Author's Note: This is my very first Fanfiction! Yayy! The first few chapters are going to be for character development. Rated M for language and future adult content. I value criticism because it will help me become a better writer. Please don't flame. Please. :D
Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. I own nothing.
I wanna give a shout out to Hitman White, who gave me some good advice, and published "RED Tracker RECRUITED", a beautifully written story with an equally beautiful OC. Read it, because it's such a sweet, and spicy, fanfiction!
Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are appreciated!
"Stop tuggin' at your dress. Show some respect." Sadowey scolded his younger sister, placing a firm hand over hers, causing her to sigh heavily. Strangers walked in front of them, dark, cool shadows ghosting over their faces. The women wore black dresses, and the men wore black suits. Some were crying, and others were whispering soft words of sympathy. Everett didn't understand, but she didn't like the new, empty feeling in her stomach, and she disliked the paleness that had settled in her brother's face.
"But it's so dang scratchy, Sadowey." She complained, her pink lips pouting, and her cheeks rosy. Her black dress scratched against her small, bruised legs. She had spent the whole morning fussing over it. "Just deal with it. Mama would've loved to see you in such a nice dress." Sadowey mumbled, a lump forming in his throat. A burning sensation followed after he swallowed, and pressure built behind his eyes. He forced his tears away, adjusting his red tie.
Everett looked up at him, watching his wet, gray eyes. Again, she sighed, blowing a lock of her chocolate hair away from her eyes. She gazed about the crowded room. People gathered around a coffin that sat in the middle of the living room. The windows were open, the soft summer breeze swirling the dust in the curtains. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distant field and cicadas hissed over the melancholy mumbles of the mourners. A rocking chair repeated a creaky rhythm, squeaking like a metronome. A middle aged man sat in the rocking chair, staring solemnly across the dusty room, his eyes fixated on the parallel wooden wall. Everett's eyes fell upon the man, her hands gripping at the fabric of her dress.
"I thought Fetch didn't like people in the house." Everett spoke, watching her step father lazily drink from his nearly empty beer bottle as he stared at the faded floral wallpaper. "There's an awful lot of people in here." Everett stated the obvious, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her palms on her tights. Sadowey did not reply, his tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. Everett chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second, the silence between her and Sadowey becoming deafening. "Why do we gotta sit here in these scratchy clothes? And why are all these people here? Why can't Mama just pass on her own, in peace an' quiet?" Everett crossed her arms over her chest. "If I was Mama, I'd get up and yell at everyone to get out. I'd yell at Fetch, too." She frowned.
"Don't talk about mama that way. S'not right to talk about..people who've passed.." Sadowey said, looking over at his younger sister. He was hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his freckled face lined with pain. Everett's small shoulders rose, and then fell, and her lips curled into a wry smile. "But you always said that we should talk about someone while they're gone. You said it'll make 'em come home faster. Like when Mama went to Caroline's, and I missed her so bad. And we talked about the good things about Mama, and, the next mornin', she was home, asleep on the couch." Everett smiled, though her brother could only shake his head. He sat up straight, now, with a grunt.
"Yeah, well, this is different." He said. The smile faded on Everett's chubby face. Her eyebrows arched and lowered. "How so?" she asked, confused. Sadowey inhaled deeply, rubbing his hands together. "'Cause this time, Mama's not comin' home."