pyrrhiic

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“Yeah? Sounds pretty cool– I used to do this, but… you smear paint on the walls just one too many times, and you end up banned and sentenced to life without paint.” Not that he’d been any better then, either. Then again, toddlers weren’t really well known for their painting expertise.

He had to stop and try to look down at his cheek once she’d pulled her finger away, and… Really? He stared at her for a moment, then reached to dip his finger into another color to smear it across her nose. “Monty Blue sounds dumb, Harpurple.”

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“‘Dumb’? Please, I, Harpurple am a genius, Monty Blue.” Still, she picked up her brush, scooping green paint onto it, and flicked it back, sending a splash of the liquid at him. “And now Monty Blue is once again Monty Green!" Harper cheered, throwing her hands up in celebration as her brush fell to the ground. "I’m here all night, ladies and gentlemen!”

It was nice to relax for a while. Even if they had been tasked with painting signs didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little fun with it; besides, she and Monty hadn’t done anything that was slightly entertaining since before Mount Weather, if the occasional game of poker with Nathan, Monty and Monroe didn’t count.

Send me a “” and I’ll generate a number (Childish activities version)!

14 was generated (FINGER PAINTING!!)

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“My mother used to draw or paint, really with whatever she could. I tried once but– I was never any good, yeah?” Harper admitted, eyes curiously wandering over the mess of paints that were covering Monty’s hands.

The girl moved forward to press her index finger– now covered in blue paint– against his cheek, trying to disguise her own smile as she left a smidge of the liquid on his skin. “Monty Green? Monty Blue.” Awful, absolutely awful.

pyrrhiic

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Maybe she had said something– Monty was sure she had,
but from how quietly she’d said it, it was clear she would
rather not address it. At least, he hoped he wasn’t just ignoring
something that was truly bothering her. Maybe one day it’d get
better for her; though, he couldn’t imagine it ever being okay.
Not after all that they’d done to her. How bad it got at the end.

          “Me and Jasper?” As if having to worry about how
          Harper was doing after that, having to think about
          how things were with the one person he’d thought
          there’d never be problems with…. He almost wanted
          to ignore her.

“I don’t know.” It was easiest to just admit it. To keep from
going into too much detail as he started off to find some place
quieter. “We’ve fought before.” Never about anything so horrible,
though. Never about murdering people that had helped them.
He glanced to her, then reached for her hand to tug at her gently.
“Come on, there’s a place that’s always empty behind the Ark.”

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She could very well understand his hesitance to answer the
question; perhaps it had more to do with the fact that she
had asked so bluntly, but Harper couldn’t really find it in her-
self to care that much. Still, she didn’t push him to answer,
just let him lead her away from the hustle of the camp to a
place that’s almost foreign to her.

          "I’ve never been here before,“ she admitted.
          "Guess I haven’t had much time to explore
           since Mount Weather—-” The girl choked
           on her words, hand sweaty in his own.

Harper wasn’t entirely sure why she couldn’t speak much
longer– maybe it was the memory or fear that stopped the
words dead in her throat, lost not long after she thought to
say them. When she spoke next, it was small, an almost
silent whisper. “—-Are you okay?”

Send me a ツ to see a tweet my muse would post/make about yours

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pyrrhiic:

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He nearly backed away when someone moved in against
him. Just a half-step at first before he looked to see who it
was and relaxed. Just Harper, and– the reason why was
obvious as soon as he realized what exactly that sound was.

          “Hey, it’s okay.” It wasn’t– It never
          would be, but he could fake it. Make
          it sound like he hadn’t guessed at the
          reason why she was clutching at him.

“Kind of crowded around here.” He can’t tell if it’s too obvious,
what his real intentions are. Probably, but it hardly feels like it’s
important. “Should probably get out of the way before they try
to recruit us into helping.” Using the hand on her back, Monty
stepped back and tried to guide her along with him. “Come on.”

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She was more than grateful that he didn’t point it out; the
reason she flinched away and turned to find solace with-
in his arms. It was reflex, OR  maybe instinct, but Monty
was her friend; she was safe, or atleast liked to think she
was, when he was around.  They had to protect one-
another.

          Harper nodded in response, words unsaid
          feeling like bark in her throat. “Thanks,” she
          said, but softly, almost as if she didn’t want
          him to hear it.

And maybe she didn’t want him to. It was bad enough
having to deal with the repercussions of Mount Weather
without being reminded of it. Clarke’s mom once said
she had suffered a lot of trauma, probably some kind
of stress disorder, but it was more than that. “Do you
think anything will ever be okay?– With you and
Jordan
.”

I want the H.

Send me a “I want the H” and I will randomly generate a number!

7: “Something scared me” hug

It was the sound of a drill that first set her off,
moving sideways into the person now at her
side. Instinctively, Harper clutched at them in
fear, teeth clenched.

       “Oh,” came her own small
        voice, eyes glaring up at
        Monty. “Sorry–I-I just…”

     ( Got scared?
               Thought maybe somehow the Mountain Men
             had survived and were back to HURT her?–
                      Drill her for bone marrow
again?)

                                    The words never passed her lips.

                    “Sorry.”

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HOVER
Independent and selective Harper from 'The 100'

Written by Rachel