http://thismaskiwear.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
thismaskiwear.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2010-07-17 02:37 pm
thismaskiwear.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomtownies2010-07-17 02:37 pm
Entry tags:
Strokes of Genius, Saturday (7/17)
It was hard to miss the unfamiliar people in the dorms and everything radio had said for the past two nights; people had dead loved ones showing up everywhere.
She'd been watching, waiting to see if Emma might show up for her, but there had been nothing so far, and at this point Katchoo had given up hoping. The more macabre parts of her wondered if she'd see Emma the way she remembered her from the years in L.A., or the way she'd looked lying in that hospice bed in Toronto; with her luck she'd have expected the latter, and while that was an excuse to tell herself it was better this way, it was still ample motive for a good brood.
It would've been too easy, too pat, to see Emma one last time . . . but she couldn't deny that it would have been nice to do that. To introduce her to Francine. To show her this crazy, insane, messed-up island that she'd fallen in love with, and thank her for making her come in the first place.
The radio stayed off today, and Katchoo kept staring out the window of the shop, pencil hovering over a blank sketchbook page that was likely to stay blank at this rate.
[OOC: The OCD melted. It's hot, yo.]
She'd been watching, waiting to see if Emma might show up for her, but there had been nothing so far, and at this point Katchoo had given up hoping. The more macabre parts of her wondered if she'd see Emma the way she remembered her from the years in L.A., or the way she'd looked lying in that hospice bed in Toronto; with her luck she'd have expected the latter, and while that was an excuse to tell herself it was better this way, it was still ample motive for a good brood.
It would've been too easy, too pat, to see Emma one last time . . . but she couldn't deny that it would have been nice to do that. To introduce her to Francine. To show her this crazy, insane, messed-up island that she'd fallen in love with, and thank her for making her come in the first place.
The radio stayed off today, and Katchoo kept staring out the window of the shop, pencil hovering over a blank sketchbook page that was likely to stay blank at this rate.
[OOC: The OCD melted. It's hot, yo.]