#paramnesias.

@paramnesias sent: " i'm... i'm sorry I dragged you into this mess... "

send me a prompt!

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this isn't exactly the time for talking - not when they're fighting for their lives, and have been for some time. tandy, her entire body pushed against the door as if her fractional weight is enough to hold it, is flagging. she can taste blood in the back of her throat, like she's gone on a ten mile run (not that she would actually know what that would feel like. damn her lack of fitness.)

so when alan speaks- especially to offer something as pathetic as that- tandy's initial feeling is irritation. the fact that she is unable to catch her breath is the only thing preventing her from spitting out some biting response: it's a little late for that, pal.

she's going to die with the most pathetic man on the planet.

no- no. that's unkind. she doesn't want to die being cruel.

it's not like alan is even really that pathetic. not at all, in fact. he's sweet, and nervy, and exceptionally gentle with her. he's only yelled once, not even at her- but when he had seen her flinch he had never raised his voice around her again.

he isn't pathetic, tandy thinks, swallowing the lump in her throat, he's kind. he's kind and she simply isn't used to people being kind to her. even now, inches from death, he's apologising to her as if this is somehow his fault.

@paramnesias sent: “ i don’t know what i’m doing… ”

send me a prompt!

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this place has a way of confusing you. it's intentional, but not in a way that is overtly obvious - theseus knew he was entering a labyrinth, but their own maze is not so clearly defined.

still, alan's words make tandy freeze.

I don't know what I'm doing...

the admission is one she has heard before.

midday, and del is cleaning the windows. or rather, she should be cleaning the windows, but instead she stands, slack jawed, cloth pressed up against the glass with a frozen hand. tandy, who is folding the bedsheets, looks up at her anxiously. if lia catches them- if anyone sees-

I don't know what I'm doing...

del's voice is soft and hoarse. tandy's lips press into a hard line, swallowing back bitter words: well, I wouldn't be here if not for you. there is no need to make an enemy of the other girl. and... she knows exactly what del means. the trickle-drain of andre's abilities, combined with the powdery drugs pushed into their systems, are soul-killers. they do this every day, like birds feathering a nest- cleaning the boundaries of their cage before the sun goes down.

I don't know what I'm doing.

tandy blinks, and del is gone- and it is alan, staring off into the middle distance. she knows exactly what he means, just as she did before- that there is a feeling of hopelessly, that they are lost, that they are ultimately striving and plotting and planning for nothing. that it all means nothing and that they will never escape.

but tandy has been in the labyrinth before.

@paramnesias sent: “ i’m  not  leaving  you  here .   ”

send me a prompt!

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it throws her for a loop: not? what does that even mean? why alan is being so stubborn about this, tandy doesn't know. her plan makes complete sense ; being able to generate light at will is an obvious advantage against these things, and so she has rapidly become the number one target to eliminate.

despite this obvious and sound logic, he is being so fussy about her using herself as bait. as if she hasn't dangled herself in front of things with snapping teeth before. but no, here comes this ridiculous stubbornness that she doesn't know what to do with. everyone else has been happy to leave her. why isn't he?

" we've been over this, " tandy only barely represses a roll of her eyes, " this is the obvious plan, and it's going to work, so we're doing it. " and yes, okay, maybe she's being more combative than usual, but that's only because he's unleashing terrifyingly icky feelings in her stomach. ew.

@paramnesias sent: “ it  was  just  a  nightmare .   you’re  safe .   ”

send me a prompt!

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things become coherent slowly. the flickering of a bulb above. the press of something warm against half of her body. the curl of her fingers into fabric. the tap tap tap of rain against the window. and the exhalation of light from the top of her head, like steam coming off a kettle.

tandy takes a deep breath, and lifts her head from alan's shoulder. she knows he couldn't have made the first move of initiating contact- he wouldn't. she wouldn't have let him. he knows her (an experience not many people have with her).

so. she must have reached for him, when she first bit awake. that's too much to unpack right now, so instead she contents herself with retreating into her safe space- namely, extracting herself from his arms, one limb at a time.

it was just a nightmare. you're safe.