so cradle your head in your hands [incomplete]
Who: Gemma [sorcerously] and Claire [regeneracy].
When: Right now mm.
Where: Claire’s house.
Rating: PG, subject to change.
Warnings: Idk we’ll make them up as we go.
Summary: Gemma wakes up after a like, eight-day coma. Happiness ensues.
Vague, hardly-formed thoughts swirled through her head as sense flowed back into her body. They were hard to discern among the bustle of her mind woke up, but they were still there, taunting her with their deep meanings, the likes of which she couldn’t think clearly enough to discover.
What happens if your choice is misguided?
A good question. Loving Kartik had been the best choice, at the time. It was the only thing she could have done. There was no other option-either let him leave and she would die alone, or make him stay so she could feel wanted. In hindsight, she had likely sentenced him to death. So perhaps this was retribution, perhaps this was the price she paid for taking his life. Perhaps this was death.
But if this was death, why could she still think?
You must try to correct it.
Could she, though? When they found out-and they would find out, Felicity and Ann, she was sure-how would they react? Rage, obviously. She knew Fee would be more than willing to beat the living daylights out of her for making that choice, for making the choice that sentenced her lover to death. Ann would simply ignore her, in the way that was so passive but hurt so deeply. To be honest, a minute, guilty part of her knew she deserved it. But she didn’t care, because he had loved her, like she had hoped he had. Known he had. That was gone now, of course. She was aware, as she began to revive, that he had not lied to her about that. About other things, yes, but not that. So all the blame was on her.
But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t?
And when she had asked him to stay, she realized, she hadn’t thought that perhaps it would be his undoing. That her selfishness would cause him to forfeit her life in her stead. And that, more than anything that had happened the night of his death, scared her. Because it meant that her decision had sealed his death warrant. Because it meant that even in death, she was not fit to see him again, to love him, because she had been the one to kill him. In retrospect, at least.
Then you have to find a way to live with it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, numbness left her stiff limbs, and the fog of her mind lifted just enough so that she could form the idea that she was indeed alive. Everything that had drifted through her head as she had slowly begun regaining her sense-of-self deserted her thoughts, and so her psyche was a blank canvas, scrawled upon with indistinct memories. The first thing she was aware of was that she was oddly comfortable. Had she been at Spence or in London, that would be nearly impossible; the school’s bunks were meant only for relative comfort, and there was no doubt that Grandmama would have had her moved to the shed for sleeping so long.
Fingers twitched, and felt sheets beneath them. Head shifted just enough to feel a pillow. Back muscles tensed against a mattress. She didn’t know where she was. When she opened her eyes to mere slits, she was met with a world drenched in such vivid colors, that it hurt her head to look at it. Having a gaze closed in slumber for so long could do that to a person. As she adjusted, she drank it up in small gulps, still not knowing where she was. It was like being in the realms for the first time-but this was certainly not that dimension, not with these wooden walls. So she had been kidnapped, likely by the Rakshana again; was the only explanation, because everything that had happened was wiped clean from her memory for the time being, too great was the shock of it all for her to remember.
The panic set in. And with it, the instinctual urge to run.
Her breathing sped up, her fingers curled into the sheets. Flee, flee, flee was the only thing spinning through her mind, and she wondered if she would be able to lift her blasted limbs enough to even sit up. Not willing to try her luck, the redhead slowly took a deep breath and wet her dry lips, cracking her eyes open just a tad bit wider. Clinging to the last shreds of calm in her body were all that would save her now.
"Where am I?"
When: Right now mm.
Where: Claire’s house.
Rating: PG, subject to change.
Warnings: Idk we’ll make them up as we go.
Summary: Gemma wakes up after a like, eight-day coma. Happiness ensues.
Vague, hardly-formed thoughts swirled through her head as sense flowed back into her body. They were hard to discern among the bustle of her mind woke up, but they were still there, taunting her with their deep meanings, the likes of which she couldn’t think clearly enough to discover.
What happens if your choice is misguided?
A good question. Loving Kartik had been the best choice, at the time. It was the only thing she could have done. There was no other option-either let him leave and she would die alone, or make him stay so she could feel wanted. In hindsight, she had likely sentenced him to death. So perhaps this was retribution, perhaps this was the price she paid for taking his life. Perhaps this was death.
But if this was death, why could she still think?
You must try to correct it.
Could she, though? When they found out-and they would find out, Felicity and Ann, she was sure-how would they react? Rage, obviously. She knew Fee would be more than willing to beat the living daylights out of her for making that choice, for making the choice that sentenced her lover to death. Ann would simply ignore her, in the way that was so passive but hurt so deeply. To be honest, a minute, guilty part of her knew she deserved it. But she didn’t care, because he had loved her, like she had hoped he had. Known he had. That was gone now, of course. She was aware, as she began to revive, that he had not lied to her about that. About other things, yes, but not that. So all the blame was on her.
But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t?
And when she had asked him to stay, she realized, she hadn’t thought that perhaps it would be his undoing. That her selfishness would cause him to forfeit her life in her stead. And that, more than anything that had happened the night of his death, scared her. Because it meant that her decision had sealed his death warrant. Because it meant that even in death, she was not fit to see him again, to love him, because she had been the one to kill him. In retrospect, at least.
Then you have to find a way to live with it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, numbness left her stiff limbs, and the fog of her mind lifted just enough so that she could form the idea that she was indeed alive. Everything that had drifted through her head as she had slowly begun regaining her sense-of-self deserted her thoughts, and so her psyche was a blank canvas, scrawled upon with indistinct memories. The first thing she was aware of was that she was oddly comfortable. Had she been at Spence or in London, that would be nearly impossible; the school’s bunks were meant only for relative comfort, and there was no doubt that Grandmama would have had her moved to the shed for sleeping so long.
Fingers twitched, and felt sheets beneath them. Head shifted just enough to feel a pillow. Back muscles tensed against a mattress. She didn’t know where she was. When she opened her eyes to mere slits, she was met with a world drenched in such vivid colors, that it hurt her head to look at it. Having a gaze closed in slumber for so long could do that to a person. As she adjusted, she drank it up in small gulps, still not knowing where she was. It was like being in the realms for the first time-but this was certainly not that dimension, not with these wooden walls. So she had been kidnapped, likely by the Rakshana again; was the only explanation, because everything that had happened was wiped clean from her memory for the time being, too great was the shock of it all for her to remember.
The panic set in. And with it, the instinctual urge to run.
Her breathing sped up, her fingers curled into the sheets. Flee, flee, flee was the only thing spinning through her mind, and she wondered if she would be able to lift her blasted limbs enough to even sit up. Not willing to try her luck, the redhead slowly took a deep breath and wet her dry lips, cracking her eyes open just a tad bit wider. Clinging to the last shreds of calm in her body were all that would save her now.
"Where am I?"