fridgetothefire | 009 ☣ Private Messages + Zero spam

[Private text to Lua, Ben, and Alex, with a voice version sent of the same message sent to Cass]

I have a decent stockpile of non-perishable food, bottled water, and an extensive first aid kit in my cabin, 5-13. It's in the cupboards under the window seat. You've all got access. Take it if you need it.

[Private text to Pietro]

Are you busy?

[Private voice to Erik]

If you're not dying, talk to me.

[Despite the demand, her voice is strained, shaky, raspy. She's not going to cry, but she's already been screaming tonight.]

[Zero Spam - arrival - OTA]

She sprawls onto the floor of her cell with a thud, off-balance from the sudden shift in velocity, her hair in a wild mess as though she were caught in a windstorm, her face shocked, her breath coming in shallow gasps. After a few moments of stunned stillness, she drags herself to a corner and curls into as small a space as she can. Keeping her eyes open, She focuses on a point on the far wall, counting her breaths as they slow, trying to figure out what on earth to do next.

[Zero spam - later - OTA]

She's pacing, with long, mathematically precise strides, a look of furious concentration on her face. She's standing rigidly upright, taking up more space than usual, exhausting the confines of her cell. Pained flinches twitch across her face but she doesn't let it break her stride. Sweat trickles down her face but she only brushes it out of her eyes, refusing to even strip off her overshirt. She can see the fire, feel it, hear the jeering. But her body isn't damaged, isn't small enough, doesn't fit into the horrors of memory. She moves and it responds. Step-step-turn, step-step-turn, step-step-turn.

[Zero spam - some other time - OTA]

She's shivering hard, but it's better than the heat. She's learned that practicing her drills to keep warm - anything strenuous enough to get her short of breath - will lead to visions of Castiel choking her again, struggling uselessly while her vision blurred black, caught in a limbo of dying and not quite getting there.

Threaded | Flat

Always and never. What is it?

Thank you. Are you okay?

[He doesn't mind the demand, not when he hears the tone of her voice.]

I'm not dying. Where are you?

[Charles had left Zero only briefly, really, because as much as he wanted to stay and keep helping, he had to sleep and eat at some point, or he'd completely snap. He knew that. And so he'd reluctantly left, gotten a few hours of uneasy rest, and felt a little more human, so when Pietro contacted him for help, he didn't hesitate in suiting back up and rushing back down to Zero.

Not that he would have hesitated even if he felt like a reanimated corpse, because even though he couldn't help but feel disgusted whenever he thought about what Anya had done, she was still just a kid who had already been through hell. She didn't deserve this, this wasn't going to help her, and if there was something he could do to help, however small or large, he'd do it.

So he comes back in and casts about for the cell she's in, rushing over and crouching in front of it, openly concerned.]

Anya? It's Charles. What can I do?

Are you okay? Don't you... need those things?

private; text

[ Private : Text ]

[Private]

spammmmm

video