Winter is a lonely season. Or maybe she just stays home more in winter.
Lo's on her sofa, watching a Christmas movie marathon, trying not to think about how empty her home feels. Benji's strewn across the couch with her, and she's been thinking about getting a cat or a fish or something to take care of that isn't her or her dog.
She hates staying here, in the quiet loneliness of her home, which doesn't feel like home because there's no other people in it. How does anyone stand this? It's been a decade of living by herself and on days like this, she hates it.
Where's the dishes that aren't hers, the laughter in the other room, the last bite of leftovers in the fridge? It's too cold out there for her to be alone. There should be people she loves here, people who love her.
Oh, cute, the magic of Christmas saves the day in the film she's watching. How unexpected and whimsical.
She piles on another blanket and turns the volume up.
In the distance, she can hear them. Explosions, screaming, cries for help. She expected this, hell -- she wanted this. She stands still, alone -- as per usual because where her husband is, she has no idea. She should probably seek him out, play the scared little housewife desperate for protection but for a moment, she stills. She takes it all in and she smiles. Around her, people fall. People wake and people die -- they never existed anyway so she feels nothing for them. They were merely figments of her, and Damien's, own imagination.
Head canting to the side, her lips part and she resists the urge to laugh. She doesn't want to look insane now, does she? Of course not. She can feel it now, the Haze crashing in on them and any moment, she'll wake. Once again by her bastard husband's side and she should start preparing herself -- but she doesn't.
This, all of this -- it was exactly how she envisioned it. Every meticulous detail that went in to this damned -- world? realm? whatever it was considered --, had been painstakingly planned and finally, it was all coming together. She could see it now. The throne in her sight, just waiting for her. As she felt herself wake, she allowed one last glance around utter chaos, and her smile became a smirk.
Perfect.
When she wakes, it's to a bright light and blurred sounds. Her eyes squeeze shut and she takes a deep breath in. Show time. Hesitantly, carefully -- Kate begins to move, rising to lean against the palms of her hands spread out behind her, and she glances around. Blinking, an attempt at adjusting her vision to the sudden brightness, she begins to panic. Or -- look like she's panicking. "Jay? Where's -- Jay?!" Her head turns, spying her husband lying beside her and visibly, she relaxes. Gaze lifting, she meets Garrett's eyes and wills relieved tears to well within them. "W-what happened?" Deciding she doesn't need an explanation -- both because she already knows and because she simply doesn't care --, Kate shakes her head and turns, slipping from the rather uncomfortable bed ( she'll have to take that up with Damien later. Her back is killing her. ) and stumbles to Jay's side.
She'd rather the bastard died but -- wait, no. She'd rather his whore died, but that's irrelevant right now and, gently, her hand lifts to Jay's shoulder. "Honey?"
How long has that endearment tasted bitter on her tongue?
My tags speak the truth, and only the truth — had another tag when I reblogged nsfw from him and said something like #for the lack of sex you get you actually reblog a lotta porn. … HAHA.
