Do not bait the lioness in her den, nor the spider at the center of her web.
Joined: Feb 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 76 Karma: 2
From Utah, with love [Closed] « Thread Started on Oct 25, 2009, 11:08am »
December 29th
Let’s take a romantic, just the two of us, no work, just a vacation, right? Sounds completely idea, right Yes, but that was if she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. And she meant nowhere! It wasn’t the Savage Land, it wasn’t Boston, and in fact she was in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of NOWHERE. Utah was just that to the blond. But of course Scott thought it was a great place to get away from everyone. Well OF COURSE it is, no one wants to be here, except vermin. And Mormons, lots and lots of Mormons. She didn’t understand the purpose for coming here. She could of course pry into his mind, but now wasn’t the time for that. It could do more harm than good. She was uncharacteristically holding back, and playing nice. She didn’t like this, but if it meant that Scott would heal faster from whatever wounds were inside him, she would play a hiking girl to help him relax and hopefully open.
Scott zipped up the snow vest he’d had for god only knew how long. But it still fit him like a glove, so why get rid of it? Emma laughed and snickered at him last spring when they were cleaning out the closet when he tried to defend his Notre Dame shirt that was faded so much that the leprechaun just looked like green clothing and red hair. He held tightly to that shirt, and when he came back from his “hiatus” he was relieved to see that the invisible leprechaun was still there. But he looked over to her as she sat in her feather down silver ski jacket. He wondered if she wasn’t called the White Queen, would she have still been so fond of white?
“Of course, darling. White lulls people into a false sense of security. No matter what they see, the sheep still believe that the good guys wear white, and the fiends wear black and have Dick Dastardly mustaches.”
“I asked you not to do that…” He let out a slightly annoyed sigh as his eyes continued to travel over her body. Black winter resistant pants, the latest style and fur lined winter boots. Even completely bundled up like this, covering almost every inch of her skin in an unusual fashion, he loved her. He could say that he did without fear that it wasn't true.
“I know, and I told you that I would do my best to resist the temptation…for a man who’s been a habitual psychic dater, one would think you’d know better than to assume we can control ourselves all the time.” That smile of hers. It was always lovely. It always put him in a calmer state. It reminded him not to over think things. That she could help him when he asked her to, and that he wasn’t alone in this game anymore.
She pulled the grey turtle neck up so it didn’t choke him too badly and quickly pecked his lips as he gave her a smirk. “I’ve told you that you look better in blue, love.” She smiled and walked to the bathroom of their hotel suite and checked her make-up. Pale red pouty lips? Check. Eyes that look as smoky as the back wall of the chimney? Check. She l check her foundation and couldn’t see a flaw. She then pulled out a brush and proceeded to brush her hair up into a ponytail, tying it back with a pink hair tie and then place a black headband to hold her hair back from her face. “Who’d though going skiing took the same amount of time for you to get ready to go to the opera, or a board meeting, or to the cafeteria…” Scott’s voice came from their “modest” hotel suite’s living area. He was full of jest, which was a good thing but Emma had to throw back the sarcasm just so he wouldn’t think her an easy target. “Are you complaining about how I look, dear? Because I could just not care about how I look and end up doing a bad impression of Rosie O’Donnell…”
Scott let out a slight chuckle and shook his head as he did a triple check of their skiing equipment. Couldn’t be too safe, after all, she could turn into a diamond and not break her neck, but he couldn’t. He had to make sure everything was safe, and wouldn’t go out on him. In fact he had done this exact thing the majority of his life. He hadn’t been allowed to be the one to slack off or shirk his chores. Maybe that’s why he was having problems now. Maybe this was his form of the midlife crisis. But he wasn’t that old, was he? No, he was still young and full of vigor and he had a hot blond girlfriend and a nice….yea…all the signs of a midlife crisis were there. He let out a sigh and tried to shake it off. There of course was more to his midlife crisis. There was his dead wife, his ex-dead wife, who could very well be the same person depending on what time of year it was, and the ancient Egyptian that haunted every corner of his mind.
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