It wasn't too long before the intercom crackled back on, though now there was a heavy static that came with it. It was worse than most nights, with loud feedback interspersed among the overpowering static
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[Nightshift: 27] Room Number Unknownspiral_to_ebonyJanuary 18 2008, 20:30:19 UTC
Consciousness came to Jaenelle in the form of a stabbing hunger pains and the sensation that her head had been stuffed with cotton balls and bees. What was happening? She remembered the beginning of her maelstrom as she pushed her way down to the full depth of her Ebony jewels. She remembered reaching that dark place that was her home in the abyss and preparing to unleash the power that would cleanse the Realms of Dorothea and Heketah’s taint, but Jaenelle Angelline did not remember actually doing it.
The body was supposed to have been ravaged; she didn’t even want to look quite yet to see what had gone wrong. She was hesitantly wary as she worked her hands over each arm, then her face, and finally her torso. Jaenelle stretched out her legs and felt a small wave of joy. Everything still worked. She was whole.
In her burst of pleasure she felt brave enough to open her eyes, and all the cautious happiness that had been welling inside her vanished. What replaced it was a deep sense of despair and fear.
With her initial confusion subsiding Jaenelle was taking in the gravity of the situation. She knew this room, and the place called out to her. The smells of pain, and rage called out to her mind and swept her hope away in their midst’s.
This was Briarwood.
Desperate now, panic welled within her and stuck in her throat as she tried time and time again to call in her jewels. When the Ebony failed to come to her she tried for the Black that was her birthright. One by one she worked her way down the ranks of the jewels, all the way down to her white only to get nothing.
The hunger that had initially awoken her intensified as she slid her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. Wobbling, Jaenelle took in a sharp intake of breath as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Had it all been a lie? Saetan? The Coven? The boyos? Her heart ached as her mind reached out and felt nothing but fear.
Steadying herself Jaenelle managed to gain her physical balance though her mind was still raging. She kept a hand pressed firmly against her stomach as she moved towards the door in an attempt to stave off the gnawing pain that blurred her vision.
Merciful Darkness why was she so hungry?
Where were the uncles with their leers and stares?
Briarwood was a pretty poison, she remembered. She felt like a small child again, uncertain in her own grasp of reality. Was she deluded? Had she been trapped within the walls of the damned hospital all along, talking to herself and making up stories about great powers and myths?
So lost was she in her own private fears that Jaenelle did not notice how different her room in Landel’s seemed to be from the one she’d had in her own private hell so many years ago. All her mind could focus on was the overwhelming fear that it had all been a dream. Who was she? Where was she? Jaenelle could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she swallowed hard and found her hand on the doorknob. Outside she could hear people stirring and then she felt something else.
Her whole body tensed as the radio came on and she snapped her head back and forth shocked by the unexpected sounds. A snarl played on her features as she tried to discern exactly where the voice had come from. The slight blonde woman let out a surprisingly frightening growl as the intercom clicked off.
In her mind she heard a voice a distant memory whisper. No one escapes from Briarwood.
This was a new game wasn’t it? Meant to take the girl, use her, to break her. How many others were they. Jaenelle could still feel some thrum of power running through her veins and she clung to that knowledge. A Queen’s instinct is to protect those weaker then herself. That need, that drive was stronger then her own fear.
Though by no means calmed Jaenelle took a deep breath and readied herself for the worst. Whispering a prayer to the Darkness she slowly opened the door to her room and looked outward.
The body was supposed to have been ravaged; she didn’t even want to look quite yet to see what had gone wrong. She was hesitantly wary as she worked her hands over each arm, then her face, and finally her torso. Jaenelle stretched out her legs and felt a small wave of joy. Everything still worked. She was whole.
In her burst of pleasure she felt brave enough to open her eyes, and all the cautious happiness that had been welling inside her vanished. What replaced it was a deep sense of despair and fear.
With her initial confusion subsiding Jaenelle was taking in the gravity of the situation. She knew this room, and the place called out to her. The smells of pain, and rage called out to her mind and swept her hope away in their midst’s.
This was Briarwood.
Desperate now, panic welled within her and stuck in her throat as she tried time and time again to call in her jewels. When the Ebony failed to come to her she tried for the Black that was her birthright. One by one she worked her way down the ranks of the jewels, all the way down to her white only to get nothing.
The hunger that had initially awoken her intensified as she slid her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. Wobbling, Jaenelle took in a sharp intake of breath as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Had it all been a lie? Saetan? The Coven? The boyos?
Her heart ached as her mind reached out and felt nothing but fear.
Steadying herself Jaenelle managed to gain her physical balance though her mind was still raging. She kept a hand pressed firmly against her stomach as she moved towards the door in an attempt to stave off the gnawing pain that blurred her vision.
Merciful Darkness why was she so hungry?
Where were the uncles with their leers and stares?
Briarwood was a pretty poison, she remembered. She felt like a small child again, uncertain in her own grasp of reality. Was she deluded? Had she been trapped within the walls of the damned hospital all along, talking to herself and making up stories about great powers and myths?
So lost was she in her own private fears that Jaenelle did not notice how different her room in Landel’s seemed to be from the one she’d had in her own private hell so many years ago. All her mind could focus on was the overwhelming fear that it had all been a dream. Who was she? Where was she? Jaenelle could hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she swallowed hard and found her hand on the doorknob. Outside she could hear people stirring and then she felt something else.
Her whole body tensed as the radio came on and she snapped her head back and forth shocked by the unexpected sounds. A snarl played on her features as she tried to discern exactly where the voice had come from. The slight blonde woman let out a surprisingly frightening growl as the intercom clicked off.
In her mind she heard a voice a distant memory whisper.
No one escapes from Briarwood.
This was a new game wasn’t it? Meant to take the girl, use her, to break her. How many others were they. Jaenelle could still feel some thrum of power running through her veins and she clung to that knowledge. A Queen’s instinct is to protect those weaker then herself. That need, that drive was stronger then her own fear.
Though by no means calmed Jaenelle took a deep breath and readied herself for the worst. Whispering a prayer to the Darkness she slowly opened the door to her room and looked outward.
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