Moist came to Molly's door and paused
First shooting Pummler a message to help pack up his things before he got back.
He turned his attention back tmthe door and knocked.
Molly opened the door, still in her green costume. She smiled kindly at Moist. "How did things go at Horrible's?" she prompted. Moist still looked...well, a bit moist, but he did look like he was in somewhat of a good mood.
(I love how you always compare his expressions with those of a puppy XD )
Molly rolled her eyes. "Oh please, it was nothing. All I did was stand outside of a closet while Kadabra looked through the thousands of jars full of herbs. I couldn't even defend myself from those bridesmaids, and I'm not sure they're even alive," she scoffed.
"I don't blame you," Molly assured. "You've been through some really bad things, and no doubt some of your experiences are going to change the way you think and act." She knew because she had a problem like this. Molly didn't allow herself to get closely attached to someone, for fear they may...well, die and leave her alone and depressed and feeling guilty. Like Stanley did.
Molly offered a faint smile. "Same to you," she murmured, closing the door without any other gesture.
So, guys. A certain statue has been missing from the museum ever since the day of the fires in town...
Any villain wanna fess up? :I
-__- Why am I not surprised?
The home did look much more cozy now. Molly giggled a luttle. "My mother tried to leave the winter decorations up all year once, when I was a child. Dad didnt like the idea, but the garland and ribbons stayed up until the next May. Thanks for the help, though. I couldnt have hung some of these by myself." Her blue eyes flickered to his bruised thumb. Unlike her father, Molly wouldve made a bad carpenter; Her skills with a hammer and a nail were about as good as Moist's, maybe a bit worse.
(Awww, that reminds me of 'Stranger Than Fiction' when Harold said he never had cookies before and the baker woman made him some homemade cookies. it was soo cute ;3; )
"Really? Well, Im glad." Something about the evening just didnt feel right, howver. After a pause, Molly realized what was missing.
One Christmas season, back when she was a teenager, Molly's parents went out of town for the weekend, and told their daughter to put up decorations while they were away. Excitedly, Molly invited over Stanley, and the two spent the afternoon lighting up and putting ornaments on the Chriztmas tree and getting otheer various decorations out from the attic. After the two were done, Molly fixdd hot cocoa, and they
stayed in the beautifully lit living room, sipping the festive drimk while singing carols and sharing crazy
Christmas storiez from previous years. It sort of became tradiyion after that. Every year, though she was alone for most of them, when Molly finished decorating for Vhrismas, she would make some coffee or cocoa and play some soft Christmas and winter music from the radio.
She didnt see a need to break the tradition. This year, though, she actually had some company, so the ritual would be at least a little bit merrier. "Wait here," she said optimistically. Yes, lately her mood had been better, and she wasnt bitter so often anymore. This new hope at a different type of life, one as a villain, had boosted her attitude considerably.
The ginger woman went off into the kitchen. She thought remembering the tradition would shake away the odd feeling she had, but it didnt. Molly felt a strange sense of foreboding, like the night was suspisciously all too splendid. She decided to shrug it off. No, nothing could ruin the evening now.
Or so she thought.
It didn't take any time at all for Molly to make the drinks. She came back into the living room, a mug in each hand, her eyes were closed and she was humming 'So They Say' softly to herself with a grin. She parted her lips to say something, but when she opened her eyes, her mouth just gaped open more, yet no sound came out. Were her eyes correct? Was Molly really seeing her partner destroy her scrapbook: the only thing she had left her past with Stanley and with her family? But it was really happening. Before her eyes, her precious book of memories was turning from a solid to a liquid in Moist's hands, and was dripping to the floor.
The mugs of cocoa slipped out of her hands, the ceramic breaking on the hard floor.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" she shouted out, her voice slightly hoarse with disbelief.
"-H-How...? -What was that for, anyway?" the woman sputtered, interrupting Moist. Molly had a bitter look on her face, but she didn't take a step closer to him. How did he even do that anyway? Why hadn't Moist told her about this melting thing before? Also on her face, sickeningly mixed with the bitterness, was fear. Molly shifted on her feet and took a step back.
"Go then! You know where the door is!" she snapped, but her voice broke on the last word. The woman turned on her heels and tromped back into the kitchen, looking for something to clean up the mess. Her eyes were tearing up; Those had been the last of the photos she had of Stanley. But kneeling down, bawling beside the puddle of melted memories, having a breakdown in front of Moist was not how she would mourn. Heck, Molly didn't even know if Moist would be satisfied seeing her depressed over the album, and she certainly did not want to give him any satisfaction right then. Besides, there was no saving the scrapbook now; It had been damaged beyond repair, or even recovery of the pictures.
The ginger couldn't supress a small sniffle/whimper before leaving the room, but she said no more to the man.
My, you can just feel the love in this place right now.
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
(...Sharp pieces of things in feet...When I was at a friend's this summer, I broke a glass bowl of her's. Stupidly, I insisted on cleaning it up with no shoes on. I got a small shard in my heel, and I managed to get it out. My heel was very sore for the next couple of weeks, and my mom had to dig out a microscopic piece of glass from my foot that had been in there for a few weeks, and after a month or so after that, it healed completely.
I make sure to steer clear from glass bowls now. :/ I hope your foot gets to feeling better soon!)
"I could keep you company," Molly offered.
(Moist and Molly have the same number of posts .3.)
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
"Thanks." As she walked inside, she put a hand up to her cheek under her black eye. "Do you have any ice? Ever since I woke up from a nap this evening, my cheek has been feeling sore," Molly mumbled with a puzzled expression on her face.
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
Molly sat down, shoulders slumped in bewilderment. "I must have a sleep walking problem or something. In my dream I was walking, so that could explain it, I guess."
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
"Moist, it's been eight years since he...passed. I needed a nudge to move on."
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
"And I am happy," she assured. "I am happy here. Right now...even with the black eye." Molly said lightly.
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
"I promise. Which song do you want to play first?"
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
(I actually love Simon Helberg's voice when he sings .3.)
"Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,
Help to make the season bright."
Molly chimed in with the same style. She saw nothing wrong with his singing at all. The woman gently scooted over a little closer as she sang, careful not to disturb his piano playing.
"Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight."
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
⊰ It's the perfect story, So they say ⊱
"And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to ninety-two,
Although it's been said
Many times, Many ways
A very Merry Christmas
To....You" She finished smoothly.
⊰ A hero leading the way ⊱
