby anybody for fear of patronizing anyone strange or known to her, the small, strong girl tried to strike a balance between helping and saving. The distinction was important and a thin line to balance on ( the difference between a three-pointer and, in this case, a miss ). 

“Not far, but man, we’re gonna have to smell ourselves the whole way.” The complaint was marked by humor, a bounce in her step from beat-up nike frees as she led the way. “Probably like…thirty minutes if we don’t run into any trouble and, like…a lot longer if we do.” A flash of grin returned his gratitude. “Whatever, you probably would’ve done the same for me, but, uh, if that isn’t the case, feel free to leave that part out.” More jokes. They fall from her lips like lies and loose teeth–the artifice of something once natural to her. The adjustment of Sherman’s return had been hard ( she wasn’t sure why ), but Luz had long believed in the adage ‘fake it til you make it’ and she wasn’t to bad at it either. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what this woman thought of him. Blair had encountered a wide of range of reactions, some stranger than others and other being less than welcome. Pity, revulsion, desire, derision. But chief among them was the pity. Pursed lips, apologies for something they didn’t cause or could have stopped, and treating him like he was a miracle for surviving. His survival wasn’t a miracle, it was just dumb luck. Pity was the worst, but thankfully she didn’t seem to hold any.

“I promise you, I’ve smelled worse.” Piss and shit in a bucket enclosed in a small room for days, burnt flesh, the rot of gangrene in Rodger‘s wound where his broken ankle had burst through his skin. Blood and guts from some rotting corpses was not much worse in comparison. “I can wait thirty minutes, and if not, more excitement for today — not something I’m exactly opposed to.” He had to smile at her joke. “Thanks for giving me an out there. Didn’t want to tell you about my cowardliness, it’s kind of embarrassing. Blair,” He extended his hand after trying to wipe the worst off. “You live at the Capitol or what?”

[privilegc-blog]

tinykicker:

 —   ❝     B L A I R.

        scarlette walked aimlessly — - with no real destination in mind in truth,  she was more happy just wandering around and learning - having some time by herself.      she was looking for things in particular —- -  filipendula ulmaria - MEADOWSWEET, a plant to bring down fever.   leah had been quite good with botany as well as being pre-med.   her notebook had been filled with plenty of notes and diagrams and sketches of almost all of the plants they could use.

           her knife was already at her side, clasped in a trembling hand   (scarlette had never liked killing things, even the dead.)      she had assumed it as another rotter, possibly starving or on broken limbs & she probably would have ignored it, if not for the large sprigs of meadowsweet growing next to the feet of the body.    she SHRIEKED in surprise when the body - the MAN moved -     “oh my god, i’m sorry! i thought you were a rotter,” she said on a rush of breath as she tried to stay her shaking hand, “but please watch where you step, i need those plants by your feet.      are you alright?”

The person in front of him didn’t look like danger, but Blair never had to look at his captors to know they were dangerous — so Blair didn’t trust his eyes. Appearances could be deceiving. He still kept his hand on his knife, fingers tight around the handle. Her scream felt like a physical force against him, buffeting him back another couple of steps. Even now, so long after having the blindfold removed for the last time, sounds felt more real than what he could see and being startled so jarringly from his memories made that fact even stronger.

Her directive was a gift to him, he could look down instead of at her as his head was still catching up to idea he could look at her. The plants were at his feet, white sprays of flowers he remembered sometimes trampling through on his travels. He couldn’t quite understand what use they could serve and his mind was caught on that question, not her’s, as he stepped back from them carefully. “Why those?” Then he realized she had asked him a question, probably about the moisture he could feel coating his cheeks. He hastily wiped it off with his knuckles, letting go of his knife to do so, before giving an attempt at a smile. “I’m fine, I’m sorry for scaring you.”