Chloris "not really a traitor" Burke (exquisitebeauty) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-07-21 00:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-07] july, chloris burke (née lestrange) |
RP Narrative
Who: Chloris Burke (random Mediwitches at the end)
When: 20 July, 1980 - 11pm
Where: St. Mungo's - the Rehabilitation Centre - Chloris' room
What: Chloris may or may not have lost her mind.
Rating: PG-13 for blood
Status: Complete!
First had been the hysteria. After being ripped from Hephaestus' presence, Chloris had dissolved into fits of tears and sobs. She had been taken to the Rehabilitation Centre, processed, and put into a sterile, white room. All of it seemed a blur, a terrible nightmare that she longed to wake up from. Mediwitches had come in and out, unable to quell the sobs that wracked her entire body. They'd managed to force her to take calming draught after calming draught, but those only caused her to sleep - not to calm. The exhaustion finally took over, and she slept of her own accord. But then she barely ate, barely moved; she just laid in bed and cried softly while she stared at the blank wall. Gaius came in and out, but he could coax not a word out of her; she didn't even make eye contact with him. Then came the nothingness. The crying eventually wore away, and she became a catatonic shell of a person. She did not speak, did not eat unless forced. She stared blankly ahead, not focusing on the world around her, completely lost in her own mind. No, she had not been mad before being arrested and sentenced, but now, having everything stripped from her, she had cracked. She had retreated into her own mind; her only place of solace in this world that no longer made any sense to her. But then came the aching. Her body began to rebel against her lack of food, and she finally began to eat little bits. Unfortunately, it ripped her back into reality, and Chloris was suddenly keenly aware of the absence of her family. Of Hephaestus' soft touch, of the weight of the girls in her arms, of the boys' hair against her arm as they leaned against her. Her body needed her famliy, she needed her family to survive. What had she done to deserve a life such as this? Simply wished to walk away. To come back when there weren't people threatening the lives of her children. At some point she began to drag her thumbnail of her right hand against the palm of her left. Her hands wrung, and her thumbnail dragged again, and again, and again. She was ignorant of her skin as it became raw, ignorant of the pain as she dragged away her skin, ignorant of what she was doing until she looked down and saw the red that had dripped onto the sterile white sheets. Colour. She looked around the white room wide-eyed. Colour. Maybe this would all hurt less if there was some colour. She slid off the bed and pressed her palm against the wall and drew it back. The red splotch was enticing, and she pressed her hand against the wall again. She began to drag her wrist against the edge of her bedtable, harder and harder. She needed more colour. She needed to change her circumstance. Her skin broke and she began to smear the red on the wall. There wasn't much, but her fingernails ripped at the raw skin to produce more and more. Swirls and splotches, she painted with her own blood on the wall. It was only when a Mediwitch opened the door and saw what she was doing and called for help that she was aware of what she was doing. She slid down to the floor in the corner, cowering away from the Mediwitches, her blood dripping onto her gown. She didn't fight them as they pulled her up and deposited her back on the bed, quickly brandishing wands and healing her wounds. She finally locked eyes with the pretty little Mediwitch who was securing bandages on her. "Rodolphus." It was the first word Chloris had spoken since arriving at the Rehabilitation Centre. She looked down at the bandages and then to the blood smeared on the wall. She'd written there too. Names. Or at least parts of names. Heph. us. is. bina Rab. But only one name was written fully. Rodolphus. "I need my brother." |