gatsby log: brielle & anais
Brielle awoke in the Vega with no idea how she'd gotten there. Smearing the dust of sleep from the corners of her eyes, she looked around the small room with a rising sense of panic, something that was a familiar houseguest in her crippled heart. There was a glass of water on the bedside table, and Brielle gulped it down, wondering at the taste of ash that clung to her tongue and the dried blood that was embedded beneath her nails.
The room was furnished by things from another time, and the idea of where she might be at least put some of her worries at ease as she slipped from the bed in a dress that she did not recognize as belonging to her. There was a hooded jacket and a pair of jeans hanging on the hook behind the bedroom door, which reassured Brielle that she had come here and changed. She simply must have been so exhausted that she didn't remember it now. Things had been strange over the last couple of weeks, and this was not the first time that she'd woken up in a strange place with no idea how she'd gotten there.
Brielle thought that such a thing should worry her more, but there was a deeper part of herself that seemed to accept it as something inevitable and unadjustable. Everything would be fine ultimately, she believed that. Because she had to, there was little choice but to have faith that whatever had been going on with her with the spells of missing time was somehow attributed to the injuries she'd sustained that had required hospitalization.
After Wren'smadness on the journals began, Brielle headed down the stairs, bordering on hysterics and in search of her sister. "Anaïs?!"