Chiled To The Bone
With A Nightmare On The Side
Her cheeks were beaten red and chilled by the cold air outside. Her lips were chapped beneath the dark red lipstick that was painted across those pierced tiers. The metal of her piercings were lightly frosted from the drastic temperature change: extremely cold to very warm. It gave her a bit of a headache. The warmth made her gag slightly in surprise. She unbuttoned her coat and untied the velour scarf from around her neck. That was the last time she would go outside for an evening run in the middle of the coldest fucking day ever. She rubbed her hands together roughly, trying to warm her calloused flesh.
“Oh poor twisted me
Oh poor twisted me
I feast on sympathy
I chew on suffer, I chew on agony
Swallow whole the pain
Oh it's too good to be
That all this misery
Is just for oh poor twisted me…”
“Hey, Harold.” She said briskly to the security guard at the front desk. He nodded once to hear, smirking lightly at how cold she looked. She made her way to the top floor and slipped into her room, sighing at how warm the entire place was. It was almost suffocating. She dropped the scarf over the coat hanger and draped her coat over the back of the couch. She kicked off her boots before slumping down on the couch, legs draped over one side. She settled into the leather sofa, clasping her hands over her stomach, fingers weaving together. Her eyes settled shut.
Before she knew it, she had drifted off into Dream Land. (Insert Wayne’s World doodela-doos here.) She dreamt she was standing in a very dark warehouse, surrounded by dark, shadowy figures that were holding rather large blunt objects amidst their massive hands. They were all around her, leaving no place for her to escape. She turned around, sapphire orbs eyes wide, lips parted in a soft “o” of surprise. She tried to speak, but her voice didn’t sound. It dawned on her as she pursed her lips together that she had no tongue to speak with. Instead, she just had a gaping hole between her rows of teeth.
“Poor mistreated me
Poor mistreated me
I drown without a sea
Lung fills with sorrow, lungs fill with misery
Inhaling the deep dark blue
Oh woah is me
Such a burden to be
The poor mistreated me…”
All at once, the figures advanced, lifting their objects to bring down on her. She felt dull taps on her stomach, her shoulders and her arms. They were painless but as she fell to the ground, curling up into foetal position, she winced. She gagged, coughing up blood in a small puddle on the ground. Her cheek fell into it and she felt the warmth against her cheek.
Gwenivere gasped deeply, her eyes snapping open. She shot up into a sitting position, only to knock her forehead on… something. She fell backward onto her back, her hand lifting to hold her brow. She winced softly. Her eyes opened as she gazed up to find what she collided with. Staring down at her, were the dark brown eyes of Morgana Ashton, shrouded slightly by the fading pinkish-blonde hair. Her own hand was pressed over her forehead. Gwen laughed a bit and gently sat up, rubbing her forehead a bit to dull the tingling and rather painful sensation.
“To finally reach the shore
Survive the storm
Now you're bare and cold
The sea was warm
So warm, you bathe your soul again…”
“Un dieu le baisant sacrément. Ce mal. Comment êtes-vous entré ici, Morgy?” She looked up at Morgana who was staring right back at her, confused as fuck. Gwen thought for a moment and then shook her head. The sudden arousal and knock of her head had jarred her slightly, sending her into a torrent of curses and French language. She laughed a bit. “Sorry, that happens sometimes. Um. How did you get in here?” Gwenivere looked around the room slowly. The windows were closed as was the door. Morgy slumped down on the couch beside Gwen, as she wiggled out of the way.
“Harold let me up the door was open when I got here. Thought it was kind of weird to I decided to investigate. Not many people around here leave doors open.” As she explained this, she shrugged off her coat and let it crumple behind her back. Gwen nodded slightly. “Wow… I didn’t realize I was that tired.” Gwen’s brow furrowed softly as she tried to think of what would possess her so much that she would completely forget to close the door. Morgy shook her head and told Gwen not to worry about it.
Gwen sighed and pressed her back into the couch. She rubbed her face with both hands as she sat there quietly. She let her head loll to the side to look at Morgy’s profile. “So what are ya gonna do about your match against Seraph? Must be a bit weird to fight someone on our… ‘team’.” She saw Morgy nod slightly then shrug listlessly. “Doesn’t matter much to me. It’s just business. If Seraph’s got a problem with it, then he’ll just have to deal.” She shrugged again, glancing over at Gwen. Gwen was listening, but she was rubbing her forehead, her eyes closed. She could already feel a headache coming on, and no doubt there would be a slight welt on her pale commonly flawless skin.
“Good to feel my friend
Oh woe is me
Such a burden to be
Oh poor twisted me…”
“What about your match with that Nikita broad? Triple threat. Jeez.” Gwen snorted rather unladylike in response. She rolled her eyes a bit. Her head lolled to the side as she gazed to Morgana. “More like quadruple threat. I don’t trust her worth a rat’s ass. Wouldn’t be fuckin’ surprised if she turned on me during one of our matches.” Gwenivere retorted with yet another sarcastic roll of those sapphire pools. She stood up slowly, popping her back before wandering off to the kitchen. She returned a few moments later with two bottles of water. She handed one of the proverbial ‘cold ones’ to Morgana before slumping back down. As she twisted the cap, she heard the air escaping, as well as the cracking of the cap. Soon, the water washed passed her lips, freezing her tongue and giving her teeth a weird tingling sensation. She felt the tingling sensation briefly rise into her nose before disappearing completely.
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