(no subject)
Date/Time: 'The Purest of the Pure'; Monday, September 28th, 2 a.m.
Location: Laurence/Cordelia's quarters
Open to: Laurence, Cordelia, anyone who might randomly be out at 2 a.m. O_O
Currently involved: Laurence, Cordelia
Laurie'd had a hard time getting to sleep. The bed was ridiculously cosy, the room was dark and quiet, and he felt safe and warm. But it was for the simple reason that he'd been afraid of waking Cordelia if he pulled her to him, like he wanted, that he couldn't sleep. He missed her figure curled around him, but she had fallen to the side, sleeping soundly. After much tossing and turning, he had finally fallen into a deep but fitful sleep.
He had dreams -- one right after another, ends and beginnings bleeding into each other. He dreamt of flying, of drinking songs, of Cordelia. Somewhere along the way, he fell into a dream that was quickly becoming a nightmare.
He was a young man again, only seventeen, visiting his mother in the hospital. He watched her and his father, softly talking. Even then, at the end, she smiled and held his hand. Laurie's figure moved forward, his point of view growing closer, until it seemed that he simply stepped into his father's body. And there, before his eyes, his mother's frail figure morphed and twisted -- her skin grew paler, her eyes turned a brilliant but sickly blue, and her dark hair faded into a blonde.
He was standing over Cordelia.
And just as his mother had slipped away, so did she. He looked around frantically, terrified. He tried to call for help but his voice wouldn't work. Owls began flying at him, tossing cards and flowers over the dead figure on the bed. He opened them quickly, as if searching for answers.
That's what she gets for marrying a Half-Blood.
He dropped it, stepping away with wide eyes and an open mouth. He stumbled, he fell -- he kept falling, down out of the hospital, into darkness.
Laurie sat up with a start, covers thrown off and only the sheet left, wound around him tightly and damp with sweat. He was panting, sitting there in the dark room listening to nothing but the sound of his pounding heart. His gaze flicked frantically to Cordelia, as if to make sure it was only a dream, to make sure she was still there... As his breathing slowed, and he began to recall the dream; Laurence Doyle's unreadable stoneface twisted into one of pain and heartbreak, as silent sobs wracked his broad, strong body.
Location: Laurence/Cordelia's quarters
Open to: Laurence, Cordelia, anyone who might randomly be out at 2 a.m. O_O
Currently involved: Laurence, Cordelia
Laurie'd had a hard time getting to sleep. The bed was ridiculously cosy, the room was dark and quiet, and he felt safe and warm. But it was for the simple reason that he'd been afraid of waking Cordelia if he pulled her to him, like he wanted, that he couldn't sleep. He missed her figure curled around him, but she had fallen to the side, sleeping soundly. After much tossing and turning, he had finally fallen into a deep but fitful sleep.
He had dreams -- one right after another, ends and beginnings bleeding into each other. He dreamt of flying, of drinking songs, of Cordelia. Somewhere along the way, he fell into a dream that was quickly becoming a nightmare.
He was a young man again, only seventeen, visiting his mother in the hospital. He watched her and his father, softly talking. Even then, at the end, she smiled and held his hand. Laurie's figure moved forward, his point of view growing closer, until it seemed that he simply stepped into his father's body. And there, before his eyes, his mother's frail figure morphed and twisted -- her skin grew paler, her eyes turned a brilliant but sickly blue, and her dark hair faded into a blonde.
He was standing over Cordelia.
And just as his mother had slipped away, so did she. He looked around frantically, terrified. He tried to call for help but his voice wouldn't work. Owls began flying at him, tossing cards and flowers over the dead figure on the bed. He opened them quickly, as if searching for answers.
That's what she gets for marrying a Half-Blood.
He dropped it, stepping away with wide eyes and an open mouth. He stumbled, he fell -- he kept falling, down out of the hospital, into darkness.
Laurie sat up with a start, covers thrown off and only the sheet left, wound around him tightly and damp with sweat. He was panting, sitting there in the dark room listening to nothing but the sound of his pounding heart. His gaze flicked frantically to Cordelia, as if to make sure it was only a dream, to make sure she was still there... As his breathing slowed, and he began to recall the dream; Laurence Doyle's unreadable stoneface twisted into one of pain and heartbreak, as silent sobs wracked his broad, strong body.