Sensory Wasteland: Day Unknown

Sensory Wasteland: Day Unknown

Her lids heavy as per usual, for so very long, Sanura slowly managed to open her eyes to the same dim white room she’d been consigned to these last … she’d lost count, and that alone threatened her sanity. If she ever had such to begin with… an insane thief in denial, or so they told her. Her head turns slowly to regard the unfortunate girl in the room with her. The young woman looked leagues older than her supposed 25 years. Her head shaved and her face a pallid pockmarked canvas of confused greif. Sanura sighed softly and averted her gaze once more. She’d attempted to speak to the other woman several times, whenever her own head was clear enough to make the effort, but to no avail or it was only broken ramblings. Sanura knew much of the time that had elapsed she’d only been half conscious thanks to the wonders of modern pharmaceuticals… and perhaps more. Though… no she had to stop thinking that way didn’t she… if she were to get well. She blinks up at the white ceiling and for a moment she can recall some of her life on the outside, the colors, the scents, the tastes… the shoes and oh the clothes… fine fabrics against her skin, gorgeous rich colors. She heaves a soft sigh and tries to recapture the memories, and that dress she’d worn to meet the Sun Goddess … that was a delight… no wait… that hadn’t happened… nor the had the oversized Crook stolen a faux fur muff to ‘hunt’’ though she secretly thought he wanted something to cuddle when he slept. She laughed softly remembering the first night of their changed appearances, Her on Abels lap and Crook trying to crawl onto hers with his more bulky form. She could almost smell the cookies and feel the short dark locks of Abel’s hair, even feel the admiration in his gaze. Her own cheeks having kept a dose of color only thanks to her heritage warm lightly and she giggles remembering Angie’s almost terror like response to the transformation. How could she have such vivid realistic memories of things that never happened… how could she miss people that she never really knew.

Her smile fades as Brendan comes to mind… He’d be a young man by now surely… perhaps even the age of the man in her ‘vision’. How could she have told him she didn’t need him, getting out of here to protect him had kept her from attempting to stab the doctor several times. She would never be released if she killed that liar. Her brow furrows and she rubs the heel of her hand between her eyes. It would never do to let them see to much emotion on her face, that was when they upped her dosages. She wasn’t sure how many milliliters she was being poisoned with now but surely she couldn’t take much more. It was only the influence of the ‘good Doctor’ that had made her say such a thing and to use her powers against the dear boy she’d only wanted to help and protect since meeting him. Funny that the doctor had encouraged her to use something so… ethereal and magical… she was supposed to be putting such things aside was she not? Why too was her inner child a male, she might not be the epitome of all that is feminine but she was hardly boyish either. It didn’t make any sense, and damned if Crook attacking her did either… as a pet he wouldn’t and as a sacred guardian… he’d only do it to protect her, she felt certain.

The door opens and she and Sandra let into a room with a few other patients, breakfast being served in small groupings to keep the conflicts to a minimum. Passing her hand over her own shorn head she pouts inwardly. Though it was supposedly for her own good, to keep other patients from pulling it, she missed the long black locks. It felt like one more way to deprive her of anything remotely humanizing. One more thing taken away so her senses wouldn’t be distracted from her ‘recovery’. She often thought, in her rarely allowed moments of lucidity, that it was just part of their plan to make her forget everything, all the beauty she’d seen, all the magic. She eats in silence, trying to keep her face the same mask of placidity that the other drugged unfortunates wore. The day passing slowly as the last bazillion had, she’d almost come to look forward to the battle of wills that were her meetings with the doctor. At least then the conflict was with another and not with her own mind. She’d been so sure for so long that her heritage was a divine one, but would Bastet really leave her to this hellish place? She’s allowed charcoal and paper during the day and though the pictures are always taken from her she sits down once again to draw. Usually it was images of her friends, or of the Egyptian art she’d helped collect. Pictures of cats in regalia had amused her for some time. Now though she sketches out an image of a muscled young man in a sleeveless shirt, wearing distinctive bracers. She doesn’t give him the visage of confusion he’d worn in her mind instead he seems determined. Had the sweet battered child grown into a more confident strong young warrior, as he’d wanted but been afraid to truly dream of. She hoped so, she hoped he was playing it safe and smart… and living well and boldly.
Once again she attempts to use one of her ‘powers’ on the lady guarding the chocolate pudding at dinner. It garners her no favors, nae not even an extra scoop. She sighs and sits down near the window, looking out through the grating and into the dim dreary sky… Was it never sunny anymore, or did it even storm. Her lips curve upwards just a moment as she considers how she might now try to bribe Victor and Harry to work together to make a storm of some sort, snow and lightning… could they do it, it would be spectacular she was sure. Those two never did anything by halves after all. She twirls the soft plastic spoon in the substandard chocolate pudding. It was the closest thing to pleasure she found in this place. Powdered mix and water no doubt. Would it kill them to use cream? Her nose wrinkling slightly in her pique. Still it was a treat and reminded her of better times, like raiding the dessert tray of the hotel with Sofia, she has to focus to keep a grin from spreading across her lips as she recalls the face the girl had made when she’d gotten ahold of a dessert that was a bit more adult that it should have been, the liquor treated cake quickly spat out into her hand. Eating a spoonful of the chocolate imposter she bites lightly at the spoon and wonders if the Brier Bunny had to gnaw his way free… no surely Uncle let him out once it was clear Sanura was gone. She hoped so at least, she wouldn’t want to see the bunny or a God go without food for so long… Uncle hmm tricky beast she bet he was able to get away along with the brawlers, surely she was the only one fool enough to be caught by that sharmoota. She grimaces as she hurts her teeth biting down too hard on the spoon. Taking a breath she focuses on her food and soon enough it’’s time for them to be locked in their rooms again. She hangs her head and slowly trudged behind the others down the hall. She crawls onto the slim uncomfortable bed and pulled the thin sheet over herself and drifted back into the usually peaceful realm of Nephthys.

Sleep comes easily enough, the drugs almost always saw to that. Darkness blessed unconsciousness for a time, unaware of the losses the fear the uncertainty of every day. This time though as others now and again she feels like she ‘wakes’ into her dream. Darkness gives way to a gray landscape much like the one outside the asylum, Fog rolling in slowly. as she walks the gardens she imagines might be out there beyond the lawns. Every step she takes the gray of the world around her would begin to slowly give way to colors, dimly remembered shades of what she once knew. She sighs as she turns, enjoying even this brief respite from the dim world she now inhabits. On the edge of the garden she spies a hedge and movement over it. She walks closer and glances over, smiling as she realizes it’’s her imagined vision of Brendan and he’s on a picnic, with a girl! Hmm who was that… dark hair, tan skin… could be that lovely girl Aida, how sweet! Her smile brightens as she peers over the hedge and when he turns and spots her waving a hand she lifts her own to wave back only to have the sense of falling back and away before waking to the room that seemed like hell and perdition all rolled into one.

Sensory Wasteland: Day Unknown

God-Touched Nut_Meg