043, Video/Action for those in Goldenrod Hotel (Backdated to the night the event ended)
[Most of the time, that whole cliche where people awake from a nightmare by BOLTING upright in their beds, eyes wide, sweat-soaked, and gasping like a fish? Totally false. Real life is rarely that dramatic, and accordingly, neither is Heather's normal reaction to bad dreams. She has them so often that they're rarely worth the energy to make such a scene.]
[But tonight?]
[Screw cliches.]
AAHHhhhuhgh! Hhhh!
[She sits upright in a tangle of blankets so fast that the PokeGear on her chest goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor a short distance away from her bed. The video feed button is hit in the process and anyone watching will be treated to a sideways worm's eye view of the bed. Heather's eyes are wide and glossy, her skin and clothing soaked through with sweat. Her chest is heaving like her body is convinced that she's DYING, and to be fair, it probably IS. Her hair is all over the place and goosebumps are standing out on her bare arms like pinheads-- those bandages? Yeah, they got all sweaty and just... unraveled and bunched down around her wrists.]
[The moonlight-- or-- er, the countless Goldenrod streetlights outside, anyway-- reflecting off of her skin just added to the impression that she'd been rolling around in wet grass or something. She was going to be SO cold once the adrenaline wore off and the chill of the cold sweat set in.]
[What... what was... oh, GOD, what the FUCK was...?]
[She looks around the dark hotel room wildly, wheezing, and smears her hair out of her face after a moment and just presses a hand to her temple, shoulders slumping.]
Holy hell...
[Pulling in a deep, congested-sounding breath, she looks up again, still pale as a sheet but at least calming down. Dreams. It had all been dreams. ... Well, DUH, it had been dreams-- she had been chased by the friggin' KOOL-AID MAN. But-- even the most vivid of dreams in her normal roster of Traumatizing Nighttime Visions (tm) (and her normal nightmares? Oh hell yes, you BET they were vivid) couldn't even come close to what she had just experienced. It had all felt so... so real.]
[She notices the PokeGear on the floor and just sort of... leans over and half-slides off the bed, reaching out for it with one arm and just hanging off of the edge of the bed at the waist like a gangly ragdoll.]
What time is it...
[... Midnight. Just midnight. Okay... Midnight. Ugh. Well, there was no way she was gonna get to sleep after THAT, so... she'll just turn the lights on, watch some TV, and-- .... wait.]
[... Why was the date three days later than she last remembered?]
.... The friggin' frick...
[She drops the 'Gear again, and there's some thumping and rustling noises as she unentangles herself from the blankets and drags herself out of bed. Her bare feet walk past the screen and then the door slams. The feed times out eventually.]
[ooc: If your character is in the Goldenrod Hotel and is friends with Heather/she is aware of their being there, expect a violent knock on the door, an encounter with a boxer-and-tank-top-clad Heather who looks like she saw a ghost, and some confusion when she just looks you up and down, decides she's satisfied with the fact that you exist, and wanders off down the hallway in a daze to terrorize someone else.]
[But tonight?]
[Screw cliches.]
AAHHhhhuhgh! Hhhh!
[She sits upright in a tangle of blankets so fast that the PokeGear on her chest goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor a short distance away from her bed. The video feed button is hit in the process and anyone watching will be treated to a sideways worm's eye view of the bed. Heather's eyes are wide and glossy, her skin and clothing soaked through with sweat. Her chest is heaving like her body is convinced that she's DYING, and to be fair, it probably IS. Her hair is all over the place and goosebumps are standing out on her bare arms like pinheads-- those bandages? Yeah, they got all sweaty and just... unraveled and bunched down around her wrists.]
[The moonlight-- or-- er, the countless Goldenrod streetlights outside, anyway-- reflecting off of her skin just added to the impression that she'd been rolling around in wet grass or something. She was going to be SO cold once the adrenaline wore off and the chill of the cold sweat set in.]
[What... what was... oh, GOD, what the FUCK was...?]
[She looks around the dark hotel room wildly, wheezing, and smears her hair out of her face after a moment and just presses a hand to her temple, shoulders slumping.]
Holy hell...
[Pulling in a deep, congested-sounding breath, she looks up again, still pale as a sheet but at least calming down. Dreams. It had all been dreams. ... Well, DUH, it had been dreams-- she had been chased by the friggin' KOOL-AID MAN. But-- even the most vivid of dreams in her normal roster of Traumatizing Nighttime Visions (tm) (and her normal nightmares? Oh hell yes, you BET they were vivid) couldn't even come close to what she had just experienced. It had all felt so... so real.]
[She notices the PokeGear on the floor and just sort of... leans over and half-slides off the bed, reaching out for it with one arm and just hanging off of the edge of the bed at the waist like a gangly ragdoll.]
What time is it...
[... Midnight. Just midnight. Okay... Midnight. Ugh. Well, there was no way she was gonna get to sleep after THAT, so... she'll just turn the lights on, watch some TV, and-- .... wait.]
[... Why was the date three days later than she last remembered?]
.... The friggin' frick...
[She drops the 'Gear again, and there's some thumping and rustling noises as she unentangles herself from the blankets and drags herself out of bed. Her bare feet walk past the screen and then the door slams. The feed times out eventually.]
[ooc: If your character is in the Goldenrod Hotel and is friends with Heather/she is aware of their being there, expect a violent knock on the door, an encounter with a boxer-and-tank-top-clad Heather who looks like she saw a ghost, and some confusion when she just looks you up and down, decides she's satisfied with the fact that you exist, and wanders off down the hallway in a daze to terrorize someone else.]