[for Sookie]

[whatdiesinside]

He's got it figured that he's been here a week, though he hasn't gone so far as to tally the days in a fucking bible.  A week in fucking dreamland, six days hovering around Eugene, wondering how he ever managed to walk away; two days without cigarettes; five days of rain.

Five days of trying to sleep through the sound of it on the roof, five days of

Comments

[justsookie]

Rainy seasons are not at all a novel concept to Sookie. What Louisiana fails to get in snow, it makes up for in downpours, the levels of the marshes rising until they're practically impossible to muck through- and frankly, most people don't even bother trying, especially when it's warm enough out for leeches to be a problem. After two months of practically endless sunshine on the island, however, she has to admit that the rain's taken her by surprise, and the slippery terrain of Tabula Rasa has her spending most days in the Compound, only heading back to her hut when absolutely necessary. Fortunately, she's petite and blonde enough to get away with sleeping on the rec room couch without people kicking her out. Most days, anyway

[justsookie]

On Sookie's end, thoughts are very rarely given to the matter of consequences. It's all action, instead, stepping forward with both feet, charging ahead until she's realized that she's stepped in mud or tripped over details she isn't meant to see in the first place. Sometimes, it's anger that gets the better of her, blazing with a force that cuts through everything else, that hardly diminishes until something catches in her throat and the oxygen's cut off altogether. Other times, it's simply instinct that pulls her forward, the hand that curves around the back of someone's neck just to get a clearer picture of their thoughts. Unsurprisingly, this is one of those times, though she regrets it soon afterward- it's too much, too soon, all about someone who's a stranger. Talking might not help him. Talking might be the only thing that does

[whatdiesinside]

Sorry for what, he doesn't ask. Maybe 'cause he knows, maybe 'cause spitting the question at her won't ever be enough to get the ire it invokes out into the air. Hell, spitting on her might not even do that, his stomach jumped to his throat and ready for it, full of acid and he feels a little like--like fucking panicking

[justsookie]

For a while she simply stands there, stands as she sees Merriell walk out of the kitchen and disappear from her peripheral view, cheeks burning with indignation and shame both, perhaps more the latter than the former. Even as it becomes increasingly clear that she's seen so little, that her view of the world has hardly had time to expand at all, she hates not being given the chance to understand. Hates doors being slammed in her face, like she's some clueless blonde, a small child, because there's a part of Sookie that's sure that she could step up to the plate. Could understand, pull her end of the weight. Hands balled into fists, she stands there with her feet rooted to the ground just a while longer, eyes closing as she takes a deep breath, then steps forward to start cleaning up the mess