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(Somewhere Under Milliways: Sunshine's large, lovingly-collected library of gothic vampire lit will likely never be the same refuge of fantasy escapism ever again. She may burn them all when she gets home. If she survives to get home.)

From the kitchens come the sounds of startled, squeaking rats, of a large basket of paradoxes overturning as someone runs unsteadily towards the reassuring light and noise of the bar. The door to the kitchen slams open a moment later, letting through a pale and shaking Rae, clutching her wrenched and bruised right arm to her chest as she runs.

Her head is still reeling, her eyes watering and blurring her vision, the realization of what had just happened - what she had done - and to whom - causing her stomach to rebel violently.

Luckily, the cleaning crew prefer a clean bar and have put trash cans up at strategic locations, for Sunshine doesn't make it to the restroom before being physically ill. She falls jerkily next to it, clutching the trashcan rim with a white-knuckled grip in an effort to steady herself and counteract the tremors she can't seem to stop.

(Warnings in OOM for... well, gothic horror.)

(Tiny tags: A Gothic Winter Tale, Vlad Dracula)

(OOC: Mun has gone to bed. Will return to tag up on threads tomorrow. EP is open for new threads/tags forever and ever, amen. <33333)

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Rae looks over her shoulder at Demeter, her face screwed up in pain and lingering fear.

Can she touch her?

Can Sunshine stand to be touched right now?

"I-" she tries, shakily, but she is interrupted by a fit of coughing, spitting out the last of the bitterness. Self-conscious shame returns to her, then, and the growing feeling of the need to wipe her mouth. She has nothing to wipe it on, and the only hand she feels is capable of use right now is busy keeping her upright. Sunshine looks down and away, letting her loose hair hide her face. "Yeah." Her voice is rough.

Demeter pulls a glass of water and handkerchief from her pocket and moves to put her arms loosely around Sunshine to support her,

"Here, take this. Let's get you to your room."

She has enough presence of mind to hold the glass at its thick base, where her shaking, white-knuckled grip has the least chance of breaking it. It's awkward, but even with the handkerchief and glass held in the same hand, she's able to wipe her face clean.

Still, she feels she would kill for a shower.

Sunshine hisses an intake of breath as Demeter's arms touch her injured arm and shoulder.

"Agh," she winces as she flexes her right hand, gingerly. "I can't..." She can't even focus on what she had been going to say. The bruises are already showing on her shoulder and arm.

"I'll try and help your arm, but I'm not the best healer in my family."

While still holding Sunshine, Demeter carefully runs her hand along Sunshine's arm and speaks quietly in Greek

The arm has been twisted cruelly, the shoulder wrenched, tendons pulled and possibly torn.

Sunshine grits her teeth, still shaking and pale as if feverish in Demeter's arms. Though she still shakes and feels weak, the terror-addled Sunshine can tell that her arm doesn't hurt near as much by the time Demeter finishes.

"Th-thank you," she says, trying to pretend she isn't clinging. The light and noise and life of the bar are helping.

"Do you want to try the stairs or should I just take you to your room?"

This is something simple and helpful that she can do since Sunshine looks so worn.

"N-no," Sunshine says, shaking her head. "I need..." Noise, people, life, light. "I don't want to be alone."

Not with that voice still ringing in her head.

"Then we'll get to beside the fire and I won't leave you. I promise."

She presses her eyes closed, trying to quell the tears threatening to fall.

"Thank you."

Demeter hugs her and gently starts moving towards the fire but at Sunshine's pace.

Sunshine's legs are unsteady, and her balance not exactly where it should be, but she can walk. She had run as far as she could from the danger she knew she could only escape if the danger was willing to let her, before she had fallen; getting back up and moving again is harder than it would usually be.

Demeter's good at supporting so they make their way to a couch,

"What would warm you best, soup, tea, coffee?"

Sunshine makes a face at the mention of coffee.

Tea is ever her liquid crutch, except when things are dire.

"Scotch?"

Things are dire.

"Yes."

A rat is looked at and soon returns with a glass with about two fingers of scotch in it that Demeter presses into Sunshine's hands, a warm loaf of bread with olive oil on the side is also on the table.

Edited 2009-12-29 22:32 (UTC)

The bread smell does wonders to clear Sunshine's head, as does the smoky taste of the scotch.

It's the good stuff, too. Gods... er... someone bless goddesses.

Setting down the now-mostly-empty glass, Sunshine tastes the bread. Warm, hearty, slightly moist crumb, no artificial rising agents or filler. "Mmmmm."

In the back of Sunshine's mind, where coherent thought is starting to flow again, she admits it might be on par with her own bread.

"Take all the time you need and let me know if you want anything else since I'll be right here."

From the other side of the couch, she pulls over a blanket since the fire is warm but probably not warm enough.

The bread is real. It smells real, tastes real. It's a much-needed anchor to keep Sunshine in reality and in the present and not back in the cellar held immobile by...

"Talk? Speak with me?" She tries a smile. "It really helps."

"Of course. Well there seems to be a very silly flu floating around that makes people think that they're not themselves. One young man kept insisting that he was in an engine room. Finally I had to simply make him sleep. I don't like doing that if I don't have to."

Sunshine curls up under the blanket, shivering still, every so often. "I'll try not to make it necessary, promise," she offers. "Though I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep any time soon."

"Only sleep when you think you can. It was many days after Kore was taken before I could sleep. I walked and walked so that I couldn't hear my own thoughts."

Demeter moves her hand to gently rub Sunshine's shoulder.

"She'll be back, though," Sunshine says, moving to hug (and totally not cling to) Demeter. It's already past the winter solstice, and the sun is beginning its returning journey.

"I... fear my dreams, at this point." She can remember the nightmares after her first run-in with vampires, and the different flavor of nightmare after Con used his blood, the blood of the doe, to heal her.

"Yes and you've survived. What do you fear of them?"

Demeter hugs her back tightly, she's never mind anyone who clings to her.

She fears the dreams of rivers, lakes of blood, wearing the dress she had been forced to wear, made of blood. Dreams of knowing herself as a vampire, of doing things and knowing things she could not possibly know in the waking world, but remembering that... she does know them, she does do these things, for she is a vampire and no longer human, and as a vampire she knows the world differently. Dreams where there is darkness in her sight and blood in her mouth, blood that she finds as sweet as the richest chocolate, and her dearly beloved daylight is but a fading memory. Dreams of Con...

Her throat tightens, and she swallows compulsively. "... They aren't... clean dreams."

"Clean is a strange word. Tell me what it means to you, please? My senses of what's appropriate and right don't match up with this world and time."

"Humans shouldn't have dreams of... violating everything it means to be human." To be human in a world overrun with vampires.