[complete]
Who: Gemma (
sorcerously) and a brief appearance by Thylas (
thylas).
When: Around midnight, tonight.
Where: Her house.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Sexual descriptions.
Summary: Gemma has always believed her birthday was cursed-she just may have been proven right.
The anxiety had been building, filling up her mind and body until she thought she would burst from it. Eighteen years of life, eighteen summers of not being able to look at herself without asking a question. And it was always the same question-who am I? She still could not introduce herself to that girl in the mirror, the girl who stared back so intently with glass-green eyes, waiting to know who she was looking at and why they were there. Eighteen years that seemed hollow, without meaning, because she had been born to a path she had not chosen and could never abandon.
All the candles had already been blown out, all the lamps extinguished. Gemma stood in the middle of her darkened house, jade eyes fixated on the wall across from her, seeing nothing. Though she was already in her thin cotton nightgown, she did not want to go to sleep. The night would bring fearsome dreams, she was sure. The bed behind her loomed ominously, beckoning as her eyelids grew heavy. But she would not-could not allow herself to fall to unconsciousness. Shadows lurked in the corners of her mind, those corners which she had searched to gain control of a power she had not fully understood, to become something she had hated above all else.
The clock that hung crooked on the wall to her left struck a quarter to midnight.
Fifteen minutes until the undoubtedly cursed day was over, until she could let her mind and body unwind. Fifteen bloody minutes, and she could allow herself to let go of the haunting thoughts that had plagued her mind since she had realized the day of her birth was so close. She did not know why she had not noticed the date earlier-she had a makeshift calendar in her house, right on the wall beside that blasted clock. But upon seeing that she had but four days until the day, dread had filled her to the brim, constantly diverting her attention from more important matters.
The timepiece’s ticking shifted her thoughts again, and she forced her drooping eyes to remain open. She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her arms tight enough to send a small shock of pain through them. The redhead shifted her weight from foot to foot, moved to a chilled spot on the hardwood floor. Anything to remain awake. The clock continued to count down the seconds until her waking nightmare would be over. Ten minutes. Seven. Four.
As the second hand began circling on the last minute, she allowed her muscles to loosen the slightest bit, let her guard down for a few moments.
When the vision came, it slammed into her entire being hard and fast, freezing her entirely, giving her time to neither defend her mind nor to think.
Breathe.
Falling. Ridiculously fast, down into nothingness. White, all white. She was an insubstantial being, thrown around by an invisible storm. Left and right, over, under. Which way was up? No ground below, no sky above. Just pale nothingness. Then a flesh-colored spot below. Opened to green, deep green. Mother’s green. Eye. She was falling into it. Couldn’t scream, couldn’t wake. Pull out, try, no use. Caught in the hands of fate. Falling.
See what I see.
Standing now. In a field of deep purple flowers. Dress of blue silk-Mother’s dress. Looked down. Mother’s hands, mother’s arms. She was Mother. Seeing what Mother had seen. Felt a smile cross her face as a figure came closer. Dark hair, sharp features. Young girl, pretty. Sarah. No, Circe. That was Circe. Run, couldn’t run. She was coming closer, smiling happily. With ambition. So much ambition, hope.
We could have the power forever, Mary. We could always be together.
Doubt planted like a seed in the heart. Grew steadily as the days flashed by. Come with us, Carolina. The little girl, the white pinafore too big. Looking for her dolly. Then she was holding the Gypsy girl down, hand over her mouth and nose. Keep her quite. Stop the screaming. A dark creature. From the shadows, rising up. The Gypsy stopped moving. Mary, you’ve killed her! More screams. Fire. Burning, everything. Burning her. Screams, more screams.
Vanished, everything. Church, in a church. Bride. A bride’s sari. White, whiter than fresh fallen snow. Henna etched itself upon her hands and feet. Felt the ink slide across her face. Protecting her. From what? Footsteps. Turn and there she was. Lovely even in death. Hair a tangled mass of curls. Eyes flicking from violet to blue-white. Violet, blue-white. Over and over. Stepped forward. Mouthed something. I saved your life.No, no, that was wrong. Didn’t owe her anything. She was dead, gone.
Sharp teeth bared, moving closer. I will never be gone. Reached out. Skin porcelain. Another hand reaching out to grab the approaching. Honey-blonde hair. Hard grey eyes turned up in laughter. Smile on those perfect lips. Dress scandalously-cut. Beauty went to Strength, locked in embrace. Morphing into one creature, no beginning, no end.
Turn to the side. Everything black. One light. Spotlight. Brown-haired girl on a stage. More beautiful than she had ever been. Singing something, something. Song smiled, accepting the applause. Looked directly at Hope. Smiled brilliantly. So bright. Blinding. Eyes close and then open. Gone.
Sari gone, back in a plain cotton dress. Silence. Shadow, another shadow. Rising up, blanketing everything. Figure emerges from the dark. Face drawn, eyes sockets ringed with black kohl. Tattoos bled up and down his arms. Poppies. Ancient armor covered his body. Single stripe of hair along his skull. Grinning, so viciously. So disgustingly. Leering. Touches her cheek with a long yellow nail. We’ll always be here, Poppet. Blood dripped down her face. Scream.
Blackness. Falling again. Landing in a desert. In her own body again. Only splotch of color for miles. So familiar. She had dreamed this before. Seen it. Horses. Two of them. Riding towards her. Heard them galloping, faster and faster. Two riders. One noticeably larger than the other. Both riding fast-too fast. Screamed. Told them to stop, slow down. Ignoring her. Faster and faster, straight towards each other. Couldn’t move, couldn’t run to them. Flash of brown and then red, colliding. Merging to black.
Today is a good day to die.
Smooth russet skin against hers. Pale and tanned flesh together. Moved her, slid on top. Breath gone, taken by his weight upon her. Calloused hand tangled in her hair. One skimming across her breasts. Knee easing her legs apart. Combining to form a whole. No face, just hands-mouth-legs. Everywhere at once. So much to take in. Changed-one, two, three. All there. Couldn’t choose. Shouldn’t have to. Stop. No words, just a thought. Enough.
Consciousness crashed into her, knocking the vision away. She gasped for breath, falling to her knees and coughing, hacking for life-sustaining air. The illusionist gripped at the cloth above her wildly beating heart, willing it to calm. She caught just the last toll of the clock as it struck midnight. A minute. She had been in the vision for hardly a minute, and yet it felt as if eons had passed.
With a muffled sob, she fell over, curled in on herself, making her form seem as small as possible on the floor. She had known she was cursed. That this entire day was cursed. There was nothing that could take this away, she knew. No charm or illusion could ever vanquish her demons. She cradled her face in one hand, biting the base of her thumb on the other to keep her cries from resurfacing.
Thylas' presence remained quiet at first, hearing those muffled sobs. He knew, based on what Gemma was, that she would sense him immediately, but that didn't mean he had to make her openly aware of his presence. She was, among all of those who lived here, one of his favorites. If for nothing more than things that she had done that had contributed to the fall of Medea and Asclepius, and the power that he was able to take. He took a seat next to her on the floor, watching her in tears there. He moved a finger up to a red strand of hair, brushing it over.
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to notice he was there. She was too busy shaking, trembling from the mixed horrors and wonders she had seen, had been a part of. Everything was unimportant then, except the untamed pounding beneath her flesh and bone and sinew, the only thing letting her know she was alive.
"You should be grateful with what you are." The god let himself sit there for a few moments. "Perhaps you should go to sleep, my pet." He said, moving to return to his feet, the power now, unrestricted. She would be able to feel it.
The energy rolled off him in waves, breaking through the shield of her fear and grief. But before she could sit up, before she could do anything, slumber did take her, so quickly and gently that she wouldn’t have realized even if she had been completely coherent. There was no terror there, no need for her to question anything.
And so she slept.
Happy birthday, pet.
sorcerously) and a brief appearance by Thylas (
thylas).
When: Around midnight, tonight.
Where: Her house.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Sexual descriptions.
Summary: Gemma has always believed her birthday was cursed-she just may have been proven right.
The anxiety had been building, filling up her mind and body until she thought she would burst from it. Eighteen years of life, eighteen summers of not being able to look at herself without asking a question. And it was always the same question-who am I? She still could not introduce herself to that girl in the mirror, the girl who stared back so intently with glass-green eyes, waiting to know who she was looking at and why they were there. Eighteen years that seemed hollow, without meaning, because she had been born to a path she had not chosen and could never abandon.
All the candles had already been blown out, all the lamps extinguished. Gemma stood in the middle of her darkened house, jade eyes fixated on the wall across from her, seeing nothing. Though she was already in her thin cotton nightgown, she did not want to go to sleep. The night would bring fearsome dreams, she was sure. The bed behind her loomed ominously, beckoning as her eyelids grew heavy. But she would not-could not allow herself to fall to unconsciousness. Shadows lurked in the corners of her mind, those corners which she had searched to gain control of a power she had not fully understood, to become something she had hated above all else.
The clock that hung crooked on the wall to her left struck a quarter to midnight.
Fifteen minutes until the undoubtedly cursed day was over, until she could let her mind and body unwind. Fifteen bloody minutes, and she could allow herself to let go of the haunting thoughts that had plagued her mind since she had realized the day of her birth was so close. She did not know why she had not noticed the date earlier-she had a makeshift calendar in her house, right on the wall beside that blasted clock. But upon seeing that she had but four days until the day, dread had filled her to the brim, constantly diverting her attention from more important matters.
The timepiece’s ticking shifted her thoughts again, and she forced her drooping eyes to remain open. She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her arms tight enough to send a small shock of pain through them. The redhead shifted her weight from foot to foot, moved to a chilled spot on the hardwood floor. Anything to remain awake. The clock continued to count down the seconds until her waking nightmare would be over. Ten minutes. Seven. Four.
As the second hand began circling on the last minute, she allowed her muscles to loosen the slightest bit, let her guard down for a few moments.
When the vision came, it slammed into her entire being hard and fast, freezing her entirely, giving her time to neither defend her mind nor to think.
Breathe.
Falling. Ridiculously fast, down into nothingness. White, all white. She was an insubstantial being, thrown around by an invisible storm. Left and right, over, under. Which way was up? No ground below, no sky above. Just pale nothingness. Then a flesh-colored spot below. Opened to green, deep green. Mother’s green. Eye. She was falling into it. Couldn’t scream, couldn’t wake. Pull out, try, no use. Caught in the hands of fate. Falling.
See what I see.
Standing now. In a field of deep purple flowers. Dress of blue silk-Mother’s dress. Looked down. Mother’s hands, mother’s arms. She was Mother. Seeing what Mother had seen. Felt a smile cross her face as a figure came closer. Dark hair, sharp features. Young girl, pretty. Sarah. No, Circe. That was Circe. Run, couldn’t run. She was coming closer, smiling happily. With ambition. So much ambition, hope.
We could have the power forever, Mary. We could always be together.
Doubt planted like a seed in the heart. Grew steadily as the days flashed by. Come with us, Carolina. The little girl, the white pinafore too big. Looking for her dolly. Then she was holding the Gypsy girl down, hand over her mouth and nose. Keep her quite. Stop the screaming. A dark creature. From the shadows, rising up. The Gypsy stopped moving. Mary, you’ve killed her! More screams. Fire. Burning, everything. Burning her. Screams, more screams.
Vanished, everything. Church, in a church. Bride. A bride’s sari. White, whiter than fresh fallen snow. Henna etched itself upon her hands and feet. Felt the ink slide across her face. Protecting her. From what? Footsteps. Turn and there she was. Lovely even in death. Hair a tangled mass of curls. Eyes flicking from violet to blue-white. Violet, blue-white. Over and over. Stepped forward. Mouthed something. I saved your life.No, no, that was wrong. Didn’t owe her anything. She was dead, gone.
Sharp teeth bared, moving closer. I will never be gone. Reached out. Skin porcelain. Another hand reaching out to grab the approaching. Honey-blonde hair. Hard grey eyes turned up in laughter. Smile on those perfect lips. Dress scandalously-cut. Beauty went to Strength, locked in embrace. Morphing into one creature, no beginning, no end.
Turn to the side. Everything black. One light. Spotlight. Brown-haired girl on a stage. More beautiful than she had ever been. Singing something, something. Song smiled, accepting the applause. Looked directly at Hope. Smiled brilliantly. So bright. Blinding. Eyes close and then open. Gone.
Sari gone, back in a plain cotton dress. Silence. Shadow, another shadow. Rising up, blanketing everything. Figure emerges from the dark. Face drawn, eyes sockets ringed with black kohl. Tattoos bled up and down his arms. Poppies. Ancient armor covered his body. Single stripe of hair along his skull. Grinning, so viciously. So disgustingly. Leering. Touches her cheek with a long yellow nail. We’ll always be here, Poppet. Blood dripped down her face. Scream.
Blackness. Falling again. Landing in a desert. In her own body again. Only splotch of color for miles. So familiar. She had dreamed this before. Seen it. Horses. Two of them. Riding towards her. Heard them galloping, faster and faster. Two riders. One noticeably larger than the other. Both riding fast-too fast. Screamed. Told them to stop, slow down. Ignoring her. Faster and faster, straight towards each other. Couldn’t move, couldn’t run to them. Flash of brown and then red, colliding. Merging to black.
Today is a good day to die.
Smooth russet skin against hers. Pale and tanned flesh together. Moved her, slid on top. Breath gone, taken by his weight upon her. Calloused hand tangled in her hair. One skimming across her breasts. Knee easing her legs apart. Combining to form a whole. No face, just hands-mouth-legs. Everywhere at once. So much to take in. Changed-one, two, three. All there. Couldn’t choose. Shouldn’t have to. Stop. No words, just a thought. Enough.
Consciousness crashed into her, knocking the vision away. She gasped for breath, falling to her knees and coughing, hacking for life-sustaining air. The illusionist gripped at the cloth above her wildly beating heart, willing it to calm. She caught just the last toll of the clock as it struck midnight. A minute. She had been in the vision for hardly a minute, and yet it felt as if eons had passed.
With a muffled sob, she fell over, curled in on herself, making her form seem as small as possible on the floor. She had known she was cursed. That this entire day was cursed. There was nothing that could take this away, she knew. No charm or illusion could ever vanquish her demons. She cradled her face in one hand, biting the base of her thumb on the other to keep her cries from resurfacing.
Thylas' presence remained quiet at first, hearing those muffled sobs. He knew, based on what Gemma was, that she would sense him immediately, but that didn't mean he had to make her openly aware of his presence. She was, among all of those who lived here, one of his favorites. If for nothing more than things that she had done that had contributed to the fall of Medea and Asclepius, and the power that he was able to take. He took a seat next to her on the floor, watching her in tears there. He moved a finger up to a red strand of hair, brushing it over.
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to notice he was there. She was too busy shaking, trembling from the mixed horrors and wonders she had seen, had been a part of. Everything was unimportant then, except the untamed pounding beneath her flesh and bone and sinew, the only thing letting her know she was alive.
"You should be grateful with what you are." The god let himself sit there for a few moments. "Perhaps you should go to sleep, my pet." He said, moving to return to his feet, the power now, unrestricted. She would be able to feel it.
The energy rolled off him in waves, breaking through the shield of her fear and grief. But before she could sit up, before she could do anything, slumber did take her, so quickly and gently that she wouldn’t have realized even if she had been completely coherent. There was no terror there, no need for her to question anything.
And so she slept.
Happy birthday, pet.