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 Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 7:16 pm
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╔═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
║Solo____________
║
║xxxxx__A Member of this Family_____
║xxxxxxxGlimpses of better days.
║
╚═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
"...Police are still on the search for the perpetrators behind the theft of the Hale jewelry last week. Any with information are urged to call..."
A gruff voice gave a snort, unamused by what the viewer was hearing. "They should check some of the tacky fake crap some women are wearing now. Least one of 'em is gonna be the real deal. Alright back to work. Which one?" There was a sound of ruffling cloth as a body moved, the creaking of an old chair as weight shifted. Bright blue eyes blinked, sliding from the clean-cut woman on the television back to the scruffy man sitting in the old recliner. His blue-black hair was more salt than pepper these days, especially in the beard that needed a good trim, but the vibrant crystal blue of his eyes had yet to dim. In his hands were fanned seven cards, their backs to the girl sitting on his fuzzy slippered feet. Her gaze flickered to them briefly before moving back to the television, only to see the story she was interested in had been replaced by some other boring segment. Mom and dad had targeted the Hales last week. Mom was parading around with most of old Maxine Hale's prized possessions strung around her neck and wrists, piercing her ears. They just currently looked like cheap knock-offs sold around. If the police were smart enough to really snoop around... but of course, if they were smart was the key phrase here. The girl giggled. "Hey," snapped the man, drawing her back with a jump and a duck to the cards in his hand. "Pay attention. Which one is it?"
Little teeth bit a lip, and she looked back to the decorative backs of the cards. The familiar black and gray checkered pattern made her for a moment wonder why he'd taken her cards for this instead of his own blue and steel, blade and cross designed deck. Her hands ran across the rest of her deck in her lap, pouting slightly before shrugging. "Nine of Hearts, Queen of Clubs, Seven of Clubs, Four of Diamonds, Six of Hearts, Ten of Spades, Ace of Spades." It was like asking her to tell you the color of the sky or his suit. It was like asking any of them the color of the sky or his suit, actually. Except mom. Mom wasn't good with cards like dad, Senior, Victor, and her. The old man nodded, dropping his hand as the cards moved on their apparent own back down to the rest of the deck in her hand. She grinned before four more flew up at random to hang in the air between her and the man. Her eyes dropped back to her deck, levitating a few of them herself. It was an ability all four of them had, one she'd used to play since she was two. But everyone else could do more than just make the cards dance in the air. Except her.
Above her and her brooding thoughts came the bored voice, "Only asked you which one the ace was, but that's good enough. Where's the King?"
Dahlia whined.
"Just tell me where the damn King is and we'll be done," was Senior's snapping response.
The five year old cast her gaze down before pointing to the second to her right. "That one... King of Hearts. He's meaner than the Queen of Hearts is."
A furry salt and pepper brow ruffled. "The hell do you mean, 'he's meaner'?"
Now it was her turn to be confused. "He's meaner. Not nice. She's nice, but not as nice as Four of Clubs--"
"Dollie thinks cards' got personalities, Senior." Dahlia scowled up at her big brother as he meandered through the open archway connecting the living room to the kitchen. His dark hair had more of their mother's fiery tint, though the Bekket blue eyes had won over her brown in him. He flopped down on the sofa, nudging her with his foot as he did so. "Stop playing pretend and grow up. Cards are just cards."
Her cheeks puffed up, swatting at his offending foot. "They aren't just cards! That's why yours don't like you, you're just a bully! You're just too dumb to know what they're like."
The bickering between the siblings was common enough, which in part was why Senior did not bother to say more than a minor, "There's no personalities in cards, Dahlia. Just that our family can sense things about them," while the two squabbled on. Insults were thrown, as was the television remote and a few pillows, and their grandfather quickly lost interest in favor of seeing what else was playing on the news. Not even when the ten year old started pulling on his sister's hair and she began beating her fists on his head did the old man move to stop them. The only thing that caught his attention was when one of the cards he'd been using to train his granddaughter began to glow a certain red-purple color, vibrating with energy. Dahlia screeched when she glimpsed it and began pounding on her brother all the harder. Senior reached over and grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him roughly. "You cut that s**t out right now, boy. You don't pull that in the house." When the card only began to glow brighter and vibrate all the harder--much to the girl's increased screaming--Senior's grip on the boy's arm tightened as he dragged him off the sofa he'd been somewhat perched on and into the air as the man stood. "I said enough!"
Jarred a bit too much, and only a few inches from his grandfather's snarling face, Victor's hold on the card ceased, falling to the ground unharmed. Dahlia dove for it, clutching it to her chest as she gathered up the rest of her deck. "She was being stupid-!"
"I don't give a rat's a**, you're the first born and I expect you to behave like it."
"She called me dumb-!"
"That's cuz you are! You dumb, stupid, bully-"
"Dahlia, be quite. Victor, shut the hell up." He dropped the boy back onto the sofa, using his other hand to help the crying girl to her feet. "Go to your room and stop your crying. I'm taking Victor out for more practice, if he's in such a damn mood to blow up some cards." Dahlia wasn't too sure how that was a punishment for almost destroying one of hers, especially with how the boy let out a whoop of excitement and dashed towards the room the two of them shared to grab his slowly diminishing deck.
She waited until the two walked out the off-white door a little beyond where the television stood and into the rest of the apartment complex, before she in a spiteful huff locked it and sped off to her mother and father's room. Her parents had keys at least, should they actually come home that night, but it might at least prove to be an annoyance for her grandfather and brother to have to locate the spare to get in. Even if Senior became angry from it, Dahlia decided it would be worth it just to be a momentary pain in their sides.
"He is stupid," she told her deck, letting them float around her as she moved around the beige and black room. She opened up her mother's closet, frowning slightly at the pale girl reflected in the mirror hung on the back of the door. "Victor's always blowing his cards up... mom's already yelled at him for going through two decks last month." She shivered. It baffled her why he was so content with using his cards like that. Didn't he miss them? Didn't he understand how much it must hurt them? She watched the cards bob around her in the mirror for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't wanna lose any of you. Especially not you, Four of Clubs," she added fondly as the card came to float just above her left shoulder. Dahlia giggled, patting the card lightly like she might a bird. "One day he's gonna blow all his cards up and then he'll be all alone... but not me!"
She turned and began rummaging through her mother's closet, pulling out a large box and shoving it over towards the bed in the center of the room. Tossing the lid on the floor, she beamed at the contents. Silk and sequence, beads and buttons, jewels and feathers... the various costumes her mother wore on stage stared back at the girl. She ran tender hands over each, marveling at her mother's work. It was rare she got to spend time with her mother, even rarer her mother sought her out. Always when she did though, it was so they could play with her sewing equipment, turn drab and ordinary clothes into extravagant costumes. Dahlia was always more than happy to do as her mother asked, threading needles, laying out patterns, cutting cloth sometimes... mom even let her pick out the fabrics and designs sometimes! It was great fun, and always Dahlia would hope perhaps her mother would play with her more even after the costume was done.
But mom was busy, so she'd say no. Usually she wouldn't even much glance her way when there was no work to be done on costumes, or when she nor dad needed her to help them in a trick.
The girl rolled this around her head as she selected one of the costumes and pulled it on, playing with the dangling beads that were strung across her torso and arms. The skirt was a good length on her, though on her mother it was rather small. "One day, I'm gonna wear a costume just like this," she proclaimed to her cards as she slipped on her mother's high heels and threw on the feather headband that accompanied this outfit. She stood before the mirror and twirled on one leg, stamping hard on the other when she faced the mirror once more. Just like her mother did now and then. "Victor's gonna be all alone because he blew up all his cards, but us? We're going to hit it big! Just like mom and dad!" The cards bobbed around her, twirling as she laughed.
She took a few steps back, bowing low to the mirror with a flourishing hand. Thinking of the radiant smile her father wore on stage, she straightened with a similar grin stuck to her lips. "Ladies and gentlemen~! I welcome you to the Coastal Vantage Hotel! Be seated, get comfortable, I can promise you you won't want to miss a second of this. My lovely assistant and I--" Her hand moved to gesture to the air next to her where her cards now floated somewhat clumped together, "will razzle and dazzle you like no other!" Just like her mother did, she clicked her teeth and winked.
The speech hadn't been as remotely eloquent as the ones her father said at the beginning of a show, but as Dahlia moved her cards through the air, pretending to be reenacting some of her parents' more astounding tricks, she couldn't quite care. In her mind, the crowd was enthralled and mystified by her technique, wowed by her charm, and most of all impressed by the skill of the young magician and her assistant. Or rather, assistants.
Dahlia wasn't quite sure when or how it happened. She was too lost to the fantasy, too caught up in her own mind. To her, the cards were alive. Living creatures with personalities all their own, the only friends she needed or really wanted. The cards were her ticket to proving her worth to her parents. To gaining her mother's affection beyond repairing clothes or helping in their tricks. To Dahlia, the cards were more alive and important than the people moving through the streets outside her window. Those were all potential targets, as her father said. The cards were her allies in taking down the targets.
To a young Dahlia, the cards were people.
And so they became.
"Dollie, why on earth are you in my-- Daniel, come quick!" The girl froze, spinning around and trying to duck down all at once. The combination, along with the far too large shoes and dangling cloth and beads from the costume, caused her to tumble to the ground. Why was she home? Mom wasn't supposed to be home for another three hours! If at all! She glanced at the clock on her father's bedside table and gulped. Apparently it had been a few hours. Oh dear. Around her, the five large cards ran haphazardly about, a few even running into one another and dropping their pointy little weapons they'd just previously been using as pointers for the "Great Dahlia." "Daniel, Daniel, look!" Her mother's high pitched voice was all the higher, and it took the girl a few moments to realize it was in delight.
Wait. She wasn't getting yelled at?
Usually she did, if caught in her mother's costumes. Why was she... happy? Wide eyes stared up at the fire-top woman as she bounded into the room, widening all the more as her hands reached out towards her. Dahlia winced, whimpering as she waited for what she assumed would be a grab and a slap, some sort of punishment for breaking the rule against going into her mother's closet. The card men hustled in front of Dahlia, between her and her mother.
Elizabeth laughed. She stayed where she was for the moment, bent over so her hands rested against her thighs as she watched the cards. One of them jabbed its spear towards her with its small arms. "Daniel, for god's sake get in here!"
The sound of footsteps made Dahlia glance up slightly, just enough to see the dress shoes as they rounded the doorway. "What already? Woman, if you called me in here just because Dollie's in your closet again-- ...that's a new trick, Beth." He paused beside his wife, watching the card men with minor fascination.
"Danny, touch one." The earth-toned eyes of the woman sparkled in mischief as she glanced up at the sharply dressed man, who in turn frowned at her for a moment before reaching out towards the one with the spear. The spear jabbed, and the card man let out a few squeaks of what Dahlia could only assume to be threats without words. Daniel yelped, though no skin was actually broken.
"What's the deal? Beth, what are you--"
The woman in red laughed more. "Danny, they're not my doing!" He stared at her for a moment before reaching out towards the card with the spear again. This time using one hand to grab the spear, the other poked at the two-foot card body itself. The card was unamused and continued its squeaking. "See?"
Apparently he did, for his eyes focused on his daughter still fallen on the floor with her hands over her head waiting for an explosion. "You mean that..." His voice trailed off and he frowned at the card. With the slightest of movements with his fingers the card began to float, squeaking all the louder. Dahlia too began making sounds of protest from her bunkered position and Daniel let the thing fall back to the ground. The girl scooped the Four of Clubs up, holding the card man tight to her chest as she stared nervously up at her parents. What she saw shocked her even more.
They were beaming.
"They're hers! They're Dollie's!"
"And you said she wasn't your daughter..."
"Oh she's definitely mine! Haha, won't Senior be pleased once he gets a load of this? She's even more like him than Victor is." Dahlia was more than a little confused now, but she wasn't complaining as her mother shooed the cards away and wrapped her arms around her. In fact, Dahlia was willing to completely disregard everything around her the moment her mother embraced her like that. Except the feeling of her father's hand on her head, and the sound of his continued praising of her trick. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder, inhaling the scent of perfume and vanilla and city air and cigar smoke that she so attributed to the woman. "Distractions, easily. Can even bring her on a few shows. You could probably increase their size to the crowd, that'd scare a few nicely..."
"Oh, easily! Increase their size, their weapons... we could probably have her use them to threaten some targets with some good success. Oh my little girl," she suddenly beamed, lifting Dahlia's head just enough to give her a few kisses on the cheek. Dahlia was beginning to think she'd burst from all this attention. "Oh honey, this just wonderful! You've done such a fantastic job-- oh, well, we'll just have to get you to train with Senior a bit to keep them around a bit longer." Dahlia hadn't even noticed the cards had reverted back to their normal form, floating into her hand one by one. She was too focused on her parents' smiling faces. "Once you get a bit stronger, you can start coming with us on trips now, baby! Isn't that fun?"
Oh yes, yes indeed. Her parents kept praising and talking, the conversations turning more and more into planning and plotting for how they could incorporate her card men into their tricks and shows. When Senior and Victor returned that evening and Dahlia showed them her little trick--after a few long moments of concentration and frustration, albeit--even they had beamed and joined in the planning. Senior had spun her around in the air, gloating about how much a chip off the old block she was. Victor even ruffled her hair and apologized for almost exploding one earlier. Her mother actually made them dinner, her father went out and bought her an ice cream sundae. Dahlia couldn't recall them ever doing anything like that before in her life.
And they planned, and they plotted, and they talked of nothing but how her power could be trained and used. But Dahlia could only keep smiling. Smiling at her parents, at her grandfather, at her brother, and most importantly at her deck. Surely now they understood how each card had a personality, how she'd been right all this time. Surely now they saw her friends as she did. The friends who jabbed her father and made her mother hug her out of joy. The friends who made her grandfather roar with laughter and made her brother apologize. Dahlia hugged her deck as she sat amongst her family, tucked under her mother's arm. Her friends brought her her family's affection. Surely they would keep doing it if she had them help her family with their tricks and shows.
They would continue to love her if she did everything as they asked. Surely.
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Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2012 11:43 pm
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╔═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
║Solo____________
║
║xxxxx__Welcome to Sidekick Academy_____
║xxxxxxxAll in the name of freedom.
║
╚═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Maybe she should rethink her plan of action here.
Maybe she should just turn around.
It'd only been a few weeks. If she showed up with some stolen goods, she could simply say it was to try some runs on her own... in a new territory? Would they accept that as an excuse for why she went all the way to Crantel?
Maybe. Maybe if she explained it in light of Victor's recent arrest, and how mom and dad had been muttering on how they'd have to keep a low profile for a bit. Maybe she could at least sway Senior...
...sway him to probably never trust her again. Not that she'd blame him.
The thirteen year old groaned, pressing her eyes into her forearms as they rested on the dock's railing. The sounds and smell of the ocean comforted her, transporting her away from the foreign metropolis. Briefly, she thought to herself how even the smell of this place was brighter than back home.
Back on a continent whose income charts formed near perfect gradients from bottom to top.
Coastal Vantage Hotel was a gem where it sat on the, as one would expect, coast. The apartments were nice there, nicer least than the ones further north. She could still recall the sounds of things in the walls... and hearing all too clearly sounds through the walls that brought a tint to her cheeks even years later. Always she hated when her parents' cons would move the family north. But when they allowed them to move further and further south... Dahlia had always considered such things a blessing. More successful cons, more successful shows at the hotel... they were blessings. Wishes on lucky stars answered. Always meant more food in the house, more costumes to help her mother with, a higher allowance for a few following weeks, a more cheerful atmosphere for the whole family.
Least till the money ran out. And bills had to be paid.
Her parents never had been good at making their money last. Senior wasn't much better, but he did save. Sometimes. She wasn't sure their plans of huge heists would ever actually change anything. They'd probably just spend all the money without much care... then be back to their usual ways to get more.
It was a cycle. One Dahlia knew too well, but never minded. It was a cycle she saw as fun--shows and tricks to get the money, spend the money, more shows and tricks to get more money...
It was a cycle Victor broke.
A twinge shot through her. One of anger, one of hate, one of spite, one of longing, one of regret... She longed to go back to the days where she had never noticed the consequences. Where the reality never occurred to her. Of course she saw what happened to criminals on the news. Often, she and Senior would laugh at the mug shots, or cheer at any police videos. "Those are the fools, Dollie," the old man would tell her from his plush seat. "Only the fools get caught. Oh sure, everyone is a fool at some point in time, but the real test? Is smartening up, and making fools out of the cops." Only fools get caught. It was a lesson she took to heart as she listened to the main in the plush seat. It never mattered where they lived at the time, Senior always would have a plush recliner, and it was always from that seat he'd teach them. New or old, she could always count on it there in the living room, either supporting Senior or welcoming her to curl up in it and inhale the familiar scent of cigar smoke, whiskey, musk, and expensive suits that was the smell of Senior alone. Dahlia wasn't sure if he ever said he loved them--any of them, not even his own son--but she was willing to bet he cared for them the most.
Yet it was in pride that man watched the news reports of "Arron Giles" popping up on the television, the familiar face in mug shots, in news clips. Dahlia's stomach had hit the floor, her heart in her throat in a most uncomfortable way, when she'd seen all this. Even worse when the authorities discovered Giles' real name was Victor Bekket. Her parents had gone in front of the reporters and publicly spoke of shame and misery towards their son's downward spiral.
"Ever mother prays she never sees her son like this. I can only hope now that his time in... in... in prison... h-helps him... oh Victor..." Her mother had dissolved into tears and crumpled into her father's arms, much to public approval. Her mother had always been a wonderful actress. At home, she and her father only spoke of praise towards Victor's attempt. How when he got out, how he'd be better. How he would no longer be a fool.
Dahlia wasn't so sure. Victor had always been a fool in her eyes. However... fool enough to get caught... she never thought any of her family could be capable of such a thing. And what could that mean for her..?
The thoughts had been enough. Enough to make her push herself away from the railing and pick up her bags. She'd taken only one with her from home. Had stolen the second, smaller bag, and the various pieces of clothing within. It wasn't much, but with the money she'd also taken on her way south from Ronth, into Crantel, and then meandering her way down until she stood on the dock facing that elusive island...
Well. Elusive so far as concrete information went.
Dahlia's grip on her bags tightened, shifting the weight of on onto her shoulder so her hand could be free to slip into her jacket pocket. Lightly, tenderly, her fingers skimmed the deck of cards nestled there within a handkerchief. No. She couldn't go back.
There was no longer an option to go back.
The money she'd stolen went to a final boat ticket. She told herself as she reluctantly handed over the sum she could get more later. There were enough people in this city for her to easily run a few simple tricks to line her pockets. Her eyes had already picked out a few stores she could easily case and trick. She would not go without a new wardrobe for long in this place, surely. Maybe.
The ride had been a simple one, though Dahlia had spent most of it curled up in a ball in her seat, forehead against her cards. There was no option to go back, she kept telling herself. She had to fight the urge to try and go home. But how could that place still be home? A place that urged her to do the big heists that landed Victor in jail. Only fools got caught on the small stuff. But the big things? The big tricks? Even Senior had been caught on those, and he was no fool. Daniel and Elizabeth had yet to get caught, but their tricks were smaller. But they wanted her and Victor to do bigger tricks... no.
No.
It was frightening to make her way up to the buildings--an explosive in the pathway had made her screech and duck for cover, heart hitting the floor thinking Victor was the source. It'd taken her more than a few moments to calm down and stop her tears, swearing to herself up and down he wasn't there, he couldn't be there, and he wouldn't be out for such a long time. She was safe from him. Victor was locked up. Because he was a fool.
No.
She made her way into the main building, pulling over herself the unseen cloak of a persona. The skittish girl vanished in a heartbeat, a soft sweet smile placing itself as the defense mechanism it was onto her features. It took a little while to find someone, but the first words out of her mouth were ones she'd repeated in her head since curling up on her seat in the boat. "Hello, my name is Rhea Mathews. I'd like to enroll at the school." Her smile brightened as inwardly Dahlia cringed and hid deeper behind the mask. Her cards lifted out of her pocket, dancing in the air as she continued to smile to the person before her. "I was told this place was more suitable for someone... like me."
Someone hiding. Someone refusing to accept the fate of a cage.
No.
No.
She was many things, as her parents had taught her to be.
No.
She was many things. Often times, she wasn't sure which face in the mirror was her own.
No.
She was many things.
But Dahlia was no fool.
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Posted: Mon Apr 02, 2012 11:11 am
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╔═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
║Solo____________
║
║xxxxx__Something's Missing in this Picture..._____
║xxxxxxxAnd thus fate chimes.
║
╚═════════════════════════════════════════ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
There were pros and cons to this situation. Dahlia looked around her spartan room, frowning slightly. Her room at home was a great deal more... colorful than this. Posters from her parents' shows had lined the walls, cut outs from fashion magazines, other magicians' posters and articles.... staring at the blank walls with the off-white pant job was almost painful. Her lips twitched to the side in dry amusement as she debated the likelihood they would allow her to repaint the walls and punch a bunch of thumbtacks through them.
Her introduction to the school had been less than exciting. It was only earlier that morning she'd arrived, and now but a few hours later she stood in the doorway of her new dorm. The bed looked comfy at least, and the presence of a wardrobe with a built-in chest of drawers, nightstand with a lamp, and desk was at least homely. The fact there was a mirrored set on the opposite side of the room troubled her immensely. It'd been two years ago she'd finally gotten her room to herself, Victor finally able to get his own place. Any time he'd return to their parents' home, she'd had Senior's blessing to kick her brother to the couch if he had to spend the night. Though more often than not it was Senior himself doing--literal-kicking, the point still stood. She liked rooming alone. She liked the larger space, and the prospect of trying to merge the second bed with hers was highly tempting. She'd never slept in a big bed before.
For the moment at least, she settled her bags onto the bed on the left side of the room, claiming this side to be her starting domain. So long as no one else showed up, surely there was nothing stopping her from taking over the right half of the room, too. Who would know? Or for that matter, care? Perhaps she could make the right half more of a work space, or move some of the furniture out to make more training room..? Oh the options!
With a perked mood due to the plans happily scampering around in her head, the dark-haired girl set to work putting away her few belongings. Clothing was hung in the wardrobe, the now empty bags stored at the bottom. A few of her show costumes were hung with extra special care, the same care being used to place some accessories into the drawers for the time being. Documents for Rhea Mathews were stored in the nightstand drawer. Documents for Dahlia Bekket were stashed under the bed. She'd have to figure out better means to store things soon, she noted to herself with a n** of her lower lip. Did they search rooms here? How much privacy did students have..?
This could be problematic.
It didn't take long for her to finish unpacking. Her arms crossed before her chest as she glanced about. Now what? She wouldn't be starting classes till the following day or two, she'd been told. The prospect of being in actual classes with other students was both mystifying and alarming. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually gone to school instead of the usual homeschooling. It was always temporary, a few months at the most. All for the sake of some cover story.
She'd hated every moment of being stuck in a crowded room with a bunch of idiotic strangers. The most of her entertainment had come from trying some of the exercises Senior had taught her for picking out targets. For the most part school was just another practice session for her acting.
Her throat constricted slightly as she tried to swallow, rubbing her upper arms uneasily. This would be the first time she'd walk into a classroom on her own will. A chill slithered up her spine, a sensation she tried to squash with a stubborn lift of her chin. She handled school before. And this school was different! Yes, this school was... different. So too should be the classes, right? The students, too.
The concept of new challenges to conquer certainly helped to settle her. The concept of meeting others with abilities... had a mixed reaction. She'd never "played" with others like herself outside her family. Should she be nervous about this?
Apparently yes, she decided as she felt another chill ripple through her. Dahlia sat down on her new bed, sinking a little into the cream colored sheets. Mentally, she made a note to get some new ones. And a nice, fluffy comforter. Perhaps that was how she could spend her day? Go back to the mainland and do some shopping? It was an idea. Yet instead of moving to get up, the girl pulled her legs up onto the bed, resting her chin on her knees. The concept of facing that stupid pathway again was a good deterrent.
Growing frustrated, and still not over the unease of what she'd face in the coming days, Dahlia reached out in reflex with her mind. It took no thought, no conscious will. Her eyes were shut, waiting expectantly for the sound of paper cutting the air softly. She needed her friends.
....hm?
Blue eyes opened slightly, confused to why they weren't floating around her. Her head lifted a little to better view her coat hanging from the back of the chair at her desk. She could see one of the pockets, and stared at it for a moment. No movement. No cards slipping out. They didn't rise from the other side, either. Dahlia blinked a few times, rising to her stocking covered feet and padding over to the chair. Her hands hung limp at her sides for a few moments more, still eyeing the coat expectantly. But when she finally searched the pockets by touch, she found what she should have already guessed: no deck was present. The handkerchief was. It was right where she'd left it. But there were no cards safely tucked away within its folds.
Her heart thudded a little awkwardly. Taking a few deep breaths, Dahlia turned next to the wardrobe. Pulling it open, she searched the two bags. The two very much empty bags. Next, the drawers. Accessories only. The nightstand? Only the papers she'd placed in there before. Under the bed? Not there, either. She even searched the compartments on the other side of the room.
With each place and each failed search her movements became more rushed, her breathing popping out more frantic. Her hands shook. Where were her cards?!
Wide eyes turned towards the door to her room, shut tight. Oh no. Oh no. Had she... had she dropped them? Oh no. Oh please no.
Dahlia remained still as a statue for a moment, staring at the door. In her mind, she was retracing her steps. No, she hadn't set it down anywhere... only brought them out once. A sound akin to a whimper escaped her, and she grabbed the dark shoes she'd worn on her travels to the Academy. They were barely on her feet, straps barely latched, as she bolted from the room. She had to find her cards... had to!
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Posted: Wed May 16, 2012 6:26 pm
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Posted: Wed May 16, 2012 6:28 pm
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