[J1W] 05.09 - Dress
Her hands smoothed along the sides of it, pressing palms to the fabric as it clung to hips and thighs. Taking in a breath she rests her hand to her neckline, feeling the cool press of sterling silver against her skin. A slight chill runs across her bare shoulders, the lack of straps and sleeves more than apparent as she cuts a path across the bedroom. A small blue clutch is resting on the edge of the bed, nothing much at all inside of it, just something to hold a necklace should she get a headache, or a small tube of lipstick if she would need to reapply. Standing at the edge of the bed her foot flexes forward, toes cracking quietly into the plus of the carpet. Once more her hands graze across her sides, smoothing out material that doesn't have enough give to even get wrinkled as it's fit to her form.
Exhaling she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, the dim surroundings of the room makes it sound more silent than she knows it is. The turn of the ceiling fan circulating the air still makes a slight whir of noise, but she mostly hears herself. A constant undercurrent of something alive within her. A secondary pulse, something that pushes more than it pulls and carries with it the chance of death over life. Elle lets her hand rest to her knee. The heel of her palm pressing above as fingertips tap lightly to the skin below. Brushing her fingertips against skin she lifts her hand slightly, just to put distance, air, between her skin and her touch. The current that slips across from the tips of fingers to the rougher skin of her knee barely passes for anything at all.
She wants to readjust the dress. Tug on the hem, shift it so that it doesn't gather at the hip when she sits down in it, but instead she just watches her reflection in the mirror across the way. Blonde hair cascading across her shoulders and blunt cut bangs that sometimes she swears are in her eyes more than she cares for. She assumes that she looks her age at least, tilting her head slightly she lifts her hands into her hair, pulling it back and up trying to see if it makes her look older. Chewing on her bottom lip her hands reach around her hair, trying to pile it up into something that doesn't look like a tangle of hair, but that's all she sees. Exhaling she lets it go, the feel of the ends brushing to her back feels natural, normal even.
Elle's supposed to be getting ready, and in truth she's been ready for over an hour. Silver heels sit by the door waiting for her to slip them on, and clasp the three straps across her ankle. The clutch is now at her side and she could pick that up as well and head to where she's supposed to go. Still there is a sinking feeling in her stomach, that while they are here - something worse is going to happen there. It clings to her, like the taut fabric of her dress. They've made a life though, and she knows that it's safer to be far away from all of it. She's just wondering when all of it will come to their doorstep, because it can't help but come close.
The sound of him in the front room catches her attention, the keys to the car sliding across marble countertops and the clink of bottles in the door to the refrigerator being pulled as he opens the door to take a look.
"Elle? Sweetheart? We'll be late."
"I'll be down in a minute," Elle replies as she stands up adjusting the hem of her skirt as she exits the room, stooping to pick up the shoes as they rest by the door. They have a life, friends, even a thought that they might be able to forget everything that had happened over there. Yet it's growing darker, and she can feel something is wrong, and part of her knows - he knows it too.
Exhaling she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, the dim surroundings of the room makes it sound more silent than she knows it is. The turn of the ceiling fan circulating the air still makes a slight whir of noise, but she mostly hears herself. A constant undercurrent of something alive within her. A secondary pulse, something that pushes more than it pulls and carries with it the chance of death over life. Elle lets her hand rest to her knee. The heel of her palm pressing above as fingertips tap lightly to the skin below. Brushing her fingertips against skin she lifts her hand slightly, just to put distance, air, between her skin and her touch. The current that slips across from the tips of fingers to the rougher skin of her knee barely passes for anything at all.
She wants to readjust the dress. Tug on the hem, shift it so that it doesn't gather at the hip when she sits down in it, but instead she just watches her reflection in the mirror across the way. Blonde hair cascading across her shoulders and blunt cut bangs that sometimes she swears are in her eyes more than she cares for. She assumes that she looks her age at least, tilting her head slightly she lifts her hands into her hair, pulling it back and up trying to see if it makes her look older. Chewing on her bottom lip her hands reach around her hair, trying to pile it up into something that doesn't look like a tangle of hair, but that's all she sees. Exhaling she lets it go, the feel of the ends brushing to her back feels natural, normal even.
Elle's supposed to be getting ready, and in truth she's been ready for over an hour. Silver heels sit by the door waiting for her to slip them on, and clasp the three straps across her ankle. The clutch is now at her side and she could pick that up as well and head to where she's supposed to go. Still there is a sinking feeling in her stomach, that while they are here - something worse is going to happen there. It clings to her, like the taut fabric of her dress. They've made a life though, and she knows that it's safer to be far away from all of it. She's just wondering when all of it will come to their doorstep, because it can't help but come close.
The sound of him in the front room catches her attention, the keys to the car sliding across marble countertops and the clink of bottles in the door to the refrigerator being pulled as he opens the door to take a look.
"Elle? Sweetheart? We'll be late."
"I'll be down in a minute," Elle replies as she stands up adjusting the hem of her skirt as she exits the room, stooping to pick up the shoes as they rest by the door. They have a life, friends, even a thought that they might be able to forget everything that had happened over there. Yet it's growing darker, and she can feel something is wrong, and part of her knows - he knows it too.