Teddy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tedandroses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2024-06-01 03:00 am
tedandroses) wrote in abraxaslogs2024-06-01 03:00 am
Entry tags:
there are nights you say you don't remember [open!]
Who: Teddy and (you?)
When: backdated from just post-Event through May (and into the first weeks of June if it works better for where you want to run into Teds!)
Where: Around Solvunn, in the Horizon, Nocwich
What: Post-event feels; May-early June catchall
Warnings: Nothing major: some feelings of derealization. Re-remembering distressing events. If that needs to be upgraded I'll mention in the subject lines.
Teddy opens her eyes, blinking. The sky was falling down, and --
Their cheek is pressed into the dust, hard against the rock, and when they try to push themself to a sit, it feels like they haven't used their joints in -- they were thinking years, but no, that's wrong; the whole thing was wrong. They were trying to wake up. They were trying to...
Oh. Oh god.
It comes crashing back like a wave: the storms, the crater, the fog. And the memories. All the memories Teddy still -- or can now recall -- the terror of knowing they were losing. Pushed roughly to the forefront: not just the things they'd lost but those they'd given up to Sam in desperation to not lose it forever.
Sam -- Teddy shouldn't even know Sam. Much less, feel the instinctive urge to thank him as he's hit by an onslaught of memories of his home and family that tumble over each other so intensely he sits back down hard. He shouldn't know -- so much -- about so many things --
People are moving. People are telling them things; their voices don't feel like real sounds, but some part of Teddy's brain interprets it for her, and she gets back to her feet and allows herself to be directed toward the carts going to Solvunn. Her eyes catch on even more familiar forms, even beloved, heading in other directions, and she knows she's never looked at them here: can feel that her body recalls but does not know being embraced, jostled, laughed with.
That knowing feels like a great wave lifting them off their feet and shoving them underneath the water over and again. (They shouldn't know what the ocean feels like.) They want to be sick. They want to scream. They can't do any of it: just let it roll them over. They sit, silent and finally, blissfully unthinking for the ride. It's not until they're back in Solvunn, safe under blankets, that they burst into stifled, hiccuping sobs until they can't breathe.
Far above, the Abraxas skies are blue and cloudless like Teddy's never seen.
>> HORIZON
>> SOLVUNN
>> NOCWICH
[OTA! If there's nothing that catches your eye/you want something slightly different let me know at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
wingedvoices and I'll start one!]
When: backdated from just post-Event through May (and into the first weeks of June if it works better for where you want to run into Teds!)
Where: Around Solvunn, in the Horizon, Nocwich
What: Post-event feels; May-early June catchall
Warnings: Nothing major: some feelings of derealization. Re-remembering distressing events. If that needs to be upgraded I'll mention in the subject lines.
Teddy opens her eyes, blinking. The sky was falling down, and --
Their cheek is pressed into the dust, hard against the rock, and when they try to push themself to a sit, it feels like they haven't used their joints in -- they were thinking years, but no, that's wrong; the whole thing was wrong. They were trying to wake up. They were trying to...
Oh. Oh god.
It comes crashing back like a wave: the storms, the crater, the fog. And the memories. All the memories Teddy still -- or can now recall -- the terror of knowing they were losing. Pushed roughly to the forefront: not just the things they'd lost but those they'd given up to Sam in desperation to not lose it forever.
Sam -- Teddy shouldn't even know Sam. Much less, feel the instinctive urge to thank him as he's hit by an onslaught of memories of his home and family that tumble over each other so intensely he sits back down hard. He shouldn't know -- so much -- about so many things --
People are moving. People are telling them things; their voices don't feel like real sounds, but some part of Teddy's brain interprets it for her, and she gets back to her feet and allows herself to be directed toward the carts going to Solvunn. Her eyes catch on even more familiar forms, even beloved, heading in other directions, and she knows she's never looked at them here: can feel that her body recalls but does not know being embraced, jostled, laughed with.
That knowing feels like a great wave lifting them off their feet and shoving them underneath the water over and again. (They shouldn't know what the ocean feels like.) They want to be sick. They want to scream. They can't do any of it: just let it roll them over. They sit, silent and finally, blissfully unthinking for the ride. It's not until they're back in Solvunn, safe under blankets, that they burst into stifled, hiccuping sobs until they can't breathe.
Far above, the Abraxas skies are blue and cloudless like Teddy's never seen.
>> HORIZON
>> SOLVUNN
>> NOCWICH
[OTA! If there's nothing that catches your eye/you want something slightly different let me know at
no subject
"But. Well, I mean, I reckon for a lot of people who believe in an afterlife, whether it's like yours or a different one, it is still a comfort to think of them living on. But it's not the same as being able to ask them a question, or, give them a hug..."
And there it is, choking off the end of the sentence. Teddy rubs their eyes before tears can make an appearance and makes a face. "Sorry. Made myself think too much."
They're happy to move on to big families. Teddy laughs despite himself at Too many to count. "The stories my world has about your uncles make them sound...rather prolific," he says, trying to be diplomatic. "I try to avoid that part with all the -- you know, the teenage demigods? Do you talk to them much? That must be weird for you, having a bunch of -- what, new half-siblings and cousins who ...I imagine don't quite have the same versions of your family?"