InsaneJournal

I'm searching for something which can't be found - but I'm hoping...
Date: 8/1
Time: 2:15 AM
Location: Rhi's old apartment
Characters: Rhiannon Montgomery, Liam Edvarsson
Description: A chat, and perhaps and understanding.
Status: Private, in progress

The rubber soles of her boots padded lightly across the damp street. It hadn't been raining, but somehow this neighborhood always seemed to remain wet. Her heightened senses did little but enhance the dampness and decay of the old neighborhood. Popping the collar on her jacket to hide her face, the young Miss Montgomery picked up speed.

Over-dressed for this place, her heart pounded, blue eyes constantly peering over her shoulder and trying her best to ignore the leering. She could kill them all, and without much effort, if she chose to. But there were other things on her mind just then.

Slipping into a familiar alley, Rhiannon stared up at the bars taunting her. In the past she'd have had to climb onto the garbage can to reach, but no more. Bending her knees, the vampire leapt, tiny hands curling around lowest bar of the lifted ladder. "Take that..." she told the metal, as if it cared. Teeth glinting, she silently slinked up the steps until she was at the fourth floor window.

Her window.

Swallowing, a pair of hands and a nose pressed to the glass. It looked the same... Her heart twisted within her chest. She didn't realize it, then, but the barriers in her mind lowered just enough that sadness could trickle down through the blood-bond. Switchblade removed from her jacket pocket, Rhiannon slipped it beneath the frame and flicked, the window now an open invitation.

Pushed up and slipped in, Rhiannon found herself surrounded by memories. Lights off, not that she needed them, Cerulean gazed at all that she once was now coated in a layer of dust and darkness. It almost smelled of death. Twin-sized bed pressed horizontally to the wall and piled high will stuffed animals, it was wrapped in a neon spread. There was no headboard not foot-board, or even a frame, the box-springs and mattress simply resting flat upon the floor. Her own drawings covered the walls, charcoal and lead mixed with the occasional pop of colored ink or chalk. It was a teenager's room. But it felt a lot like a tomb.

Closet left open, the stripes of color that had filled her wardrobe welcomed her, florals and prints clashing in a wide array of both winter and summer attire. Unlike her life with Valerian, here Rhiannon had just enough to get by, and even this one small closet had space left. Shaking her heard, she found herself removing her jacket and hanging it on the door knob, followed by the rest of her clothes.

The dress that she found herself reaching for had never been worn. Inexpensive, but a lovely shade of pink, her father had brought it home for her just because. Staring down at it, she ran her fingers over the mass produced lace. "You found out, didn't you?" she whispered into the silence. "That the cancer was back. And you were going to tell me." That was why they'd gone on that trip, wasn't it?

And that was when he was shot...and she was taken...

She didn't realize she was crying until her vision blurred, her hand rising to wipe at her cheek with the back of her palm. Sighing softly, she backed up until the back of her calves touched softness. Knees bending, the half naked girl sank onto her bed, fabric bunched in her lap.