Entry tags:

cordelia, cordelia and creed, creed

Who: Cordelia, Creed, OPEN
Where: Hotel-1, outside the pub
When: Morning, 9ish

Cordelia awoke with a gasp, blinking at the sunlight streaming through her window. For a few blissful moments she believed that her post-midnight trip to the post office and subsequent assault had been a dream, but as she began to take in her surroundings her abduction became painfully real. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed to whatever benevolent force existed in the universe that someday she would see her aunt and sister again. A brief examination of her room immediately lead her to the notebook, whose message she read closely. Phrases like "classified information," "you will not be harmed unless it is absolutely necessary to do so," and "safety guaranteed during daylight hours" seemed to leap from the page and filled Delia's stomach with cold terror. Setting down the notebook with shaking hands, she crossed the room and opened the closet. Although the abundance of her own clothes puzzled her, she quickly changed from her stiff, wrinkled outfit, folding it neatly and placing it on the bottom of her closet. Several books populated the small bookshelf she found in the corner of her room, all books she'd had in her dorm at college. One of them, she noted, was The Tempest, and her lips twitching in an ironic smile despite the situation. How fitting.

Eventually her eyes fell on her desk and her breath caught in her throat. The crumpled letter she'd failed to mail to her sister was sitting, unopened, atop desk. She slit the envelope, silently rereading the cheerful words she'd written the night before and brushing a few tears from her eyes before sitting at the desk and adding, "PS. I was kidnapped last night. I have no idea where I am or how to get out, but right now I'm safe. If I don't see you again, know that I love you very much. Take care of mama." It was a completely empty gesture, of course, but somehow writing the words made her feel like she really was talking to Gloria. Pushing the letter away, Cordelia allowed herself to cry for a few long minutes before she even thought about what to do next.

A few minutes later, Delia pulled a brush she'd found through her curly locks and thought quietly about what to do. The notebook's message had mentioned "neighbors," so she clearly wasn't alone, and it was possible that another prisoner might have more information than she did. That prospect alone was enough to speed Delia out the door, despite the temptation to stay inside and crawl back into bed. The tropical weather was a bit disorienting after Boston's wintry weather, and Delia found herself returning to her room (cell?) in order to dress in lighter clothing and to grab the little notebook, just in case another bit of information was sent through it while she was out. Steeling herself, she closed her door and ventured out into the island town, keeping an eye out for fellow prisoners. She carried herself with her usual inborn meekness, not even trying to hide her fear or confusion. Her footsteps soon carried her to the pub that was written about in her notebook. Looking in, she saw a few other people, but hesitated before entering. She needed to eat and it would be a good idea to interact with people, but for the moment, fear was keeping her in check, so she just stood outside, unsure of whether or not to enter.