#mia : post re7 verse.

[sunhalf]

@spirestar / ethan & mia!

She's tired / she always is these days, half because of the three years spent prisoner / puppet / killer that she can't ever seem to shake off, and — well, half because of the much more mundane reason that she's pregnant. It's, blessedly, not one of the days where she can't breathe around that fact, one of the days where pregnancy feels like Momma's bugs skittering under her skin or being host to Eveline's will. She's just lazy ( new ) and a little haunted ( old news ) and — very much in love with her husband.

Her husband. "Ethan!" she calls out, playfully whiny, voice weaker than it needs to be, all dramatics; his head pokes through the bedroom door, and she lifts her head from the bed to reach to him. "Can you bring me some chocolate? And then come cuddle."

[unprocione]

❊ I want to roleplay with you ✸ I want to plot with you ❋ Your blog is one of my favs ✦ I like seeing you on my dash

i love seeing you around!! ^^ you've commented on a few of my posts & been really supportive (which i appreciate a great deal especially since we haven't had much interaction between us so far - it's been a little difficult putting that thankfulness into words on a certain emotional post, because it caught me so offguard in a good way, but i did want to mention i go back to it and reread when i start feeling lost/overwhelmed/generally shitty and how much that's done for me) and it's always a delight seeing you in my notifications! you mentioned ethan possibly as a private investigator on one of my posts, and i actually have a concept i'd like to run by you for one of my verses for leon! there's a delay in the t-virus exposure to raccoon city & leon has some time to integrate into the rpd, i haven't decided the exact timeframe yet, but enough to become aware of the conspiracies going on behind the scenes with chief irons & to become confidantes with jill valentine & brad vickers, and i'm thinking he can possibly reach out / be referred to ethan through ark thompson (a private detective & friend of leon's from resident evil: survivor who leon met while in the police academy) for assistance? if you're interested in that let me know, or if you have ideas of your own i'd love to hear them! and not only for ethan, i have some thoughts for plotlines with mia and plotlines with rose, i'm really interested too in hearing abt thoughts for them and leon from your side of things! only thing i'm a little hesitant about is anything to do with the shadows of rose dlc, as i'm not sure how i could work leon into that without breaking canon (the massive timeskip + the whole metaphysical setting are really daunting obstacles and i kind of just don't want to touch them bc it feels weird for leon lmao), but re7 & re8 settings & storylines are both fair game! i'm really excited, so if some bits of that whole tirade didn't make sense, sorry!! but i'm looking forward to hearing from you + potentially exchanging discords if you'd be okay with that! :)

[sunhalf]

@spirestar : ( from ethan, for mia ) ❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜ / accepting.

He's so kind, and her chest feels like a black hole. Shrapnel's constantly being sucked into it, slicing her arteries as it goes, filling her more and more with that's sick and real instead of what's sick and NOT. Three years a monster / three years a victim / three years enduring the unendurable — the times they cut her throat open and laughed while her exposed windpipe gurgled red and sick / the time momma got so mad at her for refusing dinner that she tore off mia's arm and made her eat it / the tens / the hundreds? of people she killed and woke up regretting, blood on her hands, trying to convince a corpse IT WASN'T MY CHOICE IT WASN'T IT WASN'T. It was a hell that would never, ever end — until it did — and it doesn't absolve, because maybe it wasn't HER CHOICE but it was HER HANDS that RID HIM OF HIS.

She's the reason he was in Dulvey — she's the reason Eveline could hurt him, Daddy and Momma could hurt him, she's the reason that he went through that hell. MIA WINTERS DOESN'T DESERVE THAT LAST NAME OR BEING ALIVE, and she fucking knows it, and she can't go more than a few minutes without remembering, and she shakes so badly in a body that still isn't hers and is so scared every second and she can't even hold him, now, after so long where touch was a cage at best and a killing - that - wasn't - merciful - enough - to - last at worst. She's so fucking sick and so fucking scared that she's hurt him again, and he should HATE HER and he should FEAR HER and he should WANT HER DEAD THE WAY SHE DOES.

And he doesn't.

He's so kind, and the black hole in her chest shudders and aches and wants more of this, this love that softens the shrapnel, hoping it might heal the wound that is Mia and there's no healing the wound that is Mia. He's so kind and he doesn't hate or fear her and he wants her alive so fucking bad that he makes her promise, every morning, not to kill herself like they both know she wants to. And she does, because she carved him apart once. She wants to make good and THERE'S NO WAY TO MAKE GOOD WHEN SHE'S THE CAUSE OF EVERY HORRIBLE THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO THE LOVE OF HER FUCKING LIFE.

Her limbs are still too thin, and they jerk, strange and wrong, when he reaches for her hands and then snap back to her chest. She shrinks in on herself, head shaking, head pounding, all - pain, all - sick, all - tired. All - monstrous. "You — you can't — m - mean that ——"

"I do," he promises, and her heart breaks. He's so kind, and she's the thing that tried to kill him. He's so kind, and she's the monster.

Her legs bend, and she finds herself in a miserable crouch on the tile floor of the kitchen that's barely changed at all since she left, hands wrapped around her chest. She can't breathe / she breathes too hard / she rocks, miserable and thinking she might throw up.

"You should," she whispers, voice ragged, as she watches his feet shift, as she watches him crouch before and can't bear to look at his face. If there was love there, she would spill like shattered glass across the floor. "You — you should."