(Untitled)

[ichoosefight]

WHO: not_afailure and vfranklinmott, but open to first floor /friends
WHAT: A minor panic attack. ...Hopefully.
WHERE: Stephanie's Room, 103
WHEN: Immediately following this post.
WARNING(S): Flashbacks to nightmare fuel.

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[vfranklinmott]

Franklin had still been worn out from the events with the Aztecs. Staying awake during the day had drained him more than he'd realized. Perhaps a foolish move on his part, but he had refused to sleep until his body betrayed him. Steph was his, and whether he liked it or not, they were bonded. Every emotion she had, he felt. If she was in danger, he knew that too.

He'd intended to stay away from her for a few nights. Give her some space after he'd kept her prisoner in her own room. So he wasn't prepared for the sudden panic attack to hit. It was so strong, it was almost a physical blow. If he could breathe, it would've knocked the wind out of him.

He ran to her room, and didn't bother knocking, just walked right in. "Steph?" He couldn't quite keep the panic from his voice, or concern. He went to her, hands at her shoulders, helpless and uncertain. "Steph? Talk to me... tell me what's wrong."

[ichoosefight]

The communicator fell from her hands and clattered on the ground at her feet. She stared up at him, terrified and all but un-seeing. That face, that wretched face seemed burned into her retinas. She tried to take a breath, but it came up short, gasping and dry. It was a few seconds before she even registered the presence of another person and tore herself violently from the memory.

"Fra-Frankli-" She gasped out his name, still trying to make her lungs expand and contract. Her body couldn't quite keep up with the jumble of voices in her head. It was only a small one that was telling her to get a hold of herself, that she was safe and strong and he couldn't hurt her anymore.

[vfranklinmott]

He glanced down at the fallen communicator, seeing the entry paused there. He doesn't need to play back the video; it's paused on the Black Mask's horrid skull. His Steph was stronger than being scared of something so loathsome looking, and the panic he'd felt from her was way stronger.

She knew that man, and he had done something horrible to her. That's all Franklin needed to know. The man with the black skull was now an enemy of the vampire. His lip curled into a snarl as he looked at the video and his fangs descended. Sooner or later, he'd get revenge on the man.

He turned his attention back to her, fangs retracted once more. He rubbed at her shoulders in a soothing manner, and spoke softly. "C'mon now, I'm here for you. Just breathe, okay? Try to calm down a bit..."

[ichoosefight]

She shut her eyes and squeezed them tight, using every ounce of strength she had to force herself to breathe. She was in Africa, living among people who had it much harder than she ever had, even in those bad years when they were living in a trailer. People who needed help. Leslie was there to help them, Steph was only there to witness and recover.

The pounding in her head began to fade as she took slow, deep, hard-earned breaths. Slowly but surely, panic was replaced by a combination of rage, hatred, and a soul-crushing despair. And she had been in such a good mood, too. She was finally getting comfortable here, and this monster was back to haunt her. She couldn't honestly say she was surprised when she felt tears falling down her face.

"This is one sick joke," she growled, wishing she could break something, hurt something, or run away and hide.