![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Today was the day—the hour, even—and somehow it still surprised her that this was actually happening. And yet here she was, standing in front of the mirror in the prep room: white dress, mother's jewelry, only a minimum of weaponry.
Maria Palmer was getting married.
Sam didn't remind her at all of Vera, not one bit. Honestly—if she tried to imagine a more different person, she wasn't sure she could. He was skinny, soft-edged, nerdy, fascinated by the lives of things Palmer preferred to kill and get taxidermied. (The only way they were remotely alike was the way they both lit up at the prospect of danger.) He would, could never replace her—and that was fine. She didn't want that. She would never want to write over that part of her life... but, she was starting to think, she wanted to grow something new.
Maria Palmer was getting married.
Sam didn't remind her at all of Vera, not one bit. Honestly—if she tried to imagine a more different person, she wasn't sure she could. He was skinny, soft-edged, nerdy, fascinated by the lives of things Palmer preferred to kill and get taxidermied. (The only way they were remotely alike was the way they both lit up at the prospect of danger.) He would, could never replace her—and that was fine. She didn't want that. She would never want to write over that part of her life... but, she was starting to think, she wanted to grow something new.
Tags:
