They were playing games. Piper less than Connor, though as a pivotal piece on his chess board, she wasn't given much choice in the matter. The way his words tried to sooth the anger ebbing beneath her surface was good, practiced perhaps, but it wasn't going to be enough. In the case of ignorance and bliss, this was seeing the encompassing world with blinders on. Curtailed, stunted, she couldn't find his eyes again until a welcome was issued. Home now being a place she never wished to visit, with Connor, a man she didn't care to know. Maybe being rescued hadn't been as clear cut the woman expected it to be, but she did understand the cost of his involvement, tied in to countless reasons home wasn't an option.
There would be snow falling this time of year back on the farm, and Piper could recall the townsfolk shuffling through endless white like ants in a sugar bowl.
"And I'm sure that would put a damper on your mood." The reasons given presented sound empirical argument for gloom. Piper expressed it with glances to her emptied dish, drops of soup drawn into thin rivulets by her spoon, designs lost with every new stroke. "You make it sound like this happens all the time..." All at once, the utensil was dropped with an irritating clink. "Do you know how fucked up what you're saying is? Like, do you have any idea how fucking nuts you sound right now?"
Emeralds shot back up to his features, her posture still locked in a half slump over the remnants of their meal. "Where does that leave me?" Mindful of the attention at her foot, Piper did her best not to jostle his digits away from the appendage as his reaction would likely not be one she cared to instigate. "People will look for me. Trust me, my daddy isn't the sort to just let this type of thing go." But behind the wave of indignation, there was also a practically palpable sense of dread. Her father might not take her vanishing standing, but that didn't mean he would have any idea where to look. In that vein of depression, Piper felt her lashes batting hard and fast against her cheeks to keep tears at bay.
"You better fucking believe I'm gonna get out of here. I don't care if you have an army here to keep me in, I'm gonna get out!" Betrayed by her emotions, both of Piper's hands shot up to wipe away the warm saline, soon tasting salt and despair at the corners of her lips. It had been some time since the last instance she cried, and even if she hardly trusted Connor to keep from watching him, there wasn't a way to focus on both at once. So there would be sniffling and she would shudder until her foundation was a crumbled, crudely mashed replacement for the quiet demeanor previously shared. One didn't simply ignore trauma, but in certain dolorous circumstance, it could be neglected like a black eye under heavy concealer.
A slow, staggered gasp for air acknowledged when she had finished. Followed by several long inhales and exhales, the woman straightened her back and lowered her palms to sit one on each battered thigh, remaining statuesque in that brief window of clear, pure silence. Connor may have felt the weight of her gaze, but it was as fictional as her hopes for rescue. Piper looked beyond him, beyond the bed frame and the far wall, beyond the room. Nothing she looked at had anything to do with him. "Where are we?" But the singular question was too broad, so she narrowed it almost immediately. "What city?"
It was hard to swear to making a valiant exit from captivity when one didn't know just where they were.
There would be snow falling this time of year back on the farm, and Piper could recall the townsfolk shuffling through endless white like ants in a sugar bowl.
"And I'm sure that would put a damper on your mood." The reasons given presented sound empirical argument for gloom. Piper expressed it with glances to her emptied dish, drops of soup drawn into thin rivulets by her spoon, designs lost with every new stroke. "You make it sound like this happens all the time..." All at once, the utensil was dropped with an irritating clink. "Do you know how fucked up what you're saying is? Like, do you have any idea how fucking nuts you sound right now?"
Emeralds shot back up to his features, her posture still locked in a half slump over the remnants of their meal. "Where does that leave me?" Mindful of the attention at her foot, Piper did her best not to jostle his digits away from the appendage as his reaction would likely not be one she cared to instigate. "People will look for me. Trust me, my daddy isn't the sort to just let this type of thing go." But behind the wave of indignation, there was also a practically palpable sense of dread. Her father might not take her vanishing standing, but that didn't mean he would have any idea where to look. In that vein of depression, Piper felt her lashes batting hard and fast against her cheeks to keep tears at bay.
"You better fucking believe I'm gonna get out of here. I don't care if you have an army here to keep me in, I'm gonna get out!" Betrayed by her emotions, both of Piper's hands shot up to wipe away the warm saline, soon tasting salt and despair at the corners of her lips. It had been some time since the last instance she cried, and even if she hardly trusted Connor to keep from watching him, there wasn't a way to focus on both at once. So there would be sniffling and she would shudder until her foundation was a crumbled, crudely mashed replacement for the quiet demeanor previously shared. One didn't simply ignore trauma, but in certain dolorous circumstance, it could be neglected like a black eye under heavy concealer.
A slow, staggered gasp for air acknowledged when she had finished. Followed by several long inhales and exhales, the woman straightened her back and lowered her palms to sit one on each battered thigh, remaining statuesque in that brief window of clear, pure silence. Connor may have felt the weight of her gaze, but it was as fictional as her hopes for rescue. Piper looked beyond him, beyond the bed frame and the far wall, beyond the room. Nothing she looked at had anything to do with him. "Where are we?" But the singular question was too broad, so she narrowed it almost immediately. "What city?"
It was hard to swear to making a valiant exit from captivity when one didn't know just where they were.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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