tessa darling 🔥 aelin galathynius (bitchqueen) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2018-07-05 15:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * kit, c: tessa darling |
WHO: Tessa Darling -> Liv Moore
WHEN: Thursday, July 5, 2018; Afternoon -> Night of the Boat Party
WHERE: Tessa's studio
SUMMARY: Tessa remembers the fateful night of the Boat Party.
WARNINGS: Brains.
Liv's life was awesome. As she rode with Marcy to the boat party that night, it was hard not to go doe-eyed over the thought of just how awesome it really was. She was exceling in her residency, surrounded by the best friends and family she could ask for, finally making headway with her would-be rival, and about to marry the most perfect man she'd ever met. If it hadn't been for Marcy's, "Oh my god, I can hear the sappy voice over just by looking at your face," Liv might have spent the entire ride and possibly the entire party reflecting over how #blessed she was. Parties weren't really her scene. She was a driven, singularly-focused surgical resident who often forgot that things outside of work and passing out at Major's after a long shift existed. It was only at Major's insistence that she take the chance to let her hair down a little bit that she'd even agreed to go. He recognized her need for a social life better than she did and she loved him for all of the little ways, like that, that he took care of her. Unfortunately, it hadn't taken long for her to remember why she wasn't really into the whole scene, or at least hadn't been since college once she'd officially started her career. Marcy was already drunk and Liv had no idea how the other girl planned on showing up the next morning to work without a serious hangover. She'd also already abandoned Liv for some guy who wore Sperry's and eau du trust fund. It was quite possible that Liv had seen more of Marcy tonight than she'd ever cared to see in general. It was fine, though. It wasn't like Liv could just call for Major or Peyton to come pick her up early, anyway, though she would likely have to find another way home unless she could manage the keys away from Marcy. She was going to have wait until the boat docked and, until then, she was going to have to try to enjoy herself. That was difficult when the primary form of socialization she was getting was drunk frat boys trying to sell her utopium or feel her up, or both. Of course, that all seemed absolutely tame in comparison to the part of the night when everyone went crazy and started killing each other and--was that guy eating someone's brains? Liv ducked under a table, trying to shield herself from the chaos. This was the last time she ever let Major convince her to go to a party in lieu of a movie night with him, no matter how good his intentions, or how badly she wanted Marcy to like her. An adrenaline kicked in, though, as Liv watched fires raging and around her as the massacre continued. It was a familiar feeling, the same adrenaline that kicked in when she was busy saving lives. This time, it was her own that she needed to save. It was a feeling she could latch onto, a purpose she could focus on and wear like armor against the panic and the sheer horrific terror she should have been feeling at the sight of partygoers eating each other. There was a break in the crowd, a clear path to the side of the boat where Liv could escape into the water. She could swim back to shore. With only a moment's hesitation, Liv steeled herself for the run and, finding no better moment to do it, pushed off from her hiding place and ran as fast as she could toward the side of the boat. She was so close, almost there, she was going to make it. And then... When Liv woke up, zipped into a body bag and coughing water out of her lungs, the image of the guy with red eyes and blackened veins lunging at her was burned into her mind's eye. Her arm was covered in long, ugly gashes and, she suddenly felt a lot less judgmental about the brain-eating guy. Liv looked around the shore, noting how it was littered with body bags just like hers--victims from the boat party. She seemed to be the only one--well, not living, per se. Not quite dead, either. It wouldn't be until after she'd practically inhaled a lunch of cerebral cortex with a side of cerebellum that she finally understood that the worst thing that could happen at a boat party, in fact, was turning into a zombie. -- Tessa woke up, her spine straightening the shock of wakefulness and surreal dreams. Her latest work-in-progress stuck to her cheek, the paper of the sketch damp with her sweat. Her stomach rumbled with the hunger of having not eaten since the protein bar she'd grabbed earlier before sealing herself off in her studio. For a moment, she panicked, afraid that her hunger was for brains but felt a surge of joy when the thought of devouring some made her stomach turn. Something like sushi sounded much better but the still vivid dream had killed her appetite. Apparently, she needed a break, though, so Tessa pulled the sketch off her face and tidied up, deciding to push the dream that had felt far too real into an equally tidy place in her thoughts, as well. |