May 24th evening Who: Esme & Tyson What: Brother and sister catch up time..And Esme's day of bizarre events When: May 24th, Morning, mid afternoon and early evening. Where: Esme's wagon & The midway Warnings: Description of past torture, seizures and foul language (From Esme as well..because hey, she's a Haywood)
Her dreams were of chains, wolfsbane injected into her, weakness, fevers. Silver knives pressing against her skin, cutting into her. The smell of searing flesh and the blurry visions of the monsters that held her captive. None of this was new to her. It was a recurring nightmare she'd had for years. Not so much a dream as a memory. She hadn't admitted to anyone just how long the hunters had her chained and tortured. She hadn't even admitted it to herself. She'd told people she'd been on her own for twenty two years, which was true. But that left eight years unaccounted for. Eight years in a hunter's den. Of course she was going to have nightmares about it.
Waking up with a thin layer of cold sweat covering her form, panting heavily as she shot bolt upright was normal. What wasn't, was what happened afterwards. She felt it in her stomach first. The tightening of her muscles, coiling like a spring and forcing the shifter to curl into a fetal position against her will. She tried to fight it, to straighten out and jump out of bed, but it gripped her tightly. Every muscle in her body suddenly going rigid. Sharp nails tearing into her nightdress as she fought the urge to transform to stop whatever it was that was happening to her. The last thing she remembered was her fragile body convulsing, jerking uncontrollably until the deep inky blackness enveloped her.
When she awoke it was a few hours later. It felt like a strange dream but she didn't have any time to concentrate on it. She was running late. She didn't notice how tattered her sleepwear was as she pulled it off, throwing it in her laundry pile and changing into her work gear. She painted her usual performers before their shows and had set up on the midway at the same time as normal. All thoughts of that bizarre morning dream completely out of her mind as her brush worked on the face of a visitor. Chatting and giggling away. She was half way through a sentence when the next unusual thing happened to her.
"I'm glad you're having fun at the cirque, we al-" a pressure at her throat strangled the words from her, the rest of her thought was lost as she raised her hand to her neck, feeling frantically for something that was blocking her airway. But there was nothing there. Unseen hands were completely blocking her windpipe and gasping for air the young woman stumbled back out of her seat, her back colliding with the front of a roustie who gave her a confused look until he seen the wild, panicked look in the blonde's eyes. He held Esme gently as though she was a wounded animal and apologized to the person she was working on because there was not chance Esme would be able to finish with the way she was shaking. He guided her back to her wagon and offered to call Tyson but she shook her head. Her brother was already coming over later with icecream there was no need to pull him out of work..He'd need all the money he could get his hands on soon. She thanked the roustie and promised that she was feeling okay now, hiding her shaking hand behind the door until the man left.
"What the fuck is happening to me?" She groaned to the wind as she closed her wagon door and rested her forehead against it. Sighing with resignation. She had a few hours before Tyson would be over. So she decided to rest, take her mind off everything that was happening to her. Maybe all those years of insomnia had finally taken their tole and made her crazy. Well, crazier. She sank down on the plush gray couch and smiled at her trusty kitten, Gelert, as he mewed at her and nudged her hand with his head. "Don't worry, boo, I'm sure it'll pass."