Jean Grey (greyed_out) wrote in x_2012, @ 2010-10-24 13:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | blindfold, phoenix, professor x, shaman, sinister, wisdom |
SCREAM
Who: Jean OT any telepaths
What: Jean has a brief moment of lucidity
When: she doesn't know it, but it's Sunday Morning, 10-24
Where: she has no idea. Somewhere in NY....
Warnings: none
OOC NOTE: This is the start of a plot arch. Any telepaths are welcome to have heard her scream and respond in this thread although they won't reach her (they can try though!).
The shivering finally woke Jean up. Cold. So cold.
It was dark, too, the darkness only exacerbating the cold. Made it more intense until it seemed to seep into her pores and grip her very bones to wrap around her soul. What was left of it.
This wasn't the first time she'd woken up shivering with the cold, and like every time it had happened before she reached for her hair. In this world without light that she'd been trapped it, it was the only way for her to judge the passage of time. She ran her fingers through it, trying to judge if it had grown since the last time she'd regained consciousness. It seemed longer, but it was so very hard to judge when she couldn't see her hands... or her hair.
Curled on her side on the hard bed, she pulled her legs up to her chest in a fetal position, wrapping her arms around them and slowly rocking herself both to find some comfort and to try and conserve what little body heat she had here. The thin blanket that covered her did help, and as she clutched it around her she slowly began to feel warm again.
Of course as she warmed she started to hear them again, as if her mind was beginning to thaw out. It was faint at first, just a whisper of sound, a single voice whispering, whispering, whispering....
Please... please no... make it stop! Make them stop! Please... PLEASE!!! she sobbed in her head, praying without knowing who she was praying to. Someone... anyone... PLEASE!
If there was an answer, though, it was lost in the rising cacophony in Jean's mind until she was reduced to screaming, her voice echoing off the stone walls of her dark cell. Eventually they'd hear her and come with the needles that brought her the salvation of oblivion, that promised peace. She hated it and craved it and the craving made her hate it all the more. What's happening to me? was her last coherent thought before her conscious mind shut down in self-preservation, this time before her screaming brought her to the attention of the men with the needles.