Every Mim has been intoxicated at least once, willing or not. It's a right of passage. How else are you supposed sell something if you don't know what it does?
Scars/Birthmarks: A seven inch (18cm) brand on left shoulder blade, several whip scars along back and limbs, a six inch (15cm) along throat
Other Distinguishing Features: N/A
Appearance: Typically found in all black clothing
Birthday: May 13th
Michelle is angry. They had been left to rot. She had been left to save them all or at least most. The scars from her grandmother sting all the worse when she sees how her cousins are treated. But she must remain. She must help. Who else would take the punishments. Who else would raise her niece. (Her dear beloved niece. She's all she has left of her Melissa)
No, Michelle must stay. But her anger still simmers underneath it all.
I did it!! @shouldwemaybe I did it!! For you! And @panthera-tigris-venenata of course
Ben takes a deep breath, trying and failing to not heavily lean on Leighton, before moving outside. The brighter lighting nearly blinding him before he gets his bearings. She tugs him along forcing him to push through the pain.
“Suck it up, we have to move.” Leighton grits out, clearly struggling with his prolonged weight on her.
He attempted to pull himself together before traveling through the forest. The roots seem to jump out and trip him while the shifting patches of light made everything blur together. He was struggling to move faster than a stumble when they both fell to the ground.
Leighton hissed, her face scrunched in pain. For a few brief moments it appeared as if the ground was where they were staying before she gritted her teeth and began getting up. Something about her ankle didn’t look right and when she put weight on it, it buckled.
“Fuck”
She tried a different method of getting up, relying on the opposite leg before helping Ben up.
“Come on, we have to keep moving.”
“You just hurt your ankle horribly and you’re just acting like its nothing?”
“It’s not the worst injury I've had and if we don’t keep moving it will seem like child play to the other injuries I'll have. Now move.”
Ben stared at Leighton, at her sucken dead looking eyes, at her clammy pallor skin, at the unmistakable fear lining her entire being. She was just a kid, that was plain to see. He doubted that she was older than 12. And she had that much fear over helping him. It was just occurring to him that she very well could be risking her life to try and save his. Ben starts to move.
Together they traverse through the forest, slower but still somehow making a good pace. When a shack appears amidst the trees, Leighton almost seems excited, urging on towards it. Perhaps this was the Escape that she had mentioned earlier. But when she pounded on the door, something told him that wasn’t the case.
“Michelle! I’m calling in the favor!” Leighton yelled continuously banging on the door, bracing both herself and him against the wall.
The door swings open and a woman stands there, glaring at the two of them while bouncing a crying child.
“What do you think you are doing? I had just gotten her down. I know you don’t care about others but it doesn't make me want to help you more.” Her voice was cold and scathing yet quiet, still trying to calm the child.
“Michelle, look at him. Really look at him. He needs to get to the Escape and now.”
“Fuck. Maeve I assume?”
“Who Else. I fucked my ankle up,” Leighton hesitated, seemingly struggling to find the words. “I can’t make it there with him by myself. We’ll both be caught and then we are as good as dead.” She gritted her teeth and tensed her shoulders before staring the other down.
“Give me a moment.” Michelle turned, walking into the house while calming the child in soft tones.
Leighton helped him in, leading him over to a rundown set of chairs. He leaned back in the chair grateful for the rest. The area was bare, yet clearly lived in. A blanket on the ground with a stuffed animal on it. A stack of medicinal and herbal books on the kitchen counter. The scratches and drawings on the walls. They all pointed towards this being a home, but that made no sense to him.
Where were the pictures? The toys? The signs that there was a family here? Ben couldn’t comprehend how there was a family here, how there was a child living here.
After a few minutes Michelle walked back into the room, a mound of fabric wrapped around her body. She moved towards him, adjusting her shoulders and looking him up and down.
“So you’re the king. You don’t look like much. Both Maeve and the Isle do that to people. But you look far worse than most. I assume that's due to Auradon though.”
She moved, grabbing two smaller books and an old worn out ace bandage. Pausing, she stared at the blanket until she shook her head and strode over to Leighton, accessing her ankle. Poking and moving the foot around until she seemed satisfied. Letting out a deep sigh, Michelle grabbed the baby blanket and used it to splint Leighton’s ankle.
“That should hold until we get there. Ready?”
Leighton just stared at her before getting up, hesitantly putting pressure on her foot, nodding at the lessened pain. Together they helped him up, it wasn’t until that moment that Ben realized the mound of fabric on her back was holding the child, covering them almost entirely with only the slightest peak of a face seen.
They trudged along, leaving the house and moving back into the forest. Only this time he could see gold paint marked along some trees, a path of some sorts. What seems like hours later, they escape the forest stumbling onto a deserted road. Dozens of dilapidated houses and shacks along this street and connecting roads. But as they moved closer, there was only one with a gold painted door. A multi-storied house with boarded up windows each marked a line of gold paint.
Every continued step became harder and harder. The fatigue and pain that had been constant all day was becoming unbearable. His movements were growing more and more sluggish. Michelle glanced at him, pink hair falling in her eyes.
“Shit. We’re losing him. Ginny! Marsaili!”
The sound of a door swinging open and hurried footsteps proceeded by multiple sets of hands touching him set him in a panic. Thrashing and pulling away from everyone. A hand went to the back of his neck and he immediately went limp. Dark curls covered his vision as a woman quickly examined him.
“Grab him Mars. It’ll be easier than walking the rest of the way.” The woman said, never looking at his face.
It was the last thing he heard before everything went black.
When he next came to, it was in a barren bed with Mal by his side.
