#even if its not perfect. even if shes still impatient and stubborn and unmoving on certain things

[lavellane]

cant even remember wht subgenre of acute mental illness i was living with at 18 which gave me the ability to write ashara the way i did but im so glad i went thru that shit bc a solasmancer who acts essentially as a microcosm of the present day world and reflects the exact problems solas hates so much about it but still somehow comes to love is. objectively insane. and here she is 7.5 years later and about 3x worse

[deactivated4179291]

The Cure - Part 2 (H.S AU) - “24 Hours”

Maverie’s POV

My friends at the embassy took my 9mm gun and raised me a shotgun, as I marched onward towards my fate. With my new weapon and my duffel of survival gear slung over my shoulder, I made my way to the golden gate bridge. My purpose on this earth became clear with our new discovery. The task, however, was way easier said than done. Get to the other side of the country – Washington D.C - alive, and have the growth inside me removed in order to formulate a vaccine, and potentially even a way to cure all of the dead, laying them to rest once and for all. This, of course, would result in the ending of my life, but it was the right thing to do. I had lived my life, and within it, I had seen too many people suffer at the hand of this virus. Just get to the other side of the country alive...no pressure, right? 

I was nearly to the end of the bridge as I slipped the piece of parchment with my guide, and my list of places to stay as I traveled into the back pocket of the fresh pair of black skinny jeans Jenine had provided, along with my new and improved Embassy embroidered hoodie, and clean plain gray T-shirt. The list consisted mostly of abandoned hotels, warehouses, and even some small homes they had determined cleared.

I peered into the windows of every vehicle I passed idly in hopes of finding some extra supplies when my eyes stumbled across a first aid kit in the trunk window of a rusted old Nissan 240SX. As I was distracted, strategizing how to get the trunk open, the sound of a mutant nearby pulled me from my thoughts. I whipped my body around as the creature charged me as fast as it could, and my body was slammed against the car, knocking the shotgun and my bag clean out of my grasp. My head cracked the glass behind it as a hardy grunt emitted from my throat. I pushed the disgusting former human from my face as best I could with all of my might, pressing my palms flat to the greening flesh of their moldy rotten skin, using my back against the car for leverage. The monster surged forward harder, causing my hands to slip, only to be pressed against his face. 

You could tell he turned because of a bite because he was so aggressive in his attempts to get to his meal, and his skin was tinted partially green, with growths forming here and there. I felt his slimy dark teeth digging into my flesh just as a gunshot rang through the crisp autumn breeze, followed simultaneously by the splattering of the walker blood on my freshly washed face. The once animated bloodthirsty animal fell before my feet, buckling onto its knees first before it’s head met the pavement.

I panted, gasping for air as I brought my eyes to the source of the bullet, where there stood a tall young man with brown hair nearly as long as mine. His eyes were green, and filled with cold intensity as he stared at me with furrowed brows, and several other people caught up with him. Though he wore a loose fitting black T-Shirt, the neckline scooped low enough to reveal a glimpse of two birds tattooed beneath his collarbones, and broad shoulders. A young man with the same color hair, though younger in age, and another man of similar height to the one that saved me with dark hair longer than mine and facial hair to match. There was also an elderly man who had gone gray wearing tattered up brown slacks and suspenders over a filthy white men's shirt, and a woman with short blonde hair, who though she was also wearing a men’s shirt and it was hard to tell for sure - appeared muscular. I brought my gaze back to the handsome stranger with the still somewhat smoking gun, opening my mouth to speak.

“Thank-”

“Shut up,” he hollered as he cocked and pulled his gun aiming right towards me “who the hell are you, and where do you come from?” his voice was gruff, stern, and deep, and his accent was beautiful. He clearly wasn’t from the United States. I held up my hands shakily in surrender, as I grew fearful.

“Harry, you don’t have to be rude!” the older man scolded him with a soft southern drawl, “look at her jacket, boy!” he scorned at the one with the gun, pointing at the embroidered Embassy emblem that rested just above my left breast on my once plain black hoodie.

“You’re from the Embassy?!” the young one behind him beamed with an excited expression. Their leader, however, seemed to have barely been moved by the realization.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered, swallowing thickly, “I just came from their San Francisco base…they’ve sent me on a mission,” I confessed.

“So it's true!” the woman beside him gasped with eyes filled with joyful tears, “it’s real! Boys, it’s real!” she cheered, hugging the youngest tightly. Presumably, her son.

“Harry, would you put the damn gun down!” this time the old man was all but screaming at him. He sent the man an angered scowl before reluctantly doing so. I sighed in relief but kept my hands where they were. I wanted these people to realize I was trustworthy.

“It is real,” I nodded as I eyed their solemn leader who still held his weapon upward toward my head, “but it’s also practically full…they only have space for four more people…” my voice grew wobbly as I delivered the bad news. The group’s shoulders slumped, apart from ‘Harry,’ their leader. His eyes screwed tightly shut in resignation before he inhaled and exhaled sharply, trying to maintain his calm. When his eyes drew back open, they wandered my body with purpose, making me feel uneasy. When his eyes found my right hand, his gun popped back up into place, causing his group to grow wide-eyed. The eldest questioned the return of his choice of actions.

“Harry?!-“

“She’s been bitten,” he stated monotone, clearly not caring whether or not he had to put one of his bullets through my head. He shifted his aim to my head, as I grew frantic inside.

“Wait!” I protested. With a frustrated roll of his eyes, he barked back at me.

“What” he spat.

“Killing me would be a big mistake – I’m needed at the Embassy Base in Washington D.C,” I said shakily as I trembled with anxiety. He scoffed at me judgmentally, as if he didn’t believe me. I grew agitated by his cocky, uncaring demeanor, and sent him the most dangerous stare I could create.

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a dry laugh, turning to the long dark haired man at his side who did the same as he folded his arms over his chest, finding my attempt to keep his friend from shooting me amusing, “tell me, love. What could the Embassy possibly want with you when you’ve been bitten?” he shook his head with a questioning smirk.

With my jaw clenched, and my eyes viscous as their violent manners, stuck out my arm and yanked back my cotton sleeve to my old scar, causing all of their jaws to drop slightly, as they all step closer to inspect the tissue. Seeing that it’s now healed nearly to perfect, minus the abnormalities that surfaced as a result of the virus though it didn’t spread. Harry hesitated but lowered his gun slowly as he stepped forward, focusing solely on the skin.

He dragged his dark green eyes up to my own and pulled his eyebrows together as if to ask me to explain myself. My face softens as I reveal to them my one and only secret.

“This was three weeks ago…I’m immune, the Embassy wants to use me to process a vaccine.” The sound of the dark haired man scoffing, pulled all of our eyes in his direction as he shook his head mockingly at me, raising his rifle toward me. “I promise you, the base in D.C has plenty of open space for all of you if a shelter is what you’re after. Their leader promised me this herself.”

“Come on,” he scowled, “you guys aren’t actually buying this bullshit, are you?” he snickered. Harry joined in on his laughter, bending down to retrieve all of my belongings. He turned, tossing the duffel to his companion with one hand. Strong.

“Mitch is right. It’s just not possible,” Harry shook his head. So the snarky one’s name was Mitch.

“Harry, she’s telling the truth,” the old man cuts through the silence, curtly. Harry sends him a look as if to say, ‘are you crazy?’ Harry was baffled, and at this rate, I just wanted to leave, and stark making my way towards my destination. I didn’t know these people so why did they have the nerve to believe it was their job to end my nonexistent suffering. “I’ve met others like her. All young, all born on the same day-“

“May 15th” I confirm, earning a nod from the man. “And how old are you now, dear?” he asks. “Nineteen.” The man offers me a knowing smile, then turns back to a still unmoved Harry. The man grows impatient and marches up to his leader slowly.

“Harry, I’d like a word with you,” he growls. Harry remains un-phased, without a care in the world. “NOW!” the elder screams pointing behind Harry, who flinches in surprise and turns around with a roll of his eyes. Followed by the older man, they weave their way behind a few cars along the way back from where I came, as I sit, and wait for my fate to be decided for me.

Harry’s POV

Martin and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of matters. This one, though, was by far the largest disagreement we’ve crossed. I fold my arms in front of my chest as I stare blankly at the grey-headed man before me, whose blue eyes are fierce with determination.

“Well?” I ask impatiently.

“She needs our help-“ I cut him off by laughing blatantly at his naïve hope in this stranger.

“Martin, what that girl needs is a shot of silver to her head so that we can all go on about our trip to the Embassy,” I say firmly. My nostrils flare as I grow heated by his defiance of my decision. Martin was a stubborn old man, there was no denying it, but this time I refused to let his determination cloud mine or the group’s judgment.

“Harry,” he groans in frustration, placing his wrinkly hands on his hips like he always did when we didn’t see eye to eye. “you heard the girl loud and clear – the Embassy only has room for four more, and we are a group of five. Do I really need to remind you that we do not split up, Harry? Ever!”

“She was probably lying!” I throw an arm out towards where she stands behind the Nissan in the short distance.

“Well if she was telling the truth about her bite, why would she feel the need to lie about residency at the Embassy?” he retorts.

“Well,” I sass, “how do we even know she was telling the bloody truth about that?!”

“I know she’s telling the truth, Harold!” He points an autocratic little finger at me.

I am all but screaming at this point, and my blood has raised to a boil. “Martin, if you’re wrong about this, we could all be dead before the sun even rises tomorrow! People we don’t know could be dangerous. This girl could be dangerous! Don’t you get that?!”

“Harry Edward Styles! ‘This girl’ could barely keep that mutant walker from making her his lunch!”

“You know what people like her do, Martin!” I poke his chest roughly, at this point my voice is as loud as can be, violent, and livid “they pretend they’re all innocent. They pretend they couldn’t hurt a damn fly, and then what happens?! One of our own end up dead!”

He takes an appalled step back from me, absolutely repulsed by my words – by my ability to give him doubt. I shake my head panting slightly, trying to bring myself back down from my outburst. I try to ease his mind and assure him that we’re not the only people she’ll see on her way to wherever she’s going.

“Surely someone else will find her, Martin-“

“Someone HAS found her, Harry! We give it 24 hours – and when she stays just as she is because she will, we help her get to D.C, and we seek refuge in the base there. I know he left you in charge but I still always have the last word. End of discussion.” I quickly bite my tongue and feel the heat rising to my face yet again. He stares at me with a fire burning so hot, that even I’m afraid to try and argue with him.

“Fine. 24 hours. If she turns, it’s on you. If any of us get bitten by her once she does, it’s on you. And we’re doing this my way.”