Scenelet // Betsy
Aug. 9th, 2005 02:10 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs A late night in her office, Betsy is drawn to something completely unholy....
The thoughts of the inhabitants of Xavier’s Manor had settled in for the night. The two lower levels of the school remained eerily quiet once the sun had set and soon after, the rest of the school fell into a deep lull.
Sizzle-swish.
Squaring her posture at her desk, Betsy rolled her shoulders and hunkered down for the night. It was a few minutes past midnight but she still managed. Besides, there was work to be done and two very important tidbits on the south-eastern quadrant to keep her huddled in this office for a few more hours.
Sizzle-swish.
The grandfather clock in the main corridor chimed. Betsy blinked. She looked down at her wrist watch and moaned. It was two in the morning. Her head throbbed unpleasantly. Betsy smartly closed the top of her laptop, leaned back in her chair, and massaged her temples tenderly.
This was not the normal “I’ve overdone it, again’ headache. If only she could get some rest and stop feeling so twitchy. Yes, a couple of minutes to collect herself and meditate. To rest.
Sizzle…
Light. There was so much light. But with a cold sliver, swiping across her back, the light faded.
Asleep now, Betsy let out a mournful groan.
The sick knowing sound of bones cracking, sinew and muscle snapping off without much resistance, pain shooting up her legs.
The metallic taste of blood searing the air, burning the lining in her throat.
And there, in all this, she found the shadow of death accompanied by the smell of flesh burning, burning, and consuming her whole.
Dark amethyst eyes snapped open, taking in strangled breaths. Her chest felt as if steel bands had wrapped themselves caressingly around her body, extorting each intake of air. But at last, she choked out the word, clawing its’ way out of her, wishing to be released.
"Alison..."
The thoughts of the inhabitants of Xavier’s Manor had settled in for the night. The two lower levels of the school remained eerily quiet once the sun had set and soon after, the rest of the school fell into a deep lull.
Sizzle-swish.
Squaring her posture at her desk, Betsy rolled her shoulders and hunkered down for the night. It was a few minutes past midnight but she still managed. Besides, there was work to be done and two very important tidbits on the south-eastern quadrant to keep her huddled in this office for a few more hours.
Sizzle-swish.
The grandfather clock in the main corridor chimed. Betsy blinked. She looked down at her wrist watch and moaned. It was two in the morning. Her head throbbed unpleasantly. Betsy smartly closed the top of her laptop, leaned back in her chair, and massaged her temples tenderly.
This was not the normal “I’ve overdone it, again’ headache. If only she could get some rest and stop feeling so twitchy. Yes, a couple of minutes to collect herself and meditate. To rest.
Sizzle…
Light. There was so much light. But with a cold sliver, swiping across her back, the light faded.
Asleep now, Betsy let out a mournful groan.
The sick knowing sound of bones cracking, sinew and muscle snapping off without much resistance, pain shooting up her legs.
The metallic taste of blood searing the air, burning the lining in her throat.
And there, in all this, she found the shadow of death accompanied by the smell of flesh burning, burning, and consuming her whole.
Dark amethyst eyes snapped open, taking in strangled breaths. Her chest felt as if steel bands had wrapped themselves caressingly around her body, extorting each intake of air. But at last, she choked out the word, clawing its’ way out of her, wishing to be released.
"Alison..."
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