[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/KeAjc2u.png[/img][/center]


[center][sup]The Gay Grove[/sup][/center]

Mariah's eyes squinted against the purple glow and she felt hot tears streaming down her face. By the time they were teleported back to the field, she was panting heavily, and full on sobbing. [color=f26522]“I hope… it didnae follow us…”[/color] It was then that Mariah's adrenaline fueled body recalled that she was a weak skinny bitch-- her knees buckled and she shook, before practically falling to one knee with Isla still clutched fearfully in her arms. A loud sob left Mariah as Isla told her, [color=f26522]“I… dinnae wanna… see tha’ again… Am pure done...” [/color]

Shaking her head, Mariah choked through her tears, in a very thick Cuban accent, [color=#F3128D]"I don' kno' what you even say but thank you. Jus-- Oh, dios mío, bebé, por que... por que yo?"[/color] Covered in mud, blood, and smelling like the thick of a Florida swamp, Mariah kneeled there and sobbed in an ugly way as she looked up toward the others. Madison was crying, Vashti was mangled, the fucking FBI was here? 

Weirdly instinctively, Mariah held Isla, as if she were a poor mother on the steps of the Cathedral and the inquisition had come for her BABY. At this point, she was sobbing and cradling Isla, while mumbling for mercy in Spanish. What a day.