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| The Kitchen | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 29 2009, 04:33 PM (137 Views) | |
| Kevin_D'Abugine | Dec 29 2009, 04:33 PM Post #1 |
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 for those days we've felt like a somehow; we keep marching on // there's so many wars we fight, there's so many thing's were not... but with what we have; I promise you that we're marching on {there's not a flag that I'd wave...} | |
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| Event | Mar 7 2010, 12:57 AM Post #2 |
Event
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There was a great clang as a serrated kitchen knife fell into the sink in Kevin and Emma's kitchen. Blood was still wet on it, slipping off into the white to cause quite a contrasting, grisly effect. Wrapped around the handle was a bit of fabric from Emma's shirt that had been cut as well. On it, written quite elaborately, were two simple sentences: Knife in the stomach? That's got to be dangerous... |
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| Kevin_D'Abugine | Mar 7 2010, 06:19 PM Post #3 |
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Kevin had been frantic. Were he not returning home every evening from work--where he had naturally, informed Abi and Lynx of Emma's disappearance (and became aware that she was not the only one)--he would not have even been there. In the initial twenty four hours, he had left Katie with Emma's mother and gone out searching for her himself. Tired, sweaty, and empty-handed he had returned disgruntled, forced to admit that he could not leave Katie with her parents indefinitely. That was half of the argument. The other half was that with every passing day his chance to find her was slipping away and cutting his heart in half, and he needed to be with his daughter too. He needed to hold her and know she was there, safe, alive, and still with him. And he needed to do right by her. He had been feeding Katie with a little chuckle as she spoke nonsense and 'Da da' at him when he heard it. She was almost two years old. He couldn't truthfully believe how fast she was growing, how beautiful she was. Her sentences were short little words of half-explanations, but her voice was music to his ears every time he heard it. This sound hadn't been his daughter's beautiful voice. This sound had been a crash and Kevin dropped the fork for a moment looking up. Katie jostled around and predictably let her chin wobble with sudden tears, and he winced, stopped making her chase the food, and got up, kissing her forehead as he did so. When he was in the kitchen however, he saw at once what had made the noise and he stiffened instantly to look at it. Blood was stained on both the serrated knife, which was dripping it's dangerous juice onto his floor steadily. His breath caught in panic and sheer horror, he leaned forward to lift up the knife gingerly without touching the handle, wondering if there were ways to get magical fingerprints off how it had gotten there and-- His Auror instincts cut out as he read the note. This was Emma's shirt he was no holding--a slit part of it, but the design was recognizable. How many times had he been replaying the last time he'd seen her? Far too much. How many times had he told her how beautiful she looked when wearing it? Not enough. Tears pricking at his eyes, his gut felt as though it had dropped out of his stomach and he dropped the parchment to let it fall to the ground. He felt as though he had just been knifed in the gut as well. The fact that Katie was in the other room was the only one that kept him from totally losing it; he had to keep his emotions in check. He could not afford to go beserker. "Emma, ma cherie.." He whispered, falling immediately into french and wiping the tears off the bridge of his noise. She was almost due. A knife in the stomach, when she was that round, that beautifully pregnant... His heart had stopped. Clutching the counter and holding onto it with the sudden dizziness threatening to overtake him, he winced and shook his head from side to side vehemently. No, no. No. He couldn't do this right now. He couldn't lose...not both of them, not again. They'd finally been having peace in the house, finally seemed to have been left alone by the damn universe, and this goes and happens? Their career was dangerous, he knew, but merlin dammit. Merlin, dammit. No, no, no, no, hell freaking no. Someone wanted to mess with him. That was why they were doing this, was it not? So he would be overcome with his emotions, so he would carry around fear, guilt, and shock as readily as he did an internal image of the last time he'd seen Emma. Or of her smile, or of how she made him laugh, or of how he could make her shiver and melt as often as she herself made him do so.... He very suddenly couldn't breathe. The images of her, the memories doing their threatening dance of all the times he'd lost her only to get her back, of all the best moments, of finding out she was pregnant, of how her eyes lit up when he spoke french. Emma had to be okay. She had to be, dammit, she had to be! He had to get to her; he had to find her. He had to get a Healer, and go after her. It was his daughter alone the stopped him from springing to his feet. Heading into the other room after carefully wiping the evidence from the floor and bagging everything else to send to the office (which he did a moment later with a quick grab for the owl), he kissed Katie's cheek once more, wiping more tears from his eyes. Katie had started screaming too. He took her gingerly out of the chair, wrapped he tiny arms around his neck and tiny legs around his waist, supporting her head and bouncing her softly from side to side. In french he was singing to her under his breath, "Shh...Mama's going to be okay. We're all going to be okay. You're going to have a baby brother soon, you know, Katie..." Had Katie looked at his eyes, she would not have been calmed. |
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for those days we've felt like a somehow; we keep marching on // there's so many wars we fight, there's so many thing's were not... but with what we have; I promise you that we're marching on {there's not a flag that I'd wave...} | |
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| Stalker | Apr 7 2010, 02:42 AM Post #4 |
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The small crystal bottle glittered against the duller countertop beside it, catching what light it could and throwing it back in a charming demand for attention. Really, it was superfluous, seeing as its placement on its recipient's kitchen counter would guarantee its eventual discovery. The liquid inside was clear, almost giving the illusion that the bottle was empty. Instead it contained a fragrance, a fact touched upon by the note left beside it, black ink defacing the once untouched parchment and twisting the cliché romantic quatrain: Roses are red, Violets are blue, This scent smells sweet, Now so can you. |
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| Emma_D'Abugine | May 10 2010, 02:24 AM Post #5 |
Your Resident Oprah
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The last two weeks had been hectic, arriving back from the hospital with little Toby screaming his lungs out, settling him into a routine, introducing him to his big sister (who luckily was besotted with him) and the rest of the family. Then of course there was getting used to having a newborn in the house again and finding the time to eat, sleep and wash when he was napping, and Katie was occupied, and spending time as well with their daughter. Kevin also had work, so Emma had to get really up her multi-tasking capabilities. It was madness and Emma really had had much of a chance to see the outside world in those last two weeks. She was only now managing to score maybe half an hour to herself whilst both Toby and Katie were having and after lunch nap. Heading into the kitchen to finally fix herself some food of her own, Emma instantly felt something was... off. Something just didnt feel right, and catching sight of the light glinting of a small crystal perfume bottle, sat on the countertop, she drew up short a moment. It was beautiful, quite enchanting and Emma was rather tempted to spritz the scent on as she'd be tempted to do in a shop. Perhaps a surprise gift from Kevin...? She stopped herself from opening the bottle a moment in order to read the note beside it and the beautiful script written upon it. The poem was enchanting, romantic and Emma was almost sure it was certainly from Kevin - a beautiful gifts, beautiful rhyme... But something still felt... off and it too Emma a few moments turning the crystal perfume bottle in her hands, to realise why this surprise gift seemed fishy. Pocketing the bottle, Emma turned back towards the living-room to send an owl and gather the kids to head out. Edited by Emma_D'Abugine, May 10 2010, 02:28 AM.
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 One small step at a time... | |
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