"When Tempest Tossed..."

[AKNyx 33]

 

"...Embrace Chaos."

Here, you'll find a collection of my writing, be it poetry or otherwise! Enjoy  

- - - - - -
 

 Table Of Contents

• "Breathe" - Poetry
• "See" - Poetry
• "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep" - Roleplay Post
• "Moonlit Sacrifice" - Original Story Part 1
• "Death Becomes Her" - Roleplay Post
• "Silk?" - Roleplay Post
• "What Dreams May Come" - Roleplay Post

Edited July 9, 2015 by AKNyx

[AKNyx 33]

BREATHE

 

Author's Note: The formatting on this piece is done intentionally, as is the capitalization and punctuation.
 

 

- - - -

 

Breathe.

 

 

That’s what they tell you to do.

That’s what they’ve always told you to do,

No matter the cause of your distress.

 

A deadline looms and you can’t handle the pressure.

“Just breathe.”

You’ve had an accident and are going into shock.

“Just breathe.”

Your father dies before your eyes, his own breath stolen and his heart’s beat nonexistent.

“Just breathe.”

 

What does breathing accomplish?

What good does breathing do?

 

With each inhale of a breath,

Each bit of air filling your lungs,

You’re killing yourself.

 

It’s a slow death, what we endure.

We watch as the world around us changes,

As others are born, grow older, and die.

We watch as technologies are created,

As things are made to make our lives easier,

Making what we used to use obsolete.

 

We watch ourselves in the mirror.

 

We watch as we take our first steps,

As we learn to speak,

As we learn to write.

We watch as we grow older,

No longer fitting that pair of pants you swore were lucky,

And cried when your mother threw them out.

We watch as our hair grows longer,

Our faces mature,

Our skin loses its taut smoothness.

 

We watch as the tears stream down our face

At loss, at anger, at despair.

We watch as those around us disappear

One

By

One.

 

We watch as each breath brings about

Our own demise.

 

It’s breathing that brings us closer and closer

To that last, choked breath we’ll draw.

 

It’s breathing that brings us closer

To being surrounded by those we love

As the light dims and our muscles relax.

 

It’s breathing that kills us.

 

“Just breathe.”

That’s what they tell you to do.

 

I don’t want to “just breathe” anymore.

 

I want to live.

Edited July 3, 2015 by AKNyx

[AKNyx 33]

SEE

 

Author's Note: The formatting, capitalization and punctuation are done with intention.

- - - -

Do you see me?
Do you really? 
Do the words I say 
Or the things I do
Register with you? 

Does what I do faze you?

If I stood in a crowded room, 
Screaming at the top of my lungs…
Would you glance up from your glass
And take notice?

You don’t see me, 
Not really. 

Have you ever? 

Your eyes may sweep over me, 
They may take in the text that I type, 
But do you really see it? 
Do you really read it?

When you walk by me, 
What do you see? 

Do you see the woman with the brilliant smile
And cool, collected eyes? 
Do you see the woman who can part the crowd with a single look
And hold a conversation with anyone she chooses? 
Do you see the confidence? The practiced grace?
Do you see the façade? 

Or…

Do you see the shy girl beneath the surface, 
Terrified of what could happen, 
Or of what won’t? 
Terrified of never connecting, 
Never moving forward, 
Of always standing still? 

Do you see me? Hear me?

Do you see her?

...Do you see no one at all?

[AKNyx 33]

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

Author's Note: This post is from a "turning" thread that I'm particularly fond of. Ever was taken from within a club, leading to her turning after the man, the vampire, revealed what he was...and then said he couldn't let her leave.
 

Her stomach twisted in knots, the sound of a breath against her neck and the hiss of some reply she couldn't decipher filling her ears almost as loud as her own heartbeat. It was at that moment that she turned to the one thing she'd always shirked, the one thing her father always faulted her for; That initial last hope, that last glimmer of a chance to survive.

A higher power perhaps?

Though, even as the thought slid through her mind, she didn't know any real prayers, nothing outside one of the books she used to read. It should count...right? Ever wondered, her eyes drifting slowly closed as she exhaled a shaky breath. How did it start? She wasn't sure it mattered, that it'd help, but if her mother had been right about religion, about someone's immortal soul...then maybe, just maybe, this verse she'd seen would help with that.

Now I lay me down to sleep...

She felt it then, that bite. It didn't hurt for the first moment, his cool lips acting as a sort of numbing sensation. But with each drag, each pull of her blood slipping free of her body and into his, it burned a little brighter. Ached a bit stronger. Each suckle of his lips dug his fangs a bit deeper in, her breath growing shorter as she sought to keep the panic from overwhelming her.

So this...this is what it feels like...

...I pray the lord my soul to keep...

The thought had been a random one, slipped in almost the same time as the next part of her prayer, her heart's beating quickening as it tried to spread the lessening blood to her limbs. In all the books she'd read, and the few movies she'd seen, she'd always wondered what it'd feel like to be bitten, to be drunk from. But this...this wasn't as she thought it'd be. It hurt more, ached more, each breath hurting more than the last as her muscles tried to work despite the deprivation they were now met with.

If I should die...before I...wake...

Yet, the longer it happened, the more tired she grew, the ache becoming more of a dull white noise accompanied by a sluggish inner monologue. The hand that had found its way to his, once seeking to pull it free of her mouth, was instead halfheartedly clinging, her grip growing weaker and weaker as a darkness set in. 

I pray....

To her, it was to better her ability to stand, to hold herself up, not to lean so completely into him as she drew her last breaths. Subconsciously, it was a desire to cling to the life she'd not yet lived, to cling to all the things she'd lose upon her death, and to, somehow, impart something...some silent hope...something to save herself. To keep herself alive, despite the darkness closing in around her mind.

...The....Lord....

By this time, she was again, detached, viewing the scene from above, watching her body letting go as did her consciousness. Her hand slipped free of his as her knees began to buckle. Her head lulled into his touch as her skin grew more taut. Somewhere, she swore she heard the distinct sound of "Lacrimosa" drifting on the wind, as though to mock her where she stood, dying, in the arms of a monster.

.....My.....so.......ul.......

At that time, all manner of consciousness slipped, her feeble grasp of it, severing as her mind plunged into an inescapable darkness. She was too tired to fight it, to continue to fight after what felt like an eternity in his embrace. There was no drive, no will, no strength to begin to stave off death's chilly embrace as all went quiet.

.........T.......o............ta..............

For a split second, her heart pumping erratically, she swore she saw her life flash before her eyes. The life she could have lived, should have lived, and didn't. All the things she could have done and the people she could have connected with...Only to be replaced with its sad reality, all ending with Wolf's steely eyes holding hers, the last thing she'd ever see, the last though she'd ever feel in the form of his lips on her neck, of his hands holding her up.

A distorted, lonely reality brought to an end in the arms of a stranger. An all consuming darkness wrapped her in its cold embrace, her mind quieting, all sound echoing as it took longer to register, everything eventually going unnoticed as she drew what she thought would be her last breath. 

Amen.

- - - -

When someone dies, what happens? Does their soul release into whatever afterlife they believe in? Does it walk the earth, doomed to repeat its last moments, an imprint of its death? Do they simply cease to exist, their bodies decaying beneath feet of dirt, until no semblance of them remains, their name disappearing from the lips of those who knew them, their memory fading as fast as their body decays?

For Ever, death was relatively painless. 

While her heart had sputtered to a grinding halt, the worst of it she'd been unconscious for. She'd been spared the agony of trying to breathe when all you want to do is sleep, when your mind is telling you to let go, but your heart is trying to do what it's programmed to. She'd died, her heart crawling to a stop, her breaths stopping with it, body lifeless to the unsuspecting onlooker.

In a perfect world, her soul would have gone somewhere else, would have left Harper Rock behind, would have silenced its worries and enjoyed what she knew to be eternity. In her life, she'd been uncertain if Heaven or Hell existed, her father saying that, if a higher power existed, his job wouldn't be needed; That praying to some "unseen asshole" wouldn't save you from getting taken out by shrapnel, and dying on the spot. He'd told her to make her own luck, to be vigilant and headstrong. To live.

...Her luck took a turn for the worst that night, and she died...

...And heard Presto Agitato?

It was the sound of tinkling ivories--more aptly compared to skilled pounding, than tinkling--that caught her attention first. At some point, it seemed her body had remembered to breathe, the silent breaths confusing her. I'm...I'm alive? she wondered to herself, thoughts clearer than they'd been prior to what she last remembered. It...It was all a dream?

Though she didn't move, body still as the grave, a feeling of relief, something resembling some sick perversion of gratitude, washed over her. He spared me! I didn't die! I can't beli- Her thought cut off as a thought dawned on her, an eclipsing thought that took any happiness she'd previously held a moment ago, and taking away its life. ...My...My heart's...It's not...

It was ludicrous, insane, her mind instantly trying to push away such crazy thoughts. No, relax. Breathe, Ever. Focus on it. It's got to be there. You're thinking aren't you? You're just not focused, she cautioned herself. Focus. So, she focused, the sound of the piano's music filling her ears quieting as her mind shut it out, seeking out the one sound she'd never hear from herself again. She lay there for what felt like ages, listening to nothing but a thick silence where her erratic and panicked heartbeat should have been.

It can't be...

About then, her focus was shattered, screaming inside her own head, not even wanting to try and move. This must be purgatory! came an instant thought, anguish in her mental voice. I've died and gone straight to some hell! No sight! No sound! No movement! No not-!

Yet again, her thoughts stopped, though this time it was attributed to a sort of mental slap she gave herself as the silence she'd grown used to got more weighted, the hairs on her arms and neck standing up as she felt someone's eyes on her. Movement hit her next, feeling whoever it was getting closer, their steps, though quiet, pounding like drums in her ears. Anything she'd have tried to think of, in that moment, was muted, too focused on the presence moving closer to her, settling somewhere eerily close, and then the feel of icy fingers touching down on her cheek again.

The touch was familiar, one of the last moments she'd recalled prior...followed by a voice.

He knows? Ever thought, trying to pull herself together enough to test her limbs, to pull free of the veil of confusion she was currently hopelessly entangled in. How does he know I can hear him? This doesn't make...any...sense. 

Unlike the thoughts before it, this one didn't halt suddenly, cut off abruptly to be replaced with more silence and frantic speculation. Instead, it ended, simply, quietly, curtly, as something that Marius had said came through. How he'd died. How he'd turned.

A finger twitched then, trying to keep her thoughts calm the longer she thought through them, almost wanting to say this was all a dream; A hopelessly intoxicated dream that she'd soon wake up from. Vaguely, she tried to remember how much liquor she'd actually had, another finger twitching as she tried to "follow his voice". Eyelids fluttering a bit next, they were slow to open, heavy, burning as though she were trying to force herself to awaken from a sleep that was gripping a little tighter than usual. Parting just a hair before blinking once more, her vision remained blurry, so she tried to blink them again, her head shaking the smallest bit side to side as though it'd help clear the cobwebs, as though it'd help make her vision clear.

His eyes.

That was what she first noticed when things were no longer blurry, no longer hazy, as though someone's lens focus needed to be tweaked. The piercing blue eyes she'd seen, that she'd felt boring into her soul before the fateful bite, were on her again, though...somewhere different. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, to figure out, but her throat seemed to be burning, a burn she was only just beginning to notice the longer she let herself ween back into reality.

Or was it a dream?

"N-New...eyes...?" she questioned, a shaky hand reaching up to her forehead, trying to sooth an ache--a force of habit while human--before inevitably falling to her neck. "...You...I'm a...?" The words refused to finish coming out, her voice even sounding different to her and catching her off guard, but she figured the sentiment would be known, would be felt, would be understood.

A...vampire?

[AKNyx 33]

MOONLIT SACRIFICE

Author's Note: Here is an installment for a story I wrote. They were impressed with it and I soon grew to love it, so here's hoping it's received as well as it was elsewhere!

 

Part I

 

----

Luminescent, the falling light of the moon cast an eerie glow over all left uncovered. Trees took on the iridescent glow, leaves shivering in the breeze that tore through their limbs. Light playing off the water so far below the cliff's edge, everything looked harsher, yet softer all the same. While the moon's glow seemed to show everything for what it was, emanation hitting each jagged edge of the broken cliff side, illuminating each wave as it crashed against the hard wall of rock, it seemed almost delicate. Almost as if falling wouldn't hurt, wouldn't kill any dreaded soul that happened to take a tumble, but rather that the light would envelop them, that each wave would just wrap them in a soft blanket of darkness, and they'd peacefully float off into oblivion.

A poetic way to die.

No sound could be heard above the crashing waves below, reverberating off the trees that scattered the cliff's line, the rustle of leaves and uncut grass waving lazily in the breeze. A light fog drifting through, any movement, apart from the shadows thrown haphazardly by the moon's spectral glow, was dampened, hidden. One didn't have to be seen should they not wish it, their very presence remaining unknown to the eye. Not that they cared if they were seen, but it was always nice to have that air of mystery, the ability to be hidden should they wish it.

Stepping from within the tree line, form staying close to the rough bark of the tree behind her, Chrystal's eyes scanned for her sisters, her coven. Frame standing at no taller than five-foot-six, she was easily concealed by the thick fog, the shadows the trees cast hiding her own easily. 

They'd always met here, centuries of history housed within the stretches of the land, the water line hundreds of feet below. Something about a cliff's edge, the beauty of what could easily become impending death added to the sacred air of the place. While she'd never really thought it a big deal, it wasn't her place to comment, so she'd always held her comments within her burdened mind. 

It was finally time. 

Time for her to meet the rest of the members of the coven.

A mixture of nervous excitement flitted within her, a sort of jitter inhabiting her body as she stood there, arms clasping hold of herself to contain it. Meeting sisters meant she'd have a family to call her own. Granted, it wouldn't be a family by normal standards, but it'd be more than she'd ever had prior to this moment.

Living as a loner for most of her life, it hadn't been by choice, but by necessity. As it was hard to explain away the happenings that surrounded her growing up, she ran away. Better to be alone than to hurt those I care for, she'd always reasoned. 

A solitary life with no risk. 

Alone from the age of ten, she'd taught herself to hone her skill, her craft. It was a long process, arduous, riddled with errors, but she'd prevailed. Slowly taking a hold on her appearance, what was once a bright-eyed, chubby cheeked, curly-haired brunette, had shifted. No longer did curly locks of the darkest brunette lay claim to her features but instead a resplendent blonde, almost white, now resided. Her once green eyes, full of life and the envy of those who lay their sights upon them, now held the lightest blue, icy in illusion. Even her skin, once sun-kissed and warm, appeared ethereal, alabaster tones.

While Chrystal wasn't sure when all these changes had taken place, most who saw her would chalk it up to puberty, assuming such changes happened as she matured. It was far more...Far more than anyone on the outside would know, would want to know. Using her craft as much as she did, becoming one with her power, it was changing her. Her form was becoming so accustom to the cool, the ice, that the changes were inevitable. She was cooler to the touch, skin smooth...somehow soft yet oddly firm.

The small flickering of a fire appeared a few feet in front of her, small in stature, sprung up in the midst of the cool light. Hood concealing her own looks, she kept her head lowered, eyes watching the display from her perch against the trunk. Flame growing before her eyes, the vibrant red hair of her sister was illuminated, along with her warm skin, her golden eyes. A small smile pulling at her own lips, Chrystal made her way toward her, watching in her usual awe, of the control she had over her flame. Dancing on the tip of her finger, the flame jumped, swaying in the breeze, but didn't flicker out. Not once did the heavy winds coming off the sea snuff out its life.

With a small grin, she pursed her lips, blowing softly at her finger, icy crystals dancing in the air as they wrapped around her sister's finger, choking the life out of the flame until it finally subsided. A light, melodic laugh was loosed, her hood dropping back as a mirth flashed behind her eyes. “It's good to see you, Annelise,” came her warm greeting, arms enveloping Annelise in a hug. Arms embracing her, Chrystal felt the usual goosebumps taking hold of her skin, a shiver wracking through her body at the proximity of their bodies. Something about fire and ice together always held such a reaction, from both parties, evoking knowing smiles betwixt the two. Pulling back, her eyes scanned around them, trying to see through the fog. “Where are the rest?”

A small shrug and half-grin later, and Annelise was staring her down, eyes lit from within in a sort of dangerous mischief. “They're here. They're always here.” This brought a slight perplexed frown to Chrystal's face, wondering how she could have missed them, but she didn't voice it. “There's been a slight snag...”

Brow furrowing, her eyes turned suspicious. “What do you mean, a snag?” Her tone, turning just as icy as her gaze had, her body went rigid, preparing for the worst.

“Oh relax,” Annelise retorted, brushing off her reaction with a flippant wave of her hand. “It's nothing like that. Just some minor details have been shifted is all.” Chrys could feel her body relaxing a bit as she heard the words, but something lingered in the back of her mind, urging her to stay alert. “Something simple really. The coven would prefer to stay anonymous...That is, until you've completed your task.”

“Task?” she repeated, not understanding. “I've done all they've asked. I've proven my power, proven what I'm capable of. I've passed every test you've ever given me...What else haven't I done?”

“Such a tone...doesn't bode well with us.” Something about Annelise was changing, becoming more official, fuller sounding...As if she weren't the only one talking. But just like that, it was gone, and she was back, back to her usual alto, tone light. “That being said, we understand your confusion and welcome it. It's not that you've not done enough, but this final task solidifies your place among us. It's essential to your survival within our coven. Without it, you can never be.”

One final task... Chrystal thought to herself fervently. Just one...and I'll have a family....I'll do anything...

“It's simple enough,” she continued, eying her, gauging her reactions to each piece she said. “You must first find a man, pure in heart and in mind, willing to do anything. You'll know him when you see him, one of the rare few that still survive within this world of carnal urges. Seduce him.” 

Pausing for almost dramatic effect, Annelise's eyes left Chrystal for the first time since the exchange began, turning to lock with each unseen member. Chrystal's gaze shifted as well, trying to sift through the fog, to see who she was at the mercy of, to see those that did this task before her. To see if it were worth it.

“Once you seduce him, thoroughly besotted,  you must return him here. As the sacrifice, he will remain here for three days, being primped and preened for the final event. As the moon is in its apex, you must stop his heart, feel the dark side's pull in this act, and return from it unscathed. Take his life force into yourself, feel it fill you, feel it drain him. The rest is arbitrary.”

Feeling the gaze of a few others boring into her, she tried to process the news as calmly as she could. Sacrifices she'd done, though never of the human variety. A bird here, a frog there...It'd always seemed essential to gain connection for the more draining rituals they'd asked of her. But this? She wasn't sure if she could handle it. To take someone so innocent, so pure, and use them for this? Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, eyes flicking to the ground as her hands played nervously, clasping and unclasping, under her cloak. So loud was her heartbeat, she almost missed the pointed throat-clearing directed at her.

“Do you understand the task set to you?”

Eyes raising to lock with Annelise's, she nodded, lips set in a thin line, all humor her face had once held, fallen away a mere memory.

“Are you able to complete this task? Able to become a member of our coven?”

The pause was a weighted one, one that seemed to drag on as her mind tossed around her options. Inner war was waging, her heart torn, her mind conflicted, until one thought rang through amidst the chaos, so clear and true. I can't say no, not after all that I've done to get here, to this moment...I can do this. I can do anything for my family... Slow to nod this time around, the motion was just as drawn out as her thoughts had been, the weight of the world sitting on her shoulders.

“You've a month and a half to find him, seduce him, bring him here and complete the ritual,” came Annelise's rather matter-of-fact tone of voice. “I'll be keeping tabs on your progress. Don't disappoint us.”

And just like that, she was gone. 

In the blink of an eye, Annelise was gone. The fog had vanished. She was alone with nothing but the beating of her heart and the light of the moon to keep her company as she tried to strengthen her resolve.

I can do this...This is what I want...

Edited July 3, 2015 by AKNyx

[AKNyx 33]

DEATH BECOMES HER

Author's Note: Another Roleplay Post, this one from an RP that I'm currently one where I write my character's death and journey to the other side. She's a mute, who can divine the future (predominantly through automatic art) and commune with the dead.


 

- - - -

Blood. There was so much blood soaked into the sheets beneath her. The bed that was once pristine, made up and hardly slept in, was now defiled, filthy, as the very life force that kept her going seeped through the comforter, through the sheets, soaked into his mattress as they sought to stem the bleeding. But it was too much. Her body had lost so much. How long had it been? How long had she been on the brink of death, awaiting its blissful embrace, her mind having long since slipped away, her body struggling to keep going. How much longer could her body hold out, her heartbeat uneven, weak, thready and fading as she lay there, others moving around her to which she was oblivious.

No one in that room was noticed, nor felt, not until the last few moments of her life.

His hand felt warm, scalding against her own as her mind tried to come back, his strained voice and the kiss pressed to her skin, his plea too much for her to take. I can’t leave him… she thought, too tired and too sore to respond, to even try to come back from the brink. Though she was aware of him and his pleas, and the voices around him telling him to prepare himself, she was in an odd state of awareness and unconsciousness. It was as though her mind had wanted her to hear what was said, to hear her reason for staying around just that little bit longer as her heart’s beat slowed, the time between each beat steadily growing as the beats themselves grew fewer and far in-between.

Thump…Thump…

Thump………..thump………..

Thump…………..

Thump………..

Silence.

Almost immediately, she was outside of herself, standing over her own body, over Mack as he stayed there, holding her hand. The room seemingly fell silent despite the sudden outpouring of other souls in the room with them. Souls that had been trying to reach out to her screamed at her, but they went ignored as she watched Mack staying with her, Piers preparing to hold him back, the room suddenly tense as they awaited his reaction.

Without warning, her hand was released. Still the souls around her screamed for her attention, but she didn’t pay them mind, her brow furrowing as she watched him stalking to the other side of the room and punch a wall. No, no no, she thought, instantly going to him, her hands trying to interact, but passing through him. Again, she tried to restrain him, to hold him, her hands sinking into his back as she drifted up to his ear.

“Mack, Mack I’m not gone…” her voice tried to reassure him, her lips practically on his ear. The voice was foreign to her, but unimportant as she spoke, her thoughts coming through loud and clear, vocalized for the first time in her life…or death. “You nearly drowned once, trying to save your mother…but it was a prank, to get you over your fear of water…You were furious with her, but she’d done it for your own good…” There was a pause as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips passing through it, but the cool of it surely felt, much like her touch. “I’m still here…I’ve not left…But there’s something I have to do before I can come back…so hold on for me…”

Her eyes darted over toward one of the women in the room, Adeline, and the idea struck her. “Mack, I need you to get a pad and paper, and give it to Adeline. Tell her to brace herself…Do this for me, Mack…I’m not leaving you. It’s not my time, but I have to do this…please…” With a final kiss to his cheek, she whispered her final words to him, “I love you…I couldn’t leave you yet if I wanted to…” and with that, she released her “hold” on him, watching him leave the room to get the paper she asked for. The other woman seemed to be giving him his space as Piers tried to give him that comfort that only another friend could give, but her attention shifted to the spirits in the room.

For all her communicating, her reaching out to the other side and them back to her, she’d never seen this many this clearly. It took dying and breaching the barrier, the plane, in between life and the afterlife for her to hear them so clearly, to see them so clearly. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a spirit, but all of them clustered together with the same message, she was almost overwhelmed. Their screams were loud and clear, the same message over and over as the room began to feel smaller and smaller. With nothing but a nod, she glanced back at Adeline, seeing her with the pen and paper in hand and let out a breath.

She’d never done this before, but from what she’d seen…she figured she knew how it’d work…so she stepped inside of the woman’s body.

“Uncomfortable” was the first word that came to mind as she got situated in the woman’s body, the arms and body jerking a bit as her will imposed itself on the woman, but then nothing. Adeline and Arin were seamlessly connected, and Arin wasn’t wasting any time. The pen was taken up, scratching over the pad as her eyes focused on it; or rather, Adeline’s eyes focused on it, wide at the fact that she’d suddenly acquired artistic skill, a scene of death and destruction unfolding from her very fingertips. Darker and darker the image went, from one page to the next to the next, showing the stages of destruction, until she felt her own connection to the world weakening. The longer her body remained as it was, the greater her chances of leaving before her time.

Cutting the last drawing short, a series of four, she left her body and quickly went to Mack. “Bring me back…Bring me back, Mack…Start my heart before I fade and don’t have a choice to come back or not…” Her hands tried to grip him, but they still went through his form, trying to remind him of the connection they still shared as she lingered. “I’ll be here, with you, until my heart starts beating again…I promise…”

“Start my heart…”

[AKNyx 33]

SILK?

Author's Note: This is a roleplay post for a site that recently closed. The character, Annabelle, had tried to take her own life, but a man took that choice from her. This is yet another post realizing that death isn't all its cracked up to be.


A peaceful sleep is what she’d fallen into back at that dump of a diner. On the floor, covered in dirt and the remnants of patrons before her, she lay there, the color of her cheeks fading as her consciousness slipped free of her body and a sense of euphoria was reached. Finally…I’ll be free… No more would the dinging of the diner’s bell haunt her dreams, nor the touches of each man who’d ever laid a hand on her, so vivid, so clear, that she’d awake and swear their hands were just on her, even if alone. No matter where she went, she swore she felt someone’s eyes on her, as though looking at her for their next target. Did they know her life? Did they know what she’d done? What she’d been made to do and endure?

But no more. Finally, she was free to die in the manner she’d chosen, to fall into a slumber and never awake. It was a better way to go than she deserved, but she was going to be selfish. Just this once.

…And yet, death turned out to be different than she imagined it. Softer.

There was something beneath her, she could feel it. Odd that she could feel in death. Perhaps she was crossing from one realm into the next, whatever lay on the other side. It couldn’t be heaven as everyone knew suicide was a sin and she’d not prayed for forgiveness. Long ago, she’d forsaken the thought of there being a god as he’d not come to aid her, nor had he attempted to help her no matter how much she used to try and pray to a god, any god, for relief from the pain. She was met with silence. Eventually, those prayers stopped and the numbness set in, allowing her mind to wander, drifting from the scene she so desperately sought solace from and allowing her to partake in the form of an out-of-body experience. No god meant no heaven, which meant this was the next step. This was something else.

Burning…Why did she feel pain? Was she not dead? Her throat burned like a red hot poker from a fireplace had been forced down, an unquenchable thirst settling into her very bones. She marveled at it, not moving an inch as her mind became more and more aware that something was off, something wasn’t right. A softness beneath her enveloped her slight frame, cushioning her. What was it? This burning sensation…what was that? Death was meant to be peaceful, wasn’t it? An escape? A final end to what was (for her) a hopeless story of depravity and left dreams?

It didn’t strike her right away that it was her mind having these thoughts, that she was consciously thinking through each thing that was wrong. On some level, she thought it was an existential look at how death felt before she was given her new place among the dead. Would she be left buried with a small stone bearing her name, to fertilize the earth and do more for it than she had while alive? Would she be identified at all, with bosses more worried about what things could happen to their business with that sort of a scandal on their hands? “Waitress Commits Suicide In Bathroom.” The freaks would come to see it as a horror attraction, but would the patrons stick around? Something told her that same potbellied man who used to look at her like a piece of meat would no longer want anything to do with her.

Blood. There had to be a lot of blood around her right?

The first movement was made, her fingers splaying out, oddly stiff as it cautiously moved along the surface beneath her. Barely an inch, less as she tried to figure out what was going on, she inwardly frowned. It was something finer than anything she’d ever been allowed atop of or could have ever afforded. Softer, smoother, like silk to the touch, cool everywhere her body wasn’t…but no blood. No sticky residue or clumps that should have been there from a decaying body awaiting discovery.

Then another thought hit her.

How am I moving…if I’ve died?

Immediately, her thoughts went into overdrive, taking stock of what she could feel, what she noticed. Breathing, she was breathing. The same rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was intact, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted death, which meant no breathing, no inhales or exhales. Next she searched for a heartbeat…and found none. None whatsoever. Her mind went crazy trying to find it, thinking that her ears had somehow muted the sound, so a hand rose to her chest, shaking in its uncertainty of how any of this was possible as it pressed into her breast and sought out a pulse. Nothing. Then it flitted to her neck…only to find her arteries and veins still. Then her wrist…and nothing still.

My wrist…

Reaching across, the actions still slow because of how stiff she felt, her fingers grazed over the wrist she’d slit to escape it all, and found the wound to be…gone. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized that she was alive…but dead, and there that breath stayed for an impossibly long time. There was no screaming of her lungs for release, nor the need to breathe. She just lay there, impossibly still as it all came crashing in around her. How is any of this possible?! I should be dead! I killed myself! her mind screamed at her, face remaining as serene as it had the moment of her passing, her thoughts in turmoil. I should be reuniting with my mother! Or…gone and forgotten! Something!

Finally, something inside her said that it was time to open her eyes. She’d tested moving, breathing, checked for a pulse that wasn’t there…and it was time to look at the world around her. Maybe she had died and this was the hereafter, made easier by keeping some of the humanistic qualities she’d known as she got accustomed to what the afterlife entailed. But this thirst, it burned her, and made her head hurt, leaving her wary to open her eyes. The command to do so took time, her eyes unwilling to destroy the story she’d concocted in her head to preserve her sanity but, little by little, her eyes fluttered open to meet…a bedroom.

She was in a bedroom. It was a beautiful bedroom, one she’d never seen the likes of before in her life, but her eyes burned like her throat, like her stomach, so she didn’t remain looking for long, giving herself a moment to adjust and try again. A second time, she opened her eyes, keeping them straight up at the ceiling as she noticed the weight at her bedside, the scent of another. I can smell another…? she thought, not wanting to turn that way just yet as she came to grips with what was going on. He smelled familiar…felt familiar…and it irked her. Her emotions were in overdrive, panicking as she tried to sit up, forcing muscles that felt stiff and weak to function, a hand clutching at her head from the headache she had before, unable to withhold any longer, she looked at the man in the room with her.

He didn’t look familiar to her, a handsome face that immediately made her wary as he watched her, having seemingly waited there with her, likely the one who brought her there as this wasn’t the diner she’d sought to die in.

“Wh…” Voice cutting off as it rasped, she cleared her throat, starting again, eyes pained and tired as she looked at the man for answers, at this stranger for answers. “Where…am I…? And how…how am I still…alive?”

[AKNyx 33]

 

What Dreams May Come

Author's Note: This is a compilation of three roleplay posts within a site that I'm on right now. I liked how they flowed so I felt compelled to share. It is, once again, my mute gifted with divine sight and spirit communications.

- - - -

Three days. She’d been trapped in a bed for three days, waking up for brief moments to drink whatever concoction the woman, goddess…person, Thrud, had given her. But, apart from that, she’d been useless. Forced to lay in a bed day in and day out, her only small victories were forcing them to allow her to sit in a wheelchair and wheel herself to the bathroom because she refused to use a bedpan, and allowing her the occasional trip outside to Mack’s balcony for fresh air. Never alone, though. If not Mack at her side, Bevans was there, watching over her like a hawk…a silent hawk she wanted to draw, but didn’t have the ability to.

For three days, she’d had dreamless nights and frustrated days. She wanted to draw but her fingers still felt weak, lame from the lack of proper blood they’d had, sensitive from the nail ripped off. Her legs still screamed with pain when she moved from, being stabbed into, the metal of those sheers rubbing against her bones, forever scarred beneath the surface no matter how well her leg healed. Even if she’d the ability to talk, she doubted she’d want to for a while after the blade had begun to slice through her skin. Had there been another moment longer, had whatever called him away not happened, she’d have died, and that scar would remain on her skin for the rest of her life.

Nothing prepared her for what plagued her during the day though.

Casual Arin tried to remain for the sake of Mack, but something told her Bevans knew the demons she was battling, that he had a hand in keeping her dreams at bay. During the day, however, all it’d take was a loud noise, a shadow out of the corner of her eye, a touch she wasn’t expecting and it’d come flooding back. The feel of the steel as it slid across her skin, the way his words washed over her, trying to prompt her for answers she couldn’t give. It set her heart racing and the pain anew, even with the cocktail she was being given to help her physically heal. But how long would it be until she was mentally stable again?

The fates had been kind, though. Mack had found her in time, had allowed her to stay around. They wouldn’t have given her something she couldn’t handle so she’d try to take it in stride, to keep her demons at bay and keep Mack from worrying as much as possible.

It was with this thought that she awoke, the warmth on her face burning through her eyelids and eliciting a sigh of displeasure as she slowly roused. There was no peaceful slumber, no feeling of refreshment. She felt stiff, tired, and assumed she likely would until she was cleared for something more than bedrest. To be able to walk would be wonderful, even if the thought sent pain shivers up her spine, just that one freedom she took for granted would have been wonderful.

A glance at the tray of food was given, but she didn’t pay it much mind, instead giving a look over to Bevans and giving him a small, very small nod in greeting along with a look in her eyes that conveyed thanks. That was the one sign she could do without too much pain, lifting her hand to her chin and lips, before lowering it to him, slow with a bit of a grimace, but done nonetheless. Then, with a look down at Mack, she glanced back at him, the question an obvious one, even if unvoiced and unsigned.

How is he?

The look he gave her didn’t inspire much confidence, resisting the urge to reach down and touch him, knowing that whatever sleep he’d managed to get would be gone in an instant. He’d hardly left her side, while still giving her space, sleeping next to the bed rather than in it, making sure she was never out of his sight if it could be helped, take care of her every need, acknowledged or not. But that he was only “well enough”? That wasn’t enough for her. He’d taken then blame for her position, for her current state, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t control the fates. He didn’t control what she saw and he had no way of knowing that anyone else would see what she saw. For him to blame himself was asinine.

Didn’t stop him from doing it, though.

Then, a new look graced Bevan’s features, one that she would have eagerly nodded for had it not been for the stiff neck she had. Instead, he got a nod, a slow nod, but there was a near desperation in her eyes to get out of the bed for more than a few moments, without Mack hovering over her shoulder to make sure she was okay.

Much like the many feats of Mack, how easily the man was at her side in seemingly the blink of an eye and then picking her up without so much as rousing Mack or showing any issue at all, it still amazed her. A mortal in an immortal-filled world, there were still surprises near-daily. He managed to get her to the edge of the room, into her wheelchair and then down and out of the house without any angry god storming after them. All she had to do was sit there, head relaxed against the headrest on her wheelchair, hair tickling her face though she left it as they moved outside and the sun hit her directly. Not through a pane of glass or from the confines of Mack’s lavish home…but the true outside.

A look of calm took hold, for the first time in a while, eyes drifting closed as she soaked in the sun and allowed him to push her wherever he felt so inclined as he was the one springing her free. Something told her, he knew what she wanted without her having to say a word.

Much, her eyes seemed to say when they reopened, the gesture met with a tired smile. The sound of the water lapping about the pool under the gentle push of the wind and the unseen source of circulation was relaxing. The air as it blew through the grass, the flowers, the various trees, was relaxing. Everything about this should have, for all intents and purposes have been relaxing and calming in a way that she’d been clamoring for. Instead, it had her feeling…confined, reminded of the night she and Mack had shared there and how they’d not had any semblance of normalcy since then.

Without any forethought, she started to move, clumsy hands gripping her arm rests and starting to push herself up as her feet found the ground, bare feet that the ground suddenly felt rougher on. Feet that once embraced the earth beneath them now felt like they were too soft, too underused, to handle it. Her legs shook with just the effort of moving them off of the foot rests, preparing to push herself up when she stopped, momentarily winded. It was clear on her face that she wanted to move, that she wanted to get up, that she wanted to do something because the loop she was stuck in: restless nights, fear-filled days and a lack of ability to do anything herself was getting to her. Tears were welling in her eyes, unacknowledged as she slouched back in her chair and stopped trying.

Then, her eyes looked up at him, uncertain. Part of her wanted to walk, to test her limits, while the other part of her knew her body wasn’t ready. Another small portion wanted to get into the pool and try, to let the water hold the bulk of her weight so she could just feel…weightless, both in mind and in body for just a moment, but she didn’t think any of it was possible.

How long do you think we have until Mack gets up? she seemed to ask, glancing back at the house with a tired sigh and a sharp inhale of breath as she started to shift herself in her wheelchair again.

- - - -

She’d never get used to his bows, no matter how far down they went. He was always formal, even when it came to something completely informal like his unspoken request of her want for air. But now, here he was, before her, bowing and extending a hand to her that she was hesitant to take. Her eyes looked at it for a long while, her own not bothering to move as she debated even attempting to stand again after the abysmal attempt she’d just had, yet something in his eyes spoke to her. She felt like he’d help her, be that connection she needed to regain some normalcy, even if only for a moment.

Hesitantly, her hand reached for his, her own slipping into his own—the skin was oddly smooth, she’d later think back on, not a callous on the entirety of his palm nor his fingers—and starting to pull herself back up. Instantly, the pain was there, flaring, both mental and physical. The pain of her legs burning and buckling beneath her was bringing up the visions of the pliers sinking so easily into her flesh, twisting around, only to be yanked out and left in her other. Her eyes closed, a sharp breath inhaling and held as she buckled, held up by his strong grip which had her eyes looking at his. Brow in a permanent furrow and the pain she sought to keep from Mack plain as day, she tried to look away, only to find him there, keeping that contact with her.

And then a step was taken.

The entire motion of moving her leg forward made her body scream at her. It begged her drop and be done with it, but he wasn’t allowing her to. Her grip on him grew tighter, those clumsy fingers nearly white-knuckled within his hands as she tried to follow his lead at the very slow pace that she could manage, each step bringing more tears to her eyes and a look begging for the release of a seat, but he didn’t relent. He didn’t let her give up. She’d wanted to walk and he was helping her, toward the edge of the pool.

A frown crossed her features as he lowered so easily into the water, looking up at her and urging her to follow. She couldn’t watch as he lowered her, eyes squeezing shut as the cool water around her made her legs both burn and tense, the wounds that had yet to fully close threatening to soften and begin to diminish. But, though there was a new pain, there was a new relief. The weight of her own body was no longer a factor, not to the extent that it had been on land. Had it not been for his grip on her, she’d likely have fallen over, but he kept her steady until she finally looked at him and silently asked to be let go, to float. She didn’t want to walk anymore, she didn’t want to stand. She wanted to feel weightless like she used to. She wanted to feel in the water like her mind once had before Rafe had gotten a hold of her.

With the look exchanged, he helped her to her back and then the world went quiet. Her ears ducked beneath the water, her eyes drifted closed and, for a moment in time, she felt…normal. It was a brief moment, a fleeting moment, as the feel of his hand vanished from her back despite its presence still being there. But right then, she felt…almost normal again, the softest of smiles pulling at her lips as she let her mind go blank.

Mack would likely be mad that she was out of bed, let alone in the pool, but this was what she needed, at least for a little while. Just a little while, was all she asked.