InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Apologize to funyarinpa!"

There were lights flashing bright, each with a different face, different moment in her lifetime, all of them memories, the good and the bad. The smell of age permeated the air and tickled beneath a sensitive nose. Her ears seemed dull and pounded with her own heartbeat, and she vaguely heard the sound of rustling paper in the distance, as if pages turning in a book. Then there was a dizzying nothingness, an eerie silence followed, and later cold.

She awoke on the floor with a muted groan, throat parch and scratching with obvious neglect. Her hands, sprawled at her sides, reached for purchase on the floor. The ground beneath her palms was like ice, but she pushed against it anyway and attempted to stand. It isn't until she's staggered to her feet and beginning to find her bearings when she notices the armored figures standing still as statues a short distance from where she stands. It doesn't make sense, and for all she knows it's a crazy frakked up dream. She's used to insane situations, but those are supposed to be behind her now, and not suddenly moving toward her with heavy metal footsteps that sound anything but friendly.

"What," she attempts with rusty vocal cords, raising a hand in warning and flinching when she realizes how weak she sounds. She clears her throat, tries again, but they're still coming toward her and showing little sign of stopping. "Hey-" she sounds steadier this time when she takes a few steps backward. Frak. "Hey!" she shouts, anxiety creeping in now and all she can think is enemy. She reaches for her sidearm the second their cold hands wrap around her upper arms and she's distressed to find that there is no holster on her hip and more importantly no weapon where her fingers frantically search. No, no, no, no. She's been a prisoner before, remembers it like it was yesterday and just like before, she's not going back.

It's over before it began and the guards have her kicking and screaming through the doors, outside the building and unceremoniously dropped face first in the damp earth. She sputters, spitting out the muck and reeling. By the time she's standing again, they're gone and the doors are sealed shut behind them, leaving her bewildered on the vacant lawn.

She'd dug her boot heels into foreign soil before, breathed in the cool oxygen of an unfamiliar environment, smelled the curious aroma of alien flora that carried on the wind. Her current surroundings weren't so very different, in fact they could have been mirror images of every other terrestrial planet she'd ever set foot on. It looked peaceful, safe, normal. Clearly, It was all superficial. Everything about this place felt wrong, no matter how commonplace it registered with her senses. She was supposed to be worm food, transcending to a higher state of being or whatever the Gods wanted to call this destiny crap she'd recently been relieved of. Instead she was ankle deep in a muddy puddle with scuffed fatigues, blond hair a fright in every which direction and stranded in the middle of Gods-knows-where.

Son of a bitch. Her face fell, upper lip curling in disgust with moody reluctance in her gaze. She was supposed to be done with this. ". . . Frak me," she drawled on a grudging breath. So much for the afterlife.