vanillajello: (I am the boss here.)
After her bit of texting with Luke, Kate had taken Hubbard's old red Cadillac and gone off to meet the prospective buyer. While the guy had been a little apprehensive about the fact that Kate had no paperwork with her, in the end the meeting had been a success (though Kate was willing to attributing that to her flattering clothes and dashing smile, along with the reasonable price she'd asked for the car), and afterwards she'd spent a while counting the money and celebrating the sale with her brother over some coffee.

They'd inevitably gotten to talking about her plan. Obviously, she was still going ahead with it, even without their parents' monetary help: she was 18, they couldn't stop her if she paid her own way. But it still made her feel a bit bad that she didn't have their support. Especially her mom's since Kate had seen how proud and happy and strong Tara was feeling over going back to school, and how supportive everyone was of her. She wanted some of that for herself, and didn't get why she wasn't getting it. So, she'd asked Marshall.

"Why are you asking me?" he'd retorted. "What am I, the fucking Buddha? Go talk to Mom."

So, she does. Or tries to. It doesn't go all that well. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, warning for some minor violence. Taken and tweaked from USoT S03E02. This is the part that always makes me wibble.]
vanillajello: (Oh shit shit shit shiiiiit.)
Fandom really liked raising the bar in what Kate considered to be an awful Monday morning, didn't it? Right now, the absolute top of the list was waking up at the trooper station and feeling thankful for having been there for about a day and a half, because everything before the detainment was gut-wrenchingly horrible.

After she'd been handwavily released from the station, Kate had made her way back across town to the dorms, where the first thing she ended up doing was spending a good while in the bathroom, puking her guts out at the vivid memory of blood flowing down her throat, because the hallways were reminding her of that pretty painfully. Yeah, she -- she needed to get out, right now. She hurriedly threw some stuff in her bag and then she was off. Not even really noticing the island's new location, she left a few uncertain handwavy voicemails (for Bod, and for Jack, and after some hesitation, also for Nathan – just quick messages to say she was normal, sorry, going home, sorry sorry sorry, and would be in touch) on the walk over to the causeway, and then turned her phone off.

She needed to not be here and not deal with this, just for a while.

[ooc: NFI as she is goooone.]
vanillajello: (Default)
Kate had had high hopes that they'd be out of the basement in thirty minutes, maybe a little over. But no such luck. Of course not. Nearly two hours later and they were still there, the storm raging outside and showing absolutely no signs of going away.

They were sitting in a circle, some on chairs, some on crates and whatever else seat-like they'd found. Kate had a crate with a blanket over it. How luxurious. She surveyed the room and the people in it, her gaze flicking from person to person. Her mother on her right-hand side, looking mildly uncomfortable; then her brother, awkward and with a permanent frown of worry on his face; Charmaine, looking ready to puke; her dad, munching on a bagel all stoic and calm, so obviously trying to be a leader; then Ted, spreading Nutella on a bagel of his own, with Hany beside him; and then finally Bod, on her left-hand side.

They'd all run out of things to say a while ago, and the mood was not the greatest, nor the most relaxed.

Kate looked down at her phone again.

Bod was in the middle of a group of people he didn't really know. )

[ooc: NFB, NFI, OOC-okay! Part two of two, still preplayed with the awesome [livejournal.com profile] there_was_life, and taken and tweaked from USoT S02E06 'Torando!'.]
vanillajello: (Monkey.)
"So who told you to flee from Valentine's with your tail between your legs?"


Kate was packing.

First the ballet gear. Then her sketch book. Laptop. Make up. Camera. iPod. A couple of volumes of manga.

Enough vaguely grown-up-looking clothes for spending four nights away.


"I think what you're doing is putting a bandaid on something but, as you said, I don't understand."


The fake ID – which proclaimed she was 19 years of age – went into her wallet.

The directions for the motel she’d looked up – not quite in Baltimore, but pretty close – got stuffed into Monkey.


"You just decide that you are alone, that no one can help or understand you. Separating yourself from people might protect you from getting hurt by them, but it will never end the loneliness."


There were still hours and hours to go until her ballet class, but when everything was packed, she just picked her stuff up and got going. No point in sitting around when she had absolutely nothing to do here.

She could wander around the city until class. She had no money to spend, but she could still go into stores to look at stuff. She could find a place with the cheapest coffee possible.

She could do anything, anything at all, as long as it was somewhere away from this island and everyone on it.

Everyone.


[ooc: Establishy, so NFI, but OOC is welcome! Quotes in italics from Mitchell, Bod, and Leto, respectively.

I’ll be mostly ’netless Friday and Saturday. On Sunday, there’ll hopefully be a post depicting Kate’s glorious Valentine’s Day at a sleazy motel. She’ll return to Fandom on Monday morning.

Kate’s ignoring all calls and messages Fri & Sat, so if your kid wants to check up on her (wondering why she’s not at the dance etc), feel free to mod her not picking up.]
vanillajello: (Ladies' room.)
It seemed like the coast was clear when Kate left the school to return to the dorms after classes, but that was not the case. A little before she reached the dorm doors, she was ambushed by two cucumbers: a regular-sized one distracted her while an abnormally large one snuck up behind her and lunged at her.

Kate surprised herself with how fiercely she fought back, and how swiftly she kicked both vegetables into pulp. There was, however, nothing surprising about how disgusted and angry it made her, especially after the frigging things exploded and covered her in gooey cucumber slime.

She ran the rest of the way, and left a voicemail for Leto while she was climbing the stairs to her floor. She needed a break. She wanted out.

But right now, after a long shower that had started with her still fully clothed, she’d put on a clean clothes, and was drying her hair with a towel. She was doing her best to resist the urge to go straight back in the shower and stay there forever.

Stupid Fandom. Stupid, ridiculous, unpredictable Fandom.


[ooc: Door is closed, post is open.]

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Kate Gregson

January 2017

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