Clove (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shenevermisses) wrote2012-11-10 06:01 pm
shenevermisses) wrote2012-11-10 06:01 pm
11th Throw - [ written ]
[There are too many nightmares. Too many nights spent thrashing herself awake. Sometimes she fully wakes Cato, sometimes she just has to assure him she's okay before he fall back asleep. She's tried to run, she's tried to just go as far as she can, she's tried to roll over and go back to sleep. She can't ignore it, she can't escape it, she can't get over it.
So, late at night or early in the morning, she opens her journal.
She's tired but wide awake. It's a kind of exhaustion, really. She doesn't know how many people will see this, but she wants to ask.]
The Malnosso are always fighting their war, right? There's always battles and killing.
Is there any way to volunteer? To join them? I want to. There has to be a way, so I want to know.
As long as I'm fighting, I don't have nightmares.
[After about two hours, she'll strike out the entire last sentence. It's too private, too personal. It was stupid to ever write it, but at least it will be gone. Some of them have seen it, but she can deny it later. Sort of.]
So, late at night or early in the morning, she opens her journal.
She's tired but wide awake. It's a kind of exhaustion, really. She doesn't know how many people will see this, but she wants to ask.]
The Malnosso are always fighting their war, right? There's always battles and killing.
Is there any way to volunteer? To join them? I want to. There has to be a way, so I want to know.
As long as I'm fighting, I don't have nightmares.
[After about two hours, she'll strike out the entire last sentence. It's too private, too personal. It was stupid to ever write it, but at least it will be gone. Some of them have seen it, but she can deny it later. Sort of.]
action
[There's not much concern in his tone beyond the typical panic of a bad dream (since they didn't have any other kind) and the absence of her. It's not that he's clingy he just knows this could all be gone in a second if the big wigs felt like sending her (or him) back to their world.
To what? Rot in the ground? And if they got to come back again, would they be whole or partially decomposed? It's the big questions that keep him up at night. The admittedly disgusting ones. He physically shakes to try and get his brain to switch gears and scratches at his scars.]
Clove?
[He knows she leaves the house sometimes when she has a really bad one. And she'll either answer him or she won't. But he wants to know.]
action
It's Cato's voice that really pulls her away from the journal. She hears him and violently crosses out her last sentence. The journal is shut, and Clove gets up, abandoning it entirely. She'll worry about the rest in the morning. She can't take these people any more. She needs to be able to think -- to breathe.
She wants to run. Leave the apartment and get out into the fresh, cold air and run until she can't take it any more. Until her lungs hurt and her eyes won't stay open.
Instead, she goes back into the bedroom. Exhausted but far from sleep, trying to smile when she wants to cry. Too many people who don't understand. One broken alliance.]
Hey. Just got up for a bit.
action
[It was a valid question. It was her way of dealing with feeling cooped up, he got that. Begrudging her time to herself was the most hypocritical thing he could probably do - especially when he had his fair share of nights where he woke up worse for wear.]
action
[She wants to. She wants to fall asleep out in the open, where there's plenty of room to get away or fight if something comes out of the shadows.
What can hurt her in a locked apartment? She doesn't know.
Clove gives a small shudder before she crawls onto the bed and curls up beside him, tucking herself smaller than she usually is and resting her head on his chest. Listening to his heart. And trying not to cry.]