theresalwayshope: (crouch} upset / alone)
[Spam-ish - OPEN]

[When Allison returns to the Barge, she's happier than she's ever been. Paris was a perfect vacation, she's loaded down with new clothes, shoes, food, and souvenirs...and she's spent several days of her week in a luxurious borrowed bed with Isaac wrapped around her like a blanket.

She goes looking for her people, but they don't all show up right away. She waits to check on people as they seem to pop back in clusters, scans the network, and settles in to the task of unpacking, tending her animals...she has plenty to keep her busy.

As the hours wear on, however, she feels a growing sense of...something. She can't put her finger on it, but there's something that's just not right.

She sleeps on it. The trip was fun, but exhausting in a good way. Sliding into a new satin sleep shirt she got at a boutique in Paris, she curls up in bed with Brownie tucked against her back and Duchess curled against her chest.

It's the perfect end to a perfect trip.

In the morning, she walks the ship looking for the pack. Every scent she finds without a problem, every heartbeat, every voice...all but one.

She's not ready for what she finds when she reaches Isaac's cabin.

There's no announcement. No message on the network, no text to those that know and love him.

Mid morning, the only word that anyone gets about Isaac's departure is the soul-shattering howl of a werewolf in mourning.

She's a nonentity on the ship that day. For a while, at least, Allison stays huddled in the corner of Isaac's abandoned cabin, sobbing openly. Later, if no one's found her there, she will flee down to Zero, where she can be found tucked into the furthest corner of the farmost cell with the door standing open. She'll no longer be weeping openly, but as she stares at the nearest wall, tears continue to spill silently from her eyes as she tries to make the open wound in her chest start healing.

Duke is gone, and she's coped. Zane is gone, and she had Duchess to hold onto, to make that loss easier to bear.

Isaac, however, is gone...she can feel that he's gone, and she can't bear it because she let him in so much further than she had before she arrived on the Barge.

Forgetting life with him is so much harder. It hurts that much more to carve him out of herself...to believe in a world without his constant, comforting warmth until she gets her deal and she can go home.

She has to stitch that hole back up and eliminate everything he gave to her here...because it's the only way she's going to be able to keep going without him.]
theresalwayshope: (drink} have one / buying time)
[Duke has...a lot of interesting stuff in his cabin.

Allison found this out when she was trying to straighten up to distract herself. The place is already fairly neat, so it's a useless distraction from Lydia's snub, from her own impotent fury and the bitter sting of not being trusted by her own best friend. Her heart's not in it...but it wasn't hard to find Duke's liquor.

Or his pot...but she quickly put the joints back where she found them.

She didn't consider the bottle of vodka in his cupboard for long, however, before she got herself a glass of ice and poured herself some. She's never had anything stronger than beer, she doesn't really know what she's doing...but it burns going down, and she feels better in the aftermath of her first sip, loose and warm and good.

After two half glasses, she hurts less. After four, she's well past tipsy. On her fifth, she's well aware she's dangerously close to drunk...so she sips carefully at her next, though she's no longer sure what number drink it is.

When her comm flickers on some time later, the video shows her slouched bonelessly over the kitchen counter in Duke's cabin, her head in her hand. The bottle is visible in the frame, and Allison is visibly fascinated by her drink as she swirls the clear liquid in her glass, ice chinking pleasantly against the equally clear surface. She likes the noise, it's soothing...cheerful.

She's no longer staring at the camera. She seems to have forgotten she flipped her comm on as she mutters to herself, apparently having an internal conversation out loud.]


Stupid boys. Stupid Lydia...Jackson Whittemore is not the biggest douche bag I've ever met, y'know? If you'd...just...had some hot chocolate you'd know that. Jerk...jerkette. [She pauses, smiling a little, amused with her jibe. Her features, however, immediately crumble as she sets her glass down and lets her head thunk against the counter. When she speaks again, she's nearly shouting.]

DUUUUUUUUUKE! Why are you comafied?! I DON'T KNOW IF THIS VODKA IS BAD!

[She pauses, then reaches for her glass as she lifts her head just enough to take a sip, talking around the glass in a very small voice.]

It tastes awful.

[She takes a tiny sip, then smacks her mouth and licks her lips.]

It tasted awful.

[She has another sip, then seems to realize her comm is on and blanches, setting her glass down and reaching for the bottle nearby.]

Hey, guys? Guys! I need to know, 'cause...'cause Duke's comafied. Does...

[She trails off, midway through uncapping the bottle. Torn between remembering what she's drinking and pouring more, she makes an intense and carefully executed operation of pouring more into her glass while nearly pressing her nose against the label of the bottle.]

...vodka give you hangovers? 'Cause I don't want a hangover. I just don't want to be sad anymore about...

[She trails off, and she remembers. Lydia turning her away, Lydia pushing her away. Because that was inevitable, wasn't it? First her best friend, then her best friend's boyfriend...then her werewolf, then Scott, then Kira and Isaac and then she'll be an omega with nowhere to go...

Setting the bottle down, Allison picked up her glass and took a long, healthy swallow...then set her glass down and made a face of pure disgust, complete with her tongue sticking out as she shuddered theatrically.]


Ilch.

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Allison Argent

March 2024

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