milliways_bar | (no subject)

"...Lucifer. Because I reminded him of another dark-haired girl who saw things others couldn't."

Ah. Lucifer.

*Face red, Alanna leans back in the large arm chair, trying to make herself as small as possible. She pulls her knees up and stares morosely at the ceiling.

She feels foolish. Childish.

She feels horrible, and is seriously considering saying her farewells and going home.

She also feels like crying and hates herself for it. But at least she recognizes jealousy for what it is, and wages a mental war with herself on the issue. Finally, she squeaks and runs her hand through her hair.*

That was... (kind?) thoughtful of him. It is your pet now?

*Pets are a safe subject. Really.*

"Her. And...in a way, yes."

Softly, hesitantly,

"Alanna, what have I done?"

I have a frog. She was also created, but I think as a joke, courtesy of those Weasley twins.

*Feeling her cheeks burn, Alanna eyes Morgan over the arm of the chair and shakes her head rapidly.*

I... You've done nothing, lass. I am just being an idiot. Do not mind me.

It's been a long day. Long night, followed by a long day. Lots of long nights.

*She laces her fingers together in her lap and straightens a small amount.*

Morgan eyes her, and curls up some more. She looks, for a moment, like a child.

"Don't lie. Please. Makes it worse - I don't know if you mean the words or the meaning."

I'm not lying. I don't do that. You've done nothing wrong save be yourself, and I rather like you, so I'll let it slide.

Honestly, I am simply acting like a lackwit. I am sorry.

Are you... what's wrong?

*Once she finally looks up, Alanna's brow furrows in concern.*

Have you eaten today?

"Can't keep anything down."

Maude always said to eat outdoors, where the breeze would cool you and no strange smells would greet you. Try chewing on a ginger root before and after you eat, and take starwort on occasion.

*She gives Morgan a hesitant smile.*

And I can help with the sickness, if you wish. At least long enough to keep a meal down.

Morgan's not smiling back - she's looking confused, and hurt, and frustrated that she can't tell what's really going on.

"I'm not...hungry, thank you."

*Alanna sinks back in her chair again, feeling as if she should apologize, but not sure why.

It still hurts.

She glances at Morgan.*

Oh. Okay. Just don't waste away on us. *pause* How is Barty?

"He is fine. Are you going lecture me? Warn me?"

...No.

*Certainly not now.*

I did warn Barty not to hurt you, however. Just so you know.

"He won't." She sounds tired. "He won't, he won't, so you and Adam and Susan and Tim don't have to worry, okay?"

*quietly* Okay. I know you can take care of yourself. But I'll worry anyway as I can't seem to help it.

How is your mare?

"She's...good. Very good, thank you." She has her eyes closed down, and clenches her fists in her blanket to keep from showing how they shake.

I'm trying, Morgan.

Really.

*Alanna swipes a hand across her eyes and stands, moving to sit by Morgan. She stares awkwardly at the girl's fists.*

I want to help. What's really wrong? What can I do?

"Didn't he tell you? Adam? That my mind is in pieces? They fly apart, and I can't find them again."

You mentioned it once, I think. *Alanna reaches over and gently pats her shoulder.* I honestly don't remember Adam saying so. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't want it shared.

I think, perhaps, you should meet my friend Alex. Maybe then you will see... I do understand, Morgan. As much as I can.

What do you see now?

She looks around, ducking her head as if she has a migraine. Quietly,

"Patterns. Of magic or light. Sliding and dancing. Glass, broken on the ground. Knots of people and emotions. Here love, there jealousy. A whispering in my head. Just...things. Shouldn't be there."

*Alanna chokes, going first red, then pale.*

Really? You get... all that?

*She looks around, eyes a bit desperate.* I wonder if it would be possible to measure all the magic in this place.

How do you know if they are meant to be there or not?

"Because it wasn't there before!" She flinches at the sound of her own voice, and Arianrhod hisses.

"Before, before...you healed my back. I didn't see as much before that. It makes it worse and I know there's no glass or blood because no one else sees it. Walk on it. Not supposed to be there, and it is."

*Alanna swallows and glances at the snake.*

Are you given to prophetic visions at all, lass?

Trauma... changes things, on occasion. It might not be permanent.

"Sometimes."

She laughs, low and bitter.

"No? It might be, too. My son...he says I'm crazy. Still. When I raised him. Didn't get better."

In his reality, no. But your reality is different. We can make it different. *She looks determined.*

"How can you do that, Alanna? It's my head. My senses. Not govered by will or reason."

She shakes her head, and looks away.