#not me adding a scene that doesnt exist in the colter chapter at all

[outl1ve]

THAW: sender holds receiver during a snowstorm / abigail & john yah yah yah 😌

VALENTINE'S WEEK PROMPT *. no longer accepting. // @yakam0z for john.

despite their arrival the weather only became more violent, in complete revolt of humans with their horses and canvases. the storm is bitter but they inevitably make lodgings upon this desolate land and gutted town, almost washed away by snow, uninvited.

with less hands to pass on the task to, miss roberts does eventually volunteer to make a path for the remainder to haul away davey callander's body. as feeling as they all were, no one wanted to sleep in the same area as a corpse or mention it. davey .. you really won't get back up will you? abigail thinks back to her every encounter with the sibling-ed man. it was difficult to imagine him no longer joining them all for a cup of coffee or an irish. his voice hung on her mind throughout the slog up the mountain.

it was these more immediate thoughts that slow down her already struggling gait. the wind slices into already numbed cheeks and breathes across the unshielded portions of her face like a slap. she couldn't readjust her scarf without stopping and putting down the lantern so she kept going, pulling her feet through a tough bank as the apocalyptic door to a different cabin came into the light.

at first, she tries pulling at it with one hand and then attempts to find a spot where the lantern wouldn't fall or be knocked over.

she tries again with both hands and doesn't feel the door move. the wind was leaning against it like a heavy paw, “ shit! ” it would sound mostly like a whimper if anyone could hear it. the cold was already reaching around her throat. abigail pulled frustrated air through her teeth as she attempted to substitute the abrasive feeling with something different. she reaches for her scarf again and considers retreating when the presence of something solid presses against her back more than effectively keeping her there.

tension is immediate and her body doesn't understand what to do with this new feeling. perhaps it was death, come for her too. then an arm she recognizes as john's reaches out Infront of them already trying for the seams of the door.

they said nothing to each other but understood immediately what he was trying to do. they attempt to squeeze an opening through the door again. with his chest flush behind she felt more stable and stronger. pushing and pulling and grunting mutely, eventually they peel it open enough to escape inside together. not wanting his fingers to get caught she leaned against the door as he slipped past.

the air marched on outside and through the gaping crevices of what was once a house. darkness, was all around them as they'd neglected the lantern to the elements. the space was perfect to be a temporary crypt. abigail rubbed at her arms and went to adjust the scarf now remembering it again.

their breathing was heavy and while deeply appreciative of his help she was not enthusiastic about speaking. not for a while. the woman was more intent on holding herself in that darkness.

when he comes from behind to envelop her again she notices he lacks any excuse beyond comfort. the fold of his arms is tight as he packs her against his bicep with mindfulness towards her slight frame. it's there she chooses to close her eyes to him and the lightless world but the effort wasn't meant to preclude his existence at all. the scent of him still reaches her nose; leathers, wet wool, intermingle with a tangible musk of gun oil and sweat. she breathes him in as a nameless anxiety sits around her ears.

“ .. he was still talkin' to me. ” she says. “ he was still talking, not so long ago. ”

only john marston knew of abigail robert's real hatred for death. she'd only ever disclosed to him how easily it still disturbed her.