Hiding from the aftermath

[godofcologne]

It had been late, almost sunrise, when Thomas made it back indoors, arms stiff with exertion. He headed upstairs with every intention of cleaning the guns and then collapsing in bed, but the note on his bed changed his plans. The gym bag went under the bed and the kukri went in his hand. Leaving his clothes in yet another pile on the floor, he

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[dead_drusilla]

It wasn't that she didn't sleep. She did. It was a practice. Her body rested because it wanted to, but her mind was so awake. Alive with things that didn't quite make sense. None of her visions made any sense. They hurt. They always hurt. Like little icepicks in her eyes. Like little shocks of horror that wasn't right at all.

Thomas smelled of guns. And Thomas smelled of comfort. And Thomas smelled of silence and beauty that went on and on. It curled about her and dragged her into a merciful blankness. If she clung to him like he was the only thing that stopped her from falling, it couldn't be helped.

When she opened her eyes, she still saw fire. Burning. Buildings that had sprouted the arms of an octopus. But it didn't match with the emptiness. The feeling that a part of her had been cut out, and would never come back.

She blinked away the sleep, away the visions.

"I am envious of Edward," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "He gets to wake up to you every day."

[dead_drusilla]

Now. Now, was everyone's word. Drusilla don't fear. You are not alone now. Drusilla had never lived in the now. It was hard when you knew the future. She lived for then more then she lived for anything. It made her want to wrap around him and turn away at the same time. A night without stars

[godofcologne]

(( Visions of Desquish))