bubblywishes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bubblywishes) wrote2014-06-09 08:11 pm
bubblywishes) wrote2014-06-09 08:11 pm
Entry tags:
☆ Eighteenth Wish ☆ - [Action | Voice]
[Waking was like bursting through a veil of frigid water. Gasping and jerking into a sitting position, Norma casts her bleary gaze left and right quickly, half expecting to see herself surrounded by ash, blood and cultist soldiers. Her chest burns with her quick movements (as well as other parts of her aching body) and her fist clutches the middle of it, digging her fingers painfully into the fabric of her clothes.
With each breath, Norma tries to get a grip on what happened and where she is. The air isn't thick with smoke and ash and the smell of decay like she remembered being in. Truth be told, the air now was fresh, crisp, fragrant... Pushing her hair from her face and just forcing herself into a calm state, she finally manages to make sense of where she was.
It was the Memory Garden. Snorting at the irony, Norma tries to get up, wincing at the cracks and pops of her stiff muscles and sore bones. She really does feel like she just came back from the dead... And as she thinks back on the memories right before it happened, her fingers brush insistently into her clothes, searching for any sort of bullet holes or marks that would give away what really happened. The others may or may not know...and she isn't sure she even wantsto tell them. Norma knows she has to, eventually, but she can't bring herself to even think of going home right now. So, as she gropes around, she finds her journal and shoves it under one arm without even thinking. Her mind's working automatically right now.
So, instead, she drags herself to the bar (it was the closest establishment, and the first she could think of), enters through the back, and just...collapses in a heap in one corner, head in her hands and tears welling up in her eyes. She can taste something sour in her mouth and idly wonders if she's going to throw up - wouldn't that be fun to explain to whoever finds her here - but thankfully the contents in her stomach remain there. But her ears are ringing and her head is a mess of thoughts and memories and fears. She died. It finally happened and she really died in Luceti. She got shot and died and now here she is again. Who knew? Would she have to come clean to her housemates? To Grune? To Sophie?
...No, Sophie shouldn't know. She has to bite her tongue and hope to high heaven nothing was told to the poor kid.
It's a good hour or more that Norma stays crouched in a corner in the back of the bar, shaking and letting the tears dribble down her face before she gets a grip on herself and decides she has to come clean sooner or later. Her intent was to write a written message, but as she presses her pen to the paper and tries to write, all Norma can see are weird shapes and sqiggly lines before it blurs together into one big mess. She thinks nothing of it - just post draft nerves and her own mental instability - and instead takes a massive gulp of air and puts on her well-practiced mask of cheerfulness and indifference.]
Everyone, I'm back! Tell me some good news, too. I could use a serious pick-me-up.
With each breath, Norma tries to get a grip on what happened and where she is. The air isn't thick with smoke and ash and the smell of decay like she remembered being in. Truth be told, the air now was fresh, crisp, fragrant... Pushing her hair from her face and just forcing herself into a calm state, she finally manages to make sense of where she was.
It was the Memory Garden. Snorting at the irony, Norma tries to get up, wincing at the cracks and pops of her stiff muscles and sore bones. She really does feel like she just came back from the dead... And as she thinks back on the memories right before it happened, her fingers brush insistently into her clothes, searching for any sort of bullet holes or marks that would give away what really happened. The others may or may not know...and she isn't sure she even wantsto tell them. Norma knows she has to, eventually, but she can't bring herself to even think of going home right now. So, as she gropes around, she finds her journal and shoves it under one arm without even thinking. Her mind's working automatically right now.
So, instead, she drags herself to the bar (it was the closest establishment, and the first she could think of), enters through the back, and just...collapses in a heap in one corner, head in her hands and tears welling up in her eyes. She can taste something sour in her mouth and idly wonders if she's going to throw up - wouldn't that be fun to explain to whoever finds her here - but thankfully the contents in her stomach remain there. But her ears are ringing and her head is a mess of thoughts and memories and fears. She died. It finally happened and she really died in Luceti. She got shot and died and now here she is again. Who knew? Would she have to come clean to her housemates? To Grune? To Sophie?
...No, Sophie shouldn't know. She has to bite her tongue and hope to high heaven nothing was told to the poor kid.
It's a good hour or more that Norma stays crouched in a corner in the back of the bar, shaking and letting the tears dribble down her face before she gets a grip on herself and decides she has to come clean sooner or later. Her intent was to write a written message, but as she presses her pen to the paper and tries to write, all Norma can see are weird shapes and sqiggly lines before it blurs together into one big mess. She thinks nothing of it - just post draft nerves and her own mental instability - and instead takes a massive gulp of air and puts on her well-practiced mask of cheerfulness and indifference.]
Everyone, I'm back! Tell me some good news, too. I could use a serious pick-me-up.
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