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Mar. 22nd, 2014 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sage_alchemistSydney finds a door out of re-education and stumbles naked into a hallway, and finds someone from home
Mar. 22nd, 2014
sage_alchemistno subject
Mar. 22nd, 2014 03:53 pmscaleshavefallenBeing here -- where everything is tranquil, normal, not a threat -- makes it very easy to forget everything that happened, before I stepped through one doorway and ended up at the Nexus.
But it's all still there, lingering in the back of my head, like an uninvited guest. Everything that's happened, all the deaths that have been pinned on me, they just sit there, rotting away, half a story told that I'll never be any closer to finding out the ending to.
It bothers me, how much of my own life I'm missing. I can't piece it back together, not without knowing the evidence, without having some else there to untangle the threads. For now, all I can do is speculate, and the longer I have here to my own devices, the more convinced I am that even my speculation is delusional.
The weather's nice today; brisk. I can stand outside without shivering, at least, although a chill goes up my spine anyway as I let myself think about Abigail, Georgia, Marissa, Cassie. I repeat their names in my mind like a mantra, the four women that a corrupt, imperfect system has been tricked into believing I've murdered.
I wrap my arms tighter around my body and stare out at the empty land around the Nexus. I am not a murderer. No one here has any reason to think I am.
So why do I feel like I'm hiding something very, very significant?
But it's all still there, lingering in the back of my head, like an uninvited guest. Everything that's happened, all the deaths that have been pinned on me, they just sit there, rotting away, half a story told that I'll never be any closer to finding out the ending to.
It bothers me, how much of my own life I'm missing. I can't piece it back together, not without knowing the evidence, without having some else there to untangle the threads. For now, all I can do is speculate, and the longer I have here to my own devices, the more convinced I am that even my speculation is delusional.
The weather's nice today; brisk. I can stand outside without shivering, at least, although a chill goes up my spine anyway as I let myself think about Abigail, Georgia, Marissa, Cassie. I repeat their names in my mind like a mantra, the four women that a corrupt, imperfect system has been tricked into believing I've murdered.
I wrap my arms tighter around my body and stare out at the empty land around the Nexus. I am not a murderer. No one here has any reason to think I am.
So why do I feel like I'm hiding something very, very significant?
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Mar. 22nd, 2014 08:53 pmprincehonorableThe dreamshade burns through his blood.
It's not that Charming hadn't believed Hook when he'd described the sheer torture and agony that the poison would cause in his veins, but it had only been the lightest of scratches. It hadn't been enough to tell Emma and Snow about, but now he was beginning to worry. When they'd entered Neal's cave, Charming had followed along and instead of the cave, he'd been back in the hotel, clasping his side and staring around him as panic gripped him, fighting with relief.
He could rest here. Maybe he might even be able to slow the poison using some sort of medicine they had readily available here that wasn't in Neverland, but the fear that the cure is only on the shores of that dark island grips him and holds the panic in.
Angrier than he's been in ages, Charming takes it out on the nearest wall, putting his fist through and creating a hole that has his torso singing with pain as the dreamshade lances through his body. He supposes that he might need to start taking it easy, given that the bloodflow would only distribute the poison faster.
It's a sad, horrible state of affairs, but for the first time since Charming had set sail to Neverland, he finds himself knowing that his best chance is a world away and it's Hook. He stares at the damaged wall, regretting his actions. "Sorry," he says, to the passers-by. "I'll clean it up, if you give me a moment."
It's not that Charming hadn't believed Hook when he'd described the sheer torture and agony that the poison would cause in his veins, but it had only been the lightest of scratches. It hadn't been enough to tell Emma and Snow about, but now he was beginning to worry. When they'd entered Neal's cave, Charming had followed along and instead of the cave, he'd been back in the hotel, clasping his side and staring around him as panic gripped him, fighting with relief.
He could rest here. Maybe he might even be able to slow the poison using some sort of medicine they had readily available here that wasn't in Neverland, but the fear that the cure is only on the shores of that dark island grips him and holds the panic in.
Angrier than he's been in ages, Charming takes it out on the nearest wall, putting his fist through and creating a hole that has his torso singing with pain as the dreamshade lances through his body. He supposes that he might need to start taking it easy, given that the bloodflow would only distribute the poison faster.
It's a sad, horrible state of affairs, but for the first time since Charming had set sail to Neverland, he finds himself knowing that his best chance is a world away and it's Hook. He stares at the damaged wall, regretting his actions. "Sorry," he says, to the passers-by. "I'll clean it up, if you give me a moment."