WHO: Hecate and Luna WHEN: Sunday night after the great dickish curse off WHERE: Luna's place WHAT: Waking up WARNINGS: Could be mentions of assault
Hecate woke from the dark in the dark.
She had no dreams, just a half conscious feeling of her throat burnt up with bile, only the feeling was not just in her throat. A river of dark heat through the center of her. A particularly strong and sudden current of it dragged her back to the waking world and she bolted upright in the bed with a sharp gasp of naked fear. She didn't know where she was, but the only thing that mattered right now about this place was that it was penetrable.
She threw up a protective bubble around herself, pushing it out to incorporate it into the walls of this place, especially the doorway where any war god could currently step over the threshold. It would not hold through much. Compared to what she was normally capable was it was woeful, like nailing an old board across a door that opened both ways.
It was all she could manage.
Feeling no less safe but now thrice as exhausted, Hecate crumbled back into sleep.
When she woke again it was either still dark, or dark again. She knew this: her body felt ravaged and violated. And more ordinary things like exhausted and dehydrated. Her muscles strained as she pushed herself up, looking around, expecting Hecuba and Serene, or even Gal, and finding an entirely unfamiliar room. There was water beside the bed, though; water she drank in slow, cold sips, remembering how she'd leaned on Luna, surmising that Luna must have taken her home.
And half expecting, as she stumbled out of the bedroom and into the lounge, to find Ares waiting for her, Luna lying broken at his feet.