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Room 528, Sunday Afternoon
Aug. 22nd, 2010 06:04 pmEmma had not actually slept in two weeks.
Every time she began to get tired or drift off, her body would shift, and she'd find herself wide-awake, shiny, and mildly vexed at the entire situation. She'd change back eventually, but any attempts at napping or sleep were continually thwarted.
Until this afternoon, when her body could not keep up with the demands of Emma's unconscious any longer. Between one page of her latest mystery novel and the next, Emma Frost fell asleep.
And dreamed. Nightmares, pouring in from the minds of the rest of the island; visions of hells she had not visited herself. Demon dogs, some creature with an apron of skin, large mutant terrors roaming the streets. Rivet City, reminding her of what it meant to be homeless and broke and hungry all over again. The building coming down around her and Alex, and this time, Emma didn't change. Finding Alex's broken body and screaming. Watching her classmates and teachers unravel in the bunker, and falling prey to its residents.
She didn't wake screaming; Emma had trained herself too well for that. The only sign of her distress was the way her nails cut into her palms.
[OOC: Door closed, post open, sure.]
Every time she began to get tired or drift off, her body would shift, and she'd find herself wide-awake, shiny, and mildly vexed at the entire situation. She'd change back eventually, but any attempts at napping or sleep were continually thwarted.
Until this afternoon, when her body could not keep up with the demands of Emma's unconscious any longer. Between one page of her latest mystery novel and the next, Emma Frost fell asleep.
And dreamed. Nightmares, pouring in from the minds of the rest of the island; visions of hells she had not visited herself. Demon dogs, some creature with an apron of skin, large mutant terrors roaming the streets. Rivet City, reminding her of what it meant to be homeless and broke and hungry all over again. The building coming down around her and Alex, and this time, Emma didn't change. Finding Alex's broken body and screaming. Watching her classmates and teachers unravel in the bunker, and falling prey to its residents.
She didn't wake screaming; Emma had trained herself too well for that. The only sign of her distress was the way her nails cut into her palms.
[OOC: Door closed, post open, sure.]
