Brielle is not the one that is (ouverte) wrote in rooms,
Re: brielle & wren, gatsby
[Her cousin, the bird, le riotelet. Blood dissolved across the seas of time and hotel door corridors and wrongs unintended(held close to weak chests and worried minds). Brielle thought that she should reach out and take the other's hand, confess to anything and everything with apologies running in rivulets from her eyes, so long as her cousine might stop saying such horrible things to the papered strangers with weapons and masks and masculinity that terrified her. Sil vous plait, she thought.
But then the world went white and diamond sharp, with pain that seared through her head. Ears popped and glass exploded from the windows. From the floor, where she'd landed without conscious effort or realization, she could see Wren's shoes retreating. Brielle's heartbeat was a dull throb in her chest and an agonizing pressure in her head that left behind only muffled sound where should have been riotous, consuming thuds. The floor vibrated with boots and heels on the stairs, and somebody helped her off the floor. Lips moved and all she heard was ringing.
They led her, weak ankles dragging, out of the room so that a doctor might be fetched. The reflection of a hallway mirror stared back at her with violet eyes of widespread panic and phantom pallor. Blood dripped from her nose and her ears and she was unconscious by the time they carried her down the stairs.]