After leaving Luna, who wasn’t coming along with her due to having plans with Anya, Raven had made her way over to the other side of Arcadia to Clarke’s flat. A time line of showing up ‘whenever’ hadn’t been much help. She hoped that arriving just an hour after her friends last message hadn’t been pushing it because there was nothing more that she hated than the idea of being needy. Standing in the hallway, Raven reached out to push the handle of the open door down, exactly like Clarke had said it would be. The door came to a close louder than what she had anticipated, and seeing a figure on the couch wrapped in blankets she realised that this must have been Clarke’s roommate... She couldn't be that bad? Judging by the movements from under the blanket, she must have just woken up. “Shit,” Raven grumbled under her breath - how was she going to get her way out of this one?
The day had gone well so far- Ana was positively glowing, he didn’t even think he was the only one noticing it anymore even though they still had yet to tell people they were expecting. That was the plan for the night- they were gathering in preparation for the full moon. Lots of young werewolves in the family meant that there was a need for it, though some of the older ones like his nephew, Derek and niece, Laura were out of the house.
They’d headed under the house to show the younger wolves what they’d be doing when it came time for the moon to begin affecting them. The thunking sound alerted all of them and it was followed by the sickening scent of gasoline. Part of it caught him in the face and he stumbled away, one eye feeling as though it were burning.
Someone howled and it cut through him.
Then came the flames.
Ana gathered up the younger wolves, ushering them away from the fire while the older ones tried desperately to find a way out. The house had been sealed with a line of mountain ash, however and no matter what they tried none of them could get past it. Not even Talia.
He could smell the panic in the air, and now even his siblings were losing themselves to the fear, trying to retreat from the flames. The young ones were screaming and he was all too aware of Ana sobbing, delicate hands curled around the bump that had began to blossom. Someone collided with Peter and he stumbled back, gasoline soaked side catching fire.
The scent of his burning flesh reached his nose before the pain really set in and he screamed. He was the first to catch fire but the others were quick to flame too, many of them more covered in gasoline than Peter was himself. Frantically, he tried to put himself out, the scent of his family roasting in his nostrils.
The children were still screaming.
Then the sound of Ana’s scream ripped through his body.
Peter stumbled towards her, choking on the smoke filled air. His eyes watered as he tried to find his wife in the room, though it was hard to see. His ears locked onto her heartbeat over every other sound and he tried to make his way to her. He’d never loved another like her, never considered putting anyone above his own desire for power until her.
He was more powerless than he ever had been in that moment however, tripping and falling to his knees with another horrified howl as the fire crackled around him. Gasping in a breath, he suddenly remembered nothing more.
He was aware of his eyes opening. Things were fuzzy. His body ached. He couldn’t move it. He wasn’t even really in control of the action of his eyes, as far as he could tell. But the beeping sounds around him made it sound like a hospital. It took time for Peter to put together the bits and pieces he heard- things about his own condition. The doctors were astonished that he was alive at all, though they didn’t expect much in terms of his recovery.
Perhaps even worse… Ana was dead.
His wife was dead. His unborn child was dead. Now he was powerless inside his own head, doomed to relive the same moments over and over and over again. He was pissed. He had tried the straight and narrow and this is where it got him. Stuck in a hospital bed, powerless to do anything on his own.
So he ranted. Envisioning himself in his own head and yelling out his thoughts at a world that couldn’t listen. When he couldn’t yell alone in his head anymore, his eyes shut to the dull world of the hospital around him and then the people began to wander around in his head. His own projections to do something other than just yell into his own silence about how angry he was about absolutely everything and how things could have been different if he was the one in charge.
Derek. Cora. Laura. Talia. Bryant.
They all came and went. Most of the family, though never Ana. People he didn’t even know traipsed through too, smelling the lingering scent of burned flesh that never left his nostrils and he took them on a ride of his own memories.
Santana downed the last of the whiskey in her glass, opening her wardrobe. Grabbing her most skin tight red dress, she pulled it on, knowing she looked good. Once she slipped on a pair of nude stilettos to go with them, she reapplied her makeup, going for the dramatic eye look. She wanted to go all out tonight, hoping to find someone to help get Brittany out of her mind. Her ex hadn't come back to their dorm until early hours of the morning, and Santana left as early as she could with Quinn so they had barely looked at each other, never mind spoken. Knowing she was going out with Felix made her feel a little happier. He was one of her favourite people and they hadn't spent enough time together recently because they had both been so wrapped up in their own relationships. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, she threw her keys and smokes into her bag. She began to walk towards Felix's dorm, swigging on the bottle. Every mouthful made her blood heat up in the cold air. Every mouthful made her throat burn, the feeling matching the burn of the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. The walk seemed to be over in no time, but she still had managed to drink nearly half of the bottle. She knocked on the door, leaning on the wall as she waited for him to answer, lighting up a cigarette.
ask-danisuarez replied to your post “Thanksgiving is less than a day away!”
Your posts are getting longer, I see. Happy almost Thanksgiving, Rachel. I think I read something about your rendition of the Thanksgiving story so I hope you have fun!
Although I can appreciate the necessity to lash out in your jealousy over my enviable and elusive 'concise thoroughness', you are actually wrong and this post was a crucial 297 words shorter than my last post heralding the exciting news of my Halloween costume, the now classic homage to Julie Andrews' most famous role. Regardless of your misguided and erroneous attempt to mock me for simply choosing to use my blog for it's original purpose, I do appreciate the Thanksgiving wishes so thank you very much. While the official theatre term is 'Break a leg', I suppose I did have a lot of fun regaling my guests with the stunning young ingenue's tale of hardship, treacherous producer pilgrims and the starry lights of Broadway and show business. On the other hand, I can only assume your Thanksgiving was extremely short due to your apparent inability to enjoy supposedly lengthy undertakings?
