Regan Wyngarde (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lady_regan) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} academy_x, |
As promised, Regan had Pietro over Monday night. She hadn't quite gotten over her intimacy issues since her memory returned, but she was trying. The nauseated feeling crept up first, and then the reason loomed in the back of her mind like the bluenique grim reaper... slowly raising the scythe to strike within the final throws.
"F-Fuck!!" Regan's voice choked out and she let out a hissed stutter through gritted teeth. There were a lot of S's in a certain someone's name that she managed to bite back. Her eyes flew open as she clawed down Pietro's shoulders and back. PIETRO. PIETRO. Heaven help her! FOCUS ON PIETRO. She tried her best to ignore it, pushing through it and becoming more violent with her boyfriend. Now she just felt sick, and her lips curled into a nauseated snarl. Ugh, it was happening again. Her head hit the pillow in defeat, eyes going dull. She arched against him weakly, but clearly her mood had been soured. "Stop, stop..." Regan groaned while her fists pushed against his chest, fighting him off weakly.
Her eyes remained open and unblinking, afraid of what she might find if she closed them. Carlysle had single-handedly and successfully ruined sex for her, and why it was taking her almost three weeks to release the trauma was beyond her comprehension. Regan pushed her fingers through her hair, staring up at the ceiling. Clearly, she didn't have enough drink in her yet, and this was why the problem persisted. Though this may have seemed like the pinnacle now, Regan's just deserts were (literally) around the corner.
She let out a sigh, arm draping loose over the edge of the bed and reaching for her clothes. "I'm going to get something to drink." Regan murmured. She got dressed, adjusting herself and zipping her jeans back up. Her long V-neck T-shirt looking a lot more rumpled than it did when she first arrived. Regan moved her fingers through her blonde locks and pushed them over to one side. She bent at the middle, picking up her boots and wedging them on without bothering with the laces. "Want anything? Back in a sec." But before she left... "Mmn..." Regan cupped the side of Pietro's face and kissed him, poor boy, this wasn't the first time she'd put him through this routine. Trust, it was hell for her too.
Once in the hallway Regan rubbed her eyes on the back of her fist, this was a long night and clearly she needed to get her booze on. Sometimes she wished she was susceptible to her own illusions, because she'd love to manipulate her memories right now. But something wasn't sitting so well with her... then she heard the heavy steps marching in unison from down the hallway. Lights flashing down the corridor from dozens of gun barrels, the clank of packs and guns. The noise was growing and getting closer. What the-? She couldn't pinpoint the sound, but part of it sounded like it was coming up the stairs, the other half from down the hallway. She heard the radio static and crackle from the walkie-talkies. Regan reached out telepathically, but found no one. Hm, was she dreaming, sleep-walking, just seeing things? Good job Wyngarde. She was letting this school get to her, and now she was clearly going insane. Especially when the voice in her head spoke.
Oh, peachy... so she wasn't seeing things. At least there was relief in that. Regan backtracked, biting her lower lip to remain silent. She couldn't seem to move fast enough, the sound of soldiers was growing, deafening. She tore down the hallway, shouldering her way into her dorm. "Get dressed. Get dressed." No doubt Pietro heard Xavier's announcement too. Her face was as pale as paper. The dimly lit lamp on her night table fizzled out as the power was cut.