Dreams of Fire

[Thalia]

Somewhere in the back of Thalia's head, what Dane said registered an oddity. A doodler who occasionally enjoyed painting, who also considered himself a professional, but of pieces only he considered tasteful. No fusion provided an answer, and she was too preoccupied to give it more thought than a split second observation. Her heart was pounding, rushing blood through her ears. If the train had not been stuck in the tunnel, she might have fled just to avoid the splintered memories shunting carelessly through her care-free bubble. But there was nowhere to go, and she felt some arbitrary connection to the girl crumpled on the floor. Caught in such a net, Thalia was forced to focus.

"No. That wouldn't be a good idea." She murmured it half to herself. Apparently she wasn't so maternal as to offer comfort and reassurance, even if Kat were able to hear it now she was curled in on herself to avoid the maelstrom in her body. Shit shit shit. The spikes of memory were unbearable, and she couldn't smother them so easily with scarlet paint to block them out. Past and present collided. Fever and pain, screwed up bits of paper flung chaotically about the sweat slicked room. And the face.

The face.

And then she recalled the second good samaritan, and the world began to swim in such a way she thought she might actually throw up, because he was going to come over wasn't he? The moment he realised one of the passengers had collapsed, he was going to want to check if she was okay because that was what samaritans did. Although Dane was taking it pretty calmly, and she suddenly wondered if he'd have even nudged her with his shoe to check she was all right had Thalia not already scooted down to the floor.

She was losing it. Her sanity was sinking through her fingers, and she needed to get off this fucking train.

"You need to sit up, Kat." She attempted to pluck her from the floor, even if she had to cradle her like a broken doll in order to do it. It never occurred to her to ask for help, perhaps because the only person who had noticed the collapse showed interest only insofar as demanding an answer to the question he clearly thought Katya had ignored. "And when this train gets to a station, you'll need to stand up and you'll need to walk." She tried to remember the last stop the loudspeaker had announced, tried to calculate how long it would take to get to the station at the Guardian. Aylin would know what to do. Aylin had to know what to do.


Edited by Thalia, Apr 28 2014, 05:08 AM.