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memories like embers keep us
May. 12th, 2015 06:08 pmWhen Sookie had returned to her apartment the evening after first discovering that Jason had vanished, she had very carefully prepared herself for bed. Stepped in the shower, mind unfocused and movements aimless, letting the hot water run over her body until she was pink from the heat of it. She had slipped quietly under her sheets, leaned over to her nightstand, making sure to set an alarm for the next day.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.
build me a star in your forehead
Apr. 30th, 2015 07:13 pmThe problem with keeping track of Jason Stackhouse was the fact that he wasn't an easy person to keep track of even during the best of times. Absentminded and prone to flights of fancy, it wasn't unusual for Jason to up and vanish for a number of hours, only to come back with a wide grin on his face and a lady on each arm for his efforts, or for him to return with Hoyt draped over a shoulder, having downed one too many beers for his sunny-minded disposition. Only in recent years did an extended absence tend to be indicative of trouble rather than adventure, and so when Sookie's third call landed in Jason's voice mail, she tried not to think too much of it.
Then again, in Darrow, it was hard for silence not to become suspicious after a time.
"You'd better be there, Jason Stackhouse," she muttered under her breath as she made her way over to his apartment. Only once she was halfway there did she realize that she probably could have afforded to call Fred first, who was unlikely to irresponsibly let a call go without a relatively prompt answer, but Sookie didn't want to interfere too much with what she knew to be an ongoing honeymoon period between the two of them.
She didn't want to be that kind of overbearing sister.
Instead, she cleared her throat once she made it to their front door, and ignoring the way that her heart pounded against her chest, she raised a hand and rapped sharply. One, two, three times in quick succession.
And then she could only wait.
Then again, in Darrow, it was hard for silence not to become suspicious after a time.
"You'd better be there, Jason Stackhouse," she muttered under her breath as she made her way over to his apartment. Only once she was halfway there did she realize that she probably could have afforded to call Fred first, who was unlikely to irresponsibly let a call go without a relatively prompt answer, but Sookie didn't want to interfere too much with what she knew to be an ongoing honeymoon period between the two of them.
She didn't want to be that kind of overbearing sister.
Instead, she cleared her throat once she made it to their front door, and ignoring the way that her heart pounded against her chest, she raised a hand and rapped sharply. One, two, three times in quick succession.
And then she could only wait.
In all the years that Sookie's worked alongside Lafayette at Merlotte's, she's only ever known him to skip out on work when real shit's been going down. He's a man who takes pride in his work, and who has a real way with the kitchen, treating it as kindly as someone might a close friend and serving every meal with love and care. When Robin disappeared from Semele's, it was a deep loss for the both of them, not only of a friend but also of a benefactor, and so Sookie and Lafayette had stayed up late into the night to figure out a plan of action that wouldn't let Goodfellow's restaurant fall into disrepair.
For Lafayette not to show up after all that work and effort is completely unlike him. Which is why, before even bothering to stop by her apartment for a much needed break and shower, Sookie practically flies on over to Lafayette's apartment, digging in her purse for the spare key and bursting inside.
It's empty. No sign of struggle. No ransom note. But, more importantly, there's almost no sign of Lafayette left. None of his candles, his statues, his necklaces and scarves draped around with perfume lingering on each bead. Nothing, save for a large shawl thrown over the couch.
Knowing full well what it likely means, Sookie rushes on ahead and bites down on her lower lip, hard, almost enough to draw blood as she wraps herself in the shawl, breathing in the scent and stifling the air until her heart stops pounding enough to leap out of her chest.
Only then does she pack up her things, making her way slowly over to Jason's apartment. She has to believe that he hasn't vanished too. She has to believe, stopping on the sidewalk to peer up at the building, where the lights of the suite are still thankfully on.
Feeling her eyes start to burn at the corners of her eyes, she knocks on the door.
For Lafayette not to show up after all that work and effort is completely unlike him. Which is why, before even bothering to stop by her apartment for a much needed break and shower, Sookie practically flies on over to Lafayette's apartment, digging in her purse for the spare key and bursting inside.
It's empty. No sign of struggle. No ransom note. But, more importantly, there's almost no sign of Lafayette left. None of his candles, his statues, his necklaces and scarves draped around with perfume lingering on each bead. Nothing, save for a large shawl thrown over the couch.
Knowing full well what it likely means, Sookie rushes on ahead and bites down on her lower lip, hard, almost enough to draw blood as she wraps herself in the shawl, breathing in the scent and stifling the air until her heart stops pounding enough to leap out of her chest.
Only then does she pack up her things, making her way slowly over to Jason's apartment. She has to believe that he hasn't vanished too. She has to believe, stopping on the sidewalk to peer up at the building, where the lights of the suite are still thankfully on.
Feeling her eyes start to burn at the corners of her eyes, she knocks on the door.
In some ways, Sookie Stackhouse is very glad to have a business to run in the wake of a couple key disappearances from her life. It's easier to ignore how her best friend and boss up and vanished within a few days of one another when she's barely keeping her head on straight attending to the many patrons of Semele's, who have come rushing into the restaurant after its unexpected closure on Christmas Eve and Day.
It'd be one thing if Robin's fiancé struck around. He seemed to have a practically photogenic memory for all of the patrons that frequented the restaurant, knowing if any of them had dietary restrictions, transformation triggers, or simply if they had a short temper to step around. But with Sookie having only worked one section of the floor often, she finds herself needing to double-check everyone who steps into the restaurant, making sure that she has a record of their background.
She doesn't have time to grieve when she's barely holding the place together. Fortunately, her telepathy helps her in a pinch, able to catch the thoughts or emotions of many who step into the restaurant.
But when she comes across a man seated at the bar, she pauses. According to the records, he'd entered and declared himself human, but as she squints in his direction, Sookie can't pick up on a single shred of thought. Which is more than enough cause for concern.
"Excuse me," she says, a worried smile on her face as she steps over to the customer's end of the bar. "I just wanted to make sure, did you fully register with the bouncer? We welcome all species here at Semele's, but for the safety of the customers, we do ask that everyone be honest about their background, and also to help us better serve all of you."
It'd be one thing if Robin's fiancé struck around. He seemed to have a practically photogenic memory for all of the patrons that frequented the restaurant, knowing if any of them had dietary restrictions, transformation triggers, or simply if they had a short temper to step around. But with Sookie having only worked one section of the floor often, she finds herself needing to double-check everyone who steps into the restaurant, making sure that she has a record of their background.
She doesn't have time to grieve when she's barely holding the place together. Fortunately, her telepathy helps her in a pinch, able to catch the thoughts or emotions of many who step into the restaurant.
But when she comes across a man seated at the bar, she pauses. According to the records, he'd entered and declared himself human, but as she squints in his direction, Sookie can't pick up on a single shred of thought. Which is more than enough cause for concern.
"Excuse me," she says, a worried smile on her face as she steps over to the customer's end of the bar. "I just wanted to make sure, did you fully register with the bouncer? We welcome all species here at Semele's, but for the safety of the customers, we do ask that everyone be honest about their background, and also to help us better serve all of you."
coughed out my heart in the last stall
Jul. 30th, 2014 08:20 pmIt's been a few weeks since Will's disappearance, and Sookie has been good. Very good. She's been dealing with the loss by speaking with people, but also allocating a fair amount of time to self-reflection. She's felt the brunt of devastation, but she hasn't let herself wallow in it constantly, instead making sure that she still interacts with her friends and keeps her chin up at work. Everything's been fine. Functional. As much as someone can expect for a woman who's lost someone she loved yet again.
But for some reason, being good is the last thing that she wants tonight. Instead, the thought of throwing all caution to the wind and getting horribly, unforgivably drunk sounds like a good idea.
She won't, of course. The risk of a hangover the next day is far too much for Sookie to bear. But she is very willing to at least give a friend a call, and see whether or not a night of wine is in the cards. After finding out that Fred is free, Sookie works on making her apartment presentable and welcoming, lighting a couple of sandalwood candles to warm up the space.
But for some reason, being good is the last thing that she wants tonight. Instead, the thought of throwing all caution to the wind and getting horribly, unforgivably drunk sounds like a good idea.
She won't, of course. The risk of a hangover the next day is far too much for Sookie to bear. But she is very willing to at least give a friend a call, and see whether or not a night of wine is in the cards. After finding out that Fred is free, Sookie works on making her apartment presentable and welcoming, lighting a couple of sandalwood candles to warm up the space.
but the water's amnesia
Apr. 4th, 2014 11:33 amShe might be in over her head, but if there's anything that Sookie thinks is worth the effort, it's something like this — helping a friend try to return to the way things were before everything went wrong.
Sookie can't count the number of times she's wished that she could turn the clock back. On her life, on those of her friends and family, wanting to erase all the loss and violence that has been constantly speckled through their every day since the moment vampires came to Bon Temps. Even all the tales and warnings about how changing past experiences doesn't necessarily fix all of one's problems aren't enough of a deterrent to Sookie; heck, the logic has never been there to her mind. Yes, losing an experience might hurt. But it's no different than making choices in the present. And what wouldn't she do or gamble, if for the sake of those she loves?
But she can't turn back the time. The world's probably better off for it. Sookie would never use that power responsibly.
Of course, offering to expose someone's memories and grant that control back to them is another matter entirely. After constantly being left in the dark by people who thought they knew better, be it Bill, Pam, Eric, or even Jessica, Sookie feels that the only just thing to do is arm each person with whatever they can be given, letting them make the choices that are right for them.
Offering to explore Newt's mind might cause trouble later on. But it's his choice. And she wants to do her best.
Dressed in a subdued blouse and a pair of jeans, Sookie shows up at Newt's apartment, a small tin of cookies in hand as she knocks on the door.
Sookie can't count the number of times she's wished that she could turn the clock back. On her life, on those of her friends and family, wanting to erase all the loss and violence that has been constantly speckled through their every day since the moment vampires came to Bon Temps. Even all the tales and warnings about how changing past experiences doesn't necessarily fix all of one's problems aren't enough of a deterrent to Sookie; heck, the logic has never been there to her mind. Yes, losing an experience might hurt. But it's no different than making choices in the present. And what wouldn't she do or gamble, if for the sake of those she loves?
But she can't turn back the time. The world's probably better off for it. Sookie would never use that power responsibly.
Of course, offering to expose someone's memories and grant that control back to them is another matter entirely. After constantly being left in the dark by people who thought they knew better, be it Bill, Pam, Eric, or even Jessica, Sookie feels that the only just thing to do is arm each person with whatever they can be given, letting them make the choices that are right for them.
Offering to explore Newt's mind might cause trouble later on. But it's his choice. And she wants to do her best.
Dressed in a subdued blouse and a pair of jeans, Sookie shows up at Newt's apartment, a small tin of cookies in hand as she knocks on the door.
Whenever there's a surge in crime, Sookie's mind always wanders towards whether or not she and her own might be affected by the pattern. It's a selfish impulse, she knows. Hearing about violence should make her more concerned about the people who have already been hurt, or sometimes lost altogether, and the way that their families must be grieving. Wanting. Reeling from the vacancies suddenly present in their lives. But Sookie's been through a hell of a lot already in her own life, and maybe it's being jaded that constantly has her holding out and wary of when she'll be hit next.
This time, the string of crimes is among women. Almost solely women. It's a pattern that she's observed in the news that the city reports on, dating back to even well before her own arrival in Darrow. The ladies always make the headlines — and usually they're pretty and young. Sookie isn't sure whether the pattern is due to them just being the best to present on the news, or if there really is some kind of disproportionate pressure on people such as herself.
Maybe it's a bit of both.
Whatever the driver is, Sookie finds herself taking a lot more care whenever she walks to and from work. She usually doesn't head there alone anymore, even though she knows that in all likelihood, Robin's keeping a closer eye on her than he'd admit to. It just feels more gracious to take that precaution on herself, rather than relying on Robin to help.
Today, it means waiting for Lafayette to finish his shift, which stretches a little longer than her own. Not having bothered to change out of her uniform, Sookie hovers uncertainly by the side of the bar, briefly considering a beer. Even though she shouldn't, really. What she has at home is cheaper, and she shouldn't want to get buzzed right before trying to make it back.
She pours herself a glass of ice water instead, looking slightly discontent as she hops onto the nearest stool.
This time, the string of crimes is among women. Almost solely women. It's a pattern that she's observed in the news that the city reports on, dating back to even well before her own arrival in Darrow. The ladies always make the headlines — and usually they're pretty and young. Sookie isn't sure whether the pattern is due to them just being the best to present on the news, or if there really is some kind of disproportionate pressure on people such as herself.
Maybe it's a bit of both.
Whatever the driver is, Sookie finds herself taking a lot more care whenever she walks to and from work. She usually doesn't head there alone anymore, even though she knows that in all likelihood, Robin's keeping a closer eye on her than he'd admit to. It just feels more gracious to take that precaution on herself, rather than relying on Robin to help.
Today, it means waiting for Lafayette to finish his shift, which stretches a little longer than her own. Not having bothered to change out of her uniform, Sookie hovers uncertainly by the side of the bar, briefly considering a beer. Even though she shouldn't, really. What she has at home is cheaper, and she shouldn't want to get buzzed right before trying to make it back.
She pours herself a glass of ice water instead, looking slightly discontent as she hops onto the nearest stool.
Even though Sookie's glad to finally witness the kind of protections that Darrow has against people like Countdown, it sure as hell doesn't do her sleep any favors. Worried after seeing the trend of victims and doubly concerned about what might happen if someone with abilities take on a similar rampage, Sookie's been tossing and turning in her sleep, suffering from nightmares that leave her heart pounding as she sits up in bed, clutching at the sheets.
The worst part of it is being unable to tell anyone. What would be the point? Robin already sends Ishiah after her whenever she tries to head home alone after work. Lafayette still suffers nightmares of his own from Bon Temps, and she's loath to add on more for the sake of easing her own discomfort. Other friends have more than enough of their own problems to grapple with — raising children, recovering from assault.
It's a scary city, Darrow, and that's even without dipping into the strange and unexplained.
Still, the warmth of spring that teases occasionally at the weather is enough to send Sookie outside. She sits on the steps of her apartment building, a large mug of coffee in hand, cupping her hands around the warmth and trying her best not to fall asleep.
Trying being the operative word, as her head threatens to bump against the iron banister for the third time.
The worst part of it is being unable to tell anyone. What would be the point? Robin already sends Ishiah after her whenever she tries to head home alone after work. Lafayette still suffers nightmares of his own from Bon Temps, and she's loath to add on more for the sake of easing her own discomfort. Other friends have more than enough of their own problems to grapple with — raising children, recovering from assault.
It's a scary city, Darrow, and that's even without dipping into the strange and unexplained.
Still, the warmth of spring that teases occasionally at the weather is enough to send Sookie outside. She sits on the steps of her apartment building, a large mug of coffee in hand, cupping her hands around the warmth and trying her best not to fall asleep.
Trying being the operative word, as her head threatens to bump against the iron banister for the third time.
It's half an hour into Sookie's shift, and Rochelle hasn't stopped talking about her new boyfriend for longer than it takes to draw a breath. With business being relatively slow as usual patrons celebrate St. Patrick's Day elsewhere, Sookie is forced to listen where she stands behind the counter, burying her face into the crook of her elbow and trying to focus on anything other than the fact that she's frustrated.
For entirely frivolous reasons, but still very frustrated.
Threading her fingers through her hair, Sookie groans and swings around the back of the bar, trying not to earn the attention of too many customers as she looks for Robin. As many liberties as Robin tends to permit her while on the job, Sookie doesn't want to do anything to fall out of favor with him, both for the sake of maintaining her income and for making sure that Lafayette still has a comfortable place to work and perform culinary magic.
"Robin?" she asks, peeking her head into his office, where he seems to be lounging, taking a break from the many computers and laptops littered all over his desk. "Robin, do you mind if I have a couple of shots on the job? Or if I buy a pair of earplugs? Rochelle will not stop talkin' about the way her new boyfriend went drilling all night, and I haven't gotten laid in long enough that she is actually getting on my nerves."
Her cheeks color slightly in embarrassment, but really. There's only so much that she can take. "I promise, you and Lafayette are the only ones I don't know any shame around," she adds as an afterthought.
For entirely frivolous reasons, but still very frustrated.
Threading her fingers through her hair, Sookie groans and swings around the back of the bar, trying not to earn the attention of too many customers as she looks for Robin. As many liberties as Robin tends to permit her while on the job, Sookie doesn't want to do anything to fall out of favor with him, both for the sake of maintaining her income and for making sure that Lafayette still has a comfortable place to work and perform culinary magic.
"Robin?" she asks, peeking her head into his office, where he seems to be lounging, taking a break from the many computers and laptops littered all over his desk. "Robin, do you mind if I have a couple of shots on the job? Or if I buy a pair of earplugs? Rochelle will not stop talkin' about the way her new boyfriend went drilling all night, and I haven't gotten laid in long enough that she is actually getting on my nerves."
Her cheeks color slightly in embarrassment, but really. There's only so much that she can take. "I promise, you and Lafayette are the only ones I don't know any shame around," she adds as an afterthought.
Sookie remembers, each time she's suffered from a deep grief in her life, having piles of food brought over and piled high on her dining table. Always food, and always in quantities that no single girl could be expected to eat on her own — not even after inviting her strapping brother over to help. Darrow may be a far reach from Bon Temps, but Sookie can't help but think that unfamiliar plates and casseroles can only serve as constant reminders of what has been through, resigned to resting in the fridge and gradually growing stale.
So when she makes time to visit Kate at the apartment, Sookie doesn't bring over any baked goods. Instead, she's armed with a box set of Project Runway — the season with Christian Siriano, of course — a tall thermos of hot cocoa, and a small bag of treats for Jeff.
What Sookie hopes that Kate resembles her in is the need to keep her living space warm and filled with movement, with company, especially in the wake of Newt's absence.
When she walks up to the door, Sookie realizes that her hands are a little full for knocking, and instead smiles as she taps the thermos against the door and hopes that it's sharp enough for Kate to hear.
"Kate, honey?" she calls out anyway, doing her best to be a reassuring, constant presence. "It's Sookie. I hope this time's still okay."
So when she makes time to visit Kate at the apartment, Sookie doesn't bring over any baked goods. Instead, she's armed with a box set of Project Runway — the season with Christian Siriano, of course — a tall thermos of hot cocoa, and a small bag of treats for Jeff.
What Sookie hopes that Kate resembles her in is the need to keep her living space warm and filled with movement, with company, especially in the wake of Newt's absence.
When she walks up to the door, Sookie realizes that her hands are a little full for knocking, and instead smiles as she taps the thermos against the door and hopes that it's sharp enough for Kate to hear.
"Kate, honey?" she calls out anyway, doing her best to be a reassuring, constant presence. "It's Sookie. I hope this time's still okay."
Sookie Stackhouse has a plan. And, for once, it's one that she's carefully thought through, trying to vet it to the best of her ability. The goal is modest — to invite Will Graham out for dinner. Well, not just any dinner. A date. A date that they can both mutually acknowledge as being a date.
Setting that goal was easy — achieving success is the hard part. It's not because of any reservations about being a woman and asking the guy out. If anything, she likes being able to have that kind of control for once in her life, not letting things be left to chance or letting everything be decided by the guy. The question is, of course, how to ask. While not counting on a yes, Sookie doesn't want to resort to something as impersonal as a text, or harried like a phone call, even if it means that she may suffer slightly more mortification upon being turned down at his doorstep.
So instead, she sends a text to check whether or not he's at his apartment, before trekking across down with a dutch apple pie carefully boxed and covered. It's a bit of a cushion; if he says no to the date, at least she'll have brought good food to a dear friend.
Making sure to clear her throat in the hall, Sookie puts on a smile, pulls both shoulders back, and raps smartly on the door.
Setting that goal was easy — achieving success is the hard part. It's not because of any reservations about being a woman and asking the guy out. If anything, she likes being able to have that kind of control for once in her life, not letting things be left to chance or letting everything be decided by the guy. The question is, of course, how to ask. While not counting on a yes, Sookie doesn't want to resort to something as impersonal as a text, or harried like a phone call, even if it means that she may suffer slightly more mortification upon being turned down at his doorstep.
So instead, she sends a text to check whether or not he's at his apartment, before trekking across down with a dutch apple pie carefully boxed and covered. It's a bit of a cushion; if he says no to the date, at least she'll have brought good food to a dear friend.
Making sure to clear her throat in the hall, Sookie puts on a smile, pulls both shoulders back, and raps smartly on the door.
She should have known that it would only be a matter of time until someone noticed. It was easier to watch out for herself shortly after first arriving, a pocketknife buried deep in her purse and nightly practice sessions for holding that light between her hands, the fae's warmth thrumming against her fingertips. But day after day, nothing happened. The daytime is all hers to play with, roaming the city, searching for clothing outlets, boutiques, bakeries and coffee shops. And in the evening, she's free to smile more while under the protection of women and men who know what they're doing, strength and cunning plentiful among all of them. She sleeps soundly, knowing that Lafayette's only some flights of stairs away.
Complacency becomes the theme long before she realizes it.
So when she heads home one evening and notices a series of steps clipping fast behind her, she assumes that it's just another drunken asshole, someone who probably thinks that leaving a generous tip entitles him to a little extra something later. Sookie picks up her pace, not yet casting a look over her shoulder as she holds her purse closer to her chest. Her apartment is only a couple of blocks away, it won't be hard to make it back.
Until she suddenly feels a rush of air all around her, shoes slipping off and heels dragging against concrete, the wind knocked out of her as a pair of darkly blown eyes rake over her body and press her up against a wall.
"You make one more move and I'll scream," she warns, a soft thrumming energy building by her fingertips, but it doesn't linger long before Sookie feels her arm wrenched up high above her head. Letting out a cry of pain, she struggles against the hold, but the man is much larger, much taller, and she can't get the leverage she needs when all her limbs are stretched.
"I think I'd like that," the man breathes, grinning before his fangs suddenly slot into place, long and sharp. "No one's going to hear you in this part of town, sweetheart."
Complacency becomes the theme long before she realizes it.
So when she heads home one evening and notices a series of steps clipping fast behind her, she assumes that it's just another drunken asshole, someone who probably thinks that leaving a generous tip entitles him to a little extra something later. Sookie picks up her pace, not yet casting a look over her shoulder as she holds her purse closer to her chest. Her apartment is only a couple of blocks away, it won't be hard to make it back.
Until she suddenly feels a rush of air all around her, shoes slipping off and heels dragging against concrete, the wind knocked out of her as a pair of darkly blown eyes rake over her body and press her up against a wall.
"You make one more move and I'll scream," she warns, a soft thrumming energy building by her fingertips, but it doesn't linger long before Sookie feels her arm wrenched up high above her head. Letting out a cry of pain, she struggles against the hold, but the man is much larger, much taller, and she can't get the leverage she needs when all her limbs are stretched.
"I think I'd like that," the man breathes, grinning before his fangs suddenly slot into place, long and sharp. "No one's going to hear you in this part of town, sweetheart."
Sunday nights aren't usually the busiest of the week, but for some reason or other, Semele's must have hit the tipping point after which only more and more people still filtered in through its doors. Even after a full night's sleep, Sookie's feeling the effects of running around serving twice as many people as she's accustomed to in a given evening, and it takes several cups of coffee to get her going once she's up. She's on her third when she decides to stumble over to Lafayette's apartment, wanting company but unsure who else is free at this hour.
Jason's hours are a lot more normal now that he's working for the police.
"Lafayette," she calls out once she's at the door, a large cup of coffee in one hand intended for him. Suddenly, she realizes that knocking isn't all that easy with both of her hands filled, so she briefly stacks one cup on top of the other before rapping her knuckles smartly on his door. "Open up, it's Sookie. You can feel free to bitch at me later, but please let me in."
Jason's hours are a lot more normal now that he's working for the police.
"Lafayette," she calls out once she's at the door, a large cup of coffee in one hand intended for him. Suddenly, she realizes that knocking isn't all that easy with both of her hands filled, so she briefly stacks one cup on top of the other before rapping her knuckles smartly on his door. "Open up, it's Sookie. You can feel free to bitch at me later, but please let me in."
light squares and bodies are all you see
Jul. 7th, 2012 01:14 pmA week into the month, Sookie became pretty sure that the amnesiacs would continue to suffer from various levels of memory loss for the rest of the month. It was a thought which tired her down to the core. There were certain individuals who started to get inklings of the memories they'd lost, and it was never anything short of traumatic. She could imagine the difficulty Mitchell would have when he became truly aware of what he was, what he'd been, and all that he'd done.
She wondered if it would be better to warn him as thoroughly as she could, even if Mitchell wasn't necessarily all that inclined to listen.
But pondering on her own wasn't usually the best way towards determining an answer, so Sookie set out to walk about the island. When she came across George and Nina's hut, she pressed her lips thin, then decided that it probably couldn't hurt to stop by.
"George? Nina?" she called out before reaching the front door, rapping it smartly with her knuckles.
She wondered if it would be better to warn him as thoroughly as she could, even if Mitchell wasn't necessarily all that inclined to listen.
But pondering on her own wasn't usually the best way towards determining an answer, so Sookie set out to walk about the island. When she came across George and Nina's hut, she pressed her lips thin, then decided that it probably couldn't hurt to stop by.
"George? Nina?" she called out before reaching the front door, rapping it smartly with her knuckles.
About once a month, Sookie Stackhouse likes to check the bookshelf for anything familiar. With as many fictional characters running about Tabula Rasa as there are, Sookie thinks it's inevitably just a matter of time before she sees her name somewhere. Watching Snoop Dogg sing with her in the background was already enough of a shock, but sometimes Sookie wonders if there isn't more out there, because to choose someone with her face and country belle appearance doesn't make sense for a musician of Snoop's type and genre— and, although it seems silly to be picky or concerned about such a small detail, the idea that she's popped up out of a music video almost feels demeaning. Her story must be out there somewhere, Sookie figures, and even if she doesn't spend most of her days consumed by the desire to look, still she casts glances that way. Just in case.
This month, again nothing seems to crop up, and her shoulders sag lightly with the disappointment.
"Is it totally narcissistic of me to be looking for something with my name on it?" she asks aloud to nobody in particular, tapping the heel of her boot against the floor as she tugs out a volume of Buffy and cringes, shoving it back onto the shelf.
This month, again nothing seems to crop up, and her shoulders sag lightly with the disappointment.
"Is it totally narcissistic of me to be looking for something with my name on it?" she asks aloud to nobody in particular, tapping the heel of her boot against the floor as she tugs out a volume of Buffy and cringes, shoving it back onto the shelf.