Edith Olson (skintightsecret) wrote in savingthegames, @ 2014-05-25 14:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | edith olson, tristan cadwalader |
Who: Tristan and Eddie
What: When Tristan comes to Eddie's apartment, she decides now is the time to break his heart. It's a mess.
When: Sunday the 25th, 1:15pm
Where: Eddie's apartment (The Rails)
Warnings: Drug/alcohol withdrawal, language
Status: COMPLETE, with intent to ruin everyone's day.
Before encountering Ethan, Eddie had been wavering in whether or not she was going to reveal to Tristan what she'd done to Ciara. Even if things had changed and rumours of Jack Frost's involvement in the Omicron attack had faded, there was still a woman out there without answers and in running into someone who cared about her, she was reminded that she couldn't pretend the incident away. Sometimes she caught herself staring at her hands, remembering what it was like to be in Jack Frost's body and how the tips of her fingers chilled. Once or twice she thought about it so hard she swore her fingers felt the tingling sensation of falling asleep just by sheer will. Ever since that night, Eddie had been incredibly selective about whose bodies she invaded and for what reasons, but for the first time in years, she was dogged with shame. It was stupid. She hated it and it was stupid. And yet here she was this Sunday afternoon, having tried to quit the heroin and the alcohol, having stopped fucking strangers, and her body was a torrent of pain and nausea. She'd spent the morning shaking and vomiting, stumbling in and out of cold showers, her heart racing and her vision disoriented. But by noon, she had forced herself into day clothes: an open-back black shirt and dark jean shorts, her face caked in make-up to hide just how much damage the withdrawals were causing, her face pale, her skin clammy. It would be simple. Tristan would arrive and she'd break his heart. Trembling fingers lit a cigarette as she perched herself on the screenless window's sill overlooking the street. Her existence wasn't ugly enough that her life was at stake every single day, but what was it worth to someone like him? Maybe she was projecting. After all, Tristan knew what suffering was and she could never forget the fear of rejection in his eyes as he told her what had happened to his parents and sister. That whole day had been such a blur, but she remembered his eyes, remembered how he said there were no angels. He might not have been an angel, but he'd been the closest she'd ever seen. And angels, she had decided, did not deserve to dig through mud and shit for love. If he fell in love, she wouldn't be able to stand it, despite how much her heart wished for it. Maybe in another time, another life, she could've been someone worthy of his affections, but now? Now she was scum of the earth and she'd make him see that. Her heart was racing and she didn't know if it was from anticipation or from the withdrawals. She couldn't have picked a worse time to try and quit again, but she felt tired and old beyond her years. If falling asleep tonight meant not waking up tomorrow, Eddie doubted she'd care. But what was on today's agenda came first, and she had to convince him bitterly that Tristan needed to get lost. This was going to be ugly. But she waited. |