33 Apocalypse Ave - Tuesday Morning
Taking a moment to wake up, a long moment where you could drift from being asleep to being awake, was a rare luxury for Thursday Next. She was on her side in her bed, legs twisted amongst the covers and shoulder at an awkward angle as she sprawled against the mattress. Her pillow cushioned her face and, as she started to come around, she further into it as if not wanting to let go of the comfort it gave. The other part of her, the part that realized there was no fighting waking up, made the rest of her body stretch out. Her legs straightened and almost reached the end of the bed. Her free arm slid across to the other side of the bed, expecting to find warm skin to stroke.
There was none.
The pillow was forgotten. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. The other side of the bed was definitely empty. It wasn't even warm, suggesting that it hadn't been occupied for some time, but Thursday was usually very sensitive about movement in her room. She didn't remember Landen getting up. Thursday wasn't normally one to jump to the worst conclusion, but her eyes did flicker for the briefest of moments to her left ring finger. The ring, thankfully, was still there. Having one's husband eradicated from existence more than once meant that one was allowed a certain amount of leeway when he suddenly disappeared, as did still being groggy from sleep.
Sense kicked in two seconds later, prompting Thursday to roll over. She slid out of bed, pulled on a set of SpecOps sweatpants and oversized t-shirt and fastened her hair back with a hair tie. A cursory check of the next room showed that Friday was still recovering from Christmas Day since he had faceplanted in his bed with one arm bent back awkwardly and resting on his back (he had always slept strangely). He was breathing steadily. Landen wasn't there.
Quietly, in bare feet, Thursday checked the rest of the upper level without disturbing John, then went downstairs. Pickwick caught her attention for a few minutes since she wanted feeding and the persistant "plock" indicated that she wanted to be fed now without argument. The rest of the common spaces in the house were unoccupied, including the back yard. Finally, after listening at the door to the basement and garage and checking the front porch, Thursday returned to the kitchen with a frown. It wasn't like Landen to go off without at least leaving a note. It didn't make sense, but things rarely did, so she set about putting the kettle on.
An hour and a nursed cup of tea later, Thursday was back in her room and the closet door was open. All of Landen's things were gone. The clothes, the bag, the toiletries, even the gifts he'd received for Christmas. Everything was gone. There was no trace that Landen had even been there. The only thing she could hold onto was the fact that she still had her wedding ring. If he'd been eradicated, it would have been gone.
After pulling on some proper clothes and shoes, Thursday headed back downstairs with Friday in tow. She set him down next to his play house, which he promptly crawled into for a nap, and stood in the living room staring at the door. She was mentally working out her search plan. If this was all a misunderstanding, then looking for him would mean no harm done. But common sense and her gut feeling, a feeling that had served her well when she overcame her stubborn streak and actually paid attention to it, told her that there was something bigger going on here than Landen walking out.
Something was definitely wrong.
[OOC: For housemates and any guests who happen to be there.]
There was none.
The pillow was forgotten. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. The other side of the bed was definitely empty. It wasn't even warm, suggesting that it hadn't been occupied for some time, but Thursday was usually very sensitive about movement in her room. She didn't remember Landen getting up. Thursday wasn't normally one to jump to the worst conclusion, but her eyes did flicker for the briefest of moments to her left ring finger. The ring, thankfully, was still there. Having one's husband eradicated from existence more than once meant that one was allowed a certain amount of leeway when he suddenly disappeared, as did still being groggy from sleep.
Sense kicked in two seconds later, prompting Thursday to roll over. She slid out of bed, pulled on a set of SpecOps sweatpants and oversized t-shirt and fastened her hair back with a hair tie. A cursory check of the next room showed that Friday was still recovering from Christmas Day since he had faceplanted in his bed with one arm bent back awkwardly and resting on his back (he had always slept strangely). He was breathing steadily. Landen wasn't there.
Quietly, in bare feet, Thursday checked the rest of the upper level without disturbing John, then went downstairs. Pickwick caught her attention for a few minutes since she wanted feeding and the persistant "plock" indicated that she wanted to be fed now without argument. The rest of the common spaces in the house were unoccupied, including the back yard. Finally, after listening at the door to the basement and garage and checking the front porch, Thursday returned to the kitchen with a frown. It wasn't like Landen to go off without at least leaving a note. It didn't make sense, but things rarely did, so she set about putting the kettle on.
An hour and a nursed cup of tea later, Thursday was back in her room and the closet door was open. All of Landen's things were gone. The clothes, the bag, the toiletries, even the gifts he'd received for Christmas. Everything was gone. There was no trace that Landen had even been there. The only thing she could hold onto was the fact that she still had her wedding ring. If he'd been eradicated, it would have been gone.
After pulling on some proper clothes and shoes, Thursday headed back downstairs with Friday in tow. She set him down next to his play house, which he promptly crawled into for a nap, and stood in the living room staring at the door. She was mentally working out her search plan. If this was all a misunderstanding, then looking for him would mean no harm done. But common sense and her gut feeling, a feeling that had served her well when she overcame her stubborn streak and actually paid attention to it, told her that there was something bigger going on here than Landen walking out.
Something was definitely wrong.
[OOC: For housemates and any guests who happen to be there.]