I've been having outrageous Alma feels + PB finds (possibly).

[originmother]

Girl,

I will not have it, if they do not know me. My babies. They need me. Only me.

✗ Alma

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[allyoucaneat]

I would always know you, Mother. Though I'm wondering, would this face of yours be your own or a body you've possessed?

[originmother]

My own.
Pretty small face, long dark hair, pale skin. Pretty little ALICE FACE.

Did she taste.. happy?

[allyoucaneat]

She tasted afraid.

Will you be happy with that face, Mother?

[originmother]

[ This pleases Alma and a girlish giggle sounds all around them. The giggle then focuses in on her and she is smiling. ]

If you .. come to me.. with this face.

[allyoucaneat]

I would come to you with any face. You are and always will be my one, my Mother.

[originmother]

Yes. Mine.

They are always searching for you, but you are not theirs. You are mine, we are together now. It is their turn to feel the darkness, bury them, my son. Drown them in that sea of misery.

[allyoucaneat]

Let them search, let them come to me if they wish. We are unstoppable and they will all die for what they have done to our family, for what they have done to you. I will stop at nothing for this revenge, I swear it.

[originmother]

[ Alma moves her arms to welcome her favorite son to her. An embrace that she intends. ]

Come.

[allyoucaneat]

[An embrace that he gladly welcomes and comes to, arms around her, face to her neck.]

Mother.

[originmother]

[ She softly hums to him a song he knows all too well, that he's all too familiar with. Her hands are to the back of his head and she gently strokes down his hair.

"You set me free from the darkness that drowns me. I am no longer a prisoner. My baby, my child, my son. We have forever to play." ]

[allyoucaneat]

[Paxton hums along with her as she sings, eyes closing, rocking his body with hers and clenching at her body with his needy fingers. He's happy here, in her arms, no matter what she looks like. She makes him feel like a child again, before he turned full of rage and hungry for revenge.]

[originmother]

[ A child he will always be, hers and forever hers. Never spoiled, always perfect, never ruined, regardless what has been done to him. Paxton is perfect. Alma no longer needs to fill her empty arms with stuffed babies, with rags, with lifeless objects. She has Paxton. Alma moves her arms from around him and guides him to sit with her. Then he is requested to lay and curl himself up on her lap so that she may hold him, best she can, as he is grown. ]

[allyoucaneat]

[Paxton curls on his side facing her, his head on one of her thighs as he gazes up at her, his hand petting her thigh by his cheek. All he can do is smile, content. This was what Armacham and Harlan had robbed him off, this sweet contentment only his mother could give.]

[stormbrewed]

Would you not wish for your children to make friends and allies? It is the destiny of any child to outgrow the parent.

[originmother]

Never. I am. Forever.

[stormbrewed]

Even the immortal may perish.

[originmother]

[ Alma cocks her head, her confusion is evident with a small part between her lips where a soft heated sigh slips. ]

No. I am not immortal. I am the ever lasting shadow to this world's dawn.

[stormbrewed]

Yet your writer would fashion you a pretty face. She must see within you light yet.

[originmother]

She sees a happiness that was denied to me and given to her. If I were His favorite, I would look like Alice.

[stormbrewed]

A child is a parent's most strident critic. The wrongs of your father do not forgive your own. Neither will looking like her make you feel more whole, you must find your own worth.

[originmother]

I DO NOT WANT HER FACE!


My babies, they make me whole.

[stormbrewed]

Be cautious you do not make the same mistakes your father had, for in your consuming jealousy you may give them a path they cannot escape from, such as your own.

[originmother]

[ Alma doesn't understand what he is talking about. She steps forward and looks to him with a tilted head, left to right, then left once more before she straightens her head. She cannot reason with this one. He does not understand. ]

YOU
are wrong.

My babies, myself, there is no other path. We walk it together, we bring right to the wrong.

[stormbrewed]

Then you would bring right to me if I am wrong. Explain your right to me - how you see it then.

[bone_season]

You can always look better. Your mun is doing you a favor by the sounds of it.

[originmother]

Look?

Look.. look! [ A shrill is heard all around them and she turns into absolute skin and bones, death and grime, forgotten and enraged! ]

[bone_season]

[He's going to assume he's hallucinating again and cower like a terrified infant. She looks disturbingly like the woman he had last night.]

[originmother]

[ She rushes to him, her intentions are to slip onto his lap and begin pulling at his collar. ]

WHERE ARE MY BABIES, YOU TOUCHED HIM! YOU!

[bone_season]

I DIDN'T TOUCH HIM! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!

[Shoving her off and getting completely hysterical. Patrick is convinced this is the horror come to life of some hardbody he's killed.]

[originmother]

YOU TOUCHED HIM! MY BABY, YOU TOOK HIM, YOU HURT HIM!

[ She can smell him on you, Paxton. Her second baby. But he's not the first baby you have touched, tortured, killed. There are many other mommy's missing children's blood on you. But, she cares only for the one. She pursues him. Her hands reaching to grab at him, anywhere she can touch, anywhere she can grip. ]

[bone_season]

[Patrick is screaming, punching, kicking, wondering if the last cocaine he bought was cut with something terrible because this has got to be the worst trip ever and he's terrified.]

[originmother]

[ Alma is not too long before she exhausts herself and she melts to a child. A small child not but five, wearing a red dress with long black hair covering her face and reaching down her back and over her shoulders. She is five feet away now from the man, staring at him. Staring. ]

[bone_season]

[It takes him long seconds to calm down but when he does he stares back, panting, his carefully styled hair all fluffy and out of place and his perfectly kept complexion blushed and sweaty. He blames you for this]

What the fuck do you want from me? I didn't touch him!

[originmother]

Your blood.

[ Then the giggling starts and she begins to hop around the room, the lights flash and the walls begin to bleed, literally bleed. The spilling blood pools on the floor, except for where Alma is hopping around the room, the crimson sea parts for her. Better reach higher ground, unless you want to join Alma in her dancing. ]

[bone_season]

[Blood he knows, he's intimately familiar with, but this does not calm him further. It sends him into hysterics again. He laughs softly when the giggle starts but it's not a happy sound any more than hers is. His laughing is desperate, nervous and terrified.

Patrick stands up and tries to move away but his expensive dress shoes slip in the blood and he scrambles, his laugh turns hysterical, crazed, and he claws for the wall to get away from her.]

Someone actually plays Alma? You, sir or madame, are awesome.

[theyhitmyaorta]

[Oh shi--. Before Keegan realizes where his mun has thrown him, he is crippled by an onslaught of headaches and pain splintering through his body.]

Fuck--

[But he is trying very hard to get away. Not gracefully mind you, but he doesn't care as long as he doesn't turn into a mindless, brainwashed zombie again.]

thanks! I'm enjoying her :3 I seen you around as well!

[originmother]

[ Alma considers this face, considers what he has done, how useful he's been in the past and how he might be of more help to her now. Her head tilts to the left and she moves a hand forward, pointing to his chest.

I was inside you.. She points up to his forehead. There. ]

Do you feel me now?

You are doing a wonderful job. c: Inspired me to give this journal a much needed make-over.

[theyhitmyaorta]

[This feeling-- Keegan hates this feeling. Helplessness. And yet... his fragile psyche reaches out, longing for the very presence he fears and hates. His head is swimming in confusion, a myriad of conflicting emotions. The pain makes it impossible to think straight; Alma's presence is overpowering.

He flinches away from her finger even though it doesn't touch his forehead-- it may as well have.]

G-Get away from me...!

[No, stay near me! You don't need Becket...]

That's kind of you, appreciate it! Thanks! :D And yay for make overs, this fandom <3 needs keegan.

[originmother]

[ Alma focuses on his internal contradiction to what his voice would tell her. Her hand moves down to her side and she steps forward, leaning in curiously to look into his eyes. As if across them she can see the very thoughts streaming from his eyes. It pours into her, a conduit of negativity, a pain she had long lived with. However, through Keegan's emotions she finds that little bit of hope and she reaches forward and pinches it.

She would not have it any other way, and she is certain Keegan is well aware. "Bring him to me." ]