On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and advent...
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Date: March 27th (5 days before the Apocalypse)
Morning had come quickly for Rowena. She hadn't slept that night. Sitting in the tub until she felt like every part of her was pruny, she had sat on the bathroom floor since then. Her shirt was still cut down the middle from Diego's quick thinking. With her being injured and over-heated, cutting her top was probably the best way to have her feel less constricted and cool her off some bit. The bleeding had stopped but the pounding in her head ached like hell, she probably had a concussion.
Deciding that sitting on the floor was enough, as the sun had now risen and was glaring at her stick-like form on the cold tile, Rowena got up and left the bathroom, clutching the front of her shirt; to not expose herself. She sped to her room and encountered Allison. The tall woman was in Rowena's childhood bedroom, as if looking at a memory. "Do you need something?" Rowena had lost her shoes somewhere in the house, she did not know where, so she was much shorter than the actress. Her voice was flat when she had spoken, tired and aching, her head feeling as though it was going to fall off her neck. Allison had spun around at the sound of the shivering woman, she had finally gotten a good look at how small Rowena was; no makeup, no heels, no jacket to cover just how thin she was. The woman had gotten a good look at her last night, her tattoo-covered form, cold and unconscious in the tub, but she was different when she was awake. The frail woman was guarded when awake and constantly had her shoulders pressed inwards, but while asleep, Rowena had seemed open but fragile enough if anything were to breathe on her.
Rowena was staring at Allison, waiting for an answer, "Well?" The heeled woman had shaken herself from her stupor and started what she had planned to say, "you should come to Grace's picture room, there's something you should see." As the woman walked away she glanced back at Rowena, who was now clutching her head and had her other hand clenched around her thin waist. She took small steps towards her room and shut it quietly, wanting to hide again, just like she always had, and Allison had sighed, walking away towards Grace's corpse.
Rowena had shut her door and was leaning against it, the pounding in her head getting worse, but she had to ignore it, at least for now. She put on some warm clothes, tired of feeling like her fingers were going to fall off from the non-existent hypothermia. She did not grab a turtleneck from her suitcase, but a long sleeve and one of her jackets. As she turned to look in the mirror, she noticed how much her tattoos stuck out, she knew they did, but she hadn't seen them much because of her visiting. Hiding the markings she had decided to put on her skin after all these years was jarring, the feeling of seeing them and knowing others would see them too was a little, much, to say the least.
After finally gathering up the courage to leave her room, Rowena walked towards the picture area that Hargreeves had made for Grace when they were all kids. Walking over she saw Grace, mostly slumped over while Luther and Allison were talking near her. As Rowena approached she finally noticed that Grace was but a corpse now, pieces of her hardware were exposed on her arm as she was staring blankly at the floor. "Jesus...." Rowena spoke quietly as her heels clicked on the ground, wedges now, seeing as she hadn't gotten her shoes back. She could see Luther grab Allison's wrist and almost went into a defensive position, though her body was weak she was still ready to fight Luther; no matter how much she didn't get along with either of them.
