|Elisabeth Glorianna Braddock // Psylocke (shadow_lust) wrote in parabolical,|
@ 2008-11-14 23:29:00
|Entry tags:||elisabeth braddock, peter petrelli (future)|
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
WHO: Peter Petrelli and Elisabeth Braddock.
WHAT: Coffee, talking.
WHERE: Nice, out of the way café.
RATING: PG for now.
STATUS: In progress.
This would be the first Elisabeth left the house since losing the baby. The first time she stood beyond walking to the washroom or trying to eat. She was barely there, a ghost. She stopped crying herself to sleep after the first week. She stopped talking after the third day. She stopped feeling...
So, she made an effort. Or something. She reached out to someone who wouldn't know or fret over her non-stop like the boys and Sam had done; not that she didn't appreciate it, but it wore her out. It reminded her. Elisabeth didn't want to remember the Smiling Man. She didn't want to hear that wretched cackle. She didn't want to hear the doctor's voice.
Elisabeth had dressed in black; long sleeves, loose fitting pants, and a scarf that was long enough to hug her throat and still hang at her waist. She was working on removing the apathetic look from her face while waiting for Peter.