Drabbletag5, Orphan Black, Alison/Marion, the new girl at rehab
Title: Ghost Memory
Author: Temari778
Fandom: Orphan Black
Pairing: Alison/Marion
Rating: PG
Prompt: The new girl at rehab
Word Count: 190
Summary: They could not place one another.
The shape of the new girl's body looked vaguely familiar to Alison, but her facial features had been unknown to her before until now.
As if Alison had seen her from a distance once (and my she had, or perhaps a drunk fuelled fake memory).
Her face was gaunt, the shadows beneath her eyes remarkable, but not much to speak of. (At least she didn't have a sling on her arm).
It looked as if she'd fallen much harder (figuratively speaking, that is, unlike Alison herself). But, as if she had (or did) wielded much influence in the upper crust of society, but fell hard without even realizing the rug had been pulled out from under her.
On their way to a meeting, the woman glances briefly at her, but there is no recognition in browns of her eyes whatsoever.
Maybe the woman thought Alison familiar as well, but could not place her face with any memory.
The woman's jaw visibly tenses, the odd look in eyes gone, and turns away from her, her black, three inch heels clicking irritably against the floor.
Really? Alison thought smugly. Heels at rehab?
Author: Temari778
Fandom: Orphan Black
Pairing: Alison/Marion
Rating: PG
Prompt: The new girl at rehab
Word Count: 190
Summary: They could not place one another.
The shape of the new girl's body looked vaguely familiar to Alison, but her facial features had been unknown to her before until now.
As if Alison had seen her from a distance once (and my she had, or perhaps a drunk fuelled fake memory).
Her face was gaunt, the shadows beneath her eyes remarkable, but not much to speak of. (At least she didn't have a sling on her arm).
It looked as if she'd fallen much harder (figuratively speaking, that is, unlike Alison herself). But, as if she had (or did) wielded much influence in the upper crust of society, but fell hard without even realizing the rug had been pulled out from under her.
On their way to a meeting, the woman glances briefly at her, but there is no recognition in browns of her eyes whatsoever.
Maybe the woman thought Alison familiar as well, but could not place her face with any memory.
The woman's jaw visibly tenses, the odd look in eyes gone, and turns away from her, her black, three inch heels clicking irritably against the floor.
Really? Alison thought smugly. Heels at rehab?