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somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep [.open.]
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There's always somethin'... |
Harbinger of DOOM
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Post by Scribe on Jun 22, 2014 2:37:07 GMT -5
Arthur Wallenby went through a series of facial transitions as his attention briefly turned to the young girl. At first, he gestured with a placating hand in a plea to curb her frustration, which he had noticed boil but had not reasoned why. Her explanation shifted his look to brief confusion and then curious wonder. How could a child have such a twisted view on this subject? If somebody wanted to hurt Jeremy, they could just walk up and do it, none of the plebeians would interfere until it proved too late. Arthur made certain to hold his tongue. I cannot guarantee either case. Arthur suspected Jeremy might challenge the notion in the same vein he had, but what remained important, at all times, was recognizing intent. I merely hoped to reassure the young man of his safety, not everyone is like the shadows in his past. Convincing himself of his own intentions did little to mitigate the turn this might have taken. He only helped that her addition had not ruined the boy's trust.
The aged doctor found himself looking out the window, into the street where Jeremy had indicated. He could nearly imagine the scene as it had unfolded. At this, he felt no need to press his own questions or offer speculation. Lisette had offered her own voice to the conversation, much more amiably than prior, and her inquiry lay in proper rounds. Good to get the boy talking, but perhaps not to get him thinking about potentially lost friends. Arthur had spent some time going through the files of returning students, to better meet their needs in the aftershock of the winter's events. Unfortunately, he had seen no mention of an Ansleigh or Robbert. He raised his mug in a smooth, casual motion, and drank the rich, burning cocoa to hide his own nervous swallow.
"Ah," Visibly relieved, Arthur placed his mug to the table and rose out of his seat. Just outside, a man wearing Albion Hospital's insignia searched for the potential patient. But no one was laying in the street waiting for him to treat. Turning his attention, once again, to Jeremy, Arthur pressed, "I will insist that you see a physician, young man. Your injuries, despite your protests, should be tended to. Now, if you will not allow this man-" He indicated with a small gesture out the window, so that Jeremy could view the medical professional if he so desired, "-to treat you, then I must tell him not to linger."
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Post by Tempest on Jun 22, 2014 12:16:00 GMT -5
Jeremy nodded at Lisette's offer of pie, the gesture losing all subtlety as he stared at the food as intently as a wolf stares at prey. However, he did not touch it until he saw her consume some. Even then, he wielded the fork as though expecting everything to suddenly explode. He dipped the utensil into the custard-y pie center, lifting it gingerly to his mouth. He closed his eyes, heaving a soft sigh as it went down. "Been a long time," he muttered. "Forgot how sweet it is."
The boy aimed a distant stare at the table, over the scars that years of custom left behind. Quietly, he murmured, "Gone. Mistress took Robbert. Ansleigh..." he swallowed again, opening his mouth and closing it a couple times in hesitation. He shook his head and let his statement drift into strained silence.
Jeremy lifted his head, leveling a somehow-calmer look at Arthur. After the space of a few seconds, he answered the man's statement. "I... won't fight it. Do I need to go back outside?" He didn't look away from the psychologist, even with the gesture the man made. And, despite the apparent tranquility in his words and his eyes, he perched on the edge of his seat and his fingers tightened around the fork.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jun 22, 2014 21:37:46 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
If the topic they were discussing hadn't been so serious, Lisette might have laughed at the emotions fighting to rise to the surface on the psychiatrist's face. But of course, out of respect for the matter at hand, she refrained from doing so. She found another piece of twisted humor in this whole adventure; Jeremy's expression as he stared at the piece of pie she'd offered him was so intense it was nearly comical. These thoughts made her wonder exactly how messed up her mind was.
"Eat up, chum," she said, almost cheerily. "The pie here is pretty brill." The words came naturally to her tongue, having heard them and used them her entire life. Before today, though, she hadn't been given much cause to use them.
The boy's response to her inquiry about the names he'd mentioned was... unhelpful. Because of this, Lacey didn't give it much thought, and instead continued to eat her pie and drink her chocolate.
She was happy to take a back seat when Arthur began to talk to Jeremy about getting treatment, looking up when he gestured to the hospital worker standing outside. He looked explicably confused, given that the person he was supposed to, for lack of better word, collect had, well... changed locations.
Jeremy had seemed to calm down quite a bit, speaking coherently and reasonably now, so Lisette hoped that he would see reason and allow himself to be taken to the hospital. If he didn't, then she would step in and get him to the hospital however she needed to. Hopefully, it wouldn't get to that point, though.
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There's always somethin'... |
Harbinger of DOOM
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Post by Scribe on Jun 24, 2014 15:38:27 GMT -5
Arthur was completely taken aback by Jeremy's change in attitude. The boy had agreed much more readily than Arthur had expected. He knew better than to think it was his own commanding tone, and instead suspected that it might be due to the atmosphere of comfort, warmth, and -most importantly- pie. It seemed his measures and caution had proven some worth, after all.
"In a moment," He parted from the table briefly, leaving the pair alone with their hot cocoa for the better half of a minute. When he returned, the EMT followed.
"Hello, Jeremy," The medic offered in a consolatory tone, "My name is Jacob." Jacob seemed as nondescript of an individual as one could expect. The only intent of importance lay in the uniform. After a brief look, with some reservation given to whatever half minute conversation Arthur had swayed him under, the man's eyes showed alarmed concern.
"Not all his, he says," Arthur interrupted the man before he could say much of anything at the sight of the dried blood on Jeremy's clothes.
"Right. Well, Jeremy, I cannot treat you here. We will need to take you to the hospital. Can you walk to the carriage?" Apparently, 19th century cobblestone roads did not lend themselves to the practical use of an ambulance. Instead, a carriage waited outside with a single horse at the head of it. A small detachable red light and a megaphone were propped on the side, connected somewhat haphazardly to a 'music' player. The carriage itself seemed almost like it might fall apart, hardly more than a few planks of wood nailed together on wheels. One could only imagine the stress on a patient with a back injury. Normally, this kind of thing would have been avoided, but the panicked call for an ambulance seemed to require something more expedient than was currently evident.
"He certainly can," Arthur voiced, with something of a command laden in his tone. He retrieved his mug from the table and looked to Lisette with a solid gaze of an unspoken plea. If they were going to have any luck getting the boy to the hospital, they needed her on board, as well. Hopefully inevitably, the quartet would take their leave and allow the horse drawn carriage to cart them through the small town of Albion without any unexpected problems (or any of the expected ones, either). They would reach the hospital soon and get Jeremy checked in, as long as he remained permissive of their attempt.
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Post by Tempest on Jun 24, 2014 21:14:27 GMT -5
The boy took another bite of the pie, savoring it as much the second time as he had the first. He sat stiffly, his shoulders set back as though he would otherwise destroy the dessert. He was prevented from a third bite, though, by the exit of the psychologist. He watched the man leave, his gaze unblinking and he whispered (perhaps to himself since it was barely audible), "This is where it usually goes wrong. But who is the dreamer here?"
He glanced back at Lisette, his gaze containing a mixture of worry and contemplation. "Is it you? Are we awake?" In the next few seconds, the psychologist returned with the EMT and Jeremy rose to his feet. He didn't say anything as the man introduced himself. Only a subtle wariness crept into his features. That familiar flightiness lingered in the way he stood on the balls of his feet, and the way he shifted his grip on the fork.
Lisette's jacket slipped off his shoulders as he nodded, reaching for the mug of hot chocolate and the plate of pie.
If they lived in an ideal world, things would have gone smoothly from here. Then again, an ideal world would never have taken him to such a state.
The clatter of dishes from the kitchen area of the cafe caused the boy to flinch, knocking over the beverage he'd been reaching for and sending it spreading darkly over the table surface. As it spread, it turned to the consistency and color of tar. It enveloped the pecan pie and dripped thickly onto the floor.
He lifted his head, the fork in his hand crumbling to ash under his grip. There, behind the EMT, stood a girl whose medium-tan skin glowed under streaks of what was most certainly blood. She dragged a massive, glossy black sword (obsidian?) over the floor and the scraping sound drowned out all else. Her eyes and hair were a dark brown that also seemed to glow, inexplicably releasing light where they shouldn't have.
Jeremy's breath came in short, terrified pants. He managed to tell Lisette (and Arthur, though it was conveyed in a glance for the psychologist) in an undertone, "Run!" In that same moment, the girl picked up her sword and cleaved the EMT in two.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jun 25, 2014 14:10:31 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
Lisette continued to sip on her drink as Arthur went to go call the medic inside, leaving her alone with the boy. He murmured something incoherent, then louder, asked her if she was awake. She gave him a strange, questioning look, and said, "Of course we are. At least, I think we are." What a strange question. How would it be possible for her not to be awake? Had he gone barmy from hypothermia?
The EMT introduced himself as Jacob, and looked very worried as he surveyed Jeremy's blood-coated clothing. Arthur informed him that Jeremy had said the blood wasn't all his, but that didn't seem to make him any less anxious.
Jacob asked the boy if he was able to walk to the carriage, and the psychologist answered for him, saying that he could. Arthur turned his gaze to her, a pleading expression on his features. Lacey warred internally with herself, deciding whether or not to provide assistance. For Jeremy's sake, she decided to say, "Come on. I'll help you, Jeremy."
Picking up her jacket, which had fallen to the floor at some point, she waited for her companions. The boy reached for one last drink of hot chocolate, but he flinched at a noise from the kitchen, spilling the liquid, which turned into a strange, tar-like substance. His fork also turned to ash, and at a scraping noise, Lisette turned around. A glowing girl--glowing?--lifted a sword--what?--and swung it at the EMT, chopping him in half, and the girl shrieked, clamping a hand over her mouth. Jeremy whispered to run, as the glowing girl advanced on them.
~
With a small scream, the black-haired girl sat up, eyes flying open, her skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Her hands were gripping her blankets, which had been tangled into a knotted mess. Her breaths were shaky and quick, and she was shivering despite the fact that her dorm room was not at all cold.
"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath, trying to disguise her terror. Lisette glanced at her alarm clock. 5 A.M, it read. There was barely any light in her room, the only source of it being the moon, which filtered in through the translucent white drapes. Pushing herself off her bed and onto her feet, she turned on her desk lamp, heart pounding.
"It was just a dream," she murmured, trying to reassure herself. It was then that she spotted the figure huddled in the corner of her room. Stifling another scream, the girl managed to stammer, "W-who are you?"
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Post by Tempest on Jun 25, 2014 17:40:25 GMT -5
It hurt to breathe. In the dark, anybody could be lurking. Glowing Girl. Ice Man. Blade-arm. Mistress. Those four haunted his every moment, dogging his steps as relentlessly as a hound from hell. He tried to muddle through the persistent pain gnawing his insides, tried to get it together so that he could continue to run if he needed to.
This jump. Had it taken him out of a dream or into one? It was all the same to him, the same real fears and perils.
Pains, too.
In the half-light the moon provided, he could see a girl with black hair get out of her bed. He recognized her from the marketplace. She'd tried to help him there, so he relied upon that tenuous thread of familiarity to guide himself forward and out of the corner, though he felt like his legs would give out at any moment. "Lisette," he said softly, his right hand pressed to the wound on his chest.
He wore exactly what he'd worn in the dream, down to the ash coating his left hand. "I need to go-" was all he could manage before his knees quit and he listed into a piece of furniture before crashing to the floor with a hiss.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jun 25, 2014 19:02:52 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
As soon as she had seen Jeremy's form in the corner, Lisette's attempt at self-reassurance vanished into thin air. If that dream had only been a dream, then the boy would not be sitting in her room. She hadn't recognized him until he'd lifted his head, trying to walk forward. Her name was a breath escaping from his lips as he clutched his chest wound. "Jeremy?" she said hesitantly, not quite sure why she was whispering.
The sight of the ash caked onto his hand made her draw in a sharp breath. He began to say that he needed to go, but instead crumpled and hit the swivel chair resting in the middle of her room (for no reason). The chair rolled away, toward its normal spot by her desk as Jeremy landed on the floor, and Lacey could hear his breath hissing out.
Immediately, she went to him and knelt at his side. "Are you okay?" His condition in his dream seemed to have carried over into reality, and that meant he needed help. If everything from the dream was real, then not all of the blood was his, but it was still worrying.
Anxiety and helplessness were etched into her features. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, so she managed to prop him up against the nearest sturdy surface--a pile of pillows she used for reading. It was something of an effort, despite his thin frame; Lisette had never had the greatest arm strength. Switching on the wall lamp above them, she went to her mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. (She'd managed to furnish her room quite nicely in the short time she'd been here.) Uncapping it, she handed it to Jeremy and told him in a firm tone, "Drink some water." When he had gripped the bottle, she went to the small closet, grabbed a towel, and went to the bathroom to wet the hand towel.
"When you're done with that, wipe off some of that blood, okay? Then I'll take you to the nurse," she said quietly. If she had woken up and found anyone else in her room, she would have yelled at them until they left, but she couldn't bear to kick Jeremy out, considering his state and how unstable he'd seemed in the dream.
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Post by Tempest on Jun 25, 2014 21:39:51 GMT -5
Her question went unanswered. There was no real answer he could give. He was still alive. Unless this running was purgatory and he'd died a while ago. That was a thought he'd entertained before, but accepting it wasn't an option. For his part, he managed to ask, "She didn't get you, right?"
Jeremy couldn't help or hinder her efforts, his remaining strength fleeing him. He'd been running for so long. Encountering the masked boy and the girl with the sword in the dark had nearly been his undoing. Now, the last push for safety had drained his reserves. The sudden light made him squint blearily- it certainly didn't help his appearance. The direct illumination made him look gaunt and drawn (which wasn't to say that he didn't lack those qualities, but...).
His eyes darted around the room. Another place that wasn't the labyrinth. The boy took Lisette's offered water bottle with nothing more than a grateful look. Half of it was down by the time she returned with a damp towel. He quickly finished it, the liquid joining the two mouthfuls of pie that were the sole occupants of his stomach. He placed the empty bottle carefully on the floor and took the towel.
For a moment, he looked at a loss. Where would he start to clean off blood? He leaned forward slightly, stiffly pulling off his shirt, which was little more than a rag by this point. Scars riddled his arms and torso. There was no consistency to them and they'd been inflicted a variety of ways. Burns, lacerations, scratches, bites. Bruises also lent color to something that would have relied solely on dried blood and grime to hide the pallor.
With another moment's hesitation, he started on the most recent wound. It was still bleeding, having cracked during his episode in the marketplace. He asked quietly, "This is... the school?" He searched her face and added, "Real or not-real?"
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jun 26, 2014 0:56:33 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
Jeremy had no answer for her question about his state. He merely asked for confirmation that 'she' hadn't gotten her. Lisette looked at him questioningly. "The 'glowing girl'?" she asked, using his own term for the strange being. "No, I'm fine."
She helped him to the mess of pillows and flipped the switch for the light. The sudden brightness cast a multitude of shadows on the boy's face, accentuating his gaunt thinness. "We need to feed you," the girl muttered.
When Lacey returned from the bathroom with the soaking wet towel, Jeremy hesitated for a moment before pulling off the remains of his shirt and taking the towel. She was surprised to see that the bottle of water was already half empty.
The girl turned away, back to her fridge, on top of which was haphazardly piled British snacks like scones, biscuits, cream crackers, and assorted candies (a jar of pear drops, etc.) as well as small, single portion sized boxes of things like cereal. She grabbed a small box of granola bars, then continued rummaging through the actual fridge. A few cans of soda, more water, some apples, jams, toast, and milk... Cheese, salami, and a bunch of other quick snacks.
Before Lisette could ask what he wanted, the sound of his voice made her turn around. He asked her if this was the school, 'real or not real'. "Yes, it is--real," she said. She reconsidered her plan to toss the granola bars to Jeremy, and instead set it down beside him so as to not startle him.
Combing through her closet, she found a soft, dark blue cotton t-shirt that she felt would fit Jeremy, and handed that to him as well. Good thing she had taken the time to tidy up her dorm a little; normally there were clothes all over the floor and papers strewn across the desk.
"Okay. Well, we need to get someone medically trained to look at you. What do you want to do? Go down to the nurse or call someone up here?" she asked.
A sudden thought occurred to her. "Was that dream real? The people in that dream? What happened to the medic? And how did you end up in here?" she queried, fixing the boy in her steady gaze.
Notes: So apparently the nurse is inactive. Grim says you have a character who's a healer though, so you decide how you want to continue.
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Post by Tempest on Jun 27, 2014 15:45:19 GMT -5
He seemed relieved enough at her verification that she was okay to leave things at that. He wasn't going to go into further detail about the Glowing Girl here- it was too much like calling her forth. Jeremy lapsed into exhausted silence.
Then Lisette muttered something that he didn't quite hear and that had him furrowing his brow and checking the room for exits when her back was turned. He noted the door and the window, moving his legs subtly to see if anything had changed to maybe help him make an escape should the need arise.
He then turned his attention back to the task at hand. He'd managed to work some of the grime gently away from his most recent wound, but even as he exposed pale skin, blood traced thickly over it. Finally, he gave up cleaning the other places on his torso that needed it and simply held the damp towel over the wound to try and staunch the flow.
Jeremy shot her a grateful look when she placed the granola bars next to him. He only nodded in understanding at her verification of their location and their state. However, he took the latter with a grain of salt. Most dreamers weren't lucid enough to be able to determine their status. So, even if this was a dream, she would likely have said the exact same thing. He contemplated his next move as he tore open the wrapping of one of the granola bars with his teeth and free hand.
While it was still in his mouth, she gave him another piece of fabric. This he looked at quizzically before offering it back to her. "I'f goin 'oo ge' ftained. Fankf a'ywayf." His consideration was more for her feelings as a dreamer than out of concern that he'd get blood all over it. If this were a dream, then the shirt was intangible, but she wouldn't know that. A moment later, he put the shirt down next to the box of granola bars so he could bite down on the food without it dropping into his lap.
Around the food, he managed to answer, "I won't stay. You've done enough." That said, he tried to get up. The pillows weren't much use there and it was after a painfully fruitless effort that he sank to the floor again, panting slightly. He closed his eyes, losing what little color he'd had.
In this instant, he couldn't guard his responses as closely. "Only for me. If you're right, they're not real." His stomach twisted at the wrenching pain in his shoulder as the wound opened wider in response to his struggle. "I... wander. You woke up. Uh. Might want to call the nurse now..."
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jun 29, 2014 1:27:07 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
It took the girl a moment to puzzle out what Jeremy was saying. Considering that his mouth was stuffed full of the granola bar, his words were pretty hard to understand, but Lisette finally figured out that he'd been telling her that the shirt would get stained, but thanks anyway. She shrugged and put the article of clothing back in her closet. Doing something to help the boy had definitely been helpful in chasing the nightmare to the back of her mind.
Her blue eyes watched his futile efforts to get up. When he sat back down, he answered her question about the dream. If she was right, it wasn't real? And what if she was wrong? (Of course, everyone liked to think they were always right, but she wasn't the most optimistic person ever.) It wasn't the most reassuring answer he could have given.
Jeremy's effort to push himself onto his feet had reopened a wound. Quickly, Lisette moved to his side and picked up the spare towel she’s set to the side earlier and applied pressure to the bleeding area. "Crap. Absolutely brill," she cursed to herself. (Americans seemed to be much more offended by the use of the word 'crap'.) Louder, she said, "Stop moving, you'll only hurt yourself further. And yes, considering the fact that you don't seem to be able to walk on your own, I will ring up the nurse. Just wait for a moment.” She picked up her phone, which was resting on her desk, and looked through her list of emergency contact numbers, which included the hospital, school nurse, headmistress, etc. As soon as she dialed, Lisette handed the phone to Jeremy and said, “You should probably tell her what’s going on right now; I think you know better than I.”
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Post by Tempest on Jul 13, 2014 10:52:01 GMT -5
Jeremy nodded in response to her command. There was no use trying to struggle at this point. It was supposed to have been over for him when the girl with the sword stabbed him. It was supposed to have been over for him when the Glowing Girl found him again. He closed his eyes, revisiting a question that had plagued him for a while.
Could this be purgatory? Maybe he had died when he was supposed to have died.
To have hope dangled before him, the promise of food and medical help, just to have it torn away from him. How long would it be before the Iceman showed up? Or Mistress? He counted breaths while Lisette called the nurse.
1... If he was still living, then his last ditch efforts were worth something. 2.... he'd been running for so long. 3..... in-out, would he still be breathing in hell?
He grasped at the phone Lisette gave him, the mundane object grounding him for a moment. A voice on the end of the line answered. Masculine. Latino, from the sounds of it. "Been stabbed," he said without preamble. "Need help.... N-No." He held the phone out to Lisette, his shoulders hunched against a sudden wave of renewed pain. "Location...? he asked, his voice guttural and tight.
The voice on the other end amended (though whether Lisette heard this), "I'm needed here. I can send a man to come pick you up if I know where you are. Any spinal injuries?"
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Jul 17, 2014 0:53:52 GMT -5
#6ba0ddOutfit
Jeremy paused before accepting the phone, seeming for a moment to be dumbfounded by the object. It was one of the few things she'd brought with her to Foresta, and she had all of her friends' contacts on there--Amy, Liz, Sophie... She even still had Luke's contact information, for some reason. Lisette knew she should have deleted it long ago, but some part of her wished she could go back to those days, before she had any special gifts, back to when her friends still wanted to talk to her. The only people in her contacts who really stayed in touch with her were her parents.
It wasn't long before the boy began to speak. He answered negatively to a question, which she couldn't guess the topic of.
Hunching over in a spasm-like motion, he handed the phone to Lisette, asking about a location. She took the phone, worry knitting her eyebrows together. Out of concern for his physical and mental stability, she placed an arm around his shoulders like he had done in the dream. (Which might not have been a dream.) And since she had no idea what he was asking about when he said 'location', she gave Jeremy a puzzled look and placed the phone to her ear. She caught the end of an inquiry--something about injuries. "Sorry?" she said. The man repeated his question, asking her where they were and if there were any spinal injuries.
What was she, a doctor? She bit the sharp retort back and instead answered, "Emerald dorm, room 13. I'm not sure if his spine is injured, but he's quite beat up. Is there anything I should do while I wait for you?" He answered to keep him comfortable and try to keep him from moving around. Whoops, she thought to herself. "Alright, I can do that." Not that she really had any idea what else she could do. She'd given him food and water, and let him rest in the pile of soft, fluffy pillows.
Lisette studied him with anxious eyes. How had he gotten all these scars? She knew about emotional pain, but what kinda of trauma did someone have to go through to get so many physical scars?
"Oh, Jeremy.. What happened to you?" she breathed, tracing a fresh scar that crossed his collarbone and chest with a light fingertip. She lifted her eyes to his, waiting for an answer.
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Post by Tempest on Jul 19, 2014 11:58:57 GMT -5
Jeremy tried not to flinch at the friendly touch of an arm draping around his shoulders, but his effort only mitigated the reactionary movement slightly. He shot Lisette an apologetic glance. She was busy talking to the man in the nurse's office. More mundane conversation. Could this be real?
He fought back the hope. He'd been stung before. Lisette's brief conversation faded to background noise over all of the memories echoing up in his head.
The boy flinched again at the touch of her fingertip on a scar he couldn't place. There were so many, and so many possible sources. Dream or reality. Psychopath or background set piece for a dark dream?
He looked into Lisette's eyes, unsure of what to say. If it wasn't over yet, and assuming he knew when it was over, could he possibly describe it? Why expose anybody, especially somebody so undeniably kind, to it? Jeremy set his jaw against the pain in his body and resolutely shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about."
Was that true, though? Could he let anybody go around living through the danger? As far as he knew, Mistress was still operating that place. Lisette could very well be picked up the way he and Robbert and Ansleigh had been. Wildly, he said, "I need to talk to the headmistress!" He couldn't tell the difference between dreams and reality, but he couldn't go on without somebody knowing what happened.
That very single-minded goal had him clumsily leaning forward to try to get back to his feet. "Need to warn..."
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