022. Murmur

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During one of her fever-dreams, Andrea found herself lounging underneath a red cedar tree, during the height of a clear, spring day.

A sweetling of a morning songbird chirps above her, within the rustling, curl-twine of a tree canopy.

Michonne's slender, brown toes dangle out. "A few days, and we'll be gone," Andrea hears her mumble, resting atop a old, dusty tire swing roped to the low-hanging branches. Her skinny, strapless white dress flapping to the breeze. "I won't leave you behind."

That's the problem with Michonne — she has too much love in her heart. And — someone like Andrea doesn't deserve it. Not an inch.

Liliac-tasting wine and creme on her lips, pooling on Andrea's tongue. She tilts her face up curiously into the sunlight blocking Michonne's features. Andrea reaches out, tickling the bottom of Michonne's foot, dodging a light, irritated kick in her direction, chuckling and grinning.

"… I promise I won't," Michonne whispers outside the dream, wiping the lukewarm sweat dripping off an unresponsive Andrea's brow.

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The Walking Dead isn't mine. These two ladies were absolutely canon and I stand by it. I stand by it until my grave. Thoughts/comments appreciated!