fionna_time (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fionna_time) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
queenoflogs2012-01-26 09:22 am
fionna_time) wrote in queenoflogs2012-01-26 09:22 am
Entry tags:
Seventh layer
Characters: Fionna, open, but especially directed at Deimonea, since Fionna has PLENTY of nightmare fuel now.
Date: Afternoon this.
Summary: Fionna had totally messed up in the worst, worst way possible, and is getting as far away as she can.
Warnings: Somewhat squeemish imagery with a good dash of wibbliness.
It was all she had, after leaving her backpack, which she was silently cursing herself for right now. She could really have used it if she were going to live on her own.
But she couldn't get it out of her mind, Marceline in that condition, Marceline throwing her, howling in pain. ALL because of her, because she didn't use her brain stems and now Marceline thought she had done it on purpose. No friend did that, no bud and ESPECIALLY not a hero. So it was better to stay away from them before she just globbed it all up again.
The tree fort was almost like home, and that was the worse. But after this, how could she go back there? There was no Cake, her close friends hated her, and she didn't even have her hat now.
She started on the tent, making her place somewhere near the rapids. Here she could at least live off fish, make a few things. And it was here, sitting by the water, that she grabbed a pebble and made something she wanted now: scissors. She worked on her hair immediately, hacking at its long, flowing locks, until she had just enough shoulder length. She stared at her puffy eyed, reflection: lip still with a little dried blood, her face blotchy. She washed her face only just, then crawled back into the tent, muffling the quiet sobs.
If she EVER needed someone to kill her memories, it was now, but Fionna would never have asked for it. She would stay here and remember.
Date: Afternoon this.
Summary: Fionna had totally messed up in the worst, worst way possible, and is getting as far away as she can.
Warnings: Somewhat squeemish imagery with a good dash of wibbliness.
It was all she had, after leaving her backpack, which she was silently cursing herself for right now. She could really have used it if she were going to live on her own.
But she couldn't get it out of her mind, Marceline in that condition, Marceline throwing her, howling in pain. ALL because of her, because she didn't use her brain stems and now Marceline thought she had done it on purpose. No friend did that, no bud and ESPECIALLY not a hero. So it was better to stay away from them before she just globbed it all up again.
The tree fort was almost like home, and that was the worse. But after this, how could she go back there? There was no Cake, her close friends hated her, and she didn't even have her hat now.
She started on the tent, making her place somewhere near the rapids. Here she could at least live off fish, make a few things. And it was here, sitting by the water, that she grabbed a pebble and made something she wanted now: scissors. She worked on her hair immediately, hacking at its long, flowing locks, until she had just enough shoulder length. She stared at her puffy eyed, reflection: lip still with a little dried blood, her face blotchy. She washed her face only just, then crawled back into the tent, muffling the quiet sobs.
If she EVER needed someone to kill her memories, it was now, but Fionna would never have asked for it. She would stay here and remember.