THE MOMENT SHE wakes up, she knows she’s alive. death, she’s sure, wouldn’t hurt this much. it hurts to even try to breathe, and her lungs burn with the effort, tears springing to her eyes as the lids flicker and she tries to rouse herself. her eyelids slam open. color and light pierces them and leaves her stunned, a whimper leaving her throat.
her last memories ( ---- don’t think about erik ) are of her shallow breathing, slipping in and out of consciousness. the scent of her blood sluggishly mixing with the dusty floor. the struggle to keep hold of her shift, because ... because? because he told her to, because she couldn’t slip up, because she had to stay hidden. the pain lancing down her side, her legs, with every inhalation that made her just want to stop. the sound of footsteps, coming closer and closer and closer --
there is cotton under her hands. the feel of a mattress pressing against her back. raven has no idea where she is. she can barely see but swings immediately out of the bed, snarling, arms reaching out. her hands, searching for a weapon, for a face to hit, anything, sweep something off a bedside table. it crashes to the ground and the sound echoes in her skull, makes it pound.
there’s a sinking feeling in her gut when she realizes that her shift is down, her skin blue and bright and scaled in daylight. the feeling sharpens itself into fear and panic. she has no idea where she is. raven tries to walk and her knee almost gives up on her. something catches her by the elbow and she hits back, hard, instinctively, blindly, she can’t see, she can’t see ----
& ---- @krovidym !
