M.K.

the-cursed-acolyte:

MINERVA HAD NO REASON TO LIE. M.K. was smart enough to know that. “Okay,” he said softly.

He did not trust her. Not one bit, but she did seem to be one of the only people on his side. Perhaps he could ask her about the gift one day. She was one of the only people who had it besides Pilgrim and his followers, and besides Ava, and they were all gone.

He still didn’t know that Sunny had the gift, too, but that was a conversation for another time.

He really did want to rest a little bit. Then, he would be able to spend time with Henry and see Tilda and talk to Bajie.

Suddenly, he felt the pain return and groaned sharply.

The pain medication had worn off.

IT WASN’T DIFFICULT TO TELL when the pain medication began to wear off, and Minerva was quick to send for one of the healers. He still had a long recovery ahead of him, and for the time being, the priority would have to be keeping him as comfortable as was possible, allowing him to take it easy and give himself the time to heal.

She was quick to move out of the way with Henry when the healer arrived, giving her some room to work. “You should rest now,” she told MK in a gentle voice, noticing the healer give a small nod in agreement. “I’ll bring Henry to see you again in the morning. I promise.”

#thcwidow #( main verse. post season three au. )#ooc: Welcome back! I hope that you're feeling better!#ooc: I think that this would be a nice way to end the thread! :)

M.K.'S HEAD WAS SWIMMING WITH THOUGHTS and the pain didn't make it any better. His long recovery would not only be physical, but also emotional.

He was still unsure whether he could trust Minerva or not, but for now, she seemed to be one of the very few people on his side.

And for some odd reason, her gentle voice, in a tone that he had never heard her speak in before, reminded him of his mother.

Before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.

There was a smile upon his face.

Out of character: I've seen a few active Into the Badlands blogs floating around, so if you're an active Into the Badlands roleplayer, then please reblog this post!

#ooc: i need more roleplay buddies #ooc: don't be shy #into the badlands roleplay

the-cursed-acolyte:

“WHY ARE YOU BEING SO NICE TO ME,” M.K. asked. He was looking at Minerva like a confused child, his dull eyes shining with genuine perplexity. “I thought that you hated me,” he said, but he held no malice in his tone.

His voice cracked. “Listen, if this is some kind of trick to get me to help you with your gift or something, then you can just quit it, okay,” he asked bitterly, but there was an unmistakable sadness in his tone. “Or if you’re trying to rid yourself of guilt so that you can make yourself feel better, then I don’t want to be any part of it.”

He wasn’t angry. Just sad.

He looked over at Henry.

“Tilda probably needs you,” he said to Minerva, his voice detached.

ONE BROW REMAINED RAISED, and a moment later she gave a small shrug. “I thought you deserved a bit of kindness,” she replied calmly. “And I don’t hate you. There are few people I would say I hate – and I’m fairly certain they’re all dead at this point.”

“I’m not trying to trick you. I don’t want you to help with anything you don’t want to help with.” She paused, letting out a sigh. “The last thing I want to do is trick you, or manipulate you – I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime. I’m done with it,” she added bitterly.

“You’re free to leave, as soon as you’re strong enough. Or you’re free to stay. Whichever you prefer. But Henry stays here. I made a promise to Sunny, and I won’t break it.” She paused, her voice softening. “If you choose to leave, you are always welcome to return. You can see Henry whenever you wish.”

MINERVA HAD NO REASON TO LIE. M.K. was smart enough to know that. "Okay," he said softly.

He still didn't know that Sunny had the gift, too, but that was a conversation for another time.

He really did want to rest a little bit. Then, he would be able to spend time with Henry and see Tilda and talk to Bajie.

Suddenly, he felt the pain return and groaned sharply.

The pain medication had worn off.

the-cursed-acolyte:

M.K. SMILED. Henry staying overnight would be nice, but M.K. still wasn’t sure if he could control himself. He was also the furthest person fit to be a babysitter.

In fact, he needed a babysitter himself.

“That sounds wonderful,” he said softly.

It suddenly occured to him that he had been conversing with Minerva for several minutes (maybe longer), which was odd to him.

He hated the woman who tortured him. He hated the woman who used him. He hated the woman who manipulated him.

But this woman seemed like someone completely different.

He was confused and wasn’t sure if she was being manipulative or genuine anymore.

“Minerva,” he asked, his voice stern but not hateful.

This was the first time that he had addressed her by her real name.

FOR A MOMENT a smile crossed Minerva’s lips as well. Perhaps it would do Henry some good to have the chance to grow up around people of all different backgrounds, all different paths in life. And she would certainly trust MK with him more than she did Bajie. At least MK had some common sense.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of her name. She was fairly certain she hadn’t heard it from him before, and it was enough to halt her thoughts for a moment.

Her brows raised slightly as her eyes fixed on him once more, curious. “Yes?”

#( main verse. post season three au. )#thewcdow

"WHY ARE YOU BEING SO NICE TO ME," M.K. asked. He was looking at Minerva like a confused child, his dull eyes shining with genuine perplexity. "I thought that you hated me," he said, but he held no malice in his tone.

His voice cracked. "Listen, if this is some kind of trick to get me to help you with your gift or something, then you can just quit it, okay," he asked bitterly, but there was an unmistakable sadness in his tone. "Or if you're trying to rid yourself of guilt so that you can make yourself feel better, then I don't want to be any part of it."

He wasn't angry. Just sad.

He looked over at Henry.

"Tilda probably needs you," he said to Minerva, his voice detached.

the-cursed-acolyte:

PERHAPS MINERVA WAS RIGHT. M.K. wasn’t as out of control as he thought that he was. She had a point.

However, he thought it best to wait awhile just to be safe.

But it wouldn’t hurt to keep Henry nearby.

He looked over at the baby and his weak smile grew a little bright. All that innocence. All that purity.

And, in that moment, M.K. felt like he still had some innocence and purity left, too.

Perhaps.

“I’d like to wait,” he said softly. “But…can…can he stay here?”

“I DON’T SEE WHY NOT,” Minerva replied with a small smile. She knew that MK meant no harm to Henry, and although she knew how dangerous the Gift could be, there was a part of her that truly believed MK had enough control to keep himself from hurting Henry. Still, she supposed it would be better to play it safe, especially now while MK was still recovering.

“Perhaps when you’re a bit stronger you can move to another room, one closer to Gaius and I, and if you like, Henry could stay with you overnight,” she offered, not sure whether he would be too fond of the idea or not. “I’m sure we can come up with another cradle, and Gaius and I would be nearby if either of you needed anything.”

#ooc: PFFT the way that i wheezed when i read that #ooc: i love it #ooc: the real mother and son duo we always needed #thewcdow #( main verse. post season three au. )

M.K. SMILED. Henry staying overnight would be nice, but M.K. still wasn't sure if he could control himself. He was also the furthest person fit to be a babysitter.

In fact, he needed a babysitter himself.

"That sounds wonderful," he said softly.

It suddenly occured to him that he had been conversing with Minerva for several minutes (maybe longer), which was odd to him.

He hated the woman who tortured him. He hated the woman who used him. He hated the woman who manipulated him.

But this woman seemed like someone completely different.

He was confused and wasn't sure if she was being manipulative or genuine anymore.

"Minerva," he asked, his voice stern but not hateful.

This was the first time that he had addressed her by her real name.

purpleandpinkhouses

Aramis Knight and Emily Beecham behind the scenes of 2.10

#ooc: The fact that Emily typed “toy boy” instead of “boy toy” is sending me #Emily Beecham #Aramis Knight #Cast #Into The Badlands #AMC #Itb #The Widow #MK #Itbwidow #Itbmk #Twitter

Out of character: Look at our babies. <3

@thcwidow

the-cursed-acolyte:

M.K. SOAKED IN MINERVA’S WORDS. She was right. No one could change the past, but the present was a gift and it was always possible to work towards a better future.

His eyes flickered up to meet her gentle gaze. He noted that she said “But only if you think you can do so without putting too much strain on your injuries” rather than “But only if you think you can do so without losing control and hurting him” or something to that effect.

The distinction meant the world to him. He could sense the sincerity in her tone and knew that the sternness in her voice was one of concern.

His mother used to speak to him that way.

He couldn’t help but smile.

It was a weak smile, but it reached his eyes.

“I’ll be all right,” he said softly. “But…I think that the last thing that I want to do is hold a baby. What if I hurt him?”

“I UNDERSTAND IT, YOU KNOW. Why you’d be afraid. But I don’t think you’ll hurt him.” It was something she truly believed, though she wasn’t entirely confident in her ability to make him believe it as well. “I think you’ve just proved that, you know,” she pointed out a moment later. “You didn’t simply lose control, you were able to keep that from happening. And you had the presence of mind to tell me to take Henry away. Even then, you had his safety in mind.”

She paused, giving him a small smile. “I think you’re more in control than you think you are.” She looked down at Henry for a moment, one hand stroking lightly over his wispy hair. He seemed to be on the verge of sleep, a little contented smile on his face. “It’s alright though, you don’t have to hold him until you’re ready. In the meantime, it might do you some good just to spend a bit of time with him, every now and then. Or as often as you want.”

PERHAPS MINERVA WAS RIGHT. M.K. wasn't as out of control as he thought that he was. She had a point.

However, he thought it best to wait awhile just to be safe.

But it wouldn't hurt to keep Henry nearby.

He looked over at the baby and his weak smile grew a little bright. All that innocence. All that purity.

And, in that moment, M.K. felt like he still had some innocence and purity left, too.

Perhaps.

"I'd like to wait," he said softly. "But...can...can he stay here?"

the-cursed-acolyte:

M.K. CLOSED HIS EYES. The anger was subsiding. “Her eyes were blue,” he whispered again. “A light blue. And she…And she understood me. She was…I….”. He lowered his head. “I was gonna bring her with me. With Sunny and I.” He choked up. “All three of us, and Bajie, we were gonna go home to Veil and Henry, but we can’t do that anymore, because Ava is gone, and Veil is gone, and Sunny is gone, and even Lydia is gone.”

He wasn’t angry anymore. Just devastated. Broken.

“They’re all gone,” he whispered, tears cascading down his cheeks like waterfalls. “And my mom, too. Everyone is gone.”

Except Henry, Bajie, and Tilda.

He had them.

He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. The pain in his abdomen had subsided, but probably only because of the bouts of pain medication that he was given. Still, no pain medication would relieve him of his emotional torment, but he decided to hold onto whatever hope that he had left.

He turned to look at Minerva again. He held no hatred in his eyes, and for the first time since he had looked at her, his eyes showed who he truly was. They weren’t black and beady, and they weren’t stone cold trying to put up a tough front. They were the eyes of a broken boy, showing the loss of innocence.

But a glimmer of hope and innocence still remained.

“Henry,” he whispered. “I’d like to see him again.”

MINERVA WAS SILENT FOR A LONG TIME, just listening. It was something she hadn’t realised until recently, that it could be helpful to just have someone to listen to you. She had spent so many years bottling everything up, and little by little, Lydia had gotten her to talk, had gotten her to start allowing herself to trust people again. And so much of that had been accomplished merely by being willing to listen.

Several moments passed in silence after MK had finished before Minerva dared to speak again.

“It’s part of life, I suppose – losing people we love,” she mused quietly. “That part we can’t change. But we don’t have to lose them brutally, horribly. That part, that doesn’t have to be something we just expect and accept. That part, we can change. We have to,” she added, her voice cracking. “We can’t change the past, but we can try to make the future better.”

All she could really manage was a sad smile, and in the next moment, she gave a small nod in response to his question. “Yes, of course,” she answered softly, turning to leave the room once more.

Returning shortly afterward, she tentatively sat on the edge of the bed as she had before, carefully cradling Henry in her arms. “Would you like to hold him?” she asked quietly after a moment. “But only if you think you can do so without putting too much strain on your injuries,” she added, just a hint of a stern tone creeping into her voice.

M.K. SOAKED IN MINERVA'S WORDS. She was right. No one could change the past, but the present was a gift and it was always possible to work towards a better future.

His eyes flickered up to meet her gentle gaze. He noted that she said "But only if you think you can do so without putting too much strain on your injuries" rather than "But only if you think you can do so without losing control and hurting him" or something to that effect.

The distinction meant the world to him. He could sense the sincerity in her tone and knew that the sternness in her voice was one of concern.

His mother used to speak to him that way.

He couldn't help but smile.

It was a weak smile, but it reached his eyes.

"I'll be all right," he said softly. "But...I think that the last thing that I want to do is hold a baby. What if I hurt him?"

the-cursed-acolyte:

WHILE MINERVA WAS GONE, M.K.’S emotions only continued to fester. Flashes of his friend Tate being needled and the death of Ava ran through his mind.

Everything that the Master made him see, he would never forget. He was still recovering from it. Every night, he was plagued with the visions that she had planted in his mind. He wanted to forget how he killed the people on the boat. He wanted to forget what he had seen of his mother.

The Master had caused nothing but pain and suffering for him and countless others.

But Minerva’s calm voice seemed to ease him out of his increasingly emotional state.

He heard her ask him about Ava and what she was like.

Suddenly, the horrifying images that had been running through his mind were replaced with glimpses of happiness, all involving Ava.

“Blonde,” he began, his voice hushed. “She had blonde hair. She…She always wore it down. With braids.”

A hint of a smile appeared on his face as he remembered the way that her hair fell across her eyes while they trained together. How she laughed when she knocked him on his behind and watched him pout.

She had been more than a friend to him during their journey. They shared a bond that no one would understand. Not only did they share the Gift, but they both wanted to be rid of it. They were able to understand each other just by looking into each other’s eyes. He vividly remembered their last moments of joy before he lost her. They sat around their makeshift campfire, and she opened up to him about what she had done and how she wanted to make up for it. He told her the same thing, and as they spoke, he had held her hand. He was sure that they were going to be together forever.

And then, just minutes later, she was so cruelly ripped away from him.

In her last moments, knowing that he couldn’t save her, he had asked her to look at him. Focus on him.

“Blue,” he said quietly. “Her eyes were blue.”

SHE WATCHED HIM CAREFULLY, cautiously, even. Oh, she hoped this would work, even if she was rather unconfident that it would. Still, she had to do something, and it was worth a try.

Minerva could imagine it, the pain, the anger that MK must be feeling in that moment. She could all but read it in his eyes. It was all too familiar, those overwhelming emotions – it was what she had felt as she watched Tilda move in front of her, MK’s blade piercing her instead, that overwhelming pain that seemed to grip at her heart, anger that lit a fire within her very soul. She remembered it all too clearly, could imagine MK must be feeling something similar if it was affecting him this much. With those feelings coursing through her, they had gotten the better of her, she had lost control. She wouldn’t let that happen to MK now, not if she could help it.

“Good, that’s good,” she said gently, encouragingly. “Just keep focusing on her. Talk, if it helps. But you don’t have to. Just focus on Ava.”

M.K. CLOSED HIS EYES. The anger was subsiding. "Her eyes were blue," he whispered again. "A light blue. And she...And she understood me. She was...I....". He lowered his head. "I was gonna bring her with me. With Sunny and I." He choked up. "All three of us, and Bajie, we were gonna go home to Veil and Henry, but we can't do that anymore, because Ava is gone, and Veil is gone, and Sunny is gone, and even Lydia is gone."

He wasn't angry anymore. Just devastated. Broken.

"They're all gone," he whispered, tears cascading down his cheeks like waterfalls. "And my mom, too. Everyone is gone."

Except Henry, Bajie, and Tilda.

He had them.

He turned to look at Minerva again. He held no hatred in his eyes, and for the first time since he had looked at her, his eyes showed who he truly was. They weren't black and beady, and they weren't stone cold trying to put up a tough front. They were the eyes of a broken boy, showing the loss of innocence.

But a glimmer of hope and innocence still remained.

"Henry," he whispered. "I'd like to see him again."

the-cursed-acolyte:

“SHE KILLED AVA,” M.K. blubbered bitterly, tears falling from his eyes like a waterfall. “She forced me to stay in that place. Forced me to see things that-”. He paused to shudder at the memory of what he did to the people on the boat. What the Master had manipulated him to think that he did to his mother. That he had killed her.

He shuddered again, wrapping his arms around himself as he remembered Ava’s death.

How the Master and her Abbots sent Ava flying through something sharp, impaling her.

How she died in his arms while he could do nothing to save her.

Funny. At the time, he had been rid of his gift, which is what he had been trying to do all along, but he couldn’t help but think that if it had stayed with him just a little while longer that he might have been able to save Ava.

“I hate the Master,” he said, a sob tearing from his throat. “I hate her. She deserved to die. She deserved it after what she did to Ava.”

But not the way that it happened.

Not to help Pilgrim.

Not in Pilgrim’s name.

Suddenly, M.K. felt like he was being drowned in a stormy ocean with no way out. He clamped his hands down on his throbbing head.

“Get Henry away from me,” he gasped.

He felt something.

Something was happening.

Something had snapped.

MINERVA KNEW BETTER than to argue. She had once felt much the same as MK clearly still did. She had had a change of heart, however. She still had her disagreements with the way the Master had seemed to always do things, but she had gained some glimmer of understanding in those last moments.

She didn’t need to be told twice – in an instant she was on her feet, carrying Henry out of the room. She supposed she was lucky, nearly running straight into a girl about Tilda’s age passing by – Talli, that was her name. Minerva was quick to hand off Henry to her, the girl seeming more than happy to take him up to his cradle for a nap. Her next instruction had been to find Bajie, and quickly. It would be far too easy for this to get out of hand, and at least Bajie would be able to quickly shut down a fight, if either one of them were to lose control.

Within just a few moments she was back inside the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She kept her distance this time – better safe than sorry.

“MK–” She spoke calmly, though admittedly somewhat hesitantly as she searched her mind for something, anything that might help. Her mind settled on the strategy Gaius always seemed to use to calm her when she woke in a panic from her nightmares – she wasn’t sure it would work in this situation, but it was worth a try. Focus, distraction, they could be powerful things, she had learned. She found herself rather doubtful that it would help, but she had to try.

“Tell me about Ava,” she said quickly. “What did she look like? What did her voice sound like. Focus on those, tell me about her.”

#thcwidow #( main verse. post season three au. )

WHILE MINERVA WAS GONE, M.K.'S emotions only continued to fester. Flashes of his friend Tate being needled and the death of Ava ran through his mind.

The Master had caused nothing but pain and suffering for him and countless others.

But Minerva's calm voice seemed to ease him out of his increasingly emotional state.

He heard her ask him about Ava and what she was like.

Suddenly, the horrifying images that had been running through his mind were replaced with glimpses of happiness, all involving Ava.

"Blonde," he began, his voice hushed. "She had blonde hair. She...She always wore it down. With braids."

She had been more than a friend to him during their journey. They shared a bond that no one would understand. Not only did they share the Gift, but they both wanted to be rid of it. They were able to understand each other just by looking into each other's eyes. He vividly remembered their last moments of joy before he lost her. They sat around their makeshift campfire, and she opened up to him about what she had done and how she wanted to make up for it. He told her the same thing, and as they spoke, he had held her hand. He was sure that they were going to be together forever.

And then, just minutes later, she was so cruelly ripped away from him.

In her last moments, knowing that he couldn't save her, he had asked her to look at him. Focus on him.

"Blue," he said quietly. "Her eyes were blue."

the-cursed-acolyte:

M.K. VISIBILY TENSED AT THE MENTION OF THE MASTER AND HIS SMILE FELL. She had manipulated him and forced him to stay at the Abbot monestary against his will.

It was because of her that Ava died, and he had grown to have very strong feelings for Ava.

M.K. had killed the Master, which he would have been okay with, if he hadn’t done it to help Pilgrim.

Looking back on it, M.K. had the choice to help the lesser of two evils, and he had chosen the more evil one.

He wasn’t sad that the Master had died. In fact, he was relieved, but it felt like a hollow victory.

“She died from a stab wound,” he said weakly, his voice tainted with shame. “Didn’t she?”

THE CHANGE IN HIS EXPRESSION didn’t escape Minerva, and to an extent, she could understand it. “She did,” she answered quietly, a small nod of confirmation accompanying her response.

Her expression grew thoughtful, and she eyed MK curiously for a moment. “You weren’t fond of her, were you,” she stated, more of an observation than a question. “I can understand that. I hated her for a long time. I suppose I blamed her in part for so much that happened to me. Well, her and Bajie both. It was easier, to just be angry.” She let out a little laugh, slowly shaking her head.

“She taught me a lot, in the end. About the Gift, about myself – I wanted it back for all the wrong reasons. And now… I’d do anything to be rid of it again. Ironic, I suppose.”

#( main verse. post season three au. )#thcwidow

"SHE KILLED AVA," M.K. blubbered bitterly, tears falling from his eyes like a waterfall. "She forced me to stay in that place. Forced me to see things that-". He paused to shudder at the memory of what he did to the people on the boat. What the Master had manipulated him to think that he did to his mother. That he had killed her.

He shuddered again, wrapping his arms around himself as he remembered Ava's death.

How the Master and her Abbots sent Ava flying through something sharp, impaling her.

How she died in his arms while he could do nothing to save her.

Funny. At the time, he had been rid of his gift, which is what he had been trying to do all along, but he couldn't help but think that if it had stayed with him just a little while longer that he might have been able to save Ava.

"I hate the Master," he said, a sob tearing from his throat. "I hate her. She deserved to die. She deserved it after what she did to Ava."

But not the way that it happened.

Not to help Pilgrim.

Not in Pilgrim's name.

Suddenly, M.K. felt like he was being drowned in a stormy ocean with no way out. He clamped his hands down on his throbbing head.

"Get Henry away from me," he gasped.

He felt something.

Something was happening.

Something had snapped.

the-cursed-acolyte:

LYDIA WAS DEAD. M.K. didn’t need to be told that. He had never been close with the woman, but he had heard stories about her and he knew that she had been kind. He knew that Quinn was her husband and M.K. had experienced first-hand how terrible that man could be. He wondered if Quinn was the one who had killed her.

Suddenly, M.K. felt an overwhelming swarm of guilt crash down on him.

Pilgrim had caused so much harm and so much grief to so many people, and M.K. had been his number one supporter.

However, M.K. neglected to realize that he and the rest of Pilgrim’s followers were also victims. All that he could feel was guilt.

But he could ease that guilt. He could make up for everything, like Minerva said. He could be a part of making the world a better place.

For Tilda. For Bajie.

He smiled at the baby.

For Henry.

M.K. had taken so many losses, but there was still so much more to lose and he wasn’t about to let any of it slip away again.

He turned his head and gave Minerva a smile. It was the first time that he had ever smiled at her. It was a very faint smile, but it was genuine. She was the last person who he expected to make him smile. It was a welcome surprise.

“Of course,” he told her. “I would love to be a part of that.”

A SMALL SMILE CROSSED MINERVA’S LIPS at MK’s answer. It was a relief, really. He would be a great asset, not because of the Gift, not because of what he could do, but simply because of who he was.

“All I ever wanted was a better world,” she mused quietly. “I wanted to change things, and I went about it in all the wrong ways.” She let out a dry laugh. “It’s so easy to see it in retrospect, everywhere I went wrong. Lydia helped me begin to see that. And the Master. I owe them both so much, and they’re both gone…”

She trailed off into silence for a moment, then shook her head slowly, as though to shake the thought away. She wasn’t usually so emotional, so sentimental. It bordered on irritating – or at least, it once would have. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

#thcwidow #( main verse. post season three au. )

M.K. VISIBILY TENSED AT THE MENTION OF THE MASTER AND HIS SMILE FELL. She had manipulated him and forced him to stay at the Abbot monestary against his will.

It was because of her that Ava died, and he had grown to have very strong feelings for Ava.

M.K. had killed the Master, which he would have been okay with, if he hadn't done it to help Pilgrim.

Looking back on it, M.K. had the choice to help the lesser of two evils, and he had chosen the more evil one.

He wasn't sad that the Master had died. In fact, he was relieved, but it felt like a hollow victory.

"She died from a stab wound," he said weakly, his voice tainted with shame. "Didn't she?"

the-cursed-acolyte:

MK COULDN’T EVEN REMEMBER THE LAST TIME THAT HE SMILED SO WIDE. He wasn’t even thinking about his power or if he was dangerous or if people were looking at him. All that mattered to him was Henry.

Suddenly, M.K.’s eyes welled up with tears. “You know something,” he asked the baby with a chuckle. “My mom would have loved you.”

In that moment, he looked at Henry’s outstretched hand and briefly considered reaching out to touch it.

He raised his hand, but lowered it seconds later in shame.

“Sorry,” he whispered, heartbroken. “I would hold you, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“AT THE MOMENT,” Minerva began quietly, “I think you’d be more likely to hurt yourself than you would be to hurt him,” she pointed out. “But I don’t think you would hurt him. And when you’re stronger, you can hold him.”

She fell silent for a moment, just looking fondly down at Henry for a while, then glancing back to MK, even her expression growing somewhat hesitant.

“I was hoping that… after we defeated Pilgrim, Lydia would be the one to lead us,” she began, speaking slowly, her brow furrowed and a frown on her lips. “But… that’s not possible now.” She paused, letting out a shaky breath. “At this point, I think if we want a better world to live in, we have to all work together to make it so. I do hope you will be a part of that.”

LYDIA WAS DEAD. M.K. didn't need to be told that. He had never been close with the woman, but he had heard stories about her and he knew that she had been kind. He knew that Quinn was her husband and M.K. had experienced first-hand how terrible that man could be. He wondered if Quinn was the one who had killed her.

Suddenly, M.K. felt an overwhelming swarm of guilt crash down on him.

Pilgrim had caused so much harm and so much grief to so many people, and M.K. had been his number one supporter.

However, M.K. neglected to realize that he and the rest of Pilgrim's followers were also victims. All that he could feel was guilt.

But he could ease that guilt. He could make up for everything, like Minerva said. He could be a part of making the world a better place.

For Tilda. For Bajie.

He smiled at the baby.

For Henry.

M.K. had taken so many losses, but there was still so much more to lose and he wasn't about to let any of it slip away again.

"Of course," he told her. "I would love to be a part of that."

the-cursed-acolyte:

WHEN M.K. LAID EYES ON THE BABY, HE FELT A RUSH OF PURE JOY FLOW THROUGH HIM. Henry looked like the perfect mix between Sunny and Veil. He had Sunny’s eyes and Veil’s skin. There was a certain purity about him despite the horrors he had seen, and M.K. was determined to preserve that innocence no matter what the cost.

“Hey, little man,” he cooed in the softest and most gentle voice, and he sounded so much like Sunny when he said that. “I’ve heard so much about you, Henry. My name is M.K.” He chuckled softly, “I know. It’s a weird name, but my mom gave it to me and she was awesome.”

His heart sunk.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he whispered. “And your dad. They were both great people. Your uncle Bajie and I are gonna tell you all about them.”

He smiled again. “Don’t you worry,” he said quietly. “I’m your big brother now. Nothing is ever going to happen to you. I promise.”

He meant that. M.K. was going to protect and love that child for the rest of his life.

MINERVA COULDN’T KEEP the soft smile from spreading across her lips as MK began to talk to Henry. It gave her hope, someone. Hope that there could be something better in the world, something better than all of them have known. It wouldn’t be easy – there was so much work do be done if they were to build an entirely new society out of the ashes of the one they had burned to the ground. But at the very least, there was hope.

As MK spoke about Sunny and Veil, she found herself struggling to hold back tears. This poor child had lost both of his parents, and that was partially due to her actions. She hated herself for that. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was much more difficult than it used to be, much to her annoyance.

“You will be a wonderful brother to him, I think,” she said gently after a moment, her voice catching in her throat, just a bit. “He’ll be lucky to have you.”