Pilots call me Starbuck you may refer to me as God (cpt_starbuck) wrote in chaos_cube, @ 2008-05-01 09:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | kara thrace, lee adama |
Kara Thrace and her Special Destiny
Who: Kara and Lee (plotlocked, kthnx)
What: Some frakked up dreams, PTSD, probably swearing, yelling, and repressing issues.
Warnings: Dreams of a highly disturbing and sexual nature - definite Stokholm Syndrome overtones, and Kara being her usual destructive self. Oh, and spoilers for s3 of BSG, up to and including Maelstrom.
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Kara is dreaming again.
She's had the dreams on and off the last few nights. They always start the same, but they've been unsettling her more and more as they progress.
She was in her apartment on Delphi, looking at the painting, that mandala. She wore underwear and an oversized shirt she used to wear around the house. She stood, looking at the symbol, hatred for it and all it symbolised gnawing at her. Also something about it was drawing her in. She stared, until she couldn't take it anymore, and she grabbed a can of paint and a brush.
White paint, it was cool as it splashed on her fingers as she painted, obscuring the mandala, blocking it from view. She moved frantically, paint splattering over her legs and face, but she didn't care. She needed to block it, to stop it, to make it go away. Eventually she discarded he brush, throwing the paint at the wall and using her hands.
She didn't have a destiny. She didn't want a destiny.
And then Leoben was there. She could feel him.
His footsteps behind her, and she knew it was him, could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, hear his voice in her head.
Tonight, however, he was behind her, touching her. His arms were around her waist and she could feel his breath on her neck. She froze, terrified.
He spun her around, pinned her against the wall, and she gasped.
Kara really does gasp out loud, and her entire body twitches, but she's still asleep. Her eyes are fluttering beneath their lashes, and she's sweating, and panting.
She can feel her shirt sticking to the cold paint, it seeping through the thin fabric. Her feet slide in the paint on the ground, she couldn't get a grip, and he was holding her so she could only reach with her toes. She couldn't breathe, she was looking him in the eye as he held his face close to hers, his hands gripping her arms.
She was powerless.
She tensed, and struggled, trying somewhat halfheartedly to resist. Part of her was screaming at her dream self to struggle more, she could overpower him, at least try to...
But she didn't, and he continued to kiss her, and eventually, she gave in, kissed back, and he lifted her up, spun around and brought her down to the floor, ripping open her shirt. Her hands grasped at his clothes, desperately fumbling with them, and his hands ran over her body.
Kara writhes more, panting harder, gasping and arching her back, glistening with sweat. It's hard to tell from looking at her if she's having a particularly good or a particularly nasty dream.
Kara can't really tell herself. She whimpers slightly, head thrashing on the pillow.
In the dream, he leaned over and kissed her, and she fumbled with his pants, tugging them down, and he thrusted into her.
She looked over his shoulder at the wall.
The white paint was starting to fade away, she could see the colours bleed through. She stared up at it, and it seemed to stare right back at her as Leoben rocked against her.
Her pants get louder, her breathing becomes more rapid, until she wakes up with a gasp, blinking repeatedly as she regains consciousness, heart racing.