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Pandora Montgomery (pandacharms) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Don't hurt them either," Dora said, eyes darting around without really seeing what was in front of her. Her gaze never settled on Orla, seeing instead things in her mind, threats that lurked in the woods. Blood, danger, threat, they better not hurt her family, not after everything she'd done. "That was the deal. Don't hurt them. I'll do whatever you want." The words tumbled out between struggling breathes. Her complexion was pale and clammy, like someone either ill or half a step away from fainting.

Her back hit the wall, inducing another surge of panic. Her heart felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest. Dora's hand rubbed her chest and throat, unconsciously trying to help herself draw breath. Magic sparked faintly off her hair, roiling and threatening to spill over though not seemingly in a violent manner.

She needed to breathe. Her hands came up and covered her eyes, a move that went all the way back to her youngest childhood. Always having been hard of hearing, it had been what she'd done to block out the world and center herself, even moreso when she'd lost more of her hearing. Her aides were still working, though, and she finally registered Orla's speech.

She peeked from between fingers at her. "Orla?" She said uncertainly, between shallow, inefficient gasps. Her eyes darted around again, registering more and not quite as glassy as the moment before. "Not... not at st mungos, am I?" That was a different terror, a different nightmare. She peered worriedly at the other woman through the faint stars speckling her vision, associating her at thr moment only with the place she'd really known her. "Don't let them take me there. Don't don't don't."

Her knees, weak already, buckled slightly and Dora sat down on the floor abruptly with a small sound of distress, but her back was safe against a wall even if those awful paintings were nearby, and her head was near her knees, prompting her to put it between them. She still wasn't aware enough to know her legs were akimbo or her robes rucked up in a way she'd be aghast at later, but Orla had made her a little more aware of her surroundings as opposed to her memories. She started to gulp down air, pulling everything back into herself. It settled her slightly, and Dora was able to stop murmuring about memories and start a quiet chanting count, starting in Latin for the focus it forced on her. She'd start backwards in French once she wasn't still caught up in a cascade.