#writtenindaylight

Naomi walked into the bar with Sasha at her side, patiently waiting for someone to respond when she would ask what direction the bar was in. A few ignored her, a couple laughed, and finally someone gave her vague directions. Of course, that was without telling her what obstacles her before her. It was frustrating, but Naomi took her time, Sasha and a walking stick to guide her. Finding an empty seat was another challenge, but she finally managed, her guide dog happily laying curled around the barstool. When she heard a woman’s voice, hopefully directed towards herself, she smiled sweetly at her. “May I please get a water with ice, and a water bottle?” Adults were a lot harder to speak with than kids were, and a lot harder for them to accept help. She gave a sincere thank-you when her order had been placed in front of her.

“I apologize for taking up more of your time, as I realize you’re very busy by the sounds of things. But I was wondering if it would be at all possible to point me in the direction of a woman named George?” Her words were gently spoken, voice never raising above what was necessary, as she folded the stick into her lap.

Delta had been enjoying herself, dancing with whomever would dance with her – girls and boys alike. She had a couple drinks, but nothing to get her shit faced or have her unable to walk a straight line. She liked to be a classy drunk, not a sloppy one. That’s when she noticed a woman crawl out w window, and it made her curious. Following, she realized there was a way out onto the roof through the window, so she followed the stranger up there, too. Popping her head up first, she gave a small wave. “Hiya!” After getting on the roof, she invited herself to sit down beside the other. “What are you doing all the way up here? Is it the view? Because it’s totally awesome, I’ll admit.”

Christine had lost count how much time she had spent searching for the other woman. Perhaps it was pathetic how often she thought of the woman who had turned her, but being left to fend for herself in a world she no longer knew had warped her sense of what was considered sane. Nothing about her actions had been sensible since being abandoned, and these last few months were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the lengths Christine had gone through to get to this very moment. 

A party was very fitting in Christine’s eyes for what she had in mind. Concealed behind a black, ornate mask, her eyes flitted across the room in search of Ophelia once more. She was in a game of cat and mouse, but she was the only one playing. In some ways it was satisfying for her -- letting Ophelia be the one to be paranoid for once, but Christine knew it’d be all the better once her presence was known and she could get her rightful revenge. Any love she once held for the other woman had soured over the centuries until it was nothing more than a black pit resting in her stomach. This, Christine believed, would be her moment to enact centuries worth of pain and suffering onto the very person who had caused her own. 

Eyes falling onto Ophelia, Christine followed her around the party. She stood just far enough to barely keep out of the woman’s sights, but close enough to be able to watch her from across the way. Lips turning down into a scowl, she shot daggers at the way Ophelia seemed so care free and happy after all of this time. Christine had long given up the idea of them or that she had mattered, but it still hurt. All of those questions burned more rage into her. Did I not matter? Was I no one to her? How could she have left me? Was I not enough? A part of her still wanted those answers as much as what she had planned coming for her.