|pyroprincess (pyroprincess) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2012-03-06 00:36:00
|Entry tags:||alexander halliwell-thorn, aurora moriarty|
Who: Aurora and Alex
When: Backdated to yesterday evening, 05/03/2012
Where: A junkyard
What: Angst and destruction?
Status: In progress
Aurora didn't bother waiting for Alex to reply before putting on her jacket, grabbing her bag and leaving the house. Her Dad pulled her into a hug before she left but she shrugged it off, instead of being grateful for the attention like she normally would - she didn't want affection right now, she wanted to see things burn and feel in control of something again. Which was a bit of an oxymoron, fire being so hard to contain, but she didn't care. It would make her feel better, it had to.
The journey passed in silence as she stared out the window, expressionless, motionless. Nothing outside the car was being observed, really, but the fear of what lay behind her eyelids stopped her from closing them. Every second in the dark reminded her of being helpless, of her rage and the inability to do anything with it. That feeling, the powerlessness, wouldn't leave her now. Even though she was safe, even though Meg was gone and had suffered through far, far worse than she had, Aurora still couldn't shake that overwhelming sensation of weakness. She couldn't be weak, she was a Moriarty, she hadn't begged or whimpered like the bitch had wanted her to. But the feeling wouldn't go away.
She wanted her room, with all her things. She wanted her parents, the one who knew her at this age, who understood her as much as parents could. And more than anything she wanted her Alex, the one who always calmed her and brought her back to herself. The one who would hold her, who she could cry in front of and not feel judged, just comforted. The one who had pacified her a thousand times, whose arms she ran to every time she thought she wanted out of it all. She wanted her normal, familiar, life, without time travel or torture or demons who took her for no good reason. At least the gangster she had destroyed had done something to deserve it. What had she done? Nothing! She'd never even spoke to Meg, never mind invited torture. She'd even warned Patty, for Alex's sake, but it hadn't meant anything in the end. The two of them had been taken and her gorgeous, too young boyfriend would have to deal with that. In the future, their future, he would have been ok, she had taught him so much. But now? She wasn't sure. And she wasn't sure she could help him with it either.
Arriving at the junkyard, she looked for Alex without luck. She was first this time it seemed. Telling the driver to stay in the car, she slid out and made her way to the gate. A dig through her bag, a hair pin and one dismantled padlock later she walked into the junkyard and instinctually made her way to the clearing they been in last time. It took every ounce of self control she had not to run through the narrower gaps, not to glance behind her as she walked, but she didn't. She could act strong, even if no one was watching. She could fool herself at the very least.
She walked around the edge of the junk piles slowly, running a finger over jutting planks and warped steel. Some of it was crushed prior to being brought here, some of it after, but most of it was her future lovers work. It was oddly reassuring, knowing that.
On impulse, and maybe to distract herself from her thoughts while she waited, she opened her bag and took out two cans of lighter fluid, letting them douse the ground as she circled. She stopped at the entrance she'd come through, turning and making her way back along her path til she reached it again, and back once more until the cans ran empty.
Moving to the centre of her circle she sat, cross legged, her bag tucked in next to her and her arms wrapped around knees. Slowly and deliberately, a zippo was sparked and flung without looking and the doused ground ignited, the flames spreading until the surrounded her, with only a gap at the opening for Alex to walk through. This was better. This way he could see her as he should. Encompassed in her own flames.