versusnurture | fourteen ♢ text & audio & spam

fourteen ♢ text & audio & spam

spam } open

[She wakes up screaming at what is, relatively speaking, three in the morning. It's a nightmare, the first really bad one since she died. She tries to remember what it was, what exactly, but it's all a blur; she remembers screaming in the dream, too; she remembers a lure; she remembers blood, lots of blood; she remembers a song. Ein Männlein steht im Walde . . . She remembers not being able to breathe. She remembers her mouth was full.]

[The first few nights, she calls people. She asks for help. After that, she wanders the halls, unable to get back to sleep, unwilling to lie in the dark any longer. Her hair is tied back, a scarf tucked around her shoulders, but her scar still stands out against the pale clamminess of her neck.]

audio } ben

[Night one, she calls Ben. She is crying, her voice muffled (she is using the bear as a pillow, as something with which to dry her tears).]

I'm not hurt. [She has to clarify this first, so he doesn't fear for her, so he doesn't hurt for her. This is how she protects him.] But I need you. Please. If - it's not too late.

audio } blight

[It's instinct to contact him. Maybe it's bad instinct. But it's what she reaches for the second night, once she's calmed herself down enough that she's no longer hyperventilating. Once she feels mostly human again.]

[It's midnight. She sounds as chipper as if it was noon.]

What do you know about brain chemistry?

text, filtered away from hannibal } public, april 7

who has nightmares

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh.

[When he puts it like that. Maybe she does.]

Sure. I'm. [She sniffles a little, and doesn't know why.] Not very interesting in the middle of the night.

That's okay. I'm not very interesting most of the time.

[He smiles at his own joke, turns to look up and down the hallway.]

Were you headed anywhere?

[She wants to tell him to shut up, but in a nice way, like she used to tell Marissa when she was being dumb. Instead she just smiles vaguely and shakes her head.]

Just . . . walking around.

[A nod, and he gestures toward the stairs.] Do you wanna see what's in the mess hall to raid?

[Because he could basically eat at any time.]

Uh.

[This is such a normal kid thing to do she doesn't know how to handle it.]

Um, sure. I guess. Sure.

[He starts to say they don't have to if she doesn't want to, but he thinks better of it. She'll say if she doesn't want to, right?]

Okay. My stomach's totally growling. It probably thinks it's breakfast time already.

[She bites her lip to keep from laughing at him. She shouldn't laugh at him, right? That would be rude.]

You need to adjust its clock.

Yeah, probably. Or just give in and like, make eggs and bacon.

[His stomach growls on cue. Eggs and bacon are awesome.]

Only if you make me eggs and bacon too.

I'm like, ninety percent sure I can do that. 85% sure I won't burn them.

Buuuut I don't have a key. Or a kitchen. Maybe in the morning?

Oh.

[She deflates slightly. She could wake up Ben, she thinks, but then thinks better of it - he hasn't been getting enough rest lately as it is.]

So what snacks are you going to get me, then? [Because now he has signed on to getting her snacks and he basically has to, mmkay.]

[He sees her deflate and feels kind of guilty about it, thinks of who they could wake up, and decides that's not fair to whoever they'd pick.]

Sorry, [he says instead, ducking his head apologetically.] But I totally will. Promise.

[Lifting his head a little, he sniffs.]

I think there are grapes. And Cheezits. Do you like Cheezeits?

Um.

[For a second she looks like she's going to say no. She frowns and everything. Very serious. But only because he looks like he might explode if she looks disappointed.]

I love Cheezits.

[She succeeds spectacularly, because his face falls even more as it looks less and less likely that she's up for it. He might explode. He's on the very cusp.]

Oh, good.

[He breathes in relief, shaking his head. He even laughs a little, giving her his crooked-jawed-grin.]

I thought you were going to say you hate them.

[She laughs, not particularly mean-spirited but not all that nice either.]

I know you did.

Come on. [She gives him an imperious look.] You need to find me some.

Oh. [Aaand it clicks. He makes an exaggerated, offended face.]

You seriously had me going there.

[And he can't hold the face, so he smiles, and nods his head toward the kitchen.]

Lucky you I'm like, awesome at sniffing out Cheezits.

[She rolls her eyes and follows him.]

You're awesome at sniffing out everything. You're a werewolf. It's in your job description.

I definitely didn't get a job description with this.

[But he quickens his pace, and reaches for her hand as he does, because he smells more than Cheezits.]

[She hesitates. She still doesn't trust him. He can't possibly be real - like some kind of long-term, absurd hallucination that's trying to trick her into believing in it.]

[But she takes his hand in the end, lightly and with a touch of fear, following him towards the kitchens.]

Nobody gets a job description with their lives.

[One day she will realize that he is real and that he cares even when he shouldn't. It's his fatal flaw. For now, he doesn't know about her hesitation, thinks that it's just cause he's outpaced that that causes the gap. Eventually, he'll figure out how to smell emotions, and then maybe he'll be a little less clueless, but right now, he has no idea.]

Yeah, but it'd be nice to get one when you're life does a total u-turn.

So you don't think that what happened to you happened for a reason or whatever?

[Abigail doesn't. Her life was ruined because of flawed people; there was no reason for it, only reality. But some people are even more naive than she is.]

[His brow furrows as he looks back at her like the most uncomfortably confused puppy that ever puppied.]

I don't know. I mean, if it happened for a reason, then it's gotta be an awful reason. That just feels, like, I dunno...an excuse. An empty one. And I don't really want to give Peter an excuse.

Peter? He's the one who - turned you?

[Or whatever. She really doesn't understand the terminology here.]

Yeah. [It's okay: Scott has no idea what the terminology is, either.]

Peter Hale. He's the one who bit me.

Why'd he do it? Did he even have a reason?

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