Post by Queenie on Nov 15, 2016 2:47:24 GMT -5
It was just another day in the dome for the young woman. The only difference was she finally got a day off from her hunter duties which meant a sleep in. She’d been out most of the night by the fire, talking with some of the other Fallen members, catching up on the daily doings of the other shifters. Her dreams had been filled with a familiar face, that face that she saw whenever she closed her eyes, that she longed to see in person again. He was everywhere but he was always just out of reach, always too distant and too cold and too unkind. It had been months since she had seen him last, for that first time in a long time, that fateful reunion that she almost could have done without. His silence haunted her. Still, Queenie dragged herself out of the rusted train carriage and headed out for a walk, making sure to grab her knife and shove it into her boot just in case. She drew her hood over her head, shoved her hands in her pockets and headed towards the quietest place she knew – the asylum. Happy Hollows it was called. The sign was rusty and falling down but it was readable and the irony was not wasted on her. As far as she could tell it remained empty again, thankfully. Peace and quiet was just what she needed on her day off. No Tori ordering her around or telling her to train the whelps, just Queenie and her thoughts and Dominic’s face in the darkness. She thought perhaps she should try and contact him again, try and meet up with him, but then again at their last meeting she had killed his friend so perhaps it was best to wait. She had barely walked through the door when a strange mist drifted around the air. She coughed at the smell, trying to wave it away with her hands. What the hell was it? It smelt sort of musky but for some reason reminded her of her old chateau in Montresor. Peculiar indeed. As Queenie rounded the corner she found herself in a small room and stopped dead in her tracks. The room was dark and she had to squint to see properly but she could make out three figures ahead of her, all facing away. They seemed so familiar to her but it wasn’t until they slowly turned that she realised just who they were. “No..” she muttered, stepping back and coming into contact with the door – it must have somehow closed behind her. “No, you can’t... No.” The three growled at her, blood beginning to spill from their bodies where they had been shot. Gunshots rattled the building and Queenie’s covered her ears, shaking her head, her heart pounding. They each raised their hands, pointing at her, their eyes bloodshot. “Vous l’avez fait,” they cried out in unison. They continued chanting it, limping slowly towards her, blood pooling on the ground at their feet. Queenie merely shook her head, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. “No!” She cried out. “I couldn’t save you! I’m sorry!” Her hand fumbled behind her, trying to find the door handle, unable to look away from the figures. They were almost upon her when she finally managed to swing the door open, stumbling backwards and falling to the ground. All three lunged at her but she rolled to the side and started crawling away, pushing herself up from the ground as she gained momentum. Gunshots followed her as she ran seemingly forever. Queenie was unsure which way was which, lost in the labyrinthine hallways of the asylum. Finally, the shots died out and she staggered into another room, closing the door behind her. She rested her head on it, panting heavily, her eyes closed, ears still ringing. What the hell was that? Queenie thought to herself as she finally turned around. This room had a few sofas and tables in it still, but they were old and falling apart. On one of the far sofas a young man lay sprawled out, his eyes watching her carefully. Queenie’s breath caught in her throat. It was only getting worse. This time however, she stood her ground. This was one person who wasn’t going to get the better of her. Standing up straight, she took a step forward, holding her head high. “What the hell are you doing here?” Queenie asked, her voice shaking a little despite her attempts to keep it strong. “You let me die,” he whispered, standing up. As he did so she noticed the blood on his chest. A gun had taken him down too. “You let me die and then you just surrendered. Coward,” he spat at her and she growled in retaliation. “I did what I had to. I survived,” she shot back, both of them taking another step forward. “You betrayed us all.” Alec roared, his whole body shaking as he shifted into his bear form, towering about her. Both of their eyes glinted with challenge, but finally Alec roared again and lunged for her. Queenie managed to dodge but she hit her shoulder against the wall hard, crying out in pain. She turned to face him, taking a few steps backwards. “I couldn’t do anything!” She cried out as he took another swing. She turned and ran for the far side of the room as he called after her in shifter tongue, “you should have died with us!” Alec seemed like he was barely trying, like he was merely toying with her. What was this? Was she dreaming? Perhaps, but then again it felt too real. Whatever it was, she wanted out. Her thoughts were disrupted as Alec ran for her again, but this time she grabbed her knife. His claws sunk into her shoulder and she screamed, lashing out with her knife and rolling to the ground underneath him. She crawled under his legs and managed to get another good stab in, Alec roaring in pain and anger. “Stop this!” Queenie heaved, blood falling from her shoulder, her head starting to become fuzzy. “Pas avant de mourir,” was his cold reply, his teeth bared, eyes locked on hers. Sighing, Queenie took a few steps backwards, Alec’s eyes calculative. He growled as she turned and ran. His claws scraped against her leg and she was pulled to the ground, her hand missing the door handle by a millimetre. She hit the deck hard and rolled over, her good leg kicking him in the face. Alec withdrew slightly and she managed to crawl backwards. Just as she pulled herself out of the door he made a final lunge for her, but as he hit the threshold he disappeared. Queenie lay there for a few moments, not quite sure what to do. Eventually she stood up again, looking around herself, unsure of whereabouts in the asylum she was. She slowly walked back the way she had thought she had come but ended up in a dead end, a door straight ahead of her. It swung open. Rolling her eyes, she walked towards it. Whatever this terror was, it seemed as though she had to play it out. This room was completely empty and the figure within stood in the dead centre. She may have been facing away but Queenie knew exactly who it was. This was the one person she had hoped she would never see again, her one guilt in life. Marie. Taking a deep breath, she stepped across the threshold, the door slamming behind her, causing Queenie to jump a little. She was lightheaded from the blood-loss but she forced herself forwards. “Marie?” The other blonde turned, her eyes red and puffy. “Why?” She croaked, more tears falling from her eyes. “Why did you do it?” Her lip quivered and she took a step away. Queenie almost hesitated to ask. She knew what her sister meant. Tears filled in her own eyes and she shook her head, words not coming out. She kept trying to talk, to tell her sister she was sorry, but she couldn’t. Her lips moved but the void was silent. Exasperated, she just stood there, crying silently. Suddenly, Marie’s whole expression changed. Suddenly the tears were gone and she was upright, her hands clench by her sides, jaw tightening. She growled, stepping forward. “You bewitched him! You whore!” Queenie tried to hold her arm out, tried to calm her sister, but Marie continued to hurl insults at her, and Queenie’s cries remained silent. Her breath was jagged and fast, her heart hurting. This wasn’t right. How could she have found out? Then he stepped out from the shadows. He seemed to just appear out of the darkness. His muscles rippled as he balled his hands into fists, walking to stand beside Marie. He turned to her and they kissed passionately. Cleo felt her heart break. Finally, she was heard, screaming out, crying uncontrollably. Her legs collapsed from underneath her, everything finally becoming too much. Her whole body was shaking, her head collapsing into her hands. She just sat there sobbing for a while before she finally decided to look back up. When she opened her eyes again she was no longer in the asylum. The three of them were in the old ballroom back in the chateau. Whilst the other two were still in the same state, Cleo was suddenly in an old ball gown she had owned – her favourite from back when she was still royalty. Her wounds were still bleeding though, staining the white dress. Her bullies stared down at her, but her eyes were locked on her love’s. His stare was cold and uncaring, his teeth bared. “How dare you curse me with magic, you temptress,” he spat at her, each word piercing her soul even more. “Stop, please, Dominic, stop,” she pleaded with him, but his expression remained unchanged and her sister merely laughed at her. “I love you!” Queenie tried again, her eyes searching for something within his, something that she had found that last time they had met. “I love Marie.” The nail on the coffin. The final stab to her chest. Or so she thought. He pulled out his knife. Marie grinned smugly beside him. Dominic took a step forward. Queenie shook her head, her breathing growing even more rapid. “Please,” she tried one last time, Dominic closing the gap. He pushed the knife into her heart and everything went black. --- Queenie sat up with a scream, sweat causing her clothing to stick to her skin. Looking around, her eyes adjusted to the darkness around her. She was completely alone in one of the furthest rooms of the asylum, lying on the cold floor. Her hair was drenched in sweat too and clung to her neck and face. She ran her hand through it, tears welling in her eyes, trying to slow her breathing, her head still foggy. As she recalled what had happened, she quickly searched her body for the wounds. Her right shoulder throbbed from where she had wacked it. There were a few scratches on her other arm and leg but nothing so bad as what she had thought. She figured she must’ve been hallucinating or something and scraped herself. It took her a few moments, but she finally managed to push herself up off the ground, her body still shaking a little, thoughts racing, replaying the events in her mind over and over again. “So much for a peaceful and quiet day alone.” Queenie talking Hallucinations talking Translations: Vous l’avez fait = you did this Pas avant de mourir = not until you die |
