nevermore_logs | (no subject)

WHO: Lewis Caroll and Piper Addison
WHAT: Late night cuties
WHEN: Fuckin'...Saturday?
WHERE: Their place
WARNINGS: TBA depending! Talk of nightmares concerning sexual assault and violence. Also I swore in the description WHICH IS A GREAT SIGN, RIGHT?

Cold hands grabbed at him from the dark as he tried to scramble away, only to jerk awake, his skin slick with sweat. Disentangling his legs from the red sheets, he kicked all the blankets off of him. Claustrophobia had set in, and he didn't want anything covering him or making him feel confined. With a flick of the bedside lamp, light filled his room, chasing shadows from the corners.

His lungs filled with air and expelled it with deliberate effort in an attempt to slow his heartbeat and calm his panic. It still pounded a frantic tattoo inside his chest as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He was safe in his room at the end of the hall. Two wonderful women lived here in his warm apartment as well, breaking centuries of solitude and loneliness. Those desperate hands could not reach through time or his dreams to hurt him now. The man they belonged to was long dead. He had rotted in the ground, leaving nothing but bones and bad memories behind.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and, leaning back, his head gently met the wall behind it. He could give into despair, or refuse to let those nightmares plague him in his waking life.

The book on his nightstand was creased and tattered with age, and it rustled as he picked it up. It was a compendium of myths and legends collected by an editor no one remembered, and he had read it in his childhood. The written word had a way of comforting him that very little else in the world could, and this book had seen him through many a dark time. Well worn pages shuffled as he found his place, and began to read. Light from his lamp streamed under his door, a signal to all in the hallway that he was awake.

Piper wasn't having much better luck at sleeping. She'd managed to leave the house with Charles' and Lena's help, and a few more times since then, but that didn't mean she didn't have nightmares about that night.

Her blanket was tangled around her legs when she woke up, and she pulled it off as she sat up, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. Way too early to be awake, and pitch-dark to boot. She sighed and pushed her tangled hair out of her face, twisting it up into a loose bun.

She really wanted some tea, the temperature be damned. She pulled on a light robe over her cami and shorts, and headed down the hallway to the kitchen. She saw Charles' light was on, and made a mental note to make some for him too.

The ritual of making the tea helped calm her down, and by the time she was gathering up the mugs, she felt a bit better. She retraced her steps down the hallway, knocking softly on Charles' door. "Charles?" she called softly. "You awake? I have tea."