| 4 AM |
[27 May 2009|12:27am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 thoughtful |
] |
Breathing, it should be the easiest thing in the world, but when caught up in the throes of an unpleasant dream it's the hardest thing imaginable. It's like your drowning and because you're lost in the subconscious trap of your own mind there's no escape. I know of all things I should be sleeping and recovering my strength and yet I'm not, I'm wide awake and watchful. Suppose that comes from having spent too many nights with one eye open, expecting a set of fangs in my neck.
Freedom, it's funny how much is based on... having very basic human rights such as being able to control what you do, where you go and what you say. I don't think I ever realised how fragile something like that is, all it takes is one explosive collar and suddenly you no longer have any control and the worst thing of all is that your life rests in the hands of cruel bitch.
Even if she did a number on me whilst she had her claws in me, the whole cruel to me one minute only to soothe the pain away a few seconds later. There's a word for that, somewhere, but I can't think of it this early in the morning.
I thought escaping her would be the hard part, but I was wrong. The hardest bit is still yet to come: working out what to do with my life. Those people... they tore my life apart, shredded it like it meant nothing, and I'm not sure how to handle that. It's so surreal, how much... changed and how much stayed the same, it's disconcerting how much the world at large doesn't miss you and how my apartment was seemingly frozen in time.
( Wayward Thoughts )
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| Caveman Tactics |
[27 May 2009|04:27pm] |
Rhiannon was in a good mood.
She jogged downstairs and left her apartment building at a trot, blowing past the only other tenant (the software engineer) at the mailboxes. All he caught was the smell of cinnamon incense, the sight of her ponytail, dyed auburn, and the back of her outfit, a navy tank top and tight-fitting jeans. Her earbuds blasted an old Skinny Puppy track. Its distortion and crunching riffs made a strange accompaniment to the afternoon. She took public transport across a few neighborhoods and hopped off near Connor's place. On her way up the road, she kept her eyes on the blades of crab grass sprouting in the sidewalk cracks. She almost missed him. He was about a block ahead of her, heading in the other direction. She picked up the pace to catch up.
"Boo." Rhiannon knocked her shoulder into his. She wound up the white wires of her digital music player.
( Poke, Thump, Ugh, Ugh )
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| Playing With Fire |
[27 May 2009|06:24pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 predatory |
] |
[OOC Note: Takes place before Kris' rescue]
Okay, so either Toby was going insane or he was actually seeing a certain psychotic vampire from his past appearing outside his house on a bi-nightly basis.
The first night she had been out there, Wolf barked at the window until he realised who it was and whimpered, bolting up the stairs - where he wasn't allowed and he knew it - nearly tripping Alec over to seek refuge in Toby's room.
Toby had gone downstairs to see what it was that had spooked his dog, locked all the windows and doors, shut all the curtains and gone upstairs, letting Wolf sleep curled up at the bottom of his bed.
The same thing happened two nights later, and two nights after that.
( Blonde Hyena )
( New Cologne )
( Stalker )
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