sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 13 2010, 20:14:14 UTC
Claire is already in the kitchen, having just come in through the refrigerator, a mess of twisting hallways and deserts behind her, and she only catches the tail end of shouting from a seemingly far off distance. The shoes on her feet are still dirty, and she has mustard in her hair now, but she's glad to at least be somewhere that looks remotely civilized, mustard or no mustard. She straightens her shirt as she holds onto her balance, reaching out for a counter and shutting the door behind her at the same time. Blair only comes into view as Claire straightens up herself, and even then, she wishes that she hadn't when she sees the look on Blair's face.
It's difficult to tell when and where this is happening, but she doesn't recognize any of the things around them, so any and all safe or logical guesses go out the window in the face of Blair herself. Claire doesn't move at first, not in the habit of startling people in their dreams if she can help it. Eventually, she takes another step and then another, says, "Hey," as if this is normal, as if this happens every day.
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 01:18:39 UTC
Blair chokes on her food when the refrigerator door opened by itself. Coughing several times, she grabs for a glass of water to help the food down.
Eyes still teary from the coughing, she watches Claire rather tensely, waiting for the other girl to make a comment on the number of empty plates piled up --and the number of still full plates strewn all over the kitchen island. "Hey," she rasps in reply, with relief.
sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 02:31:02 UTC
She isn't an idiot, but she's not as much of a bitch as she used to be either, and Claire refrains from making any sort of of comment in regard to the plates upon plates piled across the kitchen space. Blair is something that's easier to focus on, something that matters more than stacked Pfaltzgraff. Claire smiles as if to break some sort of tension banked and burning in the room, then lets it fall as she says, "My parents used to yell like that."
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 02:55:53 UTC
Royal Doultons. Blair considers her for a moment. Her modus operandi is that you are an enemy until proven otherwise, guilty until proven innocent. But Claire is not laughing or sneering or treating her like an idiot, and Blair feels a little safer when the other girl chooses to focus on something else other than the plates.
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I bet your dad never left your mom for her male model while she pretends she has no daughter because it 'hurt her too much'?" In the back of her mind she realizes that she is being unfair, that she is blaming them because she isn't strong enough to put the blame where it is due, on herself.
sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 03:25:09 UTC
No, Claire thinks, but my mom did leave my dad because he couldn't stop killing people. Saying it like that puts so much weight on it, too many unanswered questions, and it opens up doors that Claire doesn't even know how to close right now, let alone anyone else. And besides, this isn't Claire's dream, this isn't her world or her time or her soapbox, and Blair is the one who's hurting, and if she's having this kind of a dream then it's obviously something that is thought about on more than just a passing occasion.
She leans on her forearms, braced against the counter, looking across the distance between them at Blair. "No," she eventually says, facial features trying to rearrange themselves with as much compassion and understanding as possible. Claire thinks she probably just looks patronizing, but what counts is that she's trying. It's a long time before she says anything at all, but eventually she asks, "Do you think that kids are destined to repeat their parents' mistakes?"
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 03:41:36 UTC
Blair can feel the bile rising from her stomach. By now it is a reflex. She painfully swallows her saliva, hoping that Claire would disappear from the dream quickly enough. But if this is a dream, then how can she feel pain?
She is glad for the silence, because it is hard enough to keep from throwing up.
"That's-- this is my worst nightmare," she replies. Then, in defense of herself, "this isn't really me. I'm-- I'm done with all this. It's just a dream." Blair places a hand over her stomach in an attempt to placate it, before running towards the bathroom and kneeling over the toilet. This always hurts and disgusts her, but nothing tastes better than thin does and all that.
sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 04:32:19 UTC
Claire gets up immediately and follows her, latching onto Blair's shoulders with sharp fingers that prick through the fabric covering her skin and grip until she can feel the bone. She waits until Blair is finished and the pulls her back, gets on the floor, and does little better than shake her as she asks, "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you insane?"
Sometimes she's thought that Blair is insane, but seeing this image of her superimposed on the one that she's coming to know better these days, coming to know again now that she's gone home and come back, the pieces don't line up and the exposure is all wrong. Claire shakes her head, takes a breath, and feels a little sick herself. The problem with this is that Claire knows that it isn't a dream, has had her suspicions ever since she and Blair had that conversation about food and her mother all those months ago. She leaves one hand on Blair's shoulder and says, "This is what you need to be done with."
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 04:55:08 UTC
The room spins around her as she leans back, away from the toilet, but not before flushing it out of habit. Claire's voice feels distant, her own racing heartbeat occupying most of her hearing, and she thinks, this isn't right. She has thrown away the broken parts and rebuilt her own life, without the disease, without the addiction. She is not supposed to even be dreaming about it anymore.
Her chest tightens for a split second and the fear of dying grips her. She is still so young, she thinks, but then, she is already so tired.
As the sounds return to her, Blair sobs, like she usually does. "I'm scared," she pleads.
sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 05:10:18 UTC
Her lips press together, and Claire gnaws on the bottom one and lets go of Blair's shoulders so that she can rub her eyes, up over her forehead, back into her filthy hair, covered with dirt and dust and condiments. Claire can look into the face of her world's version of the ultimate either and come out of it. She can regrow her kidney and her fingers and toes and she can't feel pain to save anyone's life, but she has no idea how to look into the face of this and deal with it.
"It'll be okay," she assures her, and Claire's legs unfold underneath her so that she can sit on the floor and angle her head so that she can look up at Blair while the other girl is looking down. She tries to smile, to be reassuring, to pour a little bit of the optimism that she still has into Blair through her skin. "I promise, okay? This is just a dream. It'll be okay."
And Claire means that. If anything that happens in here is retained in her memory outside of this curse, then it's a promise she intends to keep.
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 05:31:58 UTC
Blair takes a deep breath and slowly exhales through her mouth, the way her therapist told her to whenever her hearts starts beating too fast or she starts losing breath. It is always after the ritual is done that the fear grips her. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to pay this price to be what someone out there thinks she should be.
She takes Claire's hand, gripping it tight as she keeps herself from crying again. She chuckles dryly, "if I were you, I wouldn't have to worry, do I?"
sit back and watch the bed burnadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 05:56:56 UTC
Claire feels her mouth open to say something but no sound comes out, and she's left looking down at the floor between them with a look not even she could place. It's true that Claire would never have to worry about something like this - not that she would ever get herself into this situation, but that's beside the point - but there's so much more to worry about in Claire's situation that what ifs and pretending becomes irrelevant. She'd never have to worry about something like this killing her; she'd just have to worry about something like this killing someone else.
"Come on," she says, swinging her legs around so that she can stand up, trying to take Blair with her. Claire has no idea what to do with her now, but sitting on the bathroom floor where she's just made herself throw up isn't exactly the logical choice in Claire's mind. There's a kitchen out there with chairs and glasses for water, and with that thought the notion that this is a dream leaves her head. It becomes about protecting, about fixing things. It's what she tries to be best at.
sit back and watch the bed burnmiss_waldorfJanuary 14 2010, 06:51:25 UTC
Blair stands up with Claire, then staggers over to the washbasin to splash some water on her face. She takes a towel from the cabinet and wipes herself dry, watching herself in the mirror. Her eyes and nose are red, her lips swollen. She has seen her own face a million times before, but it often seems alien, painted on, fictional. This one, however, she recognizes as her own.
She breaks her gaze away from mirror, takes a mouthwash and quickly rinses her mouth twice.
"Let's go," she echoes Claire's words, stepping out of the bathroom. "I'm hungry."
It's difficult to tell when and where this is happening, but she doesn't recognize any of the things around them, so any and all safe or logical guesses go out the window in the face of Blair herself. Claire doesn't move at first, not in the habit of startling people in their dreams if she can help it. Eventually, she takes another step and then another, says, "Hey," as if this is normal, as if this happens every day.
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Eyes still teary from the coughing, she watches Claire rather tensely, waiting for the other girl to make a comment on the number of empty plates piled up --and the number of still full plates strewn all over the kitchen island. "Hey," she rasps in reply, with relief.
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She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I bet your dad never left your mom for her male model while she pretends she has no daughter because it 'hurt her too much'?" In the back of her mind she realizes that she is being unfair, that she is blaming them because she isn't strong enough to put the blame where it is due, on herself.
Reply
She leans on her forearms, braced against the counter, looking across the distance between them at Blair. "No," she eventually says, facial features trying to rearrange themselves with as much compassion and understanding as possible. Claire thinks she probably just looks patronizing, but what counts is that she's trying. It's a long time before she says anything at all, but eventually she asks, "Do you think that kids are destined to repeat their parents' mistakes?"
Reply
She is glad for the silence, because it is hard enough to keep from throwing up.
"That's-- this is my worst nightmare," she replies. Then, in defense of herself, "this isn't really me. I'm-- I'm done with all this. It's just a dream." Blair places a hand over her stomach in an attempt to placate it, before running towards the bathroom and kneeling over the toilet. This always hurts and disgusts her, but nothing tastes better than thin does and all that.
Reply
Sometimes she's thought that Blair is insane, but seeing this image of her superimposed on the one that she's coming to know better these days, coming to know again now that she's gone home and come back, the pieces don't line up and the exposure is all wrong. Claire shakes her head, takes a breath, and feels a little sick herself. The problem with this is that Claire knows that it isn't a dream, has had her suspicions ever since she and Blair had that conversation about food and her mother all those months ago. She leaves one hand on Blair's shoulder and says, "This is what you need to be done with."
Reply
Her chest tightens for a split second and the fear of dying grips her. She is still so young, she thinks, but then, she is already so tired.
As the sounds return to her, Blair sobs, like she usually does. "I'm scared," she pleads.
Reply
"It'll be okay," she assures her, and Claire's legs unfold underneath her so that she can sit on the floor and angle her head so that she can look up at Blair while the other girl is looking down. She tries to smile, to be reassuring, to pour a little bit of the optimism that she still has into Blair through her skin. "I promise, okay? This is just a dream. It'll be okay."
And Claire means that. If anything that happens in here is retained in her memory outside of this curse, then it's a promise she intends to keep.
Reply
She takes Claire's hand, gripping it tight as she keeps herself from crying again. She chuckles dryly, "if I were you, I wouldn't have to worry, do I?"
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"Come on," she says, swinging her legs around so that she can stand up, trying to take Blair with her. Claire has no idea what to do with her now, but sitting on the bathroom floor where she's just made herself throw up isn't exactly the logical choice in Claire's mind. There's a kitchen out there with chairs and glasses for water, and with that thought the notion that this is a dream leaves her head. It becomes about protecting, about fixing things. It's what she tries to be best at.
Reply
She breaks her gaze away from mirror, takes a mouthwash and quickly rinses her mouth twice.
"Let's go," she echoes Claire's words, stepping out of the bathroom. "I'm hungry."
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