Post by galethewhale on Jul 30, 2013 13:19:37 GMT 1
[hehehehe bby it's up nowwwww-- sorry for short length and it's not the best omgi may go down with this crack?
]
"In the valley of the dolls, we sleep
Got a hole inside of me
Living with identities
That do not belong to me"
- Valley of the Dolls by Marina & the Diamonds
At least I didn’t get it as bad as other people…
Eliza had woken up to something scratching against her skin - though at first she couldn’t quite distinguish what it was until she looked in a mirror. Well, that is, the mirrors that seem to be placed around every wall in the Academy - as far as she could see, she supposed. It seemed that everyone around her - including herself - had merged with some sort of object, or animal in some cases.
And nightmare had merged with one of her dream catchers.
It appeared that the thread seemed to be stuck to her skin like some form of web, the string also between her fingers like webbed hands. Small feathers hung on the edges of her hair, beads where strands of powder blue ended and small feathers of the same shade begun.
It was true that Eliza loved her dream catchers, but she didn’t love them enough to become one. No, nightmare preferred it the way where her and her dream catchers were completely separate things…
Not one.
Now, however, Eliza found herself in the library, a poetry book in one hand as she began to twirl a lock of hair around her finger. She’d been up early today, and had left her roommates to catch their sleep - she supposed Renée and Bea weren’t overly fond of being woken up too early. So with that thought, she had made her way to the library, which seemed utterly deserted as people started to gather what had happened.
And it was true that she had it better than some people - she’d seen people completely covered in fur, a woman with wings and feathers covering her body, and the librarian seemed to be sparkling with every move she made (though, that could be considered lucky, to some).
Flicking through her book, she seemed to be losing concentration of the poetry fast, light green eyes glancing around the library for any signs of students - or teachers, because she supposed she must be one of the only students who enjoyed conversing with their teachers.
Today was going to be a long day.
