Who: Morgana (Open to Lancelot) What: Bad things are coming, so you know, vision because Morgana can never have dreams of good things When: Middle of the night when people sleep. (24/25 November 2012) Where: Lancelot and Morgana's apartment Warnings: Death and destruction, confusion/fear, exploding windows...(Sorry, Lancelot!) Status: Narrative (?)
Morgana hated sleep. Most people loved it, but years of nightmares, visions that made no sense now that she knew what they were, they made it impossible. Some nights were easier. When the subconscious mind had nothing to stress about. When she could just sleep either a dreamless sleep or at least not one wrought in terror. But she had already learned that sleeping in a spelled room to suppress her dreams was more harmful than beneficial as her body seemed to respond to the dreams and left her confused and tired, and then when she did have nightmares or visions that broke through, they were worse than before. So after officially moving into one of the doubles with Lancelot, the spelled room was no more.
By the time Morgana was ready to sleep, she was exhausted. Even though it had been over a week since the incident at camp, she was still stressed that she didn’t have as much control on her powers as she had thought. Usually she was fine. But it seemed that whenever she was emotionally distressed, terrified, on edge, that control slipped and she needed to keep that from happening. If there were one thing that could be said about Morgana, it was that she was determined to make a path for herself, a path with magic perhaps, but not the path it seemed history and that idiotic television show had painted for her. And the first step was complete control of her abilities.
The trip into a world of lowered barriers and being open to the visions that haunted her was easy. Almost as soon as she laid her head down, she was unconscious, sleep taking a firm hold on the young woman, almost as if it wanted her to be within its grasps.
Everything was in chaos. Smoke. Bodies strewn on the streets. Some looked to be burned, charred... some slashed, blood pooling around their bodies. Churches and places of worship crumpled to the ground. Black eyes, so many people had black eyes. Some even had white. She knew what that meant. Demons.
Feeling a hand grab her arm, Morgana turned and struggled. A man, blond, sneering... his hand over her chest and then glowing, an emptiness filling the void where her magic should have been, that same man smirking.
“The lord giveth and the lord taketh”
It made no sense. She was born with magic, it had chosen her and yet....on instinct, she tried to fight, to use her powers, but nothing happened and he just laughed at her.
“Who are you now, Morgana le Fey? Feared sorceress reduced to nothing.”
Eyes narrowing, she struggled to get up, to repeat the exorcism only to hear laughter surround her.
“You think that will save you?”
Getting flung back into a wall, Morgana cried out in pain, only to stare in shock. Bodies. Bodies of the displaced. Strewn and broken, shattered.
Waking up with a scream, she looked about. She was in her room. And... had blown the window out. She was freezing. Was that a vision? It had to be... nothing else filled her with such terror. But never had it been so widespread. There was the vision from home, her last one before being here... every other vision always focused on one person, someone she couldn’t lose. But those people.. they had been strangers, people she never spoke to, people she recognized and people she needed.
Shaking, Morgana got out of bed and headed to the door of her room. She needed something to drink. She needed to make sense of what she had just seen. Was it a nightmare or was it a vision? Did she say anything? Would anyone listen? What could they even do with the information?
What good was having visions if she couldn’t make sense of them? If they did nothing but show destruction and no way to stop it? What was the point of any of this?