Comparison
ooc: Set after this RP.
Angela had walked through the portal and found herself back in her kitchen. Immediately she searches for the newspaper, knowing the servants always kept the latest copy on the counter to check the date. Her eyes dart towards the clock on the microwave to check the time: 10:45 pm.
It was like she never left.
But she did. She is certain she did not have a lucid dream, that she had spent time with her son. Her grown son from an alternate reality. He was how her son from her reality looked, older of course, but more powerful and definitely more accomplished.
She wasn't lying when she told him she was proud of him, of what he had achieved despite having the odds stacked against him. It doesn't bother her that he sided with the current (or was it possible future?) tyrant of the universe. It doesn't bother her that he saw her as a potential threat.
It bothers her even less that he acted upon it.
The thought that her son, any version of her son, could attained that level of independence brought a smile to her face. He had told her he was content with his lot in life, that he no longer blames her.
She believes him.
She was faintly glowing as she exited the kitchen, glass of water in hand, and made her way to her bedroom.
Since her second husband's death, Angela refused to sleep in the same room as her third husband. She hid behind the excuse that it brings up painful memories of waking up to a dead man's body. Her third husband made no complaints. He just gave her a stare that seemed to be questioning her sanity but otherwise shrugged.
Her glow wavered when she passed by her husband's room.
She couldn't help how her thoughts drifted towards her first encounter with another version of her son. This version of him who had managed to retain his human appearance. Not only that, he had a wife and daughter; a family of his own. It was a completely different future, but she was equally unneeded in that reality.
Given a choice, Angela would have kept her distance from both futures. But fate seemed to have other plans.
Again there is a smile on her face but this time it is trimmed with regret.
Because she remembers how the Michael who survived and flourished "After the Fall" had asked about having children.
She takes it to mean that he had wanted a family of his own. That he would have had one if only.
She reaches her room and quietly enters. Setting the glass of water on her bedside table, Angela proceeded to get ready to sleep. She slips under the covers but stays on the right side of the bed rather than the middle. An arm extends, as if reaching out to drape over a body that she knows will never be there.
If only. She sighs before, finally, her eyes close.
Angela had walked through the portal and found herself back in her kitchen. Immediately she searches for the newspaper, knowing the servants always kept the latest copy on the counter to check the date. Her eyes dart towards the clock on the microwave to check the time: 10:45 pm.
It was like she never left.
But she did. She is certain she did not have a lucid dream, that she had spent time with her son. Her grown son from an alternate reality. He was how her son from her reality looked, older of course, but more powerful and definitely more accomplished.
She wasn't lying when she told him she was proud of him, of what he had achieved despite having the odds stacked against him. It doesn't bother her that he sided with the current (or was it possible future?) tyrant of the universe. It doesn't bother her that he saw her as a potential threat.
It bothers her even less that he acted upon it.
The thought that her son, any version of her son, could attained that level of independence brought a smile to her face. He had told her he was content with his lot in life, that he no longer blames her.
She believes him.
She was faintly glowing as she exited the kitchen, glass of water in hand, and made her way to her bedroom.
Since her second husband's death, Angela refused to sleep in the same room as her third husband. She hid behind the excuse that it brings up painful memories of waking up to a dead man's body. Her third husband made no complaints. He just gave her a stare that seemed to be questioning her sanity but otherwise shrugged.
Her glow wavered when she passed by her husband's room.
She couldn't help how her thoughts drifted towards her first encounter with another version of her son. This version of him who had managed to retain his human appearance. Not only that, he had a wife and daughter; a family of his own. It was a completely different future, but she was equally unneeded in that reality.
Given a choice, Angela would have kept her distance from both futures. But fate seemed to have other plans.
Again there is a smile on her face but this time it is trimmed with regret.
Because she remembers how the Michael who survived and flourished "After the Fall" had asked about having children.
She takes it to mean that he had wanted a family of his own. That he would have had one if only.
She reaches her room and quietly enters. Setting the glass of water on her bedside table, Angela proceeded to get ready to sleep. She slips under the covers but stays on the right side of the bed rather than the middle. An arm extends, as if reaching out to drape over a body that she knows will never be there.
If only. She sighs before, finally, her eyes close.