Deliria; (curo) wrote in mandalus, @ 2013-02-04 16:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | * npc: deliria |
002 dream; ᴛɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ sɪɴɢs
[This madness, this pain. Her families war, and Deliria has one purpose. To keep them alive. Even if they thought she was awful. They didn't know what she was meant to do.
She was meant to love them.] Hey Jude... take a... sad song and make it better. [Whatever else can be said about her, she sings, and the effect is immediate and pure. It lulls. It gives a sense of peace that perhaps... the rest of her doesn't. But her goal is one thing: peace, otherwise denied to those in her care.
The song is a little distracted at the moment, just floating bye. She seems to be busy moving things, device in one hand and pillows in the other. Just pillows. Bright pink edged in white lace, complimenting the shade of baby pink of her skirts. She drops the pillows into a pile where there already seem to be dozens.
That's all well and good if it weren't the Winchester's Panic Room, and in the middle of those garish coloured pillows and lace and fluffy blankets, were Sam and Dean Winchester. She looked down at them both, her song shift as her mood did. It seems to mourn, deeply from the very edges of the soul, only she's not singing, it just seems to come from the air itself, many voices carrying at once, instead Deliria talks as the songs plays on.]
You are very silly brothers. My siblings would never be so foolish, they know I need them too much to die and they need you. I need you too, like I need them. Does that make it family when you need some body? Then we all need each other. We need to fight this war, together. That makes it family doesn't it?
[Of course, there is no answer from them, even if they logic of her question is twisted. They're dead. But to her they are simply waiting to get better. She leans in, ruffling Sam's hair. Amazingly enough, his shirt is gone again. Dean's got on a shirt that proudly states He Wuvs Hugs] It's alright though. The others are fighting, you shall rest now. You are safe here, my dear ones.
[Her smile shifts a little, and she drops and curls up between them, tucking Dean's arm around her waist as she lent her forehead on Sam's shoulder. After a moments consideration, she lent over to a little cut on Sam's cheek. The wound was clean now, she pressed her fingertip against it.] Tua me confortat, promissio, tua me deportat, negatio. [As she sings again, she runs her finger over the cut, like running over a seam, and it stitches the cut back together, with no scar, and no pain on Sam's behalf.] The others will take longer, but you're with me now. [The blanket is tucked up around her chin, and she wriggles about until she's completely comfortable.] Don't you two know by now? Family is better than heaven.
[the song turns to a soft, and more hopeful one.] My siblings, please be alright, else I shall weep myself out of songs. I'll be home when they no longer have need of me. [She nestles in again, wrapped up with them, and her eyes close.]