rabid dog

And I say, "I'll give you my whole summer when you unfurl your fingers. I would be lying if I said you had nothing to do with me; you're to blame for my being this way." oc blog affiliated with sleepyxhollow

[alathfarian]

the hounds are still in chains [open]

[beaumiers]

"O-Orestes!?"

Francine doesn’t remember too much before they found themselves in Sleepy Hollow, but they remember that name, and the overwhelming sense of guilt and self-loathing that came along with it. Maybe this really is hell, and this was their punishment — never being able to get away from the person they had failed the most.They try to quickly recompose themselves, and stuff down their disquiet with a familiar ease that only comes with practice. 

"Orestes, what’s wrong?"

[alathfarian]

In his surprise Orestes nearly takes Francine's head off with the block of wood in his hands. The person before him looks so eerily like the figure he'd seen in his dreams, the figure that stood outside of the bathroom in his hallucination.

"You," he says breathlessly, "You know my name. You..." His head hurts and the memories that he was afraid to touch now press against the walls of his mind. He clutches his makeshift weapon like a lifeline, focusing on the sensation of splinters of wood cutting into his palms instead of the memories that threaten to intrude on his peace. Peace. He is peaceful here, even though his mind is empty and his body seems to run on autopilot. He senses that memories will bring about an end to his peaceful existence. They will bring pain. He feels nothing right now and it aches in its own way, but he is frightened of what this new pain might bring.

In the end the decision is not with him--it comes without his consent. "Francine..." he breathes at last. "Francine." He says it again, tasting it in his mouth. Then--"My apologies, Dr. Beaumier. It was not appropriate of me to use your name with such familiarity. I do not ask for forgiveness, for I do not deserve it." The learned stiffness finds its way back into his spine, finds its way into his words and he bows--though even his lowest bow is still higher than Francine's shoulders.

"As for what's wrong--I have not felt myself lately," he says, by way of explanation, "Though that is no excuse for my behavior. Thank you for visiting me. I owe you so much already, and now this as well--you have brought me to my senses once again."

[alathfarian]

the hounds are still in chains [open]

Every night the same dream. Orestes sits up, skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat. He hadn't even intended to fall asleep, can't even remember when he got into bed. His mind is foggy, and the dream is still so vivid in his head that it's hard to separate from reality.

Giving up on dismissing the obtrusive thoughts from his head, he lets his body follow routine like clockwork; rises up out of bed, bathes, shaves. The face in the mirror stares back at him as he drags the razor across his skin. He'd dreamed about the scars, dreamed of being backhanded and thrown to the ground, dreamed of his back lighting up like fire with pain.

He sees movement in his peripheral vision in the mirror--the door behind him replaced with bars and a white-robed figure standing just outside. The cry dies in his throat as he turns around and sees nothing but a wooden door swinging wide. His skin prickles with anxious energy and he finishes getting ready in a hurry. He needs air.

It's not hard to find a discarded piece of wood big enough for his purposes once he's outside. The balance feels a little off in his hands but he adjusts to it without quite knowing how. He doesn't have a conscious memory of doing any type of drills or exercises in his life, but his muscle memory leads him through a series of motions at once fluid and abrupt. Once, twice, again.

He fights an invisible enemy alone, entirely focused on each movement, trying to meet a standard he can't verbalize. So immersed in his task is he that he doesn't notice when someone (or something) approaches.