[open] - shadows
Who: Dawn Summers girl_unlocking, Johan Andersen thejewelergem, Riza Hawkeye firebornfidelis, Utena Tenjo princely_calyx, Jason Todd jaytodd !!!OPEN
When: After this post.
Where: The Outlander Community Block. An apartment on the first floor.
Format: Whatever you like.
What: For anyone who was heading towards Dawn's freakout.
Warnings: Freakouts, angst.
She's standing in front of the Forge. Her nose has stopped bleeding, but she's been staring at the dark smear across her sleeve for five minutes.
It was her sister's sweater, and now she's gone and ruined it by falling through the sky, or a door or whatever into ...here.
Anatole. They told you. Remember?
It's barely lit at all, and she's pretty sure that there are lights ...somewhere, but turning them on, touching them would make it---
It would make it what, exactly?
"More real."
It's a whisper, and it's somehow ominous now that she's not talking to someone else, hallucination or no hallucination. Now it's just her. And this ...darkness. Thick and old and wrong and somehow
...comforting as it insinuates itself into her inner monologue.
Seeping out of her as she sighs, the coldest, sickest sort of comfort.
Well, it's more real than ...you are, Dawnie.
A few steps to the bed and she sits, staring at the door. Waiting. Her eyes don't move for several moments, until they close against the temptation of the mirror just to the left of her, where the shadows beckon.
If I look I'll...
Her fists clench and she shuts her eyes tighter. She can feel the bloodpulse against the backs of her eyes as she does this. Her own personal darkness flickers red at its edges.
If I look I'll see that I belong here. Maybe this is where I came from. Before. Before ....I was anything at all.
When: After this post.
Where: The Outlander Community Block. An apartment on the first floor.
Format: Whatever you like.
What: For anyone who was heading towards Dawn's freakout.
Warnings: Freakouts, angst.
She's standing in front of the Forge. Her nose has stopped bleeding, but she's been staring at the dark smear across her sleeve for five minutes.
It was her sister's sweater, and now she's gone and ruined it by falling through the sky, or a door or whatever into ...here.
Anatole. They told you. Remember?
It's barely lit at all, and she's pretty sure that there are lights ...somewhere, but turning them on, touching them would make it---
It would make it what, exactly?
"More real."
It's a whisper, and it's somehow ominous now that she's not talking to someone else, hallucination or no hallucination. Now it's just her. And this ...darkness. Thick and old and wrong and somehow
...comforting as it insinuates itself into her inner monologue.
Seeping out of her as she sighs, the coldest, sickest sort of comfort.
Well, it's more real than ...you are, Dawnie.
A few steps to the bed and she sits, staring at the door. Waiting. Her eyes don't move for several moments, until they close against the temptation of the mirror just to the left of her, where the shadows beckon.
If I look I'll...
Her fists clench and she shuts her eyes tighter. She can feel the bloodpulse against the backs of her eyes as she does this. Her own personal darkness flickers red at its edges.
If I look I'll see that I belong here. Maybe this is where I came from. Before. Before ....I was anything at all.