femservice: [ http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=36297615 ] (pic#6455885)
[ It's not that Thomas doesn't care about their expedition.

...only, she doesn't care about their expedition.

(if they'd all wanted to look at cracked pottery for hours upon hours at a time, couldn't they have just let her try to cook dinner and then examine the kitchen?)

So she... might have wandered off. Just a little - she can find her way back easily, and she's been marking her way! She's not an idiot, just... bored.

So, what more interesting things can a girl like her find in the woods? ]
femservice: [ http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=25534687 ] (pic#6457482)
[ Thomas is many things, but she's not stupid. She knows that - despite sir's offers - she can't afford to be there for the duel coaster. A box seat, sir had offered, but... well. She might not know much about Tron's plans but she has the feeling that even that would be too close, after her having changed sides.

(besides that, she doesn't want to run the risk of him or, more importantly, V seeing her)

(she won't hide who she is anymore but she doubts, somehow, that it would be met with any kind of good reception, particularly right now)

So a direct video link from sir's room, that's what she's requested for tomorrow. There's a tablet set on the bedside table, one he's assured her she'll be able to connect to the feed from when the time comes.

And in the meantime, tonight, her only request was that sir come away from his work just a little earlier that he might have otherwise. That he leave the last-minute things to other people where they could be left, and come attend to her.

(she doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want to say it out loud and make it real, but Thomas is scared)

(for sir, moreso for V - or rather, whatever of Chris is left in him, if any - because...)

(because Tron had flown into a rage when he'd found her packing, and she'd felt the way he'd pulled at her crest, knows that if it weren't for sir's protection she'd be laid out on a bed the same as III now)

She curls in against Heartland's side, rubbing her face against his neck as the credits roll on the movie she'd asked for - some simple, childish animated thing, the kind she'd never gotten to watch once they'd gone to the orphanage - and lets out a quiet little noise of... contentment? Distress? She's not really sure, to be honest. ]

Thank you, sir, for the movie...

[ Shifting, she reaches up to unbutton his shirt, but only so that she can slip her head in against his chest and press her ear to it, listen to his heartbeat while she pulls the fabric of his shirt around her head a little. ]
femservice: [ http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=26235292 ] (pic#6455972)
[ It's not the first time Thomas has been out late and come home stumbling. Not even the first time this week.

This time is different, though. Something in her drink, someone who'd urged her down deep with soft words and little touches and another glass cool against her lips, the contents different than before but adapted just the same. Her mind dipping deeper and deeper and then Thomas had been thrown out onto the street once he'd taken his fill of her lips and tongue and throat, his fill and more besides, she thinks, because she remembers different tastes and scents and different skin under her lips and fingers as the night had gone on.

She doesn't really know how she'd made it home. A taxi, she thinks; she remembers money pressed into her hands as she was put out and voices raised in laughter behind the door once it had shut.

Still. She's home now, at least. Stumbling through the door and into the hallway, and the stairs are so hard that she has to crawl them because her legs don't much want to work. She reaches her door though and opens it and it's wrong, not what she expected somehow, and so Thomas stumbles back and falls with it, hits the floor with a thump and a soft exhalation of pain. Stays down for a good few minutes, too, stares into the room but it doesn't get any less wrong - gets worse, if anything, with the way the moonlight casts long shadows over everything and makes it look warped, frightening.

There's a light on down the hall though, a little sliver of light escaping from beneath the closed door, and so that's what Thomas stumbles toward once she's finally on her feet. Stumbles towards it and nearly falls against the wood as she's fumbling with the handle. When she does get it open, though, she does her utmost to pull herself up a little, walk a little straighter and a little more firmly as she wobbles forward on too-high heels. ]

...daddy? Can I sleep here tonight?

[ Her voice rings higher than usual, soft and childish and fogged like breath on a glass. Like she's trying to speak past a screen of gauze, trying to think past cotton wool, with the way that her words slur together and she shakes her head sharply once she's spoken as if to clear it. ]

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Thomas Arkwright [♀]

November 2013

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