#Shannon x mary

[daisychainsandbowties]

ava only fully understanding now what mary had lost in shannon, having picked up more of the story than mary had been willing to share in those scant few weeks before her disappearance. having had time to sit with herself and be able to look back and see the way mary had been so thoroughly wrapped around an absence, a corpse, and now in the aftermath clinging so tightly to her, to this idea of what she could have done to bea had she not survived

picking the story out of bea like unwrapping a wound. nights in switzerland with the windows open and the lights off and the whole world reduced to beatrice’s voice.

talking about mary so precisely, never slipping on the grammar. always mary is, like words alone could bring her home. but then the shift, inevitable, as beatrice draws the past out of her pocket like an old receipt and smooths it onto the table so that ava can look, breathing in a half-forgotten scent.

cedarwood and oil paint drying (‘it takes a very long time’). turpentine and a mug full of paint water and shannon’s mouth against it. charcoal dust and pencils scattered over her desk. boots propped by the door.

how mary would look at her. the glancing touches, the way they’d hold each other after missions and it made beatrice think of atoms colliding at great speed. turning into light, turning everything to dust.

beatrice looking down at her hands as the grammar shifts to shannon was.

when ava phases, her body turns to diffuse light, threads of scattered gold. she wants to ask beatrice if there’s ever a trace, a sketch, a silhouette of someone else inside that light.

she doesn’t ask, but when mary comes back she tells ava that she sees shannon everywhere. in the light falling down behind the hills. in roof tiles and old hoodies and too many pairs of boots.

‘do you see her in me?’

‘i see her in beatrice. with you it’s… more of a feeling.’

‘like a vibe?’

a slow, fond smile. ‘sure. it’s like a vibe.’

both of them roasting marshmallows on a campfire and beatrice just visible between the trees, stooping to collect more wood. when mary speaks again her voice has an ache inside it.

‘sometimes when i’m standing next to you i forget where i am, and it’s like i’m catching her light, casting her shadow.’

ava taking her hand, putting her head on mary’s shoulder and feeling a sudden surge of warmth in the halo. like a hand reaching out to grasp them both.

but all she says is, ‘you fucked up your marshmallow.’

they swap sticks so that when bea comes back she kneels next to ava, puts her hand over ava’s hand to teach her how to do it right. mary shaking with silent laughter as ava pretends to be clueless for the sake of bea saying, ‘here, like this. close but not too close to the flames.’

ava thinking too late, i’m already in the fire. i’m already alight.

kissing bea when she’s finished her demonstration and making her taste-test the perfectly cooked marshmallow. mary groaning and ava laughing into bea’s mouth, tasting sugar, carbon, fire.

watching mary sit next to the dying light as bea sets up their sleeping bags. ava privately of the opinion that they definitely don’t need two of them. then turning, seeing mary upset the ashes, look into the sky, lips moving.

maybe it’s prayer. ava knows she prayed to beatrice on the other side.

going into the tent and kissing bea slow, tender, hiding an apology in her mouth, on the inside of her arm, between her breasts. knowing she was almost an absence, like shannon. a loss, a thing of light and dust. knowing mary will never unravel it from her bones. but knowing, as she did when she kissed bea the first time, that love is worth holding, worth having. even for an instant, for the length of a kiss and a goodbye.

that a house is only ever haunted because someone lived in it, slept in it, painted its walls and ate meals in the kitchen. she wakes up in the morning and mary’s there, making coffee, telling ava that shannon always put a spoonful of sugar in hers, but no milk.

‘bittersweet?’

‘yeah.’

and ava knows from bea that mary drinks her coffee unsweetened, but sometimes with a little milk. and yet watching as mary pours out the coffee and empties a sugar packet into hers. sipping it and looking out at the trees, at the forest, at all these places shannon has never touched.

[ao3feed-avatrice]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Shotgun Mary/Shannon Masters, Sister Camila/Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun) Characters: Ava Silva, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Sister Camila (Warrior Nun), Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun), Shannon Masters, Jillian Salvius, Michael Salvius, Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Father Vincent (Warrior Nun), Yasmine Amunet, J.C. (Warrior Nun), Chanel (Warrior Nun) Additional Tags: Fake Marriage, fake marriage au, Slow Burn, like excruciatingly slow, Angst, and they were ROOMMATES, alternating pov, two authors one brain cell, our google doc keeps crashing, rated explicit for sex in later chapters, we've written so many words send help Summary:

“Bea.” Ava tilts forward to take her hands. “You are literally one of the most interesting people I have ever met.” Beatrice opens her mouth but Ava pushes on. “I have loved getting to know you over these past weeks and I can’t wait to deceive the American government with you. I am all in.”

Beatrice is blushing furiously.

“Thank you,” she chokes out.

“The pleasure is all mine, babe.”

[busyheaded]

someone to you [1/1]

words: 10,209 summary: When Shannon sees Beatrice for the last time, it’s through the eyes of the paralyzed girl that followed in her footsteps. Beatrice is twenty-five, and Shannon has been dead for two years.

or, a Beatrice character study through the perspective of Shannon.

excerpt:

Mary is the strongest light in her life.

And even more than that, Mary is here.

She’s not stuck in a book on her bedside table, thin pages and circular words. She’s not hidden in misconstrued life events, not lost to the myths of time. She’s not so far away that Shannon must kneel at her bed to speak with her, and she’s not so unreachable that Shannon can’t tell if she’s even listening. Instead, she’s holding Shannon’s hand, flesh on flesh, fingers intertwined. She’s feeding Shannon pieces of apple, or bringing her cups of tea when they study in the library. She’s holding Shannon in her arms, strong and true and saved just for her.

Mary is here in all the ways that God never was, and she’s absent in all the ways the Church forced their way through.

Of course, when Beatrice asks if Shannon ever has had regrets about taking her vows and becoming a nun, Shannon says, “No, never.”

Right away she wishes she could take it back. It’s just that Beatrice looked so nervous to even ask that she figured she should answer confidently, and she didn’t even know what to say or where to start, and by the time the firmness of her answer catches up to her, all she can see is the way Beatrice’s expression melts into relief. Or is it helplessness?

Shannon isn’t sure, and before she can figure it out, the moment passes.

Three days later, Beatrice takes her vows.

Shannon congratulates her, wraps her arms around her tightly, and tries not to feel like a noose.

READ MORE ON AO3

[feiquacker]

Masterpost :D

Warrior Nun (mainly hurt!bea) ficlets I have posted on tumblr but not on AO3

Most of these are continuations of @ritsuuu-0206 and the hurt!bea server's ideas. Be aware that I make weird typos and stupid mistakes :D

TW: Child Abuse, Torture, Violence, Homophobic/ableist slurs

School AU

Bea and Ava prompt: Alone

I tie Bea up and whip her

Bea snaps at the fam after being injured

Bea and her overprotective family

Bea has a fever before the news of Mary

Fluffy Avatrice with their kid

Each one of these has a happy ending!! No dead!Bea. I do not bury my gays.

[godsweakestsoldier]

Okay I see your came back wrong and your came back and now they’re happy. Let me raise you a third one, came back and desires to be dead again. Bear with me. A character bringing another character back from the dead with the best intentions, filled with so much love. Then the character comes back, and goes I wish you would’ve let me stay dead.

[whyislenaluthorsohot]

Ava and Shannon being two halves of the same whole. Two bodies brought into the Church, one dead and one alive. Only one walked out. Did Shannon know she was a placeholder? Did she know she wasn't destined to be the hero, but a martyr in the name of something greater?

Shannon and Ava traded lives. Shannon gave her life, the Halo, to Ava while Ava gave her death to Shannon, both done so unknowingly. Shannon was the heart of the Sister Warriors and she passed that down to Ava. Both were the heart. Did Shannon know everything would break without her? Or did she know her sisters would rally with the new Warrior Nun?

Did Shannon watch as everything crumbled and everything she believed in die? Did she mourn Lilith, both in death and betrayal, for she is was her sister? Did she watch as Mary gave her life for her sisters to live, did she feel relief?

Did Shannon watch as Beatrice and Ava fell in love and denied themselves only to watch them be doomed for a Warrior Nun is never truly theirs? Did she see Mary and herself within them and know how their story would end? As another tragedy. Or did she watch them go through trial after trial and believe they would survive? Believed that they would get to live with each other as Mary and she never had the chance to.

Two girls enter a church, one dead and one alive. Only one walks out, the one not expected. Is she the same person as the one alive or different? Two halves of the same coin are always doomed.

[xenaisnumber1]

Amazing how a ship has less than 10 minutes together and you still become obsessed with them

[deusamatne]

yall ever think about the parallel between mary declaring ‘in this life’ and ava declaring ‘in the next’?

mary breaks formation to avenge someone she loves and she dies. Ava breaks formation to save someone she loves and she dies. Both were done out of love and both ended tragically. Both were on the last ep of the last season

[avassharpe]

Warrior Nun 1x07 | Ephesians 4:22-24

[birgittesilverbae]

Ava + Mary (platonic), introduction

"Mary. Mary. Mary."

The uproarious laughter continues on the other end of the phone, loud enough that Ava has to pull it away from her ear. She flops back down on her bed and waits for Mary to regain her composure, kicking her feet idly off the end of the bed.

Finally, Mary gathers herself enough to speak, though the odd chuckle breaks through every few words. "I'm going to put you on speaker so you can repeat that for Shannon."

"I absolutely do not want to repeat that for Shannon, she already thinks I'm a moron."

"I don't think you're a moron, Aves," a second voice chimes in, and Ava sits up solely so she can fling herself down again even more dramatically. "Impulsive, maybe, flighty, sure, but a moron? Hardly."

"See? Shannon tolerates you. Tell her what you did."

"No."

"Ava," Shannon pleads, elongating the vowels, "I need something to cheer me up. I had to spend half of last night holding Lilith's hair back while she lost her dinner."

"You didn't have to," Mary rebuts, her tone edging towards sour.

"You weren't exactly lining up to help her."

"She's a big girl, she can look after herself."

"She shouldn't have to, not when–"

"Brunch," Ava interrupts, before they can sink further into the easy bickering that she knows from far too much experience will inevitably lead to innuendo-heavy flirting.

"What?"

"I'll tell Shannon about it if you take me to brunch."

"Deal."

"Mary, we already had plans–"

"I wanted them to–"

"True, this could work–"

"Meet us in the lobby in fifteen," Mary says, while Ava's head is still whirling as she tries to sort out the muddled conversation. "Wear something nice. A white dress, maybe."

"Fuck you."

//

Twenty minutes later, Ava stumbles out of the elevator, sunglasses slotted tight against her face and hood pulled up over the rat's nest of hair she'd been unable to tame in the interim. She scans the lobby, spots Mary and Shannon near the centrepiece fountain, each with a hand in the back pocket of the other's jeans. Disgusting. 

They're talking intently to someone, heads bent together, Mary's gaze flicking across the room every so often. She jerks her head to beckon Ava over once she spots her. Ava crosses to them gingerly, slings one arm around Mary's shoulders and the other around Shannon's as she forces her way between them, their hands slipping back to their sides. 

Ava's left knee buckles as she puts her weight on it and she begins to spill forward, but Mary catches her around the waist and sets her back on her feet. She takes the opportunity to bring her mouth close to Ava's ear. "Shannon's Person of Honour," she whispers, then swings Ava around to face the third member of their party. "Ava, this is Beatrice. Beatrice, Ava."

"Hi!" Ava starts, shoving a hand out as she lifts her head.

"We've met," a familiar voice replies dryly, the accompanying wry smile making Ava's knee go weak again. "Shan, Mary, allow me to introduce you to my wife."

[wordsmith30]

A parallel I haven’t seen much talk about: how Lilith goes on the warpath for Mary the same way Mary went on the warpath for Shannon (and how they both fall into Vincent’s trap).

Season one Lilith was all about the OCS (or rather her ambition for the Halo). She told Mary not a day after Shannon’s murder that she needed to think about the mission, not her own personal agenda (which was not only hypocritical, but as Beatrice said, unfair). And in that same scene, she dismissed Mary as not being a true member of the team because she wasn’t a nun and didn’t take vows like the rest of them. She was a free agent who operated on her own terms.

But after their tearful reconciliation in the catacombs, Vincent’s betrayal, and Mary’s subsequent disappearance under an army of wraith demons, Lilith’s priorities shift significantly. The start of season two finds her as the new lone wolf as she hunts down Vincent herself. And while the OCS is just as interested in finding him to get to Adriel, Lilith’s only concern is Mary. She’s ready to tear him apart herself, just as Mary threatened that man in 1×02, and then later goes through a whole squadron with her bare hands.

The part that really gets me, though, is Lilith and Vincent’s scene in the car. She’s finally got a lead after two months, finally has a location on Mary. And despite being outnumbered, despite being about to walk into Adriel’s fortress without backup, there isn’t one shred of fear or hesitation. She just tells Vincent to signal the guards. “Put a foot out of place and I’ll –”

“You’ll kill me. I know,” Vincent says.

A small smile plays around Lilith’s mouth. “I won’t kill you,” she says easily. “I’d never take that pleasure away from Mary.”

She gives him a pointed look and Vincent just grimaces before they climb out of the car.

Vincent is jovial as he greets the guards and then gestures to Lilith with an outstretched arm. “I have brought home a friend.”

And Lilith, chuckling, slides right into the embrace like it’s nothing, even putting her head on his shoulder. They walk through the gates just like that, leaning against each other.

It’s such a cruel twist of the knife to think that that’s how they were before. We’ve only really seen Vincent’s one-on-one dynamic with Ava, Mary, and Beatrice, but this ease, this familiarity with Lilith is something completely different. Given her family’s history with the OCS and her claim that she’s trained harder than anyone else, she was probably one of the closest to him.

Their embrace is that of a father and daughter. This was someone she could laugh with, lean on, confide in. Someone she trusted to take care of her. Now it’s just a part she plays on paper so that she can get her real family back.

[daisychainsandbowties]

thinking about how groups in isolation grow close with rapidity, develop bonds and rely on each other for physical comfort at the same speed with which lesbians U-Haul, and so you shove a bunch of queer girls into a socially isolated situation like Cat's Cradle and they develop a shorthand, they seek each other out for the quiet touches they can't get from family or friends anymore, they collapse into cuddle puddles in the grass after training and braid each other's hair and hold each other close and watch each other die

Help I’m thinking about this post and shanmary signing to each other and the implications of that across the whole OCS.

Shannon sitting cross-legged with Beatrice in the afternoons when they’re both exhausted from training, walking her through the movements and the syntax and the variations on each sign.

Bea and Shannon use it when Shannon finally persuades Beatrice to be her lookout while she pranks Lilith.

The tall, intimidating figure who catches Bea the first time because she’s too distracted by conspiratorial grins and Shannon touching her arm as she sprints down the hall.

“Come on!” but Bea’s still fresh to the OCS, and this request is absent the snap of command that usually shadows Shannon’s voice.

In a flurry of dark hair and angry eyes she finds herself pinned to the wall by Lilith, her nails bloody from climbing the drainpipe after Shannon emptied a bucket of water down onto her from the window above.

Stunned by that touch, unmoving. Lilith, who quirks an eyebrow, “Not even going to put up a fight?”

Shannon signing to get Bea’s attention when she’s on the verge of a panic attack. Naming sensations and they’re variations on “i can feel you. i can hear you.”

“you’re here.”

Beatrice with all her languages learning this new one from Shannon and also a separate language of touch. She’s so remote at first, flinching from everything but fists, until Mary pulls her aside and makes her play stupid hand-dexterity games that leave her palms stinging and her face flushed.

Sometimes, Lilith catches her under the chin with her fingers as she walks by, a silent “chin up” reminding her she’s a warrior now, not a disgraced daughter.

Mary bracing Bea with her arm when they stumble out of a tear-gassed room, palm over Bea’s mouth because fuck knows what they put in those cannisters, fuck knows if it might be lethal in high doses.

Beatrice learns to do these things in return, turning her head into Lilith's chest when the field medic takes her gloved hands out of someone’s chest and asks for the time. Lilith's mouth, warm on her temple, she who never looks away.

Helping Mary clean the guns and butting shoulders as they work, sharing Mary's earbuds. Beatrice only nodding cryptically when Mary asks if she likes a particular song - in her head thinking ‘I like you. the song’s just noise we’re both hearing.’

Shannon and Bea mirroring their movements with the bō, wordless competitions for who can spin it the longest without dropping it. Bea watching Mary and Shannon sit out on the grass, Shannon with her arms around Mary as Mary sits bracketed by her legs, pulling up blades of grass with a complicated expression.

Bea signs on the days she doesn’t want to speak. Lilith teases that she’s one of those silent nuns who only speak to god (but gently, gently) thumb tucked under Bea’s chin as she checks a graze on her cheekbone. Bea, transfixed by Lilith’s tight, concerned frown.

A dry, “Oh yes, how astonishing that someone might give a shit about you” from Lilith before she notes Beatrice’s stricken expression, squeezes her shoulder and makes an odd, abortive motion like she wants to brush her lips over Bea’s forehead, but thought the better of it.

Mary who won’t learn Spanish but picks this up, if not with ease then with determination, with renewed fervor when Shannon gets the halo. Looking to her ears for the telltale trickle of ruptured eardrums before dropping back to this, their shared voice.

And this, too, is how they learn to die.

Beatrice fixing the straps on Lilith’s vest, tugging them tight so the armor won’t collapse into a puncturing shape at the point of impact. Lilith letting her do it - the routine is like with a hazmat suit or a space suit. Check your own, check someone else, and let them check you.

“You look ridiculous in that hood, like a worm.”

“Thank you Lilith.” As Bea tightens the last strap, smooths it flat. Her hand lingers so Lilith takes it. Why not?

“Don’t die tonight, okay?” Lilith pauses. “I refuse to attend a vigil mass for a worm.”

Beatrice bites back on something. Lilith knows what it is, knows what she looks like, has wrestled Shannon over it and scowled at Mary - “Wow Lil, now you match your personality. A dickhead.”

All the stupid little nerd says is, “I’ll see you in the van.”

And she does, but it’s with Shannon’s blood on her hands, the divinium in her body casting little lights on the ceiling of the van, like glow-in-the-dark stars. Lilith’s eyes roaming in the rearview mirror, both hands busy on the wheel, as Shannon coughs on a mouthful of blood and switches to her hands.

They shake, fluttering out their meanings as street lights switchback in over the tense shape of Lilith’s shoulder.

“Hey,”

Beatrice wants to clutch her hands but she wants the words, too.

Her voice breaks around the response, so she mirrors, like they’re doing forms on the grass, like they’re home.

“Hey.”

[ao3feed-avatrice]

Chapters: 18/18 Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Sister Beatrice & Sister Camila & Sister Lilith & Shotgun Mary & Shannon Masters & Ava Silva, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Shotgun Mary/Shannon Masters, Sister Camila/Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun) Characters: Ava Silva, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun), Shannon Masters, Sister Camila (Warrior Nun), Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Jillian Salvius, Michael Salvius, Background & Cameo Characters, Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Cardinal Duretti (Warrior Nun) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Ballerina x Lighting Designer AU, POV Alternating, Ballerina Sister Beatrice, Lighting Designer Ava Silva, Ambulatory Wheelchair User Ava Silva, the burn feels slow but they're still moving at a gay pace, Strangers to Lovers, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Bad Parenting, Sister Beatrice Needs a Hug (Warrior Nun), Dysfunctional Family, Medical Device, Chronic Pain, Medical Procedures, Minor Injuries, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Comedy, happy pride!! Summary:

coda (n.): in music, a passage that brings a piece (or a movement) to an end

 Ava Silva has everything she’s ever wanted. Her dream job designing lights for the Royal Ballet. An apartment bigger than a shoebox. A city to explore full of sexy accents and taxis that are all (yes, ALL) equipped with ramps.

Beatrice Young has everything she’s ever wanted. A coveted spot as one of the youngest ever principal dancers at the Royal Ballet. The role of a lifetime. A routine that makes it so that she never has to worry about what happens next.

It’s funny how quickly things change.

[warriornunusa]

OMG IT'S HAPPENING!!!!!

SOMETHING IS HAPPENING!!!!!!

Warrior Nun Substack Email TODAY!!!

What do you think it means?! Omg I am panicking! Good panic, sensible panic, but panic all the same!!!

I can be calm. I can be patient.

🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[solarsleepless]

beatrice + warrior nuns die

anne carson

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Back to writing this absolute maximalist fic with @kloperslegend

She's an overthinker, she's still a runner...

Beatrice feels a bit like a caged animal after meeting her mark… attempts at tension relief inside to varying degrees of success

Beatrice found herself pacing the staged, but relatively bare, North Carolina apartment.

Circling.

Couch. Living room. Kitchen.

Bedroom. Kitchen again . Porch. Living room again.

Penduluming through the apartment as something in her refused to settle. Part of her was trying to blame it on the location. Unfamiliar. Different.

It wasn’t that the apartment they set up for her wasn’t nice. It was—very nice, considering how expensive rent was nowadays. The furniture was seemingly expertly staged by someone who knew the finer points of interior design—nice and aesthetically pleasing but not too expensive to blow her ‘grad student’ cover story. It wasn’t necessarily to Beatrice’s tastes—but who was she kidding? Her house in Southern Pines wasn’t overly personalized either—much to Chelle’s dismay—but even as a minimalist Beatrice felt there was barely anything in the Durham apartment that belonged to her. And something about that just… tweaked her the wrong way.

So it wasn’t a place that made her comfortable, but ironically enough Beatrice was used to that. And it was nice. Even if Beatrice recognized the quality wasn’t for her , per say. The agency likely had several of these apartments set up for use at any given notice—she was just surprised one of them happened to be in Durham, North Carolina of all places.

Apparently “the CIA is everywhere, Cap.” Mary had patted her on the shoulder as she opened the apartment up to Beatrice's surprise. Even if Beatrice knew very well that “everywhere” shouldn’t technically be the U.S. The law said they were prohibited from acting on US soil—Not that Beatrice wanted to get into an argument about the finer points of US Constitutional Law with anyone over the matter, though she supposed that instinct did bode well for her cover.

The important thing was, there were loopholes.

Loopholes she would be exploiting soon enough if everything went to plan.

The “suspected terrorism” loophole? It was a stretch, but there was no doubt Primeiro Comando da Capital posed a threat. Especially now that the PCC was dipping their toes into arms trafficking. So the “intelligence gathering on a foreign national for the purposes of national security” loophole? Ding. Ding. Ding.

No. If she was being honest with herself, she knew why she was so irritable, why the spare decor was undeservedly receiving her ire.

It was because her team, at least at some level, still didn't trust her.

It had been days now since Beatrice’s first contact with Ava. They returned to the states two days following their ‘ meet cute’ as Mary had taken to calling it— “how professional,” Beatrice grumbled as she received a variety of curt nods and pats on the back from members of her new team. It was mostly a precaution to keep her cover but also served to make herself potentially available if Ava reached out again. They’d arrived early yesterday morning, jet-lagged and pretending not to be with copious amounts of caffeine (Beatrice had decided to steer clear of the other beverages when they boarded the flight back).

But when they landed at the Fayetteville FBO and piled into two SUVs—Were they walking cliches right out of a James Cameron movie? Yes. Did Beatrice have some sense of pride that she was with the ‘cool kids’ of Special Activities now? Also yes—Beatrice was told to go with Superion, Mary, and Shannon, who she learned rather quickly was the Team Lead. She didn’t think anything of it until they were turning the exact wrong direction out of the airport to return to Fort Liberty—a drive Beatrice had made enough times she might be able to do it with her eyes closed; a drive she’d actually made with at least one eye closed returning from some assignment at some ungodly hour on four hours of sleep in as many days.

Beatrice knew she had a cover. She knew, in theory, things would be happening to solidify said cover while they waited to hear back from Ava. However, she had not expected to be deprived of her nearby home in Southern Pines when that happened. It seemed… impractical at best.

However, Superion was very clear: she was not to return to her own home, nor go anywhere near Fort Liberty, and as much as possible she should avoid places she previously regularly frequented. Which shouldn't be a problem because Durham was nearly two hours north anyway.

It was overkill. That’s what she would have said had anyone asked. Internally, though, it stung.

Did Superion expect either Ava or her father to, on a whim, waltz down from New York where they were on holiday (and enjoying it if Ava’s messages and occasional photos were any implication), simply for an extended shopping trip in Durham, a college town of a city with population of a measly 200,000?

Obviously not. Superion might be cautious, a good trait for a leader to have, but she wasn't stupid. Locking Beatrice away like this wasn't because she actually thought she was in danger: it was because somehow, somewhere, Beatrice had fucked up in her eyes.

What the fuck had she done to make her team decide she needed to handled with kid gloves?

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