Time-traveling romance-novelist guardian-witch (tregardian) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-08-31 11:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~diana tregarde, ~harry dresden |
Who: Diana Tregarde and Harry Dresden
Where: Avery
When: Saturday Evening
What: Watching the natives in their natural habitat
Warnings: None so far
Status: Closed, incomplete
It didn't look anything like the movies. That was Diana's first observation as she walked through the town of Avery. How many times had she seen Grapes of Wrath? Everything had been so...glamorously tragic. If that made sense? But this was reality, and it wasn't glamorous. It sucked. Diana had taken the news well, she thought. The two men that had received her when she suddenly popped back a good part of a century said so, at least. She hadn't screamed defiance, hadn't cried, hadn't uttered those three stupid little words "this is impossible." But that was how Diana was. She kept it together on the outside while the storm raged inside her. Diana changed into the clothes they had given her. They were foreign. Scratchy. She watched with a kind of secret hopelessness as everyone just went about their business as nothing was wrong. As if this was all just part of a normal day. Perhaps it was. For Diana, this was all wrong. Surreptitiously, she left the confines of the carnival circle and went into town, lugging her messenger bag along with her. The rain was a slow, cold assault. Negligible at first, easily ignored, it gradually grew worse until it seemed to wash away her calm, collected demeanor. Hidden amidst the shacks that passed as buildings in this town, Diana buried her face against the wet wood. Her chest was tight and anxiety twisted its knife until Diana could feel a sharp pain in her chest. I can't breathe... Curling her fingers into small fists, Diana gasped a few times as she tried to get herself under control. Tears of exasperation mingled indiscriminately with the rain, leaving her face wet. There was five minutes of allowance, of a crack in her mask. Gradually, Diana pulled herself back together, just barely sheltered beneath the rafters of the building she had taken refuge under. The last exhalation was ragged before it was replaced by a steady breath. Slowly turning, Diana fixed her damp hair and took a hesitant look around. Well, lucky for her, the townspeople seemed none-too-interested in one of the carnie folk having a mental breakdown. Fully collected, the young woman continued on through the town. Retrieving a notebook and pen from her bag, Diana began to write what she saw. It was therapeutic, cathartic even. She wrote a sentence about how a shop looked, and two about the manner in which a man walked casually from here to there. The written word was Diana's safe place, and she so needed to feel safe right now. |