girl in a box
476 words. Massive, insane thanks to sffan and blueraccoon for the hand holding and the beta-ing. (yes, i know there's a tense change... it's an affect! trust me!)
There wasn’t much from before: Pain, fear, despair, and the smell of burning bone.
A quick flash, then, of loosening restraints, taste of uncertainty, not-sounds, and a new fear. A soothing voice, the pinch of a needle.
Then dark.
Cold.
Quiet.
Nothing.
(Well, nothing except the incongruous memory of the soft, sweet pop of a berry.)
The dark, cold, quiet nothing was comfort. She was asleep, and she felt it as a texture, and she wrapped it around herself like a blanket. (squirt of sweet)
It continued, and she was happy. She could live like this forever.
Suddenly, the dark disappeared. (pop goes the skin)
The cold snuck away.
Her quiet was invaded.
She felt was everything at once.
Her mind was full of not-sounds again, and her ears heard voices, and she couldn’t translate. She was liquid, solid was a distant memory.
(girl…what…river…boy…naked…hell…vitals…week…River…baron…RIVER!) She felt confusion and joy and anger and relief and disdain and even a bit of glee. Too many stimuli. She had to let it out.
She never heard herself scream. Only felt it in her throat afterwards.
Tactile sensations invaded her now. Light and warmth and space. Where were her walls? It was warm, but there was still a chill draped around her. Metal under her, digging patterns on her skin. And then, strong arms, redolent with heat and familiarity were around her.
“River?”
The word is solid, familiar. The voice saying it… she’s trying to remember.
“River. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay, I'm here.”
She wants to know. She pushes all the other distractions aside, focuses on this problem.
“River…”
Pain in his voice, pain when she realizes…it’s her name. Her name! She had lost it. And another name comes from deep inside and it’s…
“Simon...?”
Emotion bunches in her chest, forces hot liquid to spill from her eyes. And there’s so much relief, that she can’t focus, and the voices clamor to be heard again. River (oh, she is River, glorious name!) tries to explain.
“Simon... They-they talk to me, they want me-they want me to talk…”
He doesn’t understand. She knew that would happen, but now he’s here. Close enough for scent, for sense memories to kick in. She breathes in the comfort.
“They're gone... they're gone. We're safe now. We're safe, we're safe, I'm here.”
She knows they won’t be safe, not ever, but they are together, and that’s all she needs. River needs Simon’s strength. For now.
One voice cuts through the fog and the strong marble arms of her brother. Arrogant and scared and angry at his confusion.
“What the hell is this?”
Simon tenses in defiance, in defense. River stays cradled in his shoulder, tasting the salt of her tears blended with the silk of his clothing, damp and smooth.
“This is my sister.”
River. Simon. And a memory of berries.
There wasn’t much from before: Pain, fear, despair, and the smell of burning bone.
A quick flash, then, of loosening restraints, taste of uncertainty, not-sounds, and a new fear. A soothing voice, the pinch of a needle.
Then dark.
Cold.
Quiet.
Nothing.
(Well, nothing except the incongruous memory of the soft, sweet pop of a berry.)
The dark, cold, quiet nothing was comfort. She was asleep, and she felt it as a texture, and she wrapped it around herself like a blanket. (squirt of sweet)
It continued, and she was happy. She could live like this forever.
Suddenly, the dark disappeared. (pop goes the skin)
The cold snuck away.
Her quiet was invaded.
She felt was everything at once.
Her mind was full of not-sounds again, and her ears heard voices, and she couldn’t translate. She was liquid, solid was a distant memory.
(girl…what…river…boy…naked…hell…vitals…week…River…baron…RIVER!) She felt confusion and joy and anger and relief and disdain and even a bit of glee. Too many stimuli. She had to let it out.
She never heard herself scream. Only felt it in her throat afterwards.
Tactile sensations invaded her now. Light and warmth and space. Where were her walls? It was warm, but there was still a chill draped around her. Metal under her, digging patterns on her skin. And then, strong arms, redolent with heat and familiarity were around her.
“River?”
The word is solid, familiar. The voice saying it… she’s trying to remember.
“River. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay, I'm here.”
She wants to know. She pushes all the other distractions aside, focuses on this problem.
“River…”
Pain in his voice, pain when she realizes…it’s her name. Her name! She had lost it. And another name comes from deep inside and it’s…
“Simon...?”
Emotion bunches in her chest, forces hot liquid to spill from her eyes. And there’s so much relief, that she can’t focus, and the voices clamor to be heard again. River (oh, she is River, glorious name!) tries to explain.
“Simon... They-they talk to me, they want me-they want me to talk…”
He doesn’t understand. She knew that would happen, but now he’s here. Close enough for scent, for sense memories to kick in. She breathes in the comfort.
“They're gone... they're gone. We're safe now. We're safe, we're safe, I'm here.”
She knows they won’t be safe, not ever, but they are together, and that’s all she needs. River needs Simon’s strength. For now.
One voice cuts through the fog and the strong marble arms of her brother. Arrogant and scared and angry at his confusion.
“What the hell is this?”
Simon tenses in defiance, in defense. River stays cradled in his shoulder, tasting the salt of her tears blended with the silk of his clothing, damp and smooth.
“This is my sister.”
River. Simon. And a memory of berries.