Thomas Arkwright [♀] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
femservice) wrote2013-07-08 05:41 pm
femservice) wrote2013-07-08 05:41 pm
[ for daddydearest ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]