Snow Valdis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demonsintheoven) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eswareinmal2012-01-28 09:23 pm
demonsintheoven) wrote in eswareinmal2012-01-28 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Characters: Snow
Open? Yes!
Where: Where Gretel's beanstalk is
When: Rebirth's Height 6, late afternoon
What: Snow is starting to realize that the world she's in is not a hallucination. And is attempting to be sober.
Warnings: Snow is her own drunken warning.
The transition from "real" world to the storybook world of the kingdom had not been an easy one for Snow. Things like this were just hallucinations, after all. Castles and princesses and thorns and elves and horses had stubbornly refused to fade, leaving behind the deep fear that she had truly fallen to madness this time.
But if she was mad, then it was a solid madness. The beanstalk her hands rested on was solid. Bloomed from her hallucination into something she could touch. The texture under her fingers, the feel of pulpy chlorophyl as she dug her short crooked nails into it's green flesh, the oh so slight give to the thick trunk as she pushed against it...
She'd dreamed this. Right out of the bottle it had come to her and wouldn't leave her alone, drunk or sober. And she was sober right then, or as close as she ever came to it.
But how.... How could this be...?
Open? Yes!
Where: Where Gretel's beanstalk is
When: Rebirth's Height 6, late afternoon
What: Snow is starting to realize that the world she's in is not a hallucination. And is attempting to be sober.
Warnings: Snow is her own drunken warning.
The transition from "real" world to the storybook world of the kingdom had not been an easy one for Snow. Things like this were just hallucinations, after all. Castles and princesses and thorns and elves and horses had stubbornly refused to fade, leaving behind the deep fear that she had truly fallen to madness this time.
But if she was mad, then it was a solid madness. The beanstalk her hands rested on was solid. Bloomed from her hallucination into something she could touch. The texture under her fingers, the feel of pulpy chlorophyl as she dug her short crooked nails into it's green flesh, the oh so slight give to the thick trunk as she pushed against it...
She'd dreamed this. Right out of the bottle it had come to her and wouldn't leave her alone, drunk or sober. And she was sober right then, or as close as she ever came to it.
But how.... How could this be...?
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