(no subject)
She'd had fun in her impromptu celebration of the 4th. While talking to Rachel, she'd felt better somehow. More...awake, as if she'd been walking in
fog and the other woman's presence brightened everything somehow, cleared away the mists.
Meeting Marian and JC, and seeing Suzi again, had added to it. She'd never hosted even this informal a celebration before, and it felt good to have it turn out alright.
Later that night, after everyone had gone, she'd carefully extinguished the campfire, making sure there were no live brands left. Afterward, she'd gone back indoors. She wasn't sleepy, but being eaten alive or nearly so by mosquitoes was not appealing.
She'd done some reading instead, and playing with a still lively (nocturnal?)kitten, in their room.
It was a sudden moment's dizziness that stopped her, rather than fatigue. She caught the edge of the worktable in her room, bracing herself until it passed.
Then she heard voices, again, as if whispering, but no one was there when she turned, wide-eyed.
gone
what's her name
why is everyone
I haven't seen it
damn I want another drink
he's cute when he blushes
Not just hear them, but feel the emotions coloring the words, she realized, each voice distinct, color and feeling and rhythm to each, underlying the surface thoughts.
She put hands to her ears, ineffectually. No. No!
Calm, Sooraya, she told herself. An image of Emma Frost flickered through her mind's eye, a memory...coaching Sooraya through the process of setting barriers up, to shield herself from telepathic invasion.
Naturally, those lessons had been meant for a nontelepath. The shields held all of Sooraya's frantic, almost panicky determination, however, and worked well enough to make the sudden inflooding of others go away.
After several minutes' repetition, she let her hands fall.
The voices didn't return even when she took a deep, trembly breath, and allowed the shields drop. But there was an odd sensation behind her eyes, like claws scraping along her skin; not painful, but jarring, that had preceded her other "hearing" episodes.
She remembered how it felt, how she'd somehow moved away from normal hearing to reaching.
It took longer yet for her to work up the courage to try to throw that mental switch again, deliberately. It was as cold-blooded as she'd had to be when she looked into the Purifiers' eyes, and a second later, ripped the skin and flesh and muscles from their bones.
And she hadn't been alone then.
The whispers began to resume. She let them go. Her hands were shaking.
Somehow, deep down, she knew if this went on, a time would come when she couldn't simply will them away as she'd just done.
"Allah, have mercy," she whispered. "Help me. I don't know, I don't understand..."
You can only be who, what you are.
"Now what?"
She didn't know. She couldn't...