Leela of the Sevateem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisisgood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
genessia2018-12-12 04:03 pm
thisisgood) wrote in genessia2018-12-12 04:03 pm
[1] Arrival | OPEN
Who: Leela & [Open]
What: Arrival
When: Now
Warnings: Fire and a stabby warrior
For Leela, waking up somewhere with a hazy memory in a location completely wrong is less uncommon than it once was. She sits there for a very long time in this strange bed with its fancy interior, her legs crossed as she turns the key over, touching its ridges, glowering at the necklace, at the phone, at the directions. She does not have Red's arm thrown across her hip where it had once been but the place where he had been against her - his scent lingered and the knife he had given her was in her hand. Her fingers curl around it until her knuckles turn white.
This is the way it happens, now, and it angers her. It is a formless, irrational anger because she knows better. Escape is not something that is possible. Like the New York, like the Hudson with its stupid water, this place had taken her. Leela's lip curled and her skin grew hot as she rose, her bare feet against this cave's ground.
Why?
Ugly jewellery. Ost-- Ostenta-- Ugly. She put it around her neck as instructed and set the star necklace that she never took off, the one from Red, atop it with great care. Leela had fallen asleep at some point with one of his sweaters on and she curled her fingers around a cuff with hard, bright eyes before powering up the phone.
"I am Leela of Gallifrey, warrior of the Sevateem," she says into the device. "You who know me will find me."
That message sent out, she curled her fingers around the device and followed the directions, heedless of the weather or terrain. None of it truly mattered, not yet. Her body was hot with anger, power glowing under her skin but none of it scorched anything but her path.
What: Arrival
When: Now
Warnings: Fire and a stabby warrior
For Leela, waking up somewhere with a hazy memory in a location completely wrong is less uncommon than it once was. She sits there for a very long time in this strange bed with its fancy interior, her legs crossed as she turns the key over, touching its ridges, glowering at the necklace, at the phone, at the directions. She does not have Red's arm thrown across her hip where it had once been but the place where he had been against her - his scent lingered and the knife he had given her was in her hand. Her fingers curl around it until her knuckles turn white.
This is the way it happens, now, and it angers her. It is a formless, irrational anger because she knows better. Escape is not something that is possible. Like the New York, like the Hudson with its stupid water, this place had taken her. Leela's lip curled and her skin grew hot as she rose, her bare feet against this cave's ground.
Why?
Ugly jewellery. Ost-- Ostenta-- Ugly. She put it around her neck as instructed and set the star necklace that she never took off, the one from Red, atop it with great care. Leela had fallen asleep at some point with one of his sweaters on and she curled her fingers around a cuff with hard, bright eyes before powering up the phone.
"I am Leela of Gallifrey, warrior of the Sevateem," she says into the device. "You who know me will find me."
That message sent out, she curled her fingers around the device and followed the directions, heedless of the weather or terrain. None of it truly mattered, not yet. Her body was hot with anger, power glowing under her skin but none of it scorched anything but her path.
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