#marcyroleplay

[progeny-of-a-justified-legend]

@marcelinemay | ♥

“This aint a social call, Marcy.” Raylan frowned.

[progeny-of-a-justified-legend]

She looked up from the ground as she leaned back, pulling on the swing set chain and gave a slight giggle: “So, you’re back in town, huh? What for this time, deputy?” She sarcastically states, then stands straight up and scuffs her boot to the ground. There was always something about her; something that made Gray's heart flip flop every time he got around her. Marcy hadn't changed one bit but now he had to decide, was he relieved or worried? *Marcy steps close and looks up at Gray, arms crossed*

New Lexington, Kentucky sub-district, Confederate Metropolitan District (CMD). Saturday, May 24, 2251. 2:36 p.m.

Standing the whole time, Raylan stared down at Marcy, arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his mouth curled slightly upward, watching her giggle. He hadn’t been back in Kentucky one week when already, acquaintances from his past started to make themselves known. He hadn’t seen her (much less talked to her) since before he left for college, well over eight years ago. Back then, they knew each other only because they both had formed part of the same Harlan group of supernatural hunters - a phase of his life now behind him, or so he thinks.

Marcy had been a rival to his then-childhood friend and interest, Madison. Marcy was there when Madison had been killed ‘the first time’ (meaning when Madison had been turned into one of the undead they’d been hunting). Marcy was there before then too, and Raylan always had to tell himself that what he felt towards her was nothing more than momentary infatuation. Still, there was no ignoring it, and it had confused him to say the least. Had confused him. Past tense. So many things had happened since then that he wondered if those feelings were really truly gone or just buried deep down somewhere. So far, he opted for ‘really truly gone’. He wasn’t worried. And the only relief he felt was that she had survived that period in their lives, not perished at the hands of the very things they’d hunted.

Looking up and off into the distance, he replied, warm and smooth in tone, mostly patient against her sarcastic one, “I got reinstated. Marshals gave me my job back.” Eyebrows scrunched together pleasantly, but he didn’t move neither forward nor back when she stepped up to him. “Surprised t’ see me?”