Allison Argent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-11-23 10:51 pm
theresalwayshope) wrote2014-11-23 10:51 pm
20} didn't hear the confession...walking through the procession...
[SUNDAY SPAM]
[...something isn't right.
The whole day is off, and Allison can't...function properly. In the dining hall, she gets her usual blood bag, but she finds herself skipping the apples she usually grabs along with it. The food on the line smells good, the savory aromas drawing her attention...
Before she knows what she's doing, she's grabbed a couple of croissants as well, and not unlike her first day, she takes her food on deck to eat. The blood, and the croissants, do wonders for her mood.
And that's the most difficult part of the day: her mood. As she slinks through the corridors as she trails her friends through the ship...as she checks on Isaac and Tig, she's having a harder and harder time setting her feelings aside.
Something isn't right. All day, something is wrong, and she can't...quite...put her finger on it...]
[MONDAY SPAM]
[Allison is gone.
She hasn't left the ship, but there's no sign of her anywhere. She doesn't show up for meals in the dining hall, she doesn't stalk a soul, she's completely absent, a non-presence on the ship.
Because Allison is sitting in her cabin, in the dark, on the floor in the corner of her bedroom. The stakes gifted to her by Jerry's mirror counterpart are clutched to her chest, and she's armed with every single weapon she can comfortably stash on her person: her ring daggers, her father's gun, every folding knife she can possibly conceal, her quiver propped up beside her, and her recurve bow laying beside her on the floor.
She's not afraid of an attack: the weapons are her. They keep her rooted in the present, they remind her of who she is, how she thinks, what she feels.
She doesn't eat, but her stomach growls. She doesn't go for water, but her throat burns with thirst that blood won't slake.
Eventually, she will have to leave and seek out nourishment. Eventually, she will have to face the rest of the ship. Eventually, Allison will have to face the reality of truly being an omega, because this is bigger than fighting with Lydia.
She remembers everything she did, everyone she hurt...those she killed and nearly killed.
She knows that now, after all that...she is truly, completely alone.
And she will have to leave her cabin to face that eventually...she just can't bring herself to do it just yet.]
[...something isn't right.
The whole day is off, and Allison can't...function properly. In the dining hall, she gets her usual blood bag, but she finds herself skipping the apples she usually grabs along with it. The food on the line smells good, the savory aromas drawing her attention...
Before she knows what she's doing, she's grabbed a couple of croissants as well, and not unlike her first day, she takes her food on deck to eat. The blood, and the croissants, do wonders for her mood.
And that's the most difficult part of the day: her mood. As she slinks through the corridors as she trails her friends through the ship...as she checks on Isaac and Tig, she's having a harder and harder time setting her feelings aside.
Something isn't right. All day, something is wrong, and she can't...quite...put her finger on it...]
[MONDAY SPAM]
[Allison is gone.
She hasn't left the ship, but there's no sign of her anywhere. She doesn't show up for meals in the dining hall, she doesn't stalk a soul, she's completely absent, a non-presence on the ship.
Because Allison is sitting in her cabin, in the dark, on the floor in the corner of her bedroom. The stakes gifted to her by Jerry's mirror counterpart are clutched to her chest, and she's armed with every single weapon she can comfortably stash on her person: her ring daggers, her father's gun, every folding knife she can possibly conceal, her quiver propped up beside her, and her recurve bow laying beside her on the floor.
She's not afraid of an attack: the weapons are her. They keep her rooted in the present, they remind her of who she is, how she thinks, what she feels.
She doesn't eat, but her stomach growls. She doesn't go for water, but her throat burns with thirst that blood won't slake.
Eventually, she will have to leave and seek out nourishment. Eventually, she will have to face the rest of the ship. Eventually, Allison will have to face the reality of truly being an omega, because this is bigger than fighting with Lydia.
She remembers everything she did, everyone she hurt...those she killed and nearly killed.
She knows that now, after all that...she is truly, completely alone.
And she will have to leave her cabin to face that eventually...she just can't bring herself to do it just yet.]
[Monday Spam]
Even when Allison finally starts to calm down, Lydia doesn't move. It's obvious she's in absolutely no condition to talk. Even if she does talk, Lydia isn't sure it's actually gonna make sense, or that she'll be able to make her listen.
So she won't push her. Lydia'll be there for as long as Allison needs her to be, silently trying to comfort her and show her that no matter what happens, she's not alone.]
[Monday Spam]
She feels like it's going to kill her, but she has to try.
Allison is still weeping when she lifts her head and draws away, but the tears are more normal now, sniffling and voice quavering as she tries to look Lydia in the eye.]
Nothing I said when I was like that...Lydia, I didn't mean any of it, I was...I bit Isaac a-and I yelled at you and I killed someone and I thought it was right...you shouldn't believe me, you shouldn't forgive me but you have to know it was--I was insane, I thought I was helping. It wasn't Jerry, and it wasn't me, and it was just...it was awful--