Evangeline Sablier is not broken, but please (handlewithcare) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-01-24 00:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dc comics, *log, *narrative, clementine murphy, evangeline sablier |
Narrative and then quick log.
Who: Evie Narrative - then Quicklog with Clementine
Where: Gotham City
When: A little while after this charming affair
What: Oh who knows?
Warnings: See above under "what"
Evie had a little trick she pulled when she was younger. Insecure, but still a little diva dying to get out and see the world, but untrusting to let the world in in return - she would casually fall behind her father as he walked. To see how long it took him to notice. To make sure he was REALLY meaning it when he said he'd keep an eye on her. That he'd never leave her. That he'd never lose her again. He never failed that little trick. He always noticed. She certainly wasn't playing a trick now - but she was using the slipping away skill she'd learned just the same. She didn't feel the need to interrupt. Once again she reminded herself Daisy was better. Daisy was safe. She'd get the dog. She'd drop the dog off. She'd go away forever.
The strength that it took her to leave the door, watching Wren and Luke, and then Jack and then going to turn back and look one more time at Will she almost stayed. She did. She didn't care about anything else. All that was running through her mind were the reassurances that Daisy was safe mingling with the words of "safe and happier without you" that came from other sources. She knew it was selfish. Leaving Will again no matter how he begged her to stay. She wanted to see Daisy, and even as she was so close to letting the door close behind her friends, with a scream as a monster slashed at her calf she went in through the door slamming it shut behind her.
She didn't have the strength to do much else as she watched her friends move toward what was supposed to be home. Knowing her baby was just that close, had her sick to her stomach. She couldn't see her though. Not like this. It would be okay. No one would notice, she'd pop out, she'd get everything sorted. And pop back.
The dog. There were two conversations she'd had about the dog and she slowed her pace ambling slowly as if stopping to smell the roses and innocently not noticing that everyone was still walking. She slowed even further. Two conversations about the dog. Gotham. Shane lived in Gotham City. Which was good. It was a door she knew. And it was right there. No had called out to ask her to hurry, so she'd slipped around the corner to the door and she had almost forgotten upon entering what she was doing there.
It was the middle of the night, but she was certain it was always the middle of the night in Gotham. She didn't know. She couldn't remember. And she couldn't remember why she'd come here. To start over?
She was dirty as she ambled down the street boots covered in mud and murk, blood caked to the side of her hair, her face, she hadn't washed in....Weeks. Her clothes were torn, her body ached, she had a gun, long out of ammo, tucked into the back of her jeans. Jeans that were soaked through with blood at the calf where the last monster had gotten his last digs in. The last monster that she knew now had been Will. He hadn't stayed Will. He had turned into a dark evil snarling thing. Clamoring to keep her as she tried to run. Strong forceful claws had dug in and shredded at her calf, denim hung loose around her calf, and strips clung tightly to an open wound taht dripped red, but dried and caked as best it could despite her use of the muscle.
Rust colored stains covered her, her eyes were red and bloodshot, her lip swollen either from biting or fighting. Maybe both. She wandered down a street toward a structure with bright lights. They had a telephone in a place like that, she was tired and woozy. She'd call Selina. Selina probably had the dog too. And the fresh start.
She felt someone grab her from behind, call her girlie, ask - no tell her - to hand over her money. She laughed, her head thrown back, hysterical, even as tears flowed freely down her face. Her hand reached behind her, gun shaking and pointing at the two - teenagers who were definitely up to no good, but hardly dangerous. And not someone Evie would generally threaten. "Do I look like I have any money to you?" she screamed pointing the gun back and forth between the two of them. They had their hands up and were fixing to run. Evie laughed. "Don't run you little shits." she snapped. "I'm so sick of little shits. I'm sure you have sob stories, but I don't give a shit," she snapped again, her gun wavering slightly and they stared at her, eyes wide.
Eyes widened even more when she lowered the gun and dropped it on the ground. "Give me all your money," she said raising her eyebrows expectantly. They didn't move. She held out her hand, palm flat up. "Give me all your money." She said again advancing toward them and bending over to reach for the gun again. But she didn't grab it. Because they threw their wallets at her and ran.
She picked them both up and started looking through them. 27 bucks between the two of them, school identification, condoms, and a certified bikini inspector card. Christ. What the hell was she doing again?