Jaime E. Davies (catch_my_wave) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2017-11-12 10:07:00 |
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While it had been cold as fuck outside, it at least hadn't been snowing. Her kind neighbor had offered her a ride into town, which was good. While there were clothes to use, not a lot of them fit well. So she bundled up in the warmest stuff she could find, and off they went. He'd given her a basic tour of what comprised the town, pointing out what the buildings were, and which ones weren't worth poking into. If there hadn't been a billion feet of snow, she would've done some exploring, but as it was she was cold and not inclined to deal with more of this place than she had to. Maybe if they were still here when the snow melted, she'd explore. As it was, clothes were pretty much her main goal. Winter things, things to sleep in, things that fit, things to wear inside. So while Noah did his own poking around, Jaime set about filling a garbage bag with clothing. It was almost like a shopping spree until she started flipping through the coats. There, she came across something that was so radically out of place here but so very familiar to her that she almost screamed. She did make a noise, she knew, though she'd muffled it as well as she could before taking the long leather trench coat off the rack. At first she thought it was a replica - hoped it was. Otherwise it meant ... ... it meant what? It meant someone had stolen it out of her dad's closet. When they'd taken her? Before? After? Was he alive? Was this meant to suggest he was dead - or that he could be? It was a sign enough they knew who he was, how to get into his house. Even as the thoughts rolled through her mind, Jaime ran her hands over the coat to seek out the tell-tale signs it was his and not just a copy. But there was the jagged scar on the hem of it, the place he'd had to patch it after a drunk client had burned a hole in it with a cigarette, the tear in the lining he'd sewn up himself. Numbly, she folded up the coat and shoved it in the bag. She couldn't wear it - it would drag all over the floor on her short frame - but she didn't want it to stay here. For other people to see it, touch it, maybe take it for themselves. It made her wonder, absurdly, if something she'd taken belonged to someone in the house - or a relative of someone in the house. She hoped not; she'd hate to be a victim of that sort of confrontation. She nearly left the area before recalling she needed a coat of her own, so she pulled one that fit and seemed warm enough before snagging gloves and a hat. The rest of her clothes gathering was done numbly, and she was quiet when she met back up with Noah for the trip back. She did at least remember to thank him before hauling her things upstairs to her room to spend some time behind a closed door, putting them away. In the closet, in drawers, lined up by the closet in the case of the shoes. And then she needed something to distract herself with. So after shoving her dad's coat in the far back corner of her closet, she headed out. She had explored the house to some degree and she thought she recalled an art room upstairs. So up she went, socked feet slipping now and again on the floor as she wandered toward the room in question. She may as well make her door sign, she guessed. Most everyone else seemed to have one, and hopefully it would distract her a little from wondering about her dad's coat and why it was here. Gathering up some colored pencils, paper, and a couple bottles of glitter glue, she plunked herself down at one of the tables and started to craft her door sign - though her mind kept whirling anyway. |