Hubbub, confusion, afterglow (via suave_steve)

[akonken.livejournal.com]

Hubbub. It wasn't a word she used often - had used ever, that she could remember. But it was appropriate at this moment, as people clustered around Lucan and Lawrence. She wanted to put her hands to her ears and scream, to just get them to stop. She wanted them all to just stop and try to understand each other for a minute instead of a pointless duel. What would that prove anyway?

What did death ever prove?

It's okay if it's a life or death situation. That was the decision they'd come to as a Court, all that time ago. She wasn't very good at changing desires anyway. Still, she pulled.

Listen, she prayed, pleading. Try to understand. Please. Please want to understand.

She didn't know if it worked. Skip was close to her, shouting. She'd taken their Freedom. "Don't ever do that to a person. Or to me," he concluded.

It was too much of a barrage, too many implications rattling through her head, with everything else that whirled around, refusing to settle in her mind. She couldn't think straight, couldn't sift through the confusion. She asked a foolish question, got an appropriately scornful answer.

She didn't know what to do. She just left, wandering inside. Maybe she was fleeing.

People followed, consoling her, defending her. This wasn't what she wanted. Just listen. Just try to understand.

"I understand what he was trying to say. He's not wrong. It's okay." Listen.

She wasn't sure how much time passed like that, before Skip approached her. He'd apologised to her, and she'd apologised to him. They'd hugged, and it had felt right.

It wasn't as overwhelming wonderful as the afterglow of Spring's message that morning, but it made her happier. One fight, at least, was over without bloodshed.

Dream, Flustered, Red (for akonken)

[spydacarnage.livejournal.com]

Dream about the new King of Cats. That’s it. Nothing could be simpler, apparently.

It was only the other day that Tor was saying about how we could dream about whatever we wanted, that our kind can control our sleeping thoughts. He said he’d help me, but we ran out of time; had to go back to Cambridge to start my shift in the Crowns.

Now, more than ever, I’m wishing I didn’t have to leave him that night. Maybe then I’d actually be useful tonight, be able to help the others. Protecting us from Them – precisely what I’ve just signed up to do. I’m the Red Victor, and here I am being totally useless. Laying in bed, thinking about sleep instead of actually doing something.

If I sleep, I dream. If I dream and get it wrong, think of the wrong thing, who knows what will happen. For all I know, the new King of Cats will turn out to be a monkey or something. But if I don’t sleep, again, after last night, I’ll be in no state to go to the market, and I do have something I’m looking for. I wish Tor was here, or Amara. Even Megan. Just to keep me occupied, or maybe to guide me, help me.

So tired. I can feel my eyes closing. Cannot stay awake.

Nothing. Blackness. Sleep.

And then, the dream. The ritual, the zombies, the ghosts. Blood everywhere. Velvet’s head. Crystal’s eyes. My arm. Gushing. Spewing blood like a stream. Mac.

Why can’t I be dreaming of cats…