WIP Wednesday & Last Lines
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WIP Wednesday for The Silver Chronicles (FC5 Harbinger AU & Coroner AU) and Last Lines for my FO4 WIP A Symbol For A Better World from A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. Read below the cut:
First WIP snippet is for my FC5 Harbinger AU, where Elsa Omar and Ezekiel are alive during the Reaping but Silva went missing some time ago. Starring Mary May Fairgrave, as she processes the dreadful return of the menace that is Elsa Omar during an active war with a cult. Of all the times she could have possibly shown up, Mary May will be adamant that this is the worst. Read below:
When Ma was still alive, she always had a kind of sixth sense to her. Like she'd know something foreboding was coming way before it occurred.
Whether it be checking on Mary herself before she came down with a nasty cold as a child, taking old Littlebit to the local vet months before she passed, waiting outside with arms crossed as Drew staggered home after he snuck out for a party and was forced on bed rest to recover, or most strange of all, bursting into tears a little over an hour when Pa was usually supposed to be home with the Widowmaker, on the night he died.
Mary chalked it up to Ma just having a better intuition than most people she knew (like her brother-), and didn't think much else on it, and definitely didn't entertain the notion of Casey's suggestion that Ma was "intertwined with the spirits" or something similar to that after mentioning that fact to him during a sad drunken ramble.
Mary scoffed at the idea even now; Ma was no where close to being as "spiritually adept" as Casey claimed to be. She was no-nonsense, tough and fair to all of them. And above all else, she had a realistic, if sometimes pessimistic, view of the world.
The fact Pa mentioned once that when he met Ma, she had been in some kind of goth stage, and was apart of a "coven" of "sisters" whom she had still been in contact with by the time Mary and Drew were around and went out for fortnightly "secret catch-ups" of "reading" and "candle-making" were entirely irrelevant outliers.
Mary shook her head from that trail of thought as she tried to focus on stocking a select few alcohol bottles she'd been tasked with making molotovs of for the Resistance. The dark cloud that hung over head only grew, demanding her attention as a bad feeling stirred in her gut.
Sometimes, she pondered, I wonder if this is what it felt like for Ma.
Perhaps she inherited that sixth sense. That knowing dread that something sincerely bad, or at least something that was going to suck, was about to occur.
She considered it to be the cult's rampant terrorism and kidnapping; after years of buying off and stealing properties, bullying Fall's End, and destroying the bonds of countless families and neighbors while the local law enforcement did nothing, they finally showed their true colors.
Mary May could still feel the faint painful itch of the tattoo that fucking psycho, John Seed, gave to her before the clinic got it removed.
She frowned as her head began to hurt; the dark cloud now giving her a goddamn headache.
Something bad was coming. Mary May eyed behind her, blue eyes landing on the shotgun stashed under her counter. Ready to send any one of those filthy fuckers to their awaiting vacant seat in Hell.
What else could it be but the Peggies? she'd thought to herself as the dark cloud seemed to knock harder at her mind, Not like there could be anything worse than them, right?
Oh, how she could be so, so wrong.
When she heard the doors of the Spread Eagle open, the dark cloud disappeared. She heard no commotion from the other tenants in her bar, no guns rattling off outside, no tires screeching announcing the arrival of Eden's Gate. In just a moment, her nerves relaxed.
Until she heard her speak.
"Oh, Mary May~!"
Her heart dropped to her stomach. No. Dread recoiled into her intestines. No! The bottle she was inspecting slipped from her hand, landing on the wooden planks. Not breaking, but rolling, contents wasted in a growing spillage. No, no, no!
The brunette slowly glimpsed behind her, until she was staring at the fiend herself.
Elsa Omar.
Her blonde hair wasn't as wild as she remembered it to be, neatly braided into a menagerie of dreadlocks that must have taken a ridiculous number of hours to tend to. Her teal eyes gleaned her environment like a viper, her lips quirked up into a smirk - not a smile.
She was dressed in a blue celeste dress complimented by a white long-sleeved shirt, contrasting her deep olive complexion. Not the most practical choice of clothing, especially for the Reaping, but Mary knew Elsa to not be the most practical person.
Unless it's to fuck over someone, she reminded herself, glaring daggers at her ex-lover.
From the door frame, she spotted another figure who poked his head from behind Elsa and sent a genuine smile over Mary's way.
"Hey Mary May," the man greeted, a companion of Elsa's that the bartender was all too familiar with.
"Hi, Ezekiel," she returned the greeting, though not as enthused as his had been. Unlike Elsa, Mary held no ill-will towards Ezekiel, nor had she any for Elsa's reclusive older sister.
Elsa was the one who hurt her, and Mary was sure-fire to not allow Elsa to hurt her again.
Last Lines snippet is for my Coroner!Silva AU (this is just a general AU during the Reaping and not my WIP No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden which is set in a No Reaping AU), where Silva is tasked by Whitehorse to work with Charles Lindsey as they are the closest qualified individuals who have the knowledge and experience to either work on a human body or keep something living alive, in the least qualified scenario. Read more below:
Earl looked to them with tired eyes, gaze seeking confirmation from the two of them.
"Can I count that you both will do as best as you can with tending to our wounded through this whole thing?" he asked of them.
Silva gave a glance to Lindsey, who shared it. Neither were qualified to be medical professionals; at least towards people. Lindsey being a veterinarian and Silva being a coroner were further from the most ideal circumstances given the situation.
A proper medic would have been better than them.
But that's not to say neither Silva nor Lindsey weren't unfit for the task; Silva had a great grasp on the human body and she was sure Lindsey knew how to keep a living being alive, or at least functional.
They turned their gazes back to the sheriff and gave an affirming nod in response.
Satisfied, Earl left them in the makeshift medical wing as he went off to find Tracey or Virgil.
Both Silva and Lindsey turned to each other, standing in awkward silence.
Lindsey coughed, gesturing to the Cougar fighters in the wings beds, all suffering varying states of consciousness and pain, asking, "Shall we?"
Silva glanced to the large number of wounded there were. She could feel an ache pound inside her skull, reminding her she was too sober for this. She let out a sigh, "Let's get to work."
Another last line snippet for my FO4 WIP A Symbol For A Better World, where the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, Nate Gust Sarid, has the worst fucking luck upon reaching the surface of his vault, as he found himself at the mercy of a Deathclaw. Read below:
Oh God, Nate came to the dreadful realization, I'm going to die.
He struggled to squirm in the frightening grip of the beast... this monster. His legs tried to kick up against the horned creature's muscular arm, though he knew his efforts were futile.
I can't die like this. I have to save Shaun, Nate desperately plead in silence, his ribs straining against the compressing weight of the beast's claws.
His plea fell on mute ears, the world continuing the events playing through his mind now.
