thepainted_lady: (Lost)
Sometimes she could almost believe that the bruises from the past had started to heal, but then their ache would flare up again at the most inconvenient time and remind her just how broken she really was.
thepainted_lady: (Capable of more than you think)
Joseph used to tuck her hair behind her ear in an avuncular gesture and tell her what a good, sweet girl she was, but when he'd follow it up by shooing her back out to fleece the johns and marks she entertained for him, Lydia was forced to wonder how accurate a picture of "good" he'd ever really embraced.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] passionate kiss)
After everything she'd been through--they'd been through--Lydia couldn't be bothered to worry about particulars like whether or not Sylar could be considered "alive" anymore--not when everything he did to her reminded her that against all odds she still was.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Visions of me and you)
Connecting to other people, feeling what they feel, is old hat for Lydia, but having someone return the favor, look into her, see her, connect to her, is something new and she's still not sure how she feels about it.
thepainted_lady: (The center cannot hold)
The crack of gunfire had ceased, and the earth had stopped shaking beneath their feet, but as cries started up from shell-shocked survivors stumbling upon wounded and dead loved ones, and blood soaked into the new ground they stood on, Lydia knew in her heart that the real horror was still to come.
thepainted_lady: (Deep in thought)
It seemed far too easy, far too fast, but she'd never had an iron problem, and the stomach flu wouldn't have gone on this long, so Lydia started counting down each queasy morning toward the week that would confirm the suspicion she was too afraid of jinxing to say aloud.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] Not your whore)
Whatever she thought she'd felt inside him for her, for them, she knew now she must have imagined because no one who truly loved her could so callously send her against her objections to whore herself for his convenience.
thepainted_lady: ([Sylar] Visions of me and you)
Lydia didn't deceive herself that Sylar loved her in the way little girls dreamed of being loved one day, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, and what he offered was more than the shattered fantasies they both had left behind, and she promised herself she'd make sure he never regretted choosing her.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] Cut your heart out with a spoon)
He'd betrayed everything she held dear, tried to have her killed, tossed her love and loyalty aside like they were nothing, and despite all of that, Lydia was forced to acknowledge that some part of her still longed for him, his touch, his smile, his approval, and, pathetic as it was and furious as it made her, she didn't think that part was ever going to go away.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] Not your whore)
She wants to be strong, proud, to set an example her daughter can be proud of, but he quells each rebellion with a touch or a word, and once again she finds herself falling back in line whether she wills it or no.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] My body is your canvas)
So many of her tattoos move on their own, not etched into her skin so much as blossoming out of her ability, but the ones she creates for him come with the brush of fingertips, the press of a needle, the flow of his power and ink, and a ripple of pleasure and connection unlike anything she's ever known.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] You need to listen...)
It was such a simple thing, but without her sweater in the chill of the morning in Samuel's trailer, Lydia slid into one of his shirts instead of back into hers and wrapped her arms around herself to press it close to her skin, breathe in the earthy scent of him that lingered on it, and smile as she remembered the night before.
thepainted_lady: (Suspicious)
Her gift let Lydia know others on the most intimate of levels, but her own visceral jealousy at the idea of Samuel loving another took her completely by surprise.

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Lydia

October 2011

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