princessvegas: (017. young james dean)
Julie Lawry ([personal profile] princessvegas) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2024-01-03 07:06 pm (UTC)

thank you for being so patient

As Julie drinks, the flashes come faster, blurrier. A warehouse store, filled with food and furniture and everything else she could need, but also a sense of loneliness so intense that it feels like drowning, like insanity. Gunshots and fury, hazy silhouettes of men running. A walk that seems to span months, ends with blood trailing from the worn-through soles of her shoes as she climbs into a car. Then lights. So many lights, neon and glittering and endless, laid over music and dancing and champagne. High heels and lipstick smiles, shopping bags and liquor bottles and white lines snorted off expensive vanities. Bodies everywhere still, although now they are alive in every way -- fucking and dancing and shrieking with laughter. A man, his memory now fuzzy around the edges; he has dark hair, a gold tooth and a vaguely slimy (though ultimately nonthreatening) aura. As the sparkling backgrounds swirl around him, he appears to be something of an anchor point. Even so, there emotion he seems tied to is a strange combination of affection and repulsion.

But more than anything, there is fear. Not terror, but much more deep-seated and pervasive and constant. Present from the moment the car door closes. The vague shape of a tall, dark man, all shadows, towers over everything, inflicting a bone-deep paranoia. He knows what you're thinking.

And obsession. Wild desire for him. Worship.

Hello? Is someone there?

The messages come through in a strangely simultaneous way, almost indistinguishable in Julie's vision and mind. She startles so hard that she drops the wine bottle, spilling it into the pink-tan sand. It is enough to immediately push every other thought from her consciousness, back into their proper compartments, like she has trained herself to do. She scrambles onto the sofa and draws into a ball in the corner, eyeing the blob in the sky suspiciously.

"What, you're talkin' now?" she mumbles warily, to herself because of course the stupid thing isn't talking to her. Settling onto her knees, Julie sighs and rubs her face. Fuck, she's starting to lose it again. Didn't she just talk to Geralt yesterday? Or was it longer? She can't really gauge the passage of time well here.

Lying down, she turns her back on the blob, which buzzes at her. "I'm taking a nap," she declares firmly, jamming her arms crossed over her chest and screwing her eyes shut. "Hush."

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