creator_raven (
creator_raven) wrote2005-11-30 12:26 am
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Raven's room is dark and still.
There is a pair of boots by the door, and a pair of socks on the back of the chair. There is a dreamcatcher tossed, perhaps haphazardly, perhaps not, onto the chair.
On the dresser, a stuffed chibi!Nyarlathotep sits in all its red-glittered glory.
There are no mice.
Though Raven is stirring, faintly.
There is a pair of boots by the door, and a pair of socks on the back of the chair. There is a dreamcatcher tossed, perhaps haphazardly, perhaps not, onto the chair.
On the dresser, a stuffed chibi!Nyarlathotep sits in all its red-glittered glory.
There are no mice.
Though Raven is stirring, faintly.
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Then the door opens.
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She looks rather wrecked. It's been a very long day.
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Though he stumbles at the end.
Still, Ace lands on him, and not the floor.
It's close enough for horseshoes and hand-grenades, perhaps.
Or nitro.
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She's home. Finally.
"S'over. S'all over. I cn'fly again." Exhaustion - physical, mental, emotional, spiritual - makes the words more indistinct than she would like, saps most of the enthusiasm and joy out of her voice, but she is glad to be free of it all.
Ace leans against her brother heavily, and closes her eyes.
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"You could always fly, I think. Just not always in a box."
He shifts her to a more comfortable position.
"Bed, perhaps? The floor is hard on my ass."
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"Bed's good. F'y'like."
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"You are like lead, I think."
"Also you are on my ankles."
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"Y'ankles r'comfy." She informs him, indistinctly.
Pause, as she just works on breathing. Breathing is good. Breathing without being watched, questioned, cross-examined.
"They were furious. S'like bein' n'a room full of... of... angry things."
Evidently descriptive powers also fail at this stage.
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He pushes at her, carefully, and manages to slide one foot free.
This does not make things less awkward, as now he is bending in odd places.
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At this point, it's probable she'd be comfortable on a bed of nails, if it didn't involve further questioning.
"F'y'want. Th'asked questions f'hours. Days. Dunno. Long time. Every last minute accounted for. Din't wan'ta b'lieve." She'd be crying, now, because the memory is as raw and painful as it had been the first night after leaving the doomed planet, but she simply lacks the energy to do so.
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Raven is slow, too, as he extricates his other foot from beneath Ace.
One both are free, he shifts, still so very carefully, and hefts Ace upright.
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"No..." She protests, in the distracted sort of way of a student of some obscure area of study who's pretty sure she read something, somewhere, that contradicts the last statement. "S'no'suppos'd t'happen. Time Lords. Th'don't... don't... kill. No. S'not right. Don't... murder. Yeah. Not people. Not planets. S'no'right. An'. He's... he's'young, t'them. S'like a baby, babies aren'suppos'd'ta kill."
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He shrugs, slightly, and shifts to take more of her weight.
Then he heads, very slowly and carefully, toward the bed.
It looks comfy.
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blood and earth and ash oh my people
Then he moves, lifting Ace just enough to be able to carry her over to the bed.
He tucks her in, gently.
"Sleep might be best, I think. Dreamless, as well, if it may be managed."
Raven is good at hope, strangely.
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"Stay?" It's why she didn't stay put, in the safety of her TARDIS, why she climbed up a seemingly endless flight of stairs and roamed the halls searching for her brother's room. She's terrified of the nightmares she's almost certain will come. She doesn't want to face them alone. She'd put off sleep like she has before, if that were an option, but it's only because she's a stubborn, mule-headed sort that she's awake at all.
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"Of course. This body serves well enough? Or would you prefer the snuggly one. I am flexible, I think."
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Right now? She's overwhelmingly grateful. She smiles at him, a sleepy, satisfied smile, and lets her grip on his sleeve slip.
"Like this one. S'm'favorite." She replies drowsily, her eyes closing again.
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He shifts a bit, on the bed, making himself a comfortable spot, then leans against Ace, one arm around her shoulder.
"It is, for the most part, the one with the most attachments for me, as well."
This is not a lie. But it does not truly make it his favorite.
He lays down, then, pulling her close, eyes half open, watching.
He does not always need to sleep, after all.