towerofanimus | I was the more deceiv'd

Characters: France [AU2] open to all
Setting: Floor Eleven, night time
Format: Either is fine
Summary: Francisca's just returned from being 'home' for about a month, straight after her shaky recovery from the teddy bear event. Needless to say, she's lost it.
Warnings: potential violence, potential suicide, language.

She felt cold.

On her abrupt return to the tower after weeks of wandering the decimated streets of France alone, after weeks of feeling as if someone had cut her heart out with a rusty knife, after week of nothingness, she broke down. She'd barely had enough time to get to a bathroom to vomit whatever little her stomach had held and proceeded to fall into a state of hysterics, screaming and clawing at her skin in the empty cubicle, her nightgown soaked with sweat and bare feet kicking at the walls.

Now that she'd 'calmed' somewhat, she'd come out of the bathroom and found it was night, the tower lights dimmed and no one in the hallways. Restless, she'd made her way to the eleventh floor, needing the comfort of life after so long without that when she reached it tears had started streaming down her cheeks as she got trembling handfuls of flowers, holding the delicate blossoms to her face and inhaling the scent.

Following the sounds of running water, she stumbled to the lake, mutely staring at the phantoms that seemed to dance under the reversed rainbows in the darkened sky. Strange that she found the sight of such apparitions more comforting that frightening - her people had been dead and not even their ghosts had left whispers behind. The phantoms let her be as she stumbled into the lake, dropping several flowers in the process and letting the little blossoms float around her in the rippling water. Soon the water was to her knees and she felt some relief in the cold she could feel seeping up her legs, contrasting with the warm air around her, but it wasn't enough. She felt numb and soon she was crushing the flowers in her hands, nails digging into her palms as she began to have another panic attack, breath coming faster and louder.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A cruel sport- I can still smell the burnt flesh," she moaned quietly, not noticing how his fingers pressed into her hips. "Every living thing was destroyed and gone, all the buildings were damaged and the streets were filled with ash," she babbled, shaking hard as the memory rose up within her, threatening to swallow her whole.

"They want us to feel hopeless so we will not carry on. They are not our saviors, amour. We must save ourselves-" Francis crooned against those soft curls. He would repeat the same message as many times as he could if it could only seep in past the cold of the lake water. He seemed to start when his feet hit dry ground and he tightened his grip reflexively, quick to realize it was just himself he had to be concerned over and slump.

For a moment he considered taking her back to his room. For a second he forgot that he has a new roommate that would probably bring more stress to her troubled mind by loose association. "We will be free of this place, Francisca. My only regret is the possibility that we will not go to the same home."

He let out a shaky breath and took her up in arms, giving the lake a passing look before heading toward the stairwell.

She was stone cold and could no longer tell if her body was shaking in a pathetic attempt to generate heat or if it was from the memories of her destroyed home coursing through her mind, bringing with it the dull empty ache in her chest.

She didn't protest when he picked her up, simply curling into his chest and hiding her face against his shirt, knuckles white from how tightly she was clinging to him. Her lips were equally pale as she pressed them together, keeping her distressed sounds to a minimum as she strained to right her mind, somehow, for him.

I was the more deceiv'd

OH YES I AM.

B(!!!

Re: B(!!!