Lydia Martin is a survivor. (idontneedtohide) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-03-01 13:54:00 |
|
|||
It had somehow already been a couple months since she'd gotten engaged and Lydia still couldn't believe that it happened. If it wasn't for the rings, honestly, she would probably think it was just a dream. Of course, because it wasn't full of death or terror or something supernatural, Lydia wouldn't have believed it was a dream. Somehow, Lydia had started just getting used to Beacon Hills and the steady stream of fuckery that came out of it. Reading through Stiles's notes, Lydia wondered if her life could have been different if he and Scott hadn't decided to go look for a dead body in the woods in the middle of the night. Sighing, Lydia realised she probably would have ended up in the same place anyway. She was a banshee, and somehow Peter had known that. If Stiles and Scott hadn't gotten involved, who knows what could have happened to her instead? Maybe after bringing the werewolf back to life, she would have eventually ended up in the same place her grandmother had lived and died in. Just thinking about Eichen House made her uncomfortable and just a little bit queasy. Lydia shook her head, trying to get her mind focused on something else. The whispers in her head were quieter, just like she had said to Hans, and for once she felt a little bit normal for the first time since the voices started. She could pretend that the nervousness she felt in the pit of her stomach had more to do with the fact that she was going to this store to find something for her wedding than the weird foreboding she felt from her dreams. Pushing aside all her little nagging worries, Lydia threw the doors of the store open, as dramatically as she wanted, and just looked around the store. It had been a while since Lydia had done a little retail therapy, so she was looking forward to just looking around. Hopefully she'd find something to wear at the wedding too, but she had a feeling she'd be leaving with more than a few pairs of shoes, the majority of them not at all related to why she was coming here in the first place. On her phone, Lydia had a picture of the dress that she wanted and she had a swatch of the fabric in her purse too, just because comparing to the image on the phone wouldn't be good enough for her. Determination on her side, she headed towards the expansive selection of heels, a familiar face just out of view. Unfortunately, Lydia was too focused on a pair of shoes to notice at first. |