Ilvaites - Tumblr Posts
୨୧˚♡* ♱ starter call, accepting. ( @ilvaites )
she supposes there is something holy about misty and her devotion to the team. she knows the other girls always have something to say about it. but, and she doesn’t mean to be catty, they have something to say about everything. she can feel it begin, gnawing on her lip with guilt and the incessant picking at her nails. she should speak up, but she can’t, and that’s why she’s weak. that’s why she prays to the Lord for strength, asking Him for guidance and courage. she doesn’t know who misty prays to, or if she prays at all. but she’s brave, she knows that much.
and it’s that bravery that helps her now, that causes her to shine so in the face of crisis. as the days pass, laura lee feels herself growing weaker, but misty seems to do nothing of the sort. she took a babysitter's red cross class. twice! she’s the most obvious blessing laura lee has seen so far, though countless others have prevailed, and she needs to remind herself of that as much as she can if she’s going to stay close to God during this. and that she will, she has to. laura lee presses close to Him now, as misty pokes and prods at the ugly looking bruise on her forehead she had acquired during the crash. it hurts, but misty’s doing her a favor, so she’s thankful. “ all of this from a red cross class? ” she teases, gently, an extension of playfulness at the scene of red and gray. laura lee falters, awkwardly, her eyes fluttering downward to her lap before lifting again, startled and apologetic as she remembers misty’s introductions to look up with gritted teeth. “ it just, um, i don’t know. it just seems … it’s just so much, you know? you’re practically an expert. i mean, i have little sisters and they’re clumsy, i thought i knew some stuff. but … ” the scene in front of them is littered with concussions, broken limbs, and gaping wounds. “ not- not this clumsy. ”
୨୧˚♡* ♱ starter call, accepting. ( @ilvaites )
positioned behind the prophet, she sits, a strange peace flowing through her. no doubt the cause of lottie’s ever glowing light, a holiness laura lee wishes she could hold in her hand, hold up to the sun and watch it spin. laura lee hums gently, a familiar tune that sits heavy on her throat. psalm eighteen, she still remembers. for strength. cautious fingers opt for gentleness and focus, instead of speed, twining hair together so it’s neat and tidy, freshly clean from the lake and scarcely more than two drops of rationed soap. ( the Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom i take refuge, my shield … ) she breathes in her nose, out her mouth. they will be okay, blessed from above. they will. “ that’s not too tight, is it? ”