sobloodywelsh (sobloodywelsh) wrote in marinanova, @ 2014-10-19 23:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | gwen cooper, kitty pryde (aoa), spike |
Day 293 | Late Evening | Open actiong
[It is late night before Gwen Cooper finds herself outside of the small sparsly furnished apartment she has learnt to call her home. The day has passed her by,but not in the way lazy sundays do, quickly running through your fingers and filled with sweet nothings. No it had passed slowly. Terribly so. Every second had felt not like the ticking of a clock but a thick and heavy heartbeat stretching from beyond the limitations of the clocks and into her.
The morning had not started quite as bad. There had been that plummeting moment before she opened her eyes, those fractions of a heartbeat when she had forgotten where she was,and all of a sudden remembered. Then the morning announcment had come. And something had struck her. The first thing, the first of many, that had kept her inside this day.
The day's where off. When you are being confined against your will and they allow you to keep track of time, you remember the days. And these weren't right.
The rest of the day had seeped through the cracks of her apartment floor as she lay competely still on it, and listened to the new voices, saw the new faces,on the piece of technology Torchwood should have, but hadn't, made her accostumed to.
But now the night has fallen, and Gwen makes her way outside. It is wet. So very wet. Thins that used to be whole are broken. Torn aport by a storm she is certain that she should have heard. Standing still outside of her apartment she draws breath, and then let's it out, slowly between pursed lips. Emptying her lungs into the cold night air as if it was a rude intrusion. A violation, a revolution, from her to her captors, there you go, there you have it you bastards!
Then she breaths in once more, standing still, not able to move one more step.]