(no subject)
The door opens to messy bedroom and the sound of a woman yelling through the room's closed door. Berating. Haranguing. All those fancy words for someone yelling at someone else. The young woman wandering through the door, clearly the target of the yelling, promptly slams the door behind her, cutting off the sound as suddenly as it had begun (blessed silence). Where there might have been a look of relief on her face at any other time, there is instead only a kind of slow, hazy blankness, courtesy of the drug cocktail of which she and her friends had partaken earlier that evening, to keep the darkening reality at bay (to keep grief and anger at bay). Before the cops had caught them, and Rae's mother had had to come from work and drag Rae home. To be yelled at. Again. (Or is it just a continuation of the earlier yelling? Hard to tell.)
She doesn't recognize the place she has just arrived in - but what does that matter? It really doesn't. It doesn't matter any more than her mother's disappointment. Her mother's disappointment is like everything else, the Wars, the disappearances, the growing number of suicides (oh gods, Nikki). Everywhere. All the time. Ubiquitous. Background noise that eventually you lose the ability to hear, until something wakes you up (Rae had seen Nikki just earlier that day - she had seemed fine).
And then it hurts again. And then you run (to keep grief and anger at bay).
Rae just... needs to sit down.
She makes it over to the couch in front of the fire by hanging onto the backs of chairs one-by-one, before her balance gives way. Then Rae half-falls, half-sits on the couch, pulled by more than gravity.
(ooc: Rae, tonight, is coming in from her sixteenth year, from during the last, darkest days of the Voodoo Wars.)
She doesn't recognize the place she has just arrived in - but what does that matter? It really doesn't. It doesn't matter any more than her mother's disappointment. Her mother's disappointment is like everything else, the Wars, the disappearances, the growing number of suicides (oh gods, Nikki). Everywhere. All the time. Ubiquitous. Background noise that eventually you lose the ability to hear, until something wakes you up (Rae had seen Nikki just earlier that day - she had seemed fine).
And then it hurts again. And then you run (to keep grief and anger at bay).
Rae just... needs to sit down.
She makes it over to the couch in front of the fire by hanging onto the backs of chairs one-by-one, before her balance gives way. Then Rae half-falls, half-sits on the couch, pulled by more than gravity.
(ooc: Rae, tonight, is coming in from her sixteenth year, from during the last, darkest days of the Voodoo Wars.)