thesamurai: (πŸ’€ 22)
Michonne ([personal profile] thesamurai) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2018-04-17 11:28 am

Β° Open re-arrival

Who: Michonne, possibly you
Where: Roof, Grounds
When: April 17th
Rating: R for mentions of violence and most importantly, death of a child.
Summary: Michonne's back. Again. Tell a friend.
The Story:

[ She's back. And for the first time in all of the coming and going she's done in the three years she's been in Wonderland, this is the first time she's not pissed at leaving in the middle of something. As she stands on the rooftop, holding a letter in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other it's the blink of an eye and slow realization when her setting has changed. Alexandria becomes Wonderland, the smell of the dead is almost startlingly gone, and the memory of everything she's built in this place comes back.

I don't want you to be sad after this.

Closing her eyes, she drops her chin to her chest and lets out a breath as her eyes move over Carl's letter to Negan. It wasn't going to work. It was never going to work, hoping that his words might inspire some kind of truce. But she had to try, for him. She had to try and make it right. Staring out at Wonderland, she lets herself have a single fleeting thought, that Carl could come here. That he could come here and have a life and be a kid for a little while. But every time he does show up, he leaves in a matter of days or weeks. Still, she'd do a lot to see him again, to say the things she didn't because she couldn't believe she was losing another child. She'd vowed never to get close again, and yet somehow there'd been Carl and Judith and Rick, and here she is: carrying Carl's letters in her back pocket, grieving when he told her not to.

You're gonna have to be strong for dad. For Judith.

The rooftops of Wonderland have always seemed busy, so when she hears the door open behind her, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Folding the letter carefully, she tucks it into her back pocket with her own letter and then stands and waits for whoever's arrived to either join her or go do their own thing. Her walkie-talkie is still in her hand, the static lightly hissing.

For yourself.

Later, on the grounds, she sits by the garden she made last summer, the beautiful dahlias a reminder of everyone she's lost both here, gone to their own worlds, and at home. With the letter Carl wrote for her out now, in her hands, she reads it over and over again, face tense and tears right there at the rim of her eyes but not falling. When the letter drops, she looks at the flowers, speaking, not to anyone, just to Carl. ]


We're going. We're going now to make it better. I'm here right now, but there? We're ending it with Negan. And I promise - I promise you - Judith has me. She'll always have me. World's gonna look good. I'll fight for it, for you. For her. We can be how we were. We will be.

[ She doesn't realize it, if anyone overhears, and she goes back to the letter in her hands. ]
thecourier: (042)

[personal profile] thecourier 2018-05-13 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Been pickin' up on some conditionin', but I've been lettin' it slip lately.

[A lot of things had happened, and he'd done the unusual thing of shutting himself away for a couple of weeks.] Other 'n that? Jus' business as usual. Been caught up in wars before. Ain't nothin' y' can really do that's gonna be 'enough'.
thecourier: (010)

[personal profile] thecourier 2018-05-20 12:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[He snorts abruptly, clearing his throat after it as if the sudden reaction embarrassed him.]

Story a' my fuckin' life, Michonne.

[Some of it had been his own fault, but a lot of it? A lot of it had been him being in the wrong place at the wrong time and never knowing when to call it quits.]
thecourier: (040)

[personal profile] thecourier 2018-05-26 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[He finds that he manages to smile right back, and it actually feels good to be able to summon the expression and mean it. It's been a hell of a month, and it doesn't seem that things are going to get any easier going forward.

Lightly, he claps his hand against the back of her shoulder.
]

Y'no what, yer right. An' 'm honoured.