Re: Gatsby: Wren/Loki
She was hands and knees on the scorched grass, and she tried to push herself up. Once, twice, three times and she fell forward and her voice became hoarse jagged shards, The screams turned to cries, then to sobs, then to dampness that fell and made the ground beneath her sizzle. She'd never felt anything so terrible in her life. Never, ever, not even that month of torment she'd willingly accepted in order to find Gus. Not even that, and she saw him retreat through her peripheral vision, and she was grateful.
She wanted to stand, to get up, to push herself away and run. Run back to Luke, apologize for having done this. It was stupid, and it was stupid, but she couldn't move. Her hands and knees were scraped, and she would have to get cleaned up before she went home. She was going to be late. Her hour, she was going to be late, but better late than letting Luke see her like this. He would come for the man in the red and green. She didn't want that. Non, that couldn't happen.
She pushed herself up to her knees with a cry that shattered windows in the distance, but she didn't notice. She didn't even register the sound as anything more than sound, and she finally managed to get to her feet.
"Hi?" she asked, wondering if he was still there, but her voice was gone, not there, a whisper of nothing that still managed to creak. She wrapped her arms around herself, and she began walking toward the house with the destroyed windows.