lookforheaven (aucontraire_) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-05-07 00:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [05] may, adelaide hawkins, brannon o'brien |
Who: Adelaide and O'Brien
Where: TSCB, rotunda
What: drunken crying girl tries to discreetly extract info from her favorite cop
When: 5/7/18, evening
Adelaide’s small hands are shaking as the last letter drops back into the beat up cardboard box - the last letter, and the only one of the fat pile of them not written by her brother. It was written instead to Rodeo by their mother, and it is as vitriolic as it is damaging.
Mother’s Day is just around the corner, and if Adelaide Hawkins had an address for her psychopathic snake of a mother, she would most certainly have a gift to send.
The fact that it would contain something along the lines of explosives or poison is beside the point.
The best thing you ever did for her was get locked up. Now she has a chance to live a life she couldn't have with you around. You should stop looking for her and stay dead like your daddy. Rodeo died in prison with their mother’s words probably ringing in his ears, hope barely in shreds, thinking Adelaide didn’t care for him in the slightest. Adelaide isn’t a violent person, but murder by post sounds less than satisfying, now that she thinks of it. She wants to wring her mother’s bony neck for writing the things to Rodeo that she did.
Coward, she thinks, lifting up the bottle of Wild Turkey and swigging. It is more than half gone now, and Adelaide’s swimming vision is a testament to that. She knows she’s using the anger to keep from the deeper issue here - she long ago wrote her mother off as a monster, but it was only just two hours ago that Skinner confirmed the death of her brother.
The wind is whipping through the colonnade around the Texas State Capitol’s rotunda, and Adelaide picks up a different letter - the last one Rodeo wrote, just before the prison fell. She puts her bottle down on top of the rest of the pile to keep them from being blown about, then moves to the rail and swings her legs over to sit. She leans one shoulder against the giant column and clutches that letter against her chest while a sob shakes her high above the Capitol’s dried out choked lawns. She’s never been afraid of heights, but Rodeo was. The past tense brings another sob and the flood gates open. Her heart has been broken for years, but knowing that he isn’t even in the world anymore with her is the loneliest thing she has ever felt.
Some time later the door behind Adelaide opens, and she quickly swipes at her face while she turns to see who it is.
Her words when she speaks are hoarse and soggy, but she sniffs and makes a valiant attempt at smiling irony. “Don’t you just sometimes get overwhelmed thinking about all of the TV series you’ll never know the endings to?” she asks, preempting any questions.