Feb. 14th, 2006

eldorne_girl: (cries alone)
She knew Thom was at the House of Arch, she knew.

But there was always a chance that he might come back, sometimes. After all, he couldn't spend the whole time there, could he? So she went and knocked on the door, standing back and straightening her heavy silken skirts absently as she waited. No reply, but, well...

The door was unlocked.

And she went in.

Empty, empty, bed made as Thom does and clothes scattered here and there. She notices all this, as she stands there, but anything else doesn't really seem to make it's way.

The room smells like him. Like the scent he always wears, like his expensive clothes and oh, just...Just him.

Just Him.

In Thom's room, and oh, she's been his for so many years, too many years, and so she knows what they did. Her breathing is starting to be shaky, now. Shaky and her fists clench as she tries not to cry. Tries, but she hasn't seen him in so long, too long, and he came back and he came back to Thom...

It's not fair.

It's not fair, and no matter how much she clenches her fists or bites her bottom lip, her shoulders are shaking now and she sinks to the floor. And, in the middle of Thom's room and her heavy green skirt that have blossomed out around her, Delia begins to cry.

She always did make a pretty picture, though.
eldorne_girl: (curled up and fragile)
[George carries her up, up the stairs, up to his room, all the while cradling her like she was something precious, something fragile...

Something broken.]

[the door is shut, but not locked (a good thing, always a good thing, locks mean you can't get out can't escape...) and when the lanky thief places her on the bed, Delia just curls up into a huddle of thick hair and silken skirts; curls up, and doesn't stop crying.]

[not for a long time]

[but sooner or later she has to stop and, slowly, she does - the sobbing becomes weeping which becomes a sniff and a hiccup here and there. But the whole time, she doesn't move, just stares out with reddened green eyes not really seeing anything. At last, though, she draws in a shaky breath and whispers,]

I'm a wreck, aren't I?


eldorne_girl: (Default)

June 2007

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