Who: Isobel & Max Evans What: A reunion! When: Just before the rallying message from Michael on the network Where: The Conservatory with the wrench Rating/Warnings: TBD Status: In Progress, Closed
Isobel huffed out a breath and got up from the chair she'd been sitting in. She'd done a lot of sitting over the past few hours, in the bedroom she'd claimed with Kyle and... Emma, was it? And then here, in the conservatory. She had no idea what the time of day was meant to be, but finding herself somewhere where there was daylight was reassuring. The courtyard outside looked beautiful but she couldn't tell from this distance if it was well kept or not. She supposed that she would willingly spend some time in here, looking outside as though it wasn't going to drive her insane. The heat from the sun shining down on the glass was familiar, it reminded her a little of Roswell, the warmth of rays on her skin.
It wasn't enough to settle her, though. She checked the phone that she'd received upon arrival, there was still no signal which was ridiculous. What kind of places didn't have signal? She lived in the desert and for the most part she always was able to get in touch with someone.
Frustrated and concerned, Isobel put the book back where she'd found it and instead picked up a watering can, dipping it into the water feature and listening to the trickle of water as it filled the can, rippling to the halfway mark. The greenery seemed to be wilting a little, not dead enough to have indicated that someone had been gone for a long time but perhaps for a few days.
The flower, thankfully, didn't surge for her and try to eat her hair or anything of that nature, so she watered it a little and then placed the can down beside the large pot it was sat in. What was she going to do? She needed to reach out to Michael, she needed to check in with him and make sure he was okay. She needed to-
Ugh.
Her thoughts inevitably turned to Noah and Max and she wrapped her arms around herself, hands squeezing at her upper arms in a form of self-comfort that she had a feeling she'd have to get very used to. Her mind felt empty, her chest ached and a sound caught in the back of her throat that was something like a sob before she caught it with her hand. Her shoulders shook a little and Isobel, in the privacy of a room with no creepy faces staring at her from paintings or the eyes of strangers, allowed herself a moment to grieve.