We saw you headin' back with a shovel, Miss Katherine

White.


White.


White.


( Read more... )

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[following this:]


It's been a while since Kate has spent any considerable amount of time in her own room, so it has remained rather tidy. The only real exceptions are a stack of clean laundry on her desk chair she hasn't gotten to yet, and the bedspread, which is a little disheveled from stolen naps here and there between checking on and being with Doc. On her desk is the book of poetry she had taken from his room, along with the little orange paper crane that marks her place. The poetry and favors from the wake are spread out, including several little steel green cranes, which sit awkward and deformed in some small way ('first attempts' at origami that weren't so bad as to throw away). There's also a rather extraordinary little music box, and a half-eaten box of chocolate. On the table in the corner, there are a few newspapers and posters, handmade notes about Cuero, and the like.

The real focus of attention, however, is the bathroom; complete with all its fancy little soaps, and relaxing scents, and nice, hot water. That's Kate's focus, at least, once she unlocks her door and steps inside.

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[following this:]


It's not the most romantic, or passionate, or perfect reunion in the world. There are the common problems that come with two people reacquainting themselves with each other, plus the nervousness of a novice and the eagerness of a man who's waited ten years for this moment.

However, their second go round goes off with much better success, for both parties. It's a learning process, committed with whispers and moans, gentle fingertips and patient bodies. Affection, tenderness, and devotion between two people not without their failings, but who haven't completely forgotten what it feels like to work together.

It's past sundown at this point, a red sunset painting the walls of Kate's room as Doc sleeps soundly in a tangle of sheets and blankets. The light breakfast Bar had brought up to the room earlier has been picked at, and now Kate is sitting on the back of the armchair again, a silk robe wrapped around her body and her hair loose at her shoulders, as she watches the sky burn.

[from here:]

With Doc carrying her, and Esfir holding the key, it's not so hard getting Kate to her room. She doesn't open her eyes or move, though she does continue to groan drunkenly, seemingly desperate to impart all of the important thoughts buzzing around her head.

Whether her two companions can make any sense of her mutterings, however, is another thing entirely.

The room is clean and organized. There's a chaise by the door where shoes can be removed and placed, and a desk to the right where they can set the room key. The chest of drawers in front of them has various clean clothes, including a few chemises and pajama sets.

Before anything else, however, a trip to the bathroom wouldn't go amiss.

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