[Margaret has experienced a few earthquakes in her life, but up until maybe a few minutes ago, she was fairly certain that Maryland was not known for its constantly shifting tectonic plates. She's awoken by the shaking, and immediately, her instincts tell her to crawl to the nearest place to hide. Panic and terror seize her chest, making it hard to breathe. The street is being bombed, she's going to die here, the house is going to collapse and there will be no one to tell her father that she's dead--
She doesn't dare look outside. She finds her way to the bathroom and shoves herself into the corner, terrified out of her mind, her hands clutching at her robe and she waits it out. She can hear things falling from the shelves, books and knick knacks, and she waits, and waits, her fear refusing to ebb even as the minutes drag on and she realizes she hasn't heard any explosions.
When the tremors are over, it takes several minutes for her to uncurl from her hiding spot in the tub. She exhales, slowly, heart still jackhammering in her chest. Her entire body feels numb. An inner voice shouts at her--she needs to move. With jerky movements, she draws herself up and blindly makes her way out onto the street, dressed only in a sleeping gown and pajamas.
There's an unnatural silence that has settled over the street. Some damage, but no evidence of shrapnel or bombs. She stands in the doorway, still trying to catch her breath, her hair frazzled and undone.
What the hell was that?]
Can anyone tell me what the hell just happened?! [She shrieks, to no one in particular.]
ii. that old spirit
a) [She's trying to make her way back from the store when the birds begin to swoop. A pigeon flies by her head, barely clipping her with its wing, and Margaret lets out a yelp. She turns to watch it flap away, befuddled. With horror, she sees it wheel around and try to swoop at her again. She begins to hustle down the street, trying to avoid it--only to have more pigeons descend upon her. She lets out a shriek, trying to raise the grocery bags to shield her face. Their claws scratch and beaks peck at her hands as she runs blindly forward.]
Get them off me! Oh, God--they're in my hair!
b) [After being swooped a few times, Margaret has decided to take shelter in the safety of her home. She stands anxiously at the window, watching as the red-tailed hawk swoops down upon another unsuspecting victim. She shrieks, pressing her face against the glass and gesturing wildly to get the person's attention.]
Over here!
[She gestures towards the door frantically, then disappears from the window. The door opens slightly for them to enter.]
Quickly! Don't let them inside!
iv. poisoning pigeons in the park (cw: animal death/suffering)
[Margaret is out here trying to pick up pigeons. She's wearing thick dishwashing gloves and has a plastic bag in one hand. She stares out along the park, taking in the sheer amount of dead pigeons sprawled out on the grass. She looks down, trying to avert her eyes, then kneels to pick up one by her feet. She cradles it gently in her trembling hands.]
I--I don't know if--
[The pigeon's chest flutters briefly, its toes twitching, and then it falls still. Margaret bites her bottom lip, trying to stifle a cry. She clutches the pigeon more tightly.]
There must've been a better way to deal with this.
margaret houlihan | m*a*s*h | ota, will match format!
ii. that old spirit
iv. poisoning pigeons in the park (cw: animal death/suffering)
v. wildcard