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WARNING This thread contains: strong language, drug usage, strong violence, or strong sexual content starting with the 1st post. Reader discretion is advised. |
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It was strange to be here again, especially after so long. But it was time for Geneva to come here, to come home. She had not been here for a number of weeks, not since she had run into Jazper of Crimson Dreams a few weeks back. She had taken to staying in neutral territories that were near to places that had once been dear to her heart. It had been refreshing and cathartic for her to get away from the burgeoning pain that buffetted her whenever she was near Jefferson, or imagining his presence. She had hurt him, or at least she had tried to. And in her strange efforts, she had also wounded herself. She had needed a while to clear her head and to reorganize the jumbled tangles of her heart.
And during that time, she had come to the staggering conclusion which had driven her home. She had felt the first tell tale signs early this morning. And her feet couldn't carry her fast enough as she realized it was time to come out of hiding. It was time to come home, if not for herself, than at least for Jefferson. Despite that strangeness, the anger, the stranger she saw in the mirror - she knew that she had one thing in common with the woman she used to be. She still loved Jefferson desperately, except it was no longer with a quiet desperation, but something fierce and roaring that tangled with every other unexplainable feeling. There was not much that she could do for him now, because she was still not sure who she was anymore, but she had an idea of who she wanted to be. And she could at least give him this.
Her trembling legs carried her across the sand, but her strength failed her. She was already breathing hard, and her knees gave out into the soft sand.It was just her luc that she wouldn't make it out of the rain. Her breath rushed out of her mouth, and she partially closed her eyes. She couldn't beat the clock; she couldn't make it to him in time. But he wasn't the primary one she needed to worry about letting down. This was bigger than her. Geneva had a responsibility to the frantic beat of life inside of her, which against all odds, had bloomed and fought to come to this point.
The Raven Beacon lighthouse was not far away. It would serve as a shelter to her and for the life that was soon to come into this world. Swallowing the burning in her throat and the protests of her body, the light gray woman pulled herself to her feet and brought herself the next hundred yards to the lighthouse. The white paint of the place was chipping but it would serve its purpose as a shelter from the rain. Then she lifted her face to the cold wind and hoped that it would carry her call to him. It was all she could do; it was all she had to give now. Stumbling inside the door, she settled herself into a warm corner of the room and committed herself to this.