(no subject)
It wasn't uncommon, even after all of four months, for Carla Jean to be found at the island's makeshift cemetary. A part of her kept trying to insist that after so long, she ought to be starting to move on, but there were times it seemed an impossibility, something she'd never be fully capable of. Some days came easier than others, which was probably to be expected in her position, a widow twice over by the same man at all of nineteen years old, but the past few had been more difficult, and with what she thought to be a damned good reason. Thanksgiving wasn't a holiday to be spent alone, but there she was, without any real family to speak of, on an island that had taken her husband away from her for a second time.
The thought left her strangely uneasy, even a whole day later, and that was what had brought her out to Llewelyn's grave again, just the way she would have any other day. When she got there, though, it didn't take her long to notice that something was different. Next to Llewelyn's headstone was another, more polished one; as she leaned down to read its inscription, Carla Jean's mouth fell open in shock, and a moment later, she dropped to her knees. Agnes Kracik, 1922-1980, Beloved Mother, it read, the few words enough to knock the breath clean out of her. "Mama," she breathed, lifting a hand to her mouth. She'd felt alone on the island for some time, but now she truly was, both here and back home. After everything that had happened, it seemed almost fitting that this place would do something like this. She had been around long enough now not to even question its arrival.
Despite how jarring it had been to find, Carla Jean was determined not to let herself cry over it. It was hardly the worst thing that had happened to her here, after all. She gave herself just a moment, eyes falling closed as she drew in a shaky breath, but that was all. She was there as much for her mama as for Llewelyn, now.
[Timed to Friday afternoon. It's not actually a bad time to meet her, she's just pretty shaken. Find her in the cemetary or leaving it, if you'd prefer. ST/LT more than welcome.]
The thought left her strangely uneasy, even a whole day later, and that was what had brought her out to Llewelyn's grave again, just the way she would have any other day. When she got there, though, it didn't take her long to notice that something was different. Next to Llewelyn's headstone was another, more polished one; as she leaned down to read its inscription, Carla Jean's mouth fell open in shock, and a moment later, she dropped to her knees. Agnes Kracik, 1922-1980, Beloved Mother, it read, the few words enough to knock the breath clean out of her. "Mama," she breathed, lifting a hand to her mouth. She'd felt alone on the island for some time, but now she truly was, both here and back home. After everything that had happened, it seemed almost fitting that this place would do something like this. She had been around long enough now not to even question its arrival.
Despite how jarring it had been to find, Carla Jean was determined not to let herself cry over it. It was hardly the worst thing that had happened to her here, after all. She gave herself just a moment, eyes falling closed as she drew in a shaky breath, but that was all. She was there as much for her mama as for Llewelyn, now.
[Timed to Friday afternoon. It's not actually a bad time to meet her, she's just pretty shaken. Find her in the cemetary or leaving it, if you'd prefer. ST/LT more than welcome.]