queen elsa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bothfoulandfair) wrote2014-05-10 11:04 pm
bothfoulandfair) wrote2014-05-10 11:04 pm
eight ❅ spam
[May 9th, Spam for Dillon and Morgana]
[The Barge shakes and trembles, and when she opens her eyes, tries to pick herself off the floor, she's still the same.
Well. Almost, because the one important difference makes itself painfully obvious as soon as she reaches out to grip her bookcase, planning on lifting herself up, only to feel the familiar tug of magic and stare, wide eyed and terrified as the entire thing ices over.
Her powers are back. Her powers are back, and they're strong, and the terror that grips her has nothing to do with being on another Barge, with finding out what exactly that's going to mean, or anything else.
Her powers are back, and she still has no idea how to control them.]
Dillon! [She shrieks before remembering what everyone had said, what Morgana had warned her about. There's a very good chance her warden won't be the man she knows at all, and she clamps her hands over her mouth, as if that's going to take back what she'd said.
It takes several minutes, but somehow, she manages to get her gloves on and creep into the hallway. Ice fans out under her feet, but it's subtle, almost unnoticeable, and she doesn't know what she's doing or where she thinks she's going, but she needs help, needs someone who's going to be able to fix this, and she thinks of Morgana, how the other inmate is more likely to be a kinder version of herself or the same woman she's gotten to know on the real ship.
Maybe she can help now.]
[May 10th, Spam for Scorpius]
[Choking back panic is not an uncommon state for her to be in, but in the past, the fear has been fleeting, swept aside by guilt and desperation and depression and loneliness and in one glorious instant by complete and utter joy, because she's been able to retreat and regroup and figure out how to move forward.
This is different. This is a constant, strangling terror that threatens to burst out at any moment, and if she lets it, she has no idea what's going to happen. None.
But she thinks maybe, maybe she can do this.
And then the ship crashes.
So she's already fraying at the edges, walking one of the hallways and trying to find someone, anyone, any familiar face or reassuring presence that can help anchor her here, keep her control from splintering further.
Or maybe she just needs to get back to her room.]
[May 10th through Event End, Open Spam]
[She's out of control.
It's all happening again, and she can't do anything to stop it. It's like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands, and it's so much easier - so much easier - to just give in, to just feel it rip out and spill over everything
The worst part is? It feels good.
But she's icing over the remains of the ship, and she knows people will hate her for it. Will be frightened and angry and murderous, and she can't be here when they come for her. She's afraid, she doesn't want to die again.
So she does the one thing she can: she runs.
Ice and snow follows her like a virus, spreading out over the terrain, blasting it bare and leaving a trail for anyone who wants to to follow.
They'll need to hurry, though. The radius is expanding rapidly, eating up the clear path and creating a wide expanse of quasi eternal winter.]
[The Barge shakes and trembles, and when she opens her eyes, tries to pick herself off the floor, she's still the same.
Well. Almost, because the one important difference makes itself painfully obvious as soon as she reaches out to grip her bookcase, planning on lifting herself up, only to feel the familiar tug of magic and stare, wide eyed and terrified as the entire thing ices over.
Her powers are back. Her powers are back, and they're strong, and the terror that grips her has nothing to do with being on another Barge, with finding out what exactly that's going to mean, or anything else.
Her powers are back, and she still has no idea how to control them.]
Dillon! [She shrieks before remembering what everyone had said, what Morgana had warned her about. There's a very good chance her warden won't be the man she knows at all, and she clamps her hands over her mouth, as if that's going to take back what she'd said.
It takes several minutes, but somehow, she manages to get her gloves on and creep into the hallway. Ice fans out under her feet, but it's subtle, almost unnoticeable, and she doesn't know what she's doing or where she thinks she's going, but she needs help, needs someone who's going to be able to fix this, and she thinks of Morgana, how the other inmate is more likely to be a kinder version of herself or the same woman she's gotten to know on the real ship.
Maybe she can help now.]
[May 10th, Spam for Scorpius]
[Choking back panic is not an uncommon state for her to be in, but in the past, the fear has been fleeting, swept aside by guilt and desperation and depression and loneliness and in one glorious instant by complete and utter joy, because she's been able to retreat and regroup and figure out how to move forward.
This is different. This is a constant, strangling terror that threatens to burst out at any moment, and if she lets it, she has no idea what's going to happen. None.
But she thinks maybe, maybe she can do this.
And then the ship crashes.
So she's already fraying at the edges, walking one of the hallways and trying to find someone, anyone, any familiar face or reassuring presence that can help anchor her here, keep her control from splintering further.
Or maybe she just needs to get back to her room.]
[May 10th through Event End, Open Spam]
[She's out of control.
It's all happening again, and she can't do anything to stop it. It's like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands, and it's so much easier - so much easier - to just give in, to just feel it rip out and spill over everything
The worst part is? It feels good.
But she's icing over the remains of the ship, and she knows people will hate her for it. Will be frightened and angry and murderous, and she can't be here when they come for her. She's afraid, she doesn't want to die again.
So she does the one thing she can: she runs.
Ice and snow follows her like a virus, spreading out over the terrain, blasting it bare and leaving a trail for anyone who wants to to follow.
They'll need to hurry, though. The radius is expanding rapidly, eating up the clear path and creating a wide expanse of quasi eternal winter.]