| everything i build is breaking down. |
[Nov. 21st, 2009|12:42 am] |
Last night her parents had gone out for dinner and Molly had spent the night lounging on the couch in front of the TV trading texts with Jubilee who was getting increasingly more hilarious and obviously drunk. It had been early when she had eventually peeled herself away from the end credits of her third movie and shuffled up the stairs to bed. In the morning they still weren’t back. Molly didn’t bother to call them until about midday but it went straight to voicemail and she assumed some sort of medical emergency had come up, maybe they’d come and gone while she’d been asleep that morning. That had happened before. So instead of worrying about it she went out for the afternoon, only coming home as the sun was slipping behind the horizon, darkness creeping over Malibu. When she walked up the drive she felt unease bubbling in the pit of her stomach; the car was still gone and the lights were all out in the house.
Curiosity now giving way to worry she unlocked the front door and went in, calling for her parents only to be met with silence. Suddenly she felt tight as a drum, wound up by the static crackle of stillness in the house pressing in on her from all sides. Swallowing on a chink in her throat she crept into her parents’ bedroom, calling after them softer now. What struck her first was the fact that her mother’s dresser drawers were open, but casting her eyes around she soon discovered that the wardrobe was standing open as well. There were clothes crumpled on the floor and empty hangers above them. Molly wasn’t stupid; she could put two and two together and come out with four. The dark house, the missing clothes, her parents were gone, and they hadn’t been kidnapped or otherwise forced either, they were just gone. Fighting tears of anger and confusion, Molly backed out of the room and went downstairs again. Maybe there was a note somewhere, some kind of explanation as to why her parents had packed up and left and done so without her, some last minute medical conference, some family emergency. As much as she disagreed with their general philosophies when it came to humans and mutants, they were still her parents, and Molly was still a child and she loved her mother and father.
There was nothing on the kitchen counter or by the phone where they used to leave messages, none of the lights would turn on and the clock on the microwave was dead. Something felt really wrong. ( Molly pulled out her handheld, biting her bottom lip in worry as her thumbs whizzed over the keys. )
[ Open to Jubilee & Paradise Residents! ] |
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| log: remy and rogue. |
[Nov. 20th, 2009|01:29 pm] |
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| through constant pained disgrace the young boy learns their rules. (narrative) |
[Nov. 18th, 2009|08:55 pm] |
It didn't really get cold in Santa Monica. The nights could get chilly, especially in the middle of November, when everywhere else was starting to feel the first bites of winter, but it never really got cold. Not the sort of cold that Scott had grown used to, at least. Alaska, Canada, Nebraska -- the places he had spent such large chunks of his life had a much more pronounced approach to the winter months. Back then, he'd had to go out with nothing more to protect from the cold than a thinning sweatshirt. Now it was the same, really, but he at least didn't need more than that. It was a luxury, to say the least, and one that Scott couldn't help noticing most of the time.
At the moment though, he was remembering those past cold nights for a very different reason. Someone was bringing the memories up. Someone whom Scott had hoped to never see again. He hadn't really thought it was possible that he would see this person again, and he still had no clue how he'd been found by him. He had been, though. Last spring, as he'd come back to Santa Monica, he'd been approached by Jack Diamond.
His foster father.
( Scott's history wasn't something that he easily got into discussions of, and for good reason. ) |
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| log: forge & lila cheney |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|10:34 pm] |
summary. The day after an awkward night with Brian, Lila seeks out the easier one of her two problems that clearly must have been messing up her inability to have fun. Cue Lila showing up at the workshop, looking for Forge.
( You can't fix us. ) |
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| log: rogue and john |
[Oct. 10th, 2009|08:17 pm] |
summary: Rogue breaks her cold war with John after she gets a look at his birthday present, but she's still angry with him about his fight with Angie and in need of unloading a serious piece of her history before they can get anywhere. Which, fortunately for both, they might actually accomplish. Backdated to October 10th.
( I got so many hang-ups, I don't know which to blame--my powers, or myself. ) |
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| NARRATIVE. |
[Oct. 10th, 2009|08:02 am] |
SUMMARY: Prelude to a long-delayed confrontation. Backdated to October 10th.
( They'd had to talk sometime. ) |
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| text message to stephen |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|12:53 am] |
( 1 NEW TXT MSG ) |
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| log: jean-paul and aurora |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|12:23 am] |
summary! Aurora went snooping around her brother's place and found some stuff she didn't like, to say the very least. Things just sort of spiraled out of control from there until Jean-Paul says something awful.
( You're just saying that because you're mad. ) |
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| log: lila cheney & brian braddock |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|06:16 pm] |
summary. It's Saturday night and after Lila's return to the stage at Inferno. She and Mr. Brian Braddock decide to get a little celebratory in her room afterward. It doesn't really work out as awesome as either of them intended.
( Well it wasn't exactly good for me either. ) |
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| in the news. |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|09:13 pm] |
[ cnn.com > crime]
Family Lose Another Son To Mob Killing
Yesterday afternoon the body of a Serbian national was found in the back alleys of Chinatown, Los Angeles. It has since been confirmed by an anonymous source that the body belongs to the younger brother of one of five men murdered last month in a brutal premeditated attack, thought to have major links to organised crime. The reason for the deceased’s presence in the United States has not yet been confirmed and a name is yet to be released. His body will be transported back to Serbia following the post mortem examination...
[Continue Reading >] |
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| narrative. |
[Nov. 7th, 2009|01:06 am] |
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| log: mark sheppard & bea boschelli |
[Oct. 30th, 2009|08:48 pm] |
summary. [backdated to after this] After Bea and Mark go out for food, Mark invites her back to her room and shows her his instrument(s).
( We should do it more often, gorgeous. ) |
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| your spine will dissolve, you will fall to the floor. |
[Nov. 6th, 2009|01:38 am] |
In the end the only thing to do had been to shove her in the powers room and let the ectoplasm run its course. Jubilee, Cecilia and Logan had tracked her down once she’d made a run for it out of the hotel and managed to subdue her enough to get her back safely, not surprising really given their mutations and teamwork. Thankfully the room could take a fair amount of punishment, probably more than Momo was capable of dealing really and after more than a day of being locked in that room for her own safety as much as anyone else’s, trying to blast her way out in that detached, spooky way the energies that had usurped the control she had over her own body were finally exhausted. Momo sagged into a heap and promptly crawled into the corner to sleep without allowing thoughts to coagulate or memories to solidify.
Sometime later –- the time of day being pretty much impossible to determine in there and her watch being broken -- she woke up; aching, hungry and in a daze she made her way to the door. When she banged her small palms on it and hoarsely announced that she was ready to come out now in her usual voice whoever was out thee opened it up for her and she all but tumbled out, waving off any queries as to her health.
Yes, she was fine. No, she didn’t want to talk about it. Thank you, but she just wanted to lock herself in her room for a while.
That being exactly what she did. Momo didn’t know how she felt about what had happened yet, she wasn’t even sure that she knew with one hundred percent certainty what had happened, and maybe she would when her thoughts sorted themselves out and maybe she wouldn’t. All she knew was that she was sore and tired and dirty and she wanted to clean up and then hide.
[ narrative ] |
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