Sympathy Daniels (no_sympathy) wrote in lost_world, @ 2013-09-28 13:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !status: complete, senjen ambrose, sympathy daniels |
DAMN IT (Ambrose)
When she woke up in the room, Sympathy was immediately frustrated. There was no bright sun, no sandy beach, no sound of water lovingly lapping at the earth. No wild cacophony of birds and other animals filling the salty air. She threw the pillows off of the bed - a bed that had been taken off her ship, not the Anna Cortez, but the Remorse - and stood up to promptly begin to break things that were strewn about her.
That's when she realized they were her things, and that the bed was hers, too. The clothing she was wearing were the ones she had first worn and not the modern attire she'd found on the Samhain/Savior's Birth planet, nor the strange garb from the black and white one, though she did find those when she looked in the great oak dresser. Everything she had acquired was there. Everything. Even the odd hair soaps.
And her weapons.
Sympathy enjoyed the warmth of the shower before dressing herself, a luxury that she'd gotten to know after her time with Dean Winchester and didn't know if she would ever be able to let go of now, and then strapped herself to the teeth with the knives and pistols she was used to carrying. The weight felt good. Familiar. The clothes moved with her body and made her relaxed.
But she was still upset about the loss of the island. The delicious fruits. Oddly, her rabbit water bags were hanging on a hook on the wall. She noticed this as she stared at what had to be the door. A thing she could not figure out.
"Open." She said gently to it. "Open, por favor."
Nothing.
"Open, now."
Nothing.
"Open, estupido. I need to get OUT."
Nothing.
"FUCKING OPEN, YOU PUTA MIERDA, LET ME THE HELL OUT!" She hit the door with the flat of her hand, and the resounding thunk that returned informed her that it was not something she could break through.