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xp_logs2008-05-13 03:12 am
xp_daytripper) wrote in xp_logs2008-05-13 03:12 am
Entry tags:
Bedlam - Tuesday night
OOC: Posted early due to lack of online availablity later.
She's been walking most of the night, snatching moments of respite here and there, but she's tired now. All the best places are taken or she's shooed away by security guards. The latest, a large black man, looks at her strangely when she asks if Emma will be in today.
"No Emma here," he growls in a thick Yardie accent. "Move it on."
She moves on, wandering deeper into delusion. If she goes far enough, who knows what lies on the other side?
"Once upon a time there was a little girl who was very special. But she was also very bad, so her parents sold her to a nice man who would teach her to be useful. And the man paid a lot of money for the little girl, but she was a sloppy student, who made mistakes and wouldn't do as she was told. So the man had to spank her to get it through her thick skull that the man knew what was best for her." She aches down to her bones, and she rubs her forearm without really noticing what she's doing. "But it was all a trick, a lie. The man was an evil wizard and he wanted the little girl for himself. He called her his blossom." For some reason, the words make her shiver, and she looks around more determinedly for a place to sleep.
Behind a fish and chip shop there's a dumpster, with a pile of flattened boxes beside it. It reeks of old fish, which is probably why no-one else is there. She pulls some of the boxes into the deeper shadows, nose wrinkling only slightly at the smell. She's smelt worse - she smells worse.
"The little girl didn't know her family hadn't sold her. She didn't know she had brothers searching the world for her, a mother who turned to stone for the loss of her child. That one day she would find them again."
She builds herself a nest, one box on the ground beneath her, a couple more pulled over the top, hiding her from the world as she continues to tell the story. Her voice is a cracked whisper, barely audible above the city's hum.
"She wouldn't believe it at first, but her brother had faith she would return to them one day..."
The traffic noise is a lullaby of sorts, and she imagines she can hear a voice.
"Jel'enedra."
She falls asleep, thinking of yellow eyes and midnight blue fur like velvet, her thumb in her mouth.
She is walking along a path, the trees closing in around her, black and grin. Woods, she's in the woods, and she doesn't know where she is or where she's going. But then there's the warmth of another hand on hers, and she stops, looking up into a face both familiar and strange.
"Been looking for you, querida," the grey man says, and there's a brightness to his eyes, a catch in his voice.
"I got lost," she replies, and she looks around her. "There were woods..." Only there are no woods, they're standing on the rooftop of a building and there's a city around them. Not London, but there's something in the air here, a sense of place. "Were you looking for me?"
"Always," he says, and lays a long-fingered hand on her hair, apparently not noticing the filth matting it. "I'll always be with you, you know that."
"I do?" she asks, sounding doubtful not because she disbelieves him, but because she disbelieves herself. What does she know of anything?
"You do. You just forgot, that's all." His hands move to cup her face. "You'll remember." His expression is intense, his tone almost desperate. "You'll remember, and I'll find you. Don't give up on us, okay?"
"I..." Around them it's getting darker, colder, and there's a deep ache in her bones, the scrape of bare branches in her ears. "I want to come home. But I can't find the way."
"Keep lookin'." The touch of his hands, the sound of his voice, that burning passion in his eyes, they're all fading, growing faint and wispy, smoke on the wind. "Keep lookin', don't give up. Hold on until we find you." He's going, slipping away from her and she gropes for his hand in the dark.
"Don't leave me here!" she calls out, and fear grips her heart - he'll go and she'll be alone. "Please..." Everybody leaves.
"...love you..." comes the faintest response, a sigh almost lost among the trees crowding around her.
"Don't go," she whispers back. It feels like her heart's been torn out.
She's been walking most of the night, snatching moments of respite here and there, but she's tired now. All the best places are taken or she's shooed away by security guards. The latest, a large black man, looks at her strangely when she asks if Emma will be in today.
"No Emma here," he growls in a thick Yardie accent. "Move it on."
She moves on, wandering deeper into delusion. If she goes far enough, who knows what lies on the other side?
"Once upon a time there was a little girl who was very special. But she was also very bad, so her parents sold her to a nice man who would teach her to be useful. And the man paid a lot of money for the little girl, but she was a sloppy student, who made mistakes and wouldn't do as she was told. So the man had to spank her to get it through her thick skull that the man knew what was best for her." She aches down to her bones, and she rubs her forearm without really noticing what she's doing. "But it was all a trick, a lie. The man was an evil wizard and he wanted the little girl for himself. He called her his blossom." For some reason, the words make her shiver, and she looks around more determinedly for a place to sleep.
Behind a fish and chip shop there's a dumpster, with a pile of flattened boxes beside it. It reeks of old fish, which is probably why no-one else is there. She pulls some of the boxes into the deeper shadows, nose wrinkling only slightly at the smell. She's smelt worse - she smells worse.
"The little girl didn't know her family hadn't sold her. She didn't know she had brothers searching the world for her, a mother who turned to stone for the loss of her child. That one day she would find them again."
She builds herself a nest, one box on the ground beneath her, a couple more pulled over the top, hiding her from the world as she continues to tell the story. Her voice is a cracked whisper, barely audible above the city's hum.
"She wouldn't believe it at first, but her brother had faith she would return to them one day..."
The traffic noise is a lullaby of sorts, and she imagines she can hear a voice.
"Jel'enedra."
She falls asleep, thinking of yellow eyes and midnight blue fur like velvet, her thumb in her mouth.
She is walking along a path, the trees closing in around her, black and grin. Woods, she's in the woods, and she doesn't know where she is or where she's going. But then there's the warmth of another hand on hers, and she stops, looking up into a face both familiar and strange.
"Been looking for you, querida," the grey man says, and there's a brightness to his eyes, a catch in his voice.
"I got lost," she replies, and she looks around her. "There were woods..." Only there are no woods, they're standing on the rooftop of a building and there's a city around them. Not London, but there's something in the air here, a sense of place. "Were you looking for me?"
"Always," he says, and lays a long-fingered hand on her hair, apparently not noticing the filth matting it. "I'll always be with you, you know that."
"I do?" she asks, sounding doubtful not because she disbelieves him, but because she disbelieves herself. What does she know of anything?
"You do. You just forgot, that's all." His hands move to cup her face. "You'll remember." His expression is intense, his tone almost desperate. "You'll remember, and I'll find you. Don't give up on us, okay?"
"I..." Around them it's getting darker, colder, and there's a deep ache in her bones, the scrape of bare branches in her ears. "I want to come home. But I can't find the way."
"Keep lookin'." The touch of his hands, the sound of his voice, that burning passion in his eyes, they're all fading, growing faint and wispy, smoke on the wind. "Keep lookin', don't give up. Hold on until we find you." He's going, slipping away from her and she gropes for his hand in the dark.
"Don't leave me here!" she calls out, and fear grips her heart - he'll go and she'll be alone. "Please..." Everybody leaves.
"...love you..." comes the faintest response, a sigh almost lost among the trees crowding around her.
"Don't go," she whispers back. It feels like her heart's been torn out.