Jessica Boyette (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notvitiligo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
queenoflogs2012-10-23 01:21 pm
notvitiligo) wrote in queenoflogs2012-10-23 01:21 pm
Entry tags:
Perspectives
Characters: Anyone with a reason to be in/around Beaumont
Date: Oct. 23
Summary: Jessica gets her nightmare on.
Warnings: None expected.
The Gardens are a prison. Sure, there are people who are happy there, but there are many who suffer. Why should they suffer for the sake of a few? Why should they serve the desires of... whoever put them there?
Why should she have to keep bowing to the wants of others?
She has connections, friends. People who know what to look for, who can find little cracks and crevices in the mechanism. She just needs to call in favors.
The shingles are hot, warming the soles of her feet through her slippers. The sky burns orange, the air around shimmering. She can see the world from here, expanses of fields, trees baked bare, cracked earth.
Cracks in the world- no, in the prison walls. It shouldn't exist. Anyone would agree. Even if some residents would suffer briefly, it's a good thing. Because people should be free.
It's dark and cool, the sounds of the world outside softened. It has always been this way, eternal rest curled in the liquid oblivion. No, not always: once, it was warm. Once, there was a steady beat. But suddenly, silence and cool.
There is something different outside. The noise increases. Something new, high-pitched, stirring parts never touched before. A new feeling of discomfort. Fear.
A tear in the soul. The world around warps.
It is warm again. The sound is there. But it's different, now.
They will hurt, the ones that made this. Their hard work, destroyed. Obliterated.
Good.
She blocks out the screams, voices begging her to stop. They'll understand. They don't know, but they will. It's for everyone's good.
Darkness in the cracks. Void spreading through. The ground leaves her. The cries become white noise, then fade to a dull, watery roar as nothingness surges through the prison walls.
Her limbs curl in, wrapping around herself. She closes her eyes.
When I awaken, I'll be where I should be. That's all that matters.
Jessica blinks awake, unmoving.
She's above the bedcovers and her nightclothes again, naked, ghostly, and curled in the fetal position. She breathes steadily, counting four in, eight out, until her heart stops trying to batter itself through her sternum.
It's not her room. That is, it's not her room at home. It's her room at Beaumont, in the Gardens.
Just a dream.
Gradually, her body calms, and her form solidifes again, descending gently back to the mattress. She sighs and slips her clothing back on, then stands. No way she's getting back to sleep just yet.
Bulbasaur grunts in sleepy confusion as Jessica scoops her up and hugs her, but after a half-awake shuffling into a more comfortable position falls asleep again. Jessica rests her cheek on the pokemon, enjoying the feeling of someone else solid and alive, then goes to the kitchen.
Nightmares call for a glass of milk and a slice of that cake she baked the other day.
Date: Oct. 23
Summary: Jessica gets her nightmare on.
Warnings: None expected.
The Gardens are a prison. Sure, there are people who are happy there, but there are many who suffer. Why should they suffer for the sake of a few? Why should they serve the desires of... whoever put them there?
Why should she have to keep bowing to the wants of others?
She has connections, friends. People who know what to look for, who can find little cracks and crevices in the mechanism. She just needs to call in favors.
The shingles are hot, warming the soles of her feet through her slippers. The sky burns orange, the air around shimmering. She can see the world from here, expanses of fields, trees baked bare, cracked earth.
Cracks in the world- no, in the prison walls. It shouldn't exist. Anyone would agree. Even if some residents would suffer briefly, it's a good thing. Because people should be free.
It's dark and cool, the sounds of the world outside softened. It has always been this way, eternal rest curled in the liquid oblivion. No, not always: once, it was warm. Once, there was a steady beat. But suddenly, silence and cool.
There is something different outside. The noise increases. Something new, high-pitched, stirring parts never touched before. A new feeling of discomfort. Fear.
A tear in the soul. The world around warps.
It is warm again. The sound is there. But it's different, now.
They will hurt, the ones that made this. Their hard work, destroyed. Obliterated.
Good.
She blocks out the screams, voices begging her to stop. They'll understand. They don't know, but they will. It's for everyone's good.
Darkness in the cracks. Void spreading through. The ground leaves her. The cries become white noise, then fade to a dull, watery roar as nothingness surges through the prison walls.
Her limbs curl in, wrapping around herself. She closes her eyes.
When I awaken, I'll be where I should be. That's all that matters.
Jessica blinks awake, unmoving.
She's above the bedcovers and her nightclothes again, naked, ghostly, and curled in the fetal position. She breathes steadily, counting four in, eight out, until her heart stops trying to batter itself through her sternum.
It's not her room. That is, it's not her room at home. It's her room at Beaumont, in the Gardens.
Just a dream.
Gradually, her body calms, and her form solidifes again, descending gently back to the mattress. She sighs and slips her clothing back on, then stands. No way she's getting back to sleep just yet.
Bulbasaur grunts in sleepy confusion as Jessica scoops her up and hugs her, but after a half-awake shuffling into a more comfortable position falls asleep again. Jessica rests her cheek on the pokemon, enjoying the feeling of someone else solid and alive, then goes to the kitchen.
Nightmares call for a glass of milk and a slice of that cake she baked the other day.