(no subject)

[sweetsalome]

Just because school is off for Christmas break doesn't mean all of her other activities are.  There is still swim practice and ballet, everything in between.  Yeah, they have some days off, especially ballet, since their performance there is some down time before the next big thing comes along and they need to start working on that.  Salome still leaves the house early in the morning, this time for her run with the dog, or attempted run, the puppy doesn't have that whole 'lets run in a straight line with the mistress, yay! isn't this fun?' thing down yet.  So when she starts off on the run, she does only half of what she plans and then ends up carrying the ball of fur back.

It's alright, he's getting better.

After the run, there is swimming and time out of the house doing random errands and seeing random friends.  By the time that she gets back Salome is exhausted and falls asleep sprawled out on the rug with the puppy, cell phone in hand, pretty much a standard practice with any teenager born.

Usually she is more on point, but she is exhausted and didn't even think about where her father and Delilah might be.  Sometimes, it's like ships passing in the night with them.

Comments

1/2 lol fuck you character limit

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

The Richard and Delilah are coming from inside the house.

Usually, Richard makes it a point to around whenever Salome is planning on coming home, unless she's out late with friends and already touched base to let him know where she's at. Sure, he's a busy man, but unless there's something going on, he's never too busy to make sure he's available to greet his Salome and happen to make sure she's obeying curfew rules at the same time.

But every once in a while, he gets held up by something. Tonight is one of those occasions. The situation became tense the very second he felt her coming home. It was as if the winds shifted, paternal sixth sense awakening in him to some simple facts of reality, his explosion of whirling delirium in the face of Delilah's sudden blossoming shaken off by, of all things, the sight of the dead boy. If the child was deeply unreal to him in life, in death it's a thousand times more uncanny. The notion is ludicrous, and he realizes again with a furious, bitter twist from the depths of his stomach that the whore made him into a liar. That he committed such a crime against not just Delilah, but worse, his precious Salome, and he didn't even realize it.

When he knocks the rotting old teeth out of the disgusting bitch's mouth cavity in an effort to destroy dental records, it shall prove most thoroughly therapeutic. Oh, if only Delilah hadn't dispatched her before he arrive, but thank God she did! What a sight, all her majestic madness, the chaos from the instant he emerged from the attic. A woman's corpse mutilated beyond recognition, killed horribly, with real and soul-deep hate the likes of which he had never before seen—and the sobbing child, bearing such a striking resemblance to himself, running straight for him and begging him for protection. And then she, above it all, bloody, beautiful, her eyes wet with grief and hate and fury and love and pride. Giving him the look of a sweet little pussycat dropping at her owner's feet a little family of sparrows.

It was as if the sight split his skull open. In an instant, Delilah has become so much more than what she was, and he finds himself stricken through his heart in a way he's never been before. Once they'd killed the child together, the demand sprang from his mouth out of sheer instinct, a kind of knowing beyond knowledge of what needed to be done: “Let's make you my Mrs. Delilah Vasko.”

The way her face lit up was like nothing he'd ever seen on her before, and she wept, but not as hard as she did when he told her that he loved her. When he asked her why she cried, she told him, “Because that's the first time I've ever heard you really mean it.”