Winnie Kay (capissen38) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-09-26 23:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | kaylee, sarah williams, sookie |
Who: Sam and Winnie, Cherrie (and bedroom description by dead!Jack)
What: Jack is dead
Where: Hamartia 602, 603
When: The morning after the Vigilante Meeting
Though the evening had started as being an unusual one, Sam was ready to label it as one of the worst she’d had in a long time. Not since Freddie had been kidnapped. The combination of another nightmare, realizing the source of it, and Corbinian’s death was beyond terrible – and because she hadn’t waited till the next night to look up about dropping out of Uni, she’d stumbled across Winnie’s question. Rory had still been brooding about and after a quick conferral, where he offered to tell via her account, Sam offered to go upstairs. Some things couldn’t be told through text and despite only knowing Winnie for a little while, Sam considered her a friend. That was how things worked with her.
After splitting the bandages from earlier into a Ziploc bag – she’d used several earlier for the reopened and new cuts she’d gotten from her nightmare – Sam headed up after hugging Rory once more. She didn’t see a reason to change out of her clean pajamas, only tucking her bag of bandages under arm. Her slippers padded up the stairs and down the hall until she was in front of 602. She raised her hand to knock, pausing before she did so before forcing herself to knock.
Jack's bedroom is mostly bare. There is a mattress on the floor with a sheet over it and a single pillow, both left behind by the previous tenant. The bedclothes are clean, if a little dingy from age. There is an old antique dresser next to the window, also left behind by the former tenant. Inside are Jack's clothes, of which there aren't too many, just what few things he brought over from Musings a year ago and a few extra things he's picked up to supplement them in that time, mostly tending towards the dark and the long-sleeved, and including a few items with conspicuous holes and tears and burn marks. His two guitars are on the other side of the small room from the dresser, one on a stand, the other propped against the wall. The electric guitar is black and battered, purchased on the cheap at a local pawn shop along with the small amp that sits beside it. The acoustic came with him from musings, and though it's showing signs of age it's clean and well-polished. There are sheaves of paper lined for musical notation scattered all around the room - some on top of the dresser, some on the sill, a few beside the mattress. Some are empty, some are covered in writing and notes, done in ballpoint pen. On the dresser, there are pots of black and white face paint. The walls aren't totally bare - there is music hanging on them, as well as four charcoal drawings done with varying levels of skill and emblematic of an artist learning and improving over a period of time, all portraits or figure studies. Behind the drawings are taped four photos. The photos are all of a woman with black hair. Only one shows her face full-on, and even that one is closely cropped. She is smiling in this picture. Under the pillow, if it is lifted up, there is a note stating simply 'check the floorboards.' One of the floorboards beneath the window proves to be loose, and can be lifted by a fingernail under its edge or hard pressure on one end of it to pop it up. Under the board, there is a note, wrapped around enough money to cover the rent for two months, and the name and password for the account online where he receives donations for his music. |