Delphine
Delphine had not known Weaver, never spoken to her, had only seen her every so often. But Noah had known the woman, and Delphine knew his pain. She knew his pain like it was her own; because she knew what it was like to lose people.
A husband, children, a best friend, a brother... The list went on if she included those who might as well be dead, what had become of her beloved Northaven? It bothered her, most nights, that she had no idea about her homelands.
Or her children. Were they happy with Mort?
If they weren't, did she deserve another chance to be happy? Did Noah deserve the baggage that she brought?
All of these worries had led to Delphine slipping from the home she shared with the Olson, which prompted her to break her sobriety. Not with drugs, but with a drink. Just one, she promised herself, as she wandered through the streets, seeking out a tavern that was less crowded than the Kraai.
Finding one, run-down, forgotten, the blonde-haired woman entered, carefully ensuring the knife she kept on her was still there. Because if the drink didn't help, she knew what would. And she'd started sneaking out to cut because she didn't like worrying Noah. He didn't understand.
Studying the small tavern, people keeping to themselves, she moved towards a corner table, ordering herself the lightest drink on the menu. She wasn't here to get drunk, something light, she'd go home, brush her teeth and be presentable for Noah, he'd be none the wiser.
That's what she told herself, anyway.
Korbin
A husband, children, a best friend, a brother... The list went on if she included those who might as well be dead, what had become of her beloved Northaven? It bothered her, most nights, that she had no idea about her homelands.
Or her children. Were they happy with Mort?
If they weren't, did she deserve another chance to be happy? Did Noah deserve the baggage that she brought?
All of these worries had led to Delphine slipping from the home she shared with the Olson, which prompted her to break her sobriety. Not with drugs, but with a drink. Just one, she promised herself, as she wandered through the streets, seeking out a tavern that was less crowded than the Kraai.
Finding one, run-down, forgotten, the blonde-haired woman entered, carefully ensuring the knife she kept on her was still there. Because if the drink didn't help, she knew what would. And she'd started sneaking out to cut because she didn't like worrying Noah. He didn't understand.
Studying the small tavern, people keeping to themselves, she moved towards a corner table, ordering herself the lightest drink on the menu. She wasn't here to get drunk, something light, she'd go home, brush her teeth and be presentable for Noah, he'd be none the wiser.
That's what she told herself, anyway.
How can I begin again?
How can I try to love someone new,
someone who isn’t you?
How can I try to love someone new,
someone who isn’t you?
