Aʟɪᴄᴇ Pʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴄᴇ Lɪᴅᴅᴇʟʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
digophelia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
asgardmeridiem2014-03-25 09:23 pm
digophelia) wrote in asgardmeridiem2014-03-25 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: (Elder) Alice and open
What: After the school fire, Alice more or less blacked out and slept for a few days, only to wander out while hallucinating. She finally wakes up.
When: Day 422
Where: All over Asgard
Warnings: May have potential triggers or content warning here for mental illness (i.e. disassociation and hallucinating), but nothing fairly extreme. I just want to make that pretty clear, since these things can be sensitive in nature.
The rest of it seems to be a blur.
Or rather, a big, big blotch of black ink on paper, from a fountain pin onto white paper. It spreads and spreads, until the blinding white is consumed by black. Darkness. She feels herself falling and falling -- but there is no rabbit hole to speak of, just a sinking feeling until she hits something. Hard.
She had fallen off the bed, not that she would have noticed. In an lucid dream, Alice had staggered out of doorway, down a flight of stairs that seemed too endless for her memory, as if she was going further and further into darkness again. The ground was rumbling and in her mind, she envisioned snakes and wolves, climbing up a hill made of doll heads and skulls, past grey visions of figures with no faces to spare. "LOOK AT ME." She hears them screaming.
But in her mind, Alice had kept her head low, her head ringing as she staggered forward, bare feet hitting the cobbled stone street, as Alice was remembering something... something terribly vague. Triangles... shards. Absolutely hysteric! Glass? A vision of her arms red, black and white. Blood red. The rage box? No, that was left in Wonderland.
"Worry for others can end up damaging you, Alice."
She can still glance back to the Dollhouse now and see them glancing through the windows waiting for safety. But had she not gone through a window? No, that couldn't be it. She could recall smoke and climbing through a window, but it seems to blur. She was seven in that memory, not nineteen. Alice finally glances down at her hands, sure that there were shards of glass in them, but.
There's nothing. No burns, no scratches, no cuts. Nothing.
"I've could have sworn-"
She was consumed by her visions, which is, sadly, not terribly unusual for her. She flexes her trembling hands, turning them front to back to inspect them. Not a trace on her pale skin, nothing more than the sickly parlor of her skin and veins. Was it just her imagination running loose? It may take a few more moments, but Alice is currently pulling herself back up off the ground, clutching her head as the headache subsides.
What: After the school fire, Alice more or less blacked out and slept for a few days, only to wander out while hallucinating. She finally wakes up.
When: Day 422
Where: All over Asgard
Warnings: May have potential triggers or content warning here for mental illness (i.e. disassociation and hallucinating), but nothing fairly extreme. I just want to make that pretty clear, since these things can be sensitive in nature.
The rest of it seems to be a blur.
Or rather, a big, big blotch of black ink on paper, from a fountain pin onto white paper. It spreads and spreads, until the blinding white is consumed by black. Darkness. She feels herself falling and falling -- but there is no rabbit hole to speak of, just a sinking feeling until she hits something. Hard.
She had fallen off the bed, not that she would have noticed. In an lucid dream, Alice had staggered out of doorway, down a flight of stairs that seemed too endless for her memory, as if she was going further and further into darkness again. The ground was rumbling and in her mind, she envisioned snakes and wolves, climbing up a hill made of doll heads and skulls, past grey visions of figures with no faces to spare. "LOOK AT ME." She hears them screaming.
But in her mind, Alice had kept her head low, her head ringing as she staggered forward, bare feet hitting the cobbled stone street, as Alice was remembering something... something terribly vague. Triangles... shards. Absolutely hysteric! Glass? A vision of her arms red, black and white. Blood red. The rage box? No, that was left in Wonderland.
"Worry for others can end up damaging you, Alice."
She can still glance back to the Dollhouse now and see them glancing through the windows waiting for safety. But had she not gone through a window? No, that couldn't be it. She could recall smoke and climbing through a window, but it seems to blur. She was seven in that memory, not nineteen. Alice finally glances down at her hands, sure that there were shards of glass in them, but.
There's nothing. No burns, no scratches, no cuts. Nothing.
"I've could have sworn-"
She was consumed by her visions, which is, sadly, not terribly unusual for her. She flexes her trembling hands, turning them front to back to inspect them. Not a trace on her pale skin, nothing more than the sickly parlor of her skin and veins. Was it just her imagination running loose? It may take a few more moments, but Alice is currently pulling herself back up off the ground, clutching her head as the headache subsides.
no subject
This is his spot, not hers. She isn't sure how long she slept, but it had to have been a while. And worst of all, she doesn't recall a thing. Alice will resign herself to that fact for now.
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