weaponxx: (Picture6)
laυra ĸιnney = х23 ([personal profile] weaponxx) wrote in [community profile] pineslog2017-06-13 11:38 pm

you are part of a machine, you are not a human being ( CLOSED )

Who: Big Laura, Small Laura
Where: The Howlett residence
When: The morning of June 14th
What: The Lauras discover their dad is gone.
Warnings: Possible references to traumatic pasts; I'll update with specifics if/when they happen!


The elder Laura is the one who discovers it first. Usually Logan is the first to wake up, to get the girls up and ready and out the door so he can drive them all to school. But when her alarm goes off and there's no sign of Logan — none of his usual noises, Laura grows worried. It's not like him — not like the Logan she knows and cares about, not like the one she's grown to know here. There had been times, of course, when he hadn't known what to do with either of them.

But they had been a family. That had counted for something.

Laura, at first, isn't sure what to do. Maybe he'd stepped out and forgot to leave a note, maybe Kate knows. But Rogue had gone missing earlier, with no indication either, and no return. She's not hopeful, and it's probably obvious, even as she tries to start breakfast. She's not the best cook, but she knows how to make pancakes and scrambled eggs, and at least her sister will be fed before she breaks the news. She just has to act as normal as possible.

She goes still when she hears Laura upstairs, puts the last pancake on a plate for the younger girl and sets it, along with syrup and butter on the table.

"Good morning," she says, when Laura enters the dining room.
shoplifter: (pic#11316502)

[personal profile] shoplifter 2017-06-15 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Laura wanders down from the stairs with the most cautious of steps. Cautious because she feels like something's wrong, like something's misplaced or lost. She can't... quite put her finger on it yet, but she's perceptive enough to know that this morning hasn't felt like the other mornings. She tries to chalk it up to the fact that with every day that passes, little memories drip back into her head, things that aren't quite a big picture but unsettle her. Or the fact that she trusts the town less and less with every passing moment.

She moves to sit at the table, and — Laura's cooking? That's not the usual order of things. She quirks her brow at the other, glancing from the pancakes to her. A wordless question.

"You cooked."

Is she asking why? Where's Dad? How she didn't burn the house down?

It's a mystery, as of yet.