Isadora Raleigh (![]() ![]() @ 2012-04-29 12:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, {isadora raleigh |
A Quiet Time
Characters: Isadora, Iridia, open
When: Sunday evening
Location: Observation car
Warnings/Rating: None anticipated
Summary: Dora ponders her place on the train
Status: open, ongoing
While she wouldn't claim to be bored (she was perfectly adept at self-entertaining), Isadora was something like restless. At home, she could have taken a walk, taken a trip, freely experimented with her collection of poisons. Here though ... here she felt those freedoms eliminated, or at least restricted. She couldn't exit the train. There was no private place to experiment (save her room, and she lacked desire to potentially contaminate her sleeping quarters). She supposed she could try her luck with the back car, but she'd heard nothing could come out of there, so that made it a rather moot point. Even if she did find a room to experiment in, she couldn't do anything with what she found there. So that meant, obviously, she should find something else to occupy her time with. The problem was coming up with what. What did she do, what had she done, for the past few years but her job, or whatever front she was using as a pretend job? She wasn't against learning new things, but the things she'd learned helped her in some way, even if that way was simply gaining knowledge of topics of conversation to play whatever role she'd have to to acquire her target. She played her roles well, after all. But now ... everything was different, and she couldn't recall ever feeling so lost, so unguided. It made her wonder if she'd really been as independent as she'd thought, or if she'd simply been a pawn who thought she was more than a pawn. It wasn't that she hadn't believed in the cause -- she did -- but ... the way they were going about it ... Well, it didn't matter here, did it? For the time being, she was relieved of all duties even as -- apparently -- she was still existing in her world and carrying them out. She wondered how the assassination had gone, and a faint smile edged her lips. She guessed she'd find out when she got back. Settling into one of the couches that faced the window, Isadora watched the twilight forest. Iridia settled between her feet and the window, his head resting on his paws, his eyes half open as he rested. He'd been quieter lately, and that worried her somewhat. She understood, she thought, but it was still troubling. What if he eventually stopped talking completely? Maybe it was just a phase, or a mood, and it would pass ... but the longer it went on, the less sure she was. |