Who: Laura and open (Gabriel? Klaus?) When: Early Sunday Morning Where: The top of the lodge What: Laura contemplates old scents, sorrow, and loss. Warnings: TBD Standing perched on the edge of the roof. Like a gargoyle, a sentinel of the night. She wasn't quite stalking anyone, yet. They thought her unfeeling, and cold, the question was should she be. The one person... The one creature she had thought wound understand. Didn't. He had left her to fend for herself.
Though, Laura should have been prepared for it. Prepared to take care of herself no matter the circumstances. No matter the challenge. At the moment the challenge was the added weight in her front, the cumbrous bulge. Yet she had overcome and adjusted her balance, and wardrobe, accordingly. She couldn't do much else than that.
She wasn't this big when she was ready to give birth to Logan. She had read that twenty eight weeks was when complications began. She was a little afraid. And a lot alone.