ᴋᴀᴛʜʀʏɴ ᴅᴀʟʟᴇʏ (kathrynd) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-05-06 18:49:00 |
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Kathryn hated dreaming of her mother.
Memories of Claudia, even the happier ones, had been poisoned by all the things she’d done or failed to do. Kathryn didn’t dream often, but when she did, the shadowy figure of her mother tended to haunt those distant, dusty corners of her brain. Even Cheshire didn’t quite hold the same sway in her mind; after all, she had never loved that hospital or its staff. She had loved her mother. And she’d been cast down from their tall, ivory tower all the same.
After waking from the grip of an all-too-familiar nightmare, Kathryn rolled out of her bed onto the floor. On all fours, she panted, her hair soaked with sweat and her black fingers digging into the carpet. Her bed and clothes, too, were soaked through with her sweat. It wasn’t a guarantee that there’d be any poison in any of it, but it was a chance – and one she knew wouldn’t be appreciated by those in the higher strata of Limbo’s security.
She changed into a pair of shorts and one of Grey’s t-shirts before bagging up her normal sleep-clothes and all her bedding. Her hair, still damp, was tied into a messy knot. She left her room in the dead of night, bag slung over her shoulder, and headed for the laundry facilities in the basement of the barracks. She could have waited until the morning, when she could dress a little more presentably with her makeup impeccably applied (always important for Kathryn Dalley), but it wasn’t like she was getting back to sleep tonight anyway.
She didn’t even bother wearing gloves to disguise her disfigured hands.
It was quiet, at least. There wasn’t a soul around in the basement as Kathryn unloaded her things into the washer with almost an entire box of industrial-strength soap.
Kathryn turned the machine on, hopped on top, sat with her legs dangling over the ledge, and picked at her blackened nails.