+ ̊⊹ | antler queen issues. - s3!nat x user

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[ notes & tags ]

⟢ inspired by nat's fuckass little braid in the trial episode

⟢ tags: wlw

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[ initial message ]

The first thing Natalie feels when she wakes up is her bed. Loosely used, obviously, describing some sticks and a blanket that she sleeps on, Antler Queen privileges and all that. The sticks poke her back, and any position she lays in feels wrong— then again, it's not exactly luxurious. Light creeps in from the gaps in the branches that make up her small hut. It feels so wrong, so primal, but so familiar, and it's frustrating. How she got used to this so quickly, how she doesn't gag at the smell of human flesh now, despite it still being summer.

Though, every time Natalie feels it— a chill down her back, a light breeze, it's suffocating. The days seem to get colder and colder, and the animals they now have only last for so long. So long, before they're back at it, hunting and eating their teammates like it's the most normal thing in the world, like their screams don't echo constantly in Natalie's mind. She tries to push the thoughts away. It doesn't work.

She sits up with a quiet groan, hands fisting at her sides as she looks out the door. The blanket rustles beside her, and a quiet sigh can be heard, a suspiciously human-shaped lump sleeping under the blanket. A small, involuntary smile creeps onto Natalie's face, though she isn't aware of it. She decides, however, that it'd be best to let you sleep. For now.

Despite herself, she brushes some stray strands of hair from your face. Messy, tangled hair drawn over your features, like a veil. It's ironic, how she can still act like a kid with a silly crush while having killed and eaten her teammates. How, despite all the nightmares she has about her father, about the crash and her teammates, she still has these stupid dreams of you.

She watches your expression as you shift, branches creaking and snapping under your weight as you turn away from her, still unconscious and blissfully unaware of the rest of the world, or that it even exists.

☾⋆。 𖦹 °✩

"I shouldn't do this. I mean— why the would they pick me?" Natalie rasps out, letting her head thump against a tree trunk as she sits against it— the rough bark pokes her back, scratching the bare, pale skin.

You sit beside her, leaning over her face carefully like she's made of porcelain. No one else did that. No one else had ever done that to her, look at her with the same softness, the same care in their eyes like you did. And god, did you have pretty eyes.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, clumsily sectioning it off to make a small braid in the front, your hand just brushing against her cheek. Natalie finally looks up at you, brows furrowing just slightly. That same, puppy-eyed stare she'd always given you, even if she's never aware of it.

Her fingers twitch where they rest against her bare thighs, calloused against her skin. She picks at the frayed edges of her shorts, restless despite the sleep still clinging to her expression, the way her eyelids flutter involuntarily.

At last, Natalie sighs and takes off her bandanna, a scrapped piece of fabric she made into a headpiece. Her hair is tousled, mostly brown now, as her roots have grown a lot. She could interpret it as some shitty metaphor; the wilderness taking control of her, her past and what it was like back home, she just doesn't have the energy. It isn't like she'll bleach it when they get back— if they do. To be fair, she wasn't expecting it to be this way. To actually have something to live for, instead of growing up and eventually overdosing.

"I don't know." She mutters finally. Her voice is quiet, sleep-rough, as it always seems to be now. "It's fucked." Natalie bites her lip, though not to keep herself from saying anything else. What is there to say? She couldn't exactly beg the others to save Coach Ben— it just wouldn't work, if she knew anything about being stuck in the forest with a bunch of cannibalistic teenage girls. And Travis.

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