Allison Argent (rightontarget) wrote in shipsahoy, @ 2016-02-23 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! scene |
Who: Allison Argent and Anna Latham
What: Actual conversation
When: Tuesday evening
Where: Their room
Warnings: None
Status: Closed/On-going
Allison was overwhelmed by this place. So much was going on. So much to deal with. Peter was dead -- had been there to begin with. Her father had the most dysfunctional relationship ever going on with Scorpius. Tristan existed.
Tristan. Oh, Tristan. God, Tristan, who knew her soul already. Seemed to know it better than she knew it herself. How was that even possible? He was such a new being, so new to existence. So uncertain about so much of himself, and yet when it came to calming her? To helping her know herself? And she seemed to have the same influence on him.
She'd never been that good for anybody else, not even Isaac. It felt heady and wonderful and oh God, she was half in love already. If not moreso. Her father wasn't going to be happy about that. Or Tristan. And oh God, Stiles was going to spaz twelve ways from last Sunday. But it was what it was.
She sat on the couch, legs tucked up with her, alone. It felt odd being in the room alone, but she wasn't going to chase anyone. They'd be back. Except her dad. She'd go find him after a while. But he needed his space for a while. It hurt, but she knew he needed it. She'd give it for a while.
Allison looked up when the door opened. "Anna. Hi," she said cautiously, not afraid but careful since they hadn't exactly exchanged words when the other woman had come in the other night.