kore_logs | Enter the dreaming....

Entry tags:

{ brigid finn

Enter the dreaming....

Who: Brigid + everyone, again
Where: Brigid’s head
When: Days 83-88
Warnings: Death and car accidents

1. Brigid looks around and laughs, shoving someone to the side before skipping away from him. The boy is about her age, well built. His black hair flops into his eyes that hold just a hint of gold. Another boy lunges at her and Brigid ducks out of his way and around a large, barrel-chested man who rolls his eyes and scoops her up. He drops her over his shoulder ignoring her laughing protest.

The moon rises overhead and all of them suddenly look up. The man puts Brigid down and touches her shoulder. Then his eyes flash red and they take off into the woods.

There’s yipping and laughing and taunts, as well as yelps as they run through the woods together. Brigid and a group of boys break off together, running along familiar paths, leaping logs and dodging around trees. Between one bend and the next, they go from humans running on two feet to werewolves, fully changed, running on four. The five of them race through a small stream, racing each other to be the first….

2. Brigid is a tiny little thing of six. She’s got pigtails that are curly and freckles across her nose. She’s humming along with the radio, flipping through the book in her lap. She’s sitting in the middle seat of the back, so she can look up and right there is Mom.

A pretty blonde woman sits up front, singing in a gentle alto, driving.

After that, everything happens in slow motion – Brigid’s book goes flying out of her hands and she falls to the side, catching her wrist on the door. The other side of the car buckles inward, and there’s a scream that echoes through the air, ringing in her ears. No other sound is heard. Just the scream.

3. (OOC: Note, this takes place after the full moon on Day 84.) The Alpha’s house isn’t huge, but it is large and comfortable. Family pictures march along the walls in a display of years through the growth of the children. Older pictures of family members lost is also there.

Brigid walks through the living room, her father’s scent drawing her onward. The greens, blues and purples of the living room flow into the yellows and blues of the kitchen. She opens the basement door.

That’s when the scent of blood is overwhelming. Her father’s blood. Brigid races down the stairs and stops, seeing the Alpha, several senior pack members and no one else. “What happened? Where’s Da?” She’s calm, but the internal panic ratchets her heartbeat and breathing higher. She wants her Da.

The Alpha is a big man, barrel-chested with arms as big as her thighs. His hands are callused. The basement is poured cement, with nothing else down here, not even appliances. A small trunk sits in the corner, marked with the Alpha’s symbol.

“Where’s Da?!” She almost screams it at them, the fear overwhelming her.

The Alpha’s eyes flash red. “Pack your things. You’ll stay in the guest room.” He walks over and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Brigid, I had to accept his challenge. He wouldn’t back down. I’m sorry.” Then he leaves her there, the other pack members filing out behind him.

Brigid just collapses to her knees and stares at the bare cement floor.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Feeling like nothing more than a ghost, Derek shadows her through the house, a tug keeping him close behind, and he watches, takes everything in, but doesn't say a word. The house feels familiar, even though he's never been there before; it feels like pack, like family - it feels like home. It's disorientating, at first, how it feels like his home, but also reminds him of something similar that he once knew, an overwhelming punch of something that fades in and out that he can't quite focus on.

But it hits him as soon as the scene plays out to the end, and he's standing there, frozen, as she kneels and mourns her loss. It takes a minute or two to shake it off, but he remembers exactly who he is, even though he can feel what she feels as if it's his own pain.

"Brigid?"

After a couple years, it shouldn't hurt this bad, right? It shouldn't be the kick in the gut, the heart wrench that it had been that first day. It shouldn't make her want to challenge him herself. Suicide by Alpha.

Hearing her name, she whips around. "D-Derek?" She asks, surprised. This is a memory, a dream, a shadow of the past that has no reason to have this Alpha here. Not in her Alpha's house.

"The dreams." She whispers, holding onto the Alpha's house around her. She's heard about the city and doesn't want to go there. Not now, not ever. Brigid looks around the basement, scuffing her foot against the cement floor.

"The day my Da died." She explains, unnecessarily. His scent overwhelms her senses, telling of the fight that she'd missed. He'd said he was going to work, an extra shift. Instead, the fight had been here, and she'd become an orphan.

He might not have been there with her at the point in her life where this dream - nightmare - is from, the echo of a memory, but he can smell the scents around them, finds them familiar somehow in a way he can't even begin to understand.

She doesn't need to explain the picture before him, he can piece enough of what he's seen together to get the basic gist of what happened, but he gives a nod of his head to acknowledge the words, and offers a soft, apologetic look at the intrusion upon her grief, because he knows he would hate anyone to enter into his own the way he is here.

Derek doesn't know what to do, he's never been good at this, even before, not with people, and definitely not with finding the right words. But he finds himself stepping closer, close enough to touch, and another moment later that's exactly what he does, a gentle hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing in what he hopes to be comforting.

"You don't need to explain," he offers, voice quiet, tone just as gentle as his rare touch, but he's not telling her that she can't.

She shakes her head, red curls bouncing around her shoulders. Brigid is young, though she's been a wolf her entire life. A deep breath, and most of the grief is pushed back away.

"If you heard the Alpha, you now know what I do." Brigid explains. "I was at school, and then Da was dead. No reasoning, no explanations." She looks at Derek. Then, she steps around him, heading back upstairs. She can't be in the basement, where her father died, not even in a dream.

At home, she hasn't been in that basement for over two years. Brigid stands in the kitchen, her hands in her pockets. "I considered going Omega, especially once I turned eighteen, but to get accepted by another pack? I don't have anything they would want."

In dreams, she is a lot more open, especially with an Alpha.

Taking one last look around the basement, Derek turns and follows after her, a frown deeply etched into his forehead. She's not like him, walking away from where it hurts the most rather than soaking it up, and he would give anything, sometimes, not to know why, not to wake up with the echoes of screams deafening him with the knowledge that he helped cause them. He almost envies her. Almost.

He looms in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as he leans against the frame, and he listens. His lips twist up into a bitter smile, eyes travelling down to the floor as if it's suddenly interesting; he would have accepted her into his pack not too long ago, and not for the right reasons.

"Is that the only reason you didn't leave your pack behind?" he asks, genuinely curious, and where she's more open in talking, he's more comfortable in showing that he cares enough to listen. She might not be pack to him, not be family, but they share enough in common for her to be the next best thing.

The kitchen is open, with an island in the middle. There's two sinks, two stove tops, two ovens. It's a kitchen meant to be cooked in. And the Alpha's wife cooks. She's the mom on the block that makes a turkey dinner just because.

Of course, during Christmas baking all that extra room comes in handy. Brigid remembers staying in the kitchen and stirring or whisking or assembling everything. She's learned more about cooking in here than any cookbook.

"The Alpha turned my Da. If he hadn't, my Da would've died." She sighs. "I was born into this pack. It's all I've ever known." She leans against the island. "Part of it is that, part terror at not finding another pack to take me. Part is never having been on my own. I went from my Da's house to living here. I'm a pack wolf. And I don't want to be anything else."

She's scared of being alone. Of finding another pack and not having the closeness she has here. Of not being able to flow with them, the way she does with her birth pack.

And some is because she's hoping, desperately, that one day the Alpha will tell her why.

Raphael's face softens, and something about his bearing just becomes more gentle. It's an easy movement, to gently lift the child from the car, to hold her to his chest, all with one arm. His other holds her injured wrist, preventing it from hurting, from being painful. Unlike his normal appearance, six pairs of wings, gloriously feathered, sweep the ground and circle around them.

"Brigid? Open your eyes little one." She can't see the wreak from here anyway.

There's comfort in an Angel's embrace. It was something her mother had taught her. Angels were meant to be terrifying, but to offer a chance at peace that no one else could.

Her eyes flick open to look at him, the brown is swimming in tears of loss and pain. "St. Raphael?" She whispers it and then buries her nose in his neck like a tiny baby does, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

Whimpering, she sniffles into his neck and clings. A frightened child to a trusted adults.

"Yes Brigid. I have you, you're safe." His arms tighten around her, the injury to her wrist vanishes, and he continues to carry her away from the wreak.

"Everything will be all right dear child. I promise." In the end, everything would be all right.

"Mother's dead." She whispers into his neck. "It's the wreck." Her voice still sounds like a child's, but she has the memories of her older self. She stays in his arms, her eyes closed and an arm around his neck.

Brigid hates this memory. When her Da was alive, she'd just go sit in the kitchen and have a cup of tea. Without him, she'd taken to working on translations.

"Da was gone." Deployment.

"I know Brigid." Raphael kept her close, putting distance between them and the wreak, gently rubbing her back. "But I have you, it's going to be ok." As much as losing a parent ever was - which Raphael knew personally, and it translated hollow sympathy into something deeper, more real. Shared grief.

"I hated my Da and yours for a while." She admits softly. It isn't wrong to admit faults to an archangel. At least she hopes not. Even though she is a werewolf, she's still human, with faults and problems and everything that free will brought.

"I wanted her back. I still want her back. Maybe Da wouldn't have...." She doesn't know how to say it. Did he challenge the Alpha? Was there a fight? Brigid isn't sure.

"There's nothing wrong with being angry with a parent for not being there when you need them." There's no wavering in his voice, an ironclad certainty. "And God is more than capable of handing a child's anger without slight."

Slowly he rocked her, gently, rubbing her back. "I know. Losing a parent isn't easy. It doesn't really get easier, but it fades in time." He could look into her life, give her the answers she wants, but this doesn't really matter right now.

"No it doesn't." Brigid denies. "It still hurts, as much as it did the day they left." She still misses her mother every second of every day. Her Da dying is a fresh raw wound that there isn't a balm for.

"It always hurts. You just learn to ignore it more." At least she had.

"It fades. You are still very young, and these wounds take time." His voice was serious, but completely understanding. He'd grieved his Father a long time - still did - but it hurt less than it once had. Accepting He was never going to return had helped.

She just buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around his neck tighter. "I miss them both so much. I miss all of them."

Brigid wants her pack back. She wants her home back. Brigid sniffles some but doesn't move her face. For once, she's taking all the comfort that someone is offering her. She needs it. Even if it's only in a dream.

He cradles her close, holding a child an easy second nature to him. "I know, believe me I do know."

He wants his brothers back. His Father less so, but there had been a time when he had wanted Him back too. And he's glad to be able to comfort someone with a similar ache.

She remains where she is for a few minutes. "Can you wake me up, please?" Brigid whispers. "I don't want to see this any more. I can hear all the sirens still, and... please?" Brigid hates asking for favors, but this is one time where she can't do it herself. His comfort is so welcome, but not here.

"I can." It takes a moment, but she wakes - and Raphael in the room with her. He doubted she would find much comfort in an empty room.

Brigid sits up with a gasp, choking on her hair for a moment and buries her face in her hands. It hasn't been that vivid in a long time. Probably the issues with going Omega.

Scraping her hair back, Brigid wraps her arms around her knees. "Thank you." She doesn't even have to look over to know he's there. Where else would he be?

Raphael sat down next to Brigid, wrapping an arm around her back. "You're welcome." He disliked to dream himself, and having had one dream recently of ~~Father~~God leaving, he did somewhat understand her pain.

Brigid curls into his side, taking the comfort he's offering. She's always found comfort in prayer; this is just having the intermediary there instead of elsewhere.

"I have always tried to forgive the man that killed her. He was young, and drunk, and stupid." She admits. "But I've never quite been able to do it. I know the Church says I should, but I can't."

It's one of her failings and she knows it, but that man had taken her mother, and she hated him for it.

Raphael slides his arm around her, his shoulder hunched forward a bit more than the motion called for.

"I have little doubt that in time you will. It's a natural thing, to dislike, even hate, someone who took your parent away." He understood it was why some of the angels hated humanity so much.

"Thirteen years and I still can't." She's treating him almost like a Father Confessor. It makes sense in her mind. Since, he's an Archangel.

"I guess it doesn't matter here." Brigid knows that. "I'll worry about it when I return to Boston." She doesn't want to go home yet, though. She's not sure she can face her Alpha.

"Thirteen years isn't so long." Two hundred thousand or there abouts and he hasn't forgiven Lucifer.

"Forgiveness also doesn't mean you aren't angry. But it's not something you should force yourself into." He did think, in time, she would. But he knew that might take a lifetime.

She takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over her face. Brigid is caught by a yawn and looks up at the archangel she's leaning on. It's not pack, but it's close. She... can't. She doesn't want to be alone.

"St. Raphael?" Brigid looks down at her hands. Her fingers pick at and smooth out the blanket nervously. Her hair tangles around her face, allowing her a modicum of privacy. "Would you mind staying? Just for tonight? Please?"

She almost chokes on the words, and swallows against a thick throat. She wouldn't ask. Normally. But tonight, Brigid feels raw and open and unprotected in a way that only having the pack around would help. Since they aren't here, she'll take what she's allowed.

"I don't mind." He smooths a hand over her hair, presence still but steady. "I won't leave until you're ready."

And he wouldn't, unless one of his brothers called, and that wasn't likely. Too many raw emotions with this dream business.

Brigid lets out the breath she'd been holding. Sliding down in bed, she curls up next to him, her head on his leg. "Thank you, St. Raphael." Brigid whispers, closing her eyes and allowing sleep to take her again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Enter the dreaming....

( 3 )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

2 - after things went down

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject