open starter ↪ @ashfordstart location: ashford park
It was around 10am when Daphne concluded that she had, indeed, been out all night, and had continued her wandering well into the morning. It hadn't stopped her from doing what she needed to do: she had had a dog walk scheduled at 8am, had dropped the dog back for 9:30, and she was now making her way through the park to get to a kid she was supposed to be tutoring on the fucking Renaissance. But God, she was not holding on at all -- reality seemed removed from her, every step taken by a restless body that wasn't her own, she was tired, she was so fucking tired.
The stupid thing was that she hadn't gone out for a drink, for a party, for anything that would've been remotely excusable. Daphne had wandered most of the backstreets of town looking for Jaeyoung. Because the Ashford Five had all turned up, except for him, and Daphne had concluded that if no one was going out searching for him, she'd damn well do it herself. ( What she hadn't really thought about, even when left with her thoughts all night, is that she was distinctly looking for a corpse. That in her mind, there was no way he was still alive ).
She was stumbling now, looked like she'd seen a ghost or maybe was one herself. She hadn't slowed down in hours. When she stopped in her tracks, it was because she was forced to. Because someone had turned up in her path, and her exhausted mind hadn't thought of a workaround, hadn't thought to just slip past them. Whether they were blocking her on purpose or were the latest hapless victim of her misdirected anger didn't matter--
"Can you just fucking move, please? Some people have places to be, you know--"
everything had been a mess since most of them had been found and fiona was no exception. the woman had believed she saw something before the lights went off but couldn't exactly remember what - it was more of a feeling. she had known something like this would happen sooner or later and shouldn't have been so vocal about it. fiona benson lacked the understanding of when to voice her thoughts, or to establish if they ever should be voiced at all. now she was at the stage where she was blaming herself for imagining the scenario into existence. she played no part in the atrocities but her thoughts weren't logical nor routed in truth. if she hadn't said they'd been murdered, would they still be alive? it was something she continued to ask herself as a way of self-torture.
the woman had managed to get people so heated when they had all been held at the club and now it seemed that would follow her as someone was deciding to be confrontational with her on the street. "oh, is it shout at fiona day, is it?" shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "what the fuck is your problem?"
