Missy Peloe (_inlocalnews) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-10-23 14:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-09-19, missy |
laying alone with the history that made you cold & uncertain inside
Who: Missy (And dream!NPC's)
Where: Dreamland (Australia, NYC)
When: 4 a.m.
Warning: Mentions of violence
His shirt was a light blue - or at least it had been. The upper half was stained with a dark red that had turned it into a sort of purple that was still damp when Missy closed her fingers around the sharpened piece of wood that had been driven through his heart. "Luke..." Fifteen, he was fifteen and had never even killed a thing in his life, not yet. Missy yanked the stake up and threw it as hard as she could against the wall before she cradled the dead body of her little brother. She closed his mouth with blood-stained fingers and tore off a piece of her own shirt to wipe the dark, mostly dried trails of blood off of his face. He should not have even been here for this. A year ago and she would have dragged him off with her and Kristen for the day no matter how much he protested that he could have stayed if he wanted. She should have done that. She should have done something. She should... no, she should not have been there. What would have happened to Kristen? The bile was thick in her throat, but somehow Missy kept her food down as she kissed Luke's chill forehead and tried to fix his messy, sandy-blonde hair.
That was everyone. Her mum by the front door with her throat torn out like a dog had been at it, her dad in the living room with his head twisted all the way around, uncle Tim's wife pale as a ghost and completely drained and her cousin Timmy, the only one under the age of their parents who could out-shoot her... his hand still clutched his gun, but the arm was all the way across the room from him. Missy was crying into Luke's hair when she heard it.
In reality it had just been a faint creaking she hardly heard, but in this nightmare it was the only thing she could. It sounded loud as a gunshot, calling her to the backyard. No, no, no, the thought was baseless, but it echoed in Missy's head as she set Luke back on the ground and stood. Don't! Don't go back there! How could anything in the world be worse than what she had already seen? Just stop, not again, stop it, stop it, stop it! Again? None of this was making any sense as Missy drug her feet - it was harder to step out that door than it ever had been in her life - and went outside.
The backyard had looked completely normal that day. The grass was a little too long, a few of Kristen's toys were scattered outside of the sandbox and there had been a line of cans, half knocked over, on the fence that Luke had obviously been using for target practice. But in this dream it was like all of those little things that made it a normal yard, that made it home, had been made impossibly vivid. Missy could not keep from looking at Kristen's toys or Luke's target practice, or the old and slightly frayed soccer net and ball over in that corner that she and Marianne had spent hours in front of when they were in middle school. They had been painted with a brush that made seem 3-D against a flat and lifeless background. And still, they were nothing compared to what was making the swing creak.
Missy had lived her entire life looking up to her big sister Marianne, Mari. Everyone said that they looked alike, but Missy always knew that Mari was the prettier one. Her hair was a lighter shade of blonde and her eyes were such a dark blue that, in the right light and if she was wearing the right top, they looked like they had been touched violet. Mari was the better hunter - Missy was the better shot, but Mari had the instincts and was a better tracker - and everyone loved her. Or that was how Missy always remembered it. She forgot that Mari could be more sarcastic than anyone and that she was really just human with faults like everyone else. But in her dreams and her memories, just like with everyone else who had died, Missy remembered nothing but the good. Go back inside the house. Wake up! Mari stood out more than anything else, and so did the sword that she had laid across her lap. It was their dad's and he took it on every hunt. He said that it was more personal that way, and a better hunt, if you could get close enough to take off their head with the silver-edged thing. But even though they were both fully grown women he had never let them try it, saying they needed to at least be thirty. Yet there Mari was, holding it, and he was going to be so - oh. No he was not, he was dead in the house.
"Marianne..." In reality, Missy had screamed that name, but here her voice was a whisper as she stepped forward. And there had been a conversation. Mari had told her to stop, not to come any closer, and there had been a terrible strain on her voice. Except none of that happened, it was like they skipped it all right to the 'good part' when Mari opened her mouth and Missy saw inside. Saw the sharpness of her teeth and then the marks on the side of her neck. "Take those out of your mouth."
"Can't."
"Take them out! Mum said-"
"Mum's dead. What she says doesn't matter anymore."
Really, Mari had told her what had happened and Missy had denied every single bit of it because her big sister, her idol, could not have been made into this. Their family could not be dead and her sister could not be one of the things that had killed them. It was impossible. It was the worst nightmare in the world and she could not wake up from it. Only things were different here and instead of doing anything as she should have, Mari got off the swing and walked towards her. The sword dangled from her hand as she reached out and pulled up Missy's lip, touching her thumb to the sharp fang that resided inside her mouth. Missy had not had fangs then, she had been human, but here...
"I'll take mine out if you do yours."
It was like two different worlds were mixing together, because Missy was here in Australia, but at the same time she knew why she had fangs. It was impossible, but it was happening. "It wasn't my fault. I couldn't..."
"Neither could I." Mari was no longer a solid figure, but a wispy sort of thing that looked wrong against the vividness of the rest of the yard. "But I did the right thing." Her wispy head toppled to the ground and Missy's horrified eyes followed it. "But I did the right thing and I ended it." Heads could not talk when they had been cut off! It might not have happened right then, but Missy could still see the spray of blood that had happened when Mari had put the sword through her neck with that impossible vampire strength. "What did you do? Huh, Missy? You're living with her." A flash of Nikita's house. "You kissed her." The other night... Missy's legs trembled and she sank to the ground. She wanted to cover her face, but it was impossible to break eye contact with Mari's detached head. "You and Kristen! You're supposed to be taking care of her and you let her live with a vampire? What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to you? You should've killed her in New York! Why didn't you kill her the moment you realized what she was?! I would've!"
"You don't under-"
"I don't! You're a Peloe, Melissa, you know what we do to vampires! Look what they did to us!" In a flash all of the bodies were there in that yard with them. "You're a disgrace to our name! You're nothing to us. You don't deserve to raise Kristen. It should've been me who lived." Missy could not even deny that, she had actually thought the same thing herself countless times, but hearing the words was enough and she stood, running back to the house just to get away from this. From Mari's hateful words, from the bodies of her family, from the yard that had been ruined into the house that was just as blood-stained...
But when she stepped through the door it all vanished in that way it only can in dreams. The blood she was covered in was gone, her clothes changed from something casual to a skirt and nice turquoise colored blouse that she had picked out because she knew it matched Nikita's eyes. Her hair was swept up and the purse she was carrying was the one she had had in New York. Because she was in New York, and arriving at Nikita's penthouse after work. Kristen was having a sleepover with a few of the girls from her gymnastics team and she had decided to have one of her own. She had been working hard all week, both at the station and at night, and she deserved to take a night off. She kicked her heels off at the door and set her purse down with the key tucked inside and padded towards where she thought she could hear Nikita in the kitchen. Which would just be odd, she did not think that she had ever seen Nikita in the kitchen and they had been going out for several months now. When she reached the kitchen she crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a smile curving one corner of her mouth when she saw Nikita sitting on the counter and smiling towards her. She never could manage to sneak up on the Russian. "What are you doing in here? I didn't think you knew how to cook." There was a teasing lilt to her voice.
"I can cook," Nikita corrected, raising one hand to crook her finger at Missy in an invitation that Missy accepted without hesitating. She stepped right up to her, sliding in-between her legs with her hands going to her waist like they belonged there. And it felt like they did, she always felt like everything she did with Nikita fit just right. "Made this wonderful dinner for you, didn't I?" One of her hands came up, the fingers toying with the material of Missy's blouse. "Now you have to eat it and tell me how I did. I'd hate to go through all this effort only to disappoint you."
Missy laughed, leaning in to brush a kiss against Nikita's lips that turned into a longer, more drawn-out one than she had intended. That happened an awful lot with her. "I don't think you even know how to disappoint me." Which led to yet another kiss and, like also happened an awful lot, dinner was cold before they even got to it.
While Nikita was off slipping into something more comfortable - where the time had gone Missy did not know, she would have sworn she only just came into the penthouse and yet already hours had passed - a chill ran down Missy's back. She was and was not surprised when she saw Marianne sitting across the table from her, her figure as wispy and not-quite-there as it had been before. "You love her."
"It's too early to really tell..."
"No it's not, you do." The penthouse was shifting, changing, and when it settled they were still in a kitchen. Only it was Nikita's kitchen now and instead of plates on the table there were glasses stained red from blood. "You did then and you do now. Despite what she did to you, what she is?"
"I... I don't..."
Mari, or Mari's ghost, laughed. "You've never been able to lie to me."
"You're dead."
"So are you."
"Come on, Missy," the voice drifted from down the hall, tugging at something deep inside of Missy when she heard a longing note mixed in with the playfulness. "I'm waiting for you."
Missy stood up, tears in her eyes. Red tears. Blood tears. "I'm sorry, Mari. I didn't mean to." She glanced towards the hall that would lead to Nikita and then back at the chair, only to find that that wisp of a woman was gone. "I'm so sorry..." And she was, she truly was, but at the same time she knew that she wanted to go to Nikita. She wanted to walk through that door and be welcome, she wanted Nikita to look at her like she had before. This may have been a dream, it had to be a dream, but at least something good could happen here. At least she could have happiness here before she woke up and hated herself again.