timewreck (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timewreck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2011-12-26 02:21 pm
timewreck) wrote in multiversallogs2011-12-26 02:21 pm
Entry tags:
» my feet are still sore, my back is on the fringes
Who: Kiden and Wanda
What: Morning's always awkward, this time for different reasons.
Where: Meson de Rouj
When: Morning after this
Warnings: EXTREME MOTHERING? /guitar solo
Waking up to an empty room the next day isn't something strange to Kiden who comes from a world that runs past the descriptor and smack dab into the area of no return. She assumes Laura has gone to stroll the city as she is wont to do and just shrugs off the weird feeling of being alone for the one that comes with waking up in a house full of people she doesn't know.
Padding downstairs barefoot and still in the too-big borrowed pajamas, she has all the intention of heading to the kitchen to figure out where the washer and dryer are and find her clothes. Her attention, however, is caught by the living room she didn't get much of a chance to explore last night. Kiden makes a quick turn and pokes around at the bookshelf, full of things she's never read before (not that she was much of a reader to begin with), then going for the pictures of people she's never seen before, and finally makes a stop at the fireplace where she bends down and sticks her head in, not because she suddenly has a death wish, but she always wondered what one looked like on the inside.
Hopefully, there is no Santa in Baedal who decides to come a month early.
What: Morning's always awkward, this time for different reasons.
Where: Meson de Rouj
When: Morning after this
Warnings: EXTREME MOTHERING? /guitar solo
Waking up to an empty room the next day isn't something strange to Kiden who comes from a world that runs past the descriptor and smack dab into the area of no return. She assumes Laura has gone to stroll the city as she is wont to do and just shrugs off the weird feeling of being alone for the one that comes with waking up in a house full of people she doesn't know.
Padding downstairs barefoot and still in the too-big borrowed pajamas, she has all the intention of heading to the kitchen to figure out where the washer and dryer are and find her clothes. Her attention, however, is caught by the living room she didn't get much of a chance to explore last night. Kiden makes a quick turn and pokes around at the bookshelf, full of things she's never read before (not that she was much of a reader to begin with), then going for the pictures of people she's never seen before, and finally makes a stop at the fireplace where she bends down and sticks her head in, not because she suddenly has a death wish, but she always wondered what one looked like on the inside.
Hopefully, there is no Santa in Baedal who decides to come a month early.
no subject
That is a pretty good percentage of sugar and one that meets Kiden's nutritional requirements. Now in the kitchen, Kiden hangs around at the doorway, watching Wanda curiously.
"Are they your kids?" The way she says your makes it sound like she's attributing the creation of Billy and Tommy to both Wanda and Remy. If only she knew that entire convoluted story.
no subject
Mom's boyfriend, etc. It's a bit awkward, but Remy is good with teenagers, and she thinks the boys are actually pretty reasonable, as teenagers go. (Okay, Tommy can be questionable, but she is proud of him.)
no subject
She has one of those. But his identity is still a mystery to her, just like her mother's current location and feelings about her daughter. Kiden wonders who he is, what he does (he better not be a cop), and what he did to make her mother forget about her. She wonders if he treats her little brothers well or if he knocks them upside their heads like they deserve to be every now and again.
Kiden wonders if he even knows that she exists. That line of thought is enough for her to shove her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants and toe the chilly linoleum floor in hopes of forgetting it.