"She cries like she's mourning for the entire world."
In which too many people start to tamper with the timeline in hope of avoiding the apocalypse.
Warning : Mature content. There are a few smuts because I consider Michael an adult that grew up fa...
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.・。.・゜✭・
MARIE BELAIRwas born in the middle of a snowstorm in Saint Raphaël, Quebec. Her poor mother, Anne Belair, had to give birth alone on her bed.
The pain was seemingly endless and excruciating, yet even if she could, Anne wouldn't alter a single thing that day. The way she gave birth symbolized perfectly her future : hidden alone with her daughter in their home.
The room was filled with noises coming from the windows being shaken by the strong wind and the cries of her newborn. Anne brought her hand to gingerly brush the small tuff of jet black hair on the top of her little head.
Her eyes opened to reveal a pair of light brown eyes, and Anne choked up when she realised how similar she looked to her father.
"Looks like it's just you and me," Anne sighed with a sad smile. "My sweet Marie."
Marie grew up surrounded by magic, her mother was famous in the small town of Saint Raphaël as an eccentric woman. She kept mostly to herself and never tried to create ties with her neighbors. She offered scarily accurates tarot and rune readings yet concealed her other talents.
Nobody but Marie knew that she was a witch.
Anne would levitate small toys above her crib, and Marie would raise her small arms to try to grab them while giggling.
As years passed, Anne realised that Marie was crying an awful lot, even for her young age. Anything could trigger a full blown crying session, and Anne took the habit of bying boxes of tissues and falling asleep in her daughter's bed while comforting her.
Marie was three years old when she asked the question Anne dreaded to answer.
She was making breakfast, humming to the song playing on her small radio, and she felt her pajama pants being tugged.
"Mama."
Anne looked down, and her eyes met the caramel irises of Marie. "Yes?"
"Can I have blueberries in my pancakes?" She asked, a pleading glint in her eyes.
"Sure." She replied, and the toddler's lips stretched in a dazzling grin that her mother absolutely adored.
With a smile like this, her daughter was going to break a lot of hearts.
She opened the fridge to get the blueberries her daughter loved so much, and she froze when Marie blurted. "Where's my daddy?"
Anne abruptly shut the door, and her wide eyes settled back on her daughter, who was patiently waiting for the answer.
"He's..." She swallowed thickly, her gut twisting. "He's in heaven."
Her small black brows knitted in confusion. "Heaven?"
