Mnemosyne and Lethe (CC,T,MATURE) [Complete]
Posted: Fri Dec 05, 2003 5:35 pm
Title: Mnemosyne and Lethe
Author: Me
e-mail: citrus_twisted@yahoo.com
Couples: Um... none, but there are references to T/M and T/K tho
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Jason Katims/The WB/UPN/etc and not me
Description: This explores what Tess went through during that time up until she showed back up disoriented. It goes with the theory that she was good up until that point, and was screwed with and kidnapped by Nicholas, so you need to keep that in mind as you read this.
***
It is dark here.
That is one of only a few truths I believe in at the moment. I know that it is dark, because I can see that it is dark. I also know that my hands are bound together, by something that scratches my flesh. I know this because I can feel it.
My name is Tess Harding.
I know this because I have been told this for years. I have internalized it. It is my name, or at least I think it is, it’s dark, and my arms hurt.
I am tired.
I think that I am tired because I have felt my mouth open and shut over and over again, letting out silent yawns. I also can feel the delirium normally associated with sleep seeping into my demeanor.
I am a mute.
I know this because I cannot create sound. Something tells me that I used to be able to use my vocal cords, but it is all starting to blend together. I am finding it hard to discern what is real and what is just a dream.
It is dark and I am tired.
I know this because I see and I feel this, I also know, from contemporary logic that darkness is when one sleeps. I want to sleep, but every time that I close my eyes for more than a moment, I feel a burst of energy course up my spine, shocking me into waking.
It is loud.
I can hear the obscenely loud music blaring from some hidden area of the room, the screams and screeches echoing and vibrating against the dark walls. It distorts my thoughts, diverting my attention away from my thoughts, causing my ears to only hear the tortured screams and the odd music, set to peculiar combinations of minor keys. At least I think that they are minor, I really could not tell you the difference between minor and major keys at the moment.
Nacedo would know.
Nacedo, that name reminds me of something before this dark room with its obscenely loud noises and my own silence. I think he was my protector, guardian, but I may have just imagined him too. He brings memories of stability and purpose, though, and I really do not have that at the moment, in this dark room with bound hands and jumbled thoughts running through my head. I also think that maybe he loved me, like a father to a daughter, but I really do not know if that is true, because if I were loved, then I would not be here.
I remember love… I think.
I think that I loved someone, once with all the fire passion that was once in my being. It was before the dark, before the loudness, the pain, the confusion. I can remember the soft amber of his eyes and the way that I would wish that he would kiss me in the rain with all the passion that I felt for him. But for some reason or another, I don’t recall him ever doing that. I remember his face, his eyes, his soft smile, but I do not remember him ever loving me like I loved him. Maybe he is just another figment of my imagination, like the light and the happiness and Nacedo, or maybe people are just incapable of loving me.
I am incapable of being loved.
It would explain why I am in the dark, with the loudness and the pain. But I can remember another boy too, with ice blue eyes, an exact contrast of the amber eyed one, but similar in all too many ways. He appeared to love me, for who I am, not who I aspire to be, and I think I was falling for him too, in this peculiar sort of two-step that we would dance. But maybe the repartee that we would engage in was, at least on his part, veiled insults, while mine was just to protect myself from getting hurt. That must be it, he felt too bad to tell me that he loathed my presence, so he would engage in veiled insults to make it appear like he cared.
I am going insane.
I am beginning to doubt that I have been here for very long. If I did not know better, I would think that this was some sort of ploy. Someone, whose name and face I cannot recall, said something once about time existing in different dimensions, so maybe I could be gone for mere moments and it feel like years. This is the sort of insanity that is beginning to settle in. Talk of dimensional time and how I am in one while my friends are in another is simply ridiculous. I used to believe once that I was an alien, but if that were true, then I would have powers, which I obviously do not. If I had powers, I would not be here, in this room.
My name is Tess Harding and I am insane.
The more I sit here, thinking this illogicality; I wonder if my name is truly Tess Harding. I have come to accept that everything else is merely just a prolonged dream and I am coming into waking. In this dark room, with this loud noise and with my scarred arms I realize that I am nothing but more than just a ball of cells that have formed together to create a body with electrons and neurons and all of that stuff passed across things.
I am nothing but insane and tired.
I have come to accept this, these adjectives to describe myself, and I wonder what will happen next. I have no voice, no name, and if this darkness is any indication, no face either. Perhaps, I am blind because all I can see is darkness. But I can feel the fluttering of my eyelashes and see the light whenever I am shocked with it. It is blue, vibrant blue, like the kind of blue that frames a hot flame.
I am lost.
The more I sit here, the more I realize, I am in need of a purpose. I understand that I am nothing but insane and tired, but I need something to turn myself away from my obsessive psychoanalyzing. I remember crying, a long time ago, but I haven’t been able to get my tear ducts to function in a long time. I do not recall the last time I ate, nor the last time I drank anyway. I do not remember much of anything.
I am so tired.
I feel it, the sharp pain shooting up my spine; it is with more force this time compared to all of the others. It burns, a scalding pain, settling at the base of my neck and expanding over my head. I open my mouth in a vain attempt to verbalize my pain, but all that I can do is focus on all the screaming coming at me, the maddening level of the noise, increasing with each passing moment. It shocks me into waking as visions of death and decay begin to penetrate my being, overpowering every waning emotion of helplessness and confusion. Am I going to die? It is a question without answer and for the first time in a long time, I feel my eye lids meet, as an overpowering wave of exhaustion overtakes me in the darkness, overriding the pain and the burning.
It all makes sense now.
In sleep, I have regained my memory, and come to the realization that all of this up until this moment has been a nightmare I have lived through since being left alone all those years ago. But now, I know that I have a purpose. My name is Ava; however on earth, I am recognized as Tess Harding. Nacedo was not my protector, necessarily, but someone sent, by my lord Khivar to raise me as I should have been raised, as a fighter, not as a domesticate to Zan. Zan is a vile creature, who abused me the first time around and will do so again in the second.
Khivar, he loved me, he loves me still. He killed Zan for me, to avenge my death, I know this because he tells me, and I feel that I can trust him. He brings a sense of strength and purpose to me and a mission. Nacedo put it in place; however, he will aid me in bringing it to fruition. I am to seduce the vile creature known as Zan, or Max Evans, and then deliver him and the others to my lover’s bed along with the granolith.
Yes, that is it, I can see the light now.
Author: Me
e-mail: citrus_twisted@yahoo.com
Couples: Um... none, but there are references to T/M and T/K tho
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Jason Katims/The WB/UPN/etc and not me
Description: This explores what Tess went through during that time up until she showed back up disoriented. It goes with the theory that she was good up until that point, and was screwed with and kidnapped by Nicholas, so you need to keep that in mind as you read this.
***
It is dark here.
That is one of only a few truths I believe in at the moment. I know that it is dark, because I can see that it is dark. I also know that my hands are bound together, by something that scratches my flesh. I know this because I can feel it.
My name is Tess Harding.
I know this because I have been told this for years. I have internalized it. It is my name, or at least I think it is, it’s dark, and my arms hurt.
I am tired.
I think that I am tired because I have felt my mouth open and shut over and over again, letting out silent yawns. I also can feel the delirium normally associated with sleep seeping into my demeanor.
I am a mute.
I know this because I cannot create sound. Something tells me that I used to be able to use my vocal cords, but it is all starting to blend together. I am finding it hard to discern what is real and what is just a dream.
It is dark and I am tired.
I know this because I see and I feel this, I also know, from contemporary logic that darkness is when one sleeps. I want to sleep, but every time that I close my eyes for more than a moment, I feel a burst of energy course up my spine, shocking me into waking.
It is loud.
I can hear the obscenely loud music blaring from some hidden area of the room, the screams and screeches echoing and vibrating against the dark walls. It distorts my thoughts, diverting my attention away from my thoughts, causing my ears to only hear the tortured screams and the odd music, set to peculiar combinations of minor keys. At least I think that they are minor, I really could not tell you the difference between minor and major keys at the moment.
Nacedo would know.
Nacedo, that name reminds me of something before this dark room with its obscenely loud noises and my own silence. I think he was my protector, guardian, but I may have just imagined him too. He brings memories of stability and purpose, though, and I really do not have that at the moment, in this dark room with bound hands and jumbled thoughts running through my head. I also think that maybe he loved me, like a father to a daughter, but I really do not know if that is true, because if I were loved, then I would not be here.
I remember love… I think.
I think that I loved someone, once with all the fire passion that was once in my being. It was before the dark, before the loudness, the pain, the confusion. I can remember the soft amber of his eyes and the way that I would wish that he would kiss me in the rain with all the passion that I felt for him. But for some reason or another, I don’t recall him ever doing that. I remember his face, his eyes, his soft smile, but I do not remember him ever loving me like I loved him. Maybe he is just another figment of my imagination, like the light and the happiness and Nacedo, or maybe people are just incapable of loving me.
I am incapable of being loved.
It would explain why I am in the dark, with the loudness and the pain. But I can remember another boy too, with ice blue eyes, an exact contrast of the amber eyed one, but similar in all too many ways. He appeared to love me, for who I am, not who I aspire to be, and I think I was falling for him too, in this peculiar sort of two-step that we would dance. But maybe the repartee that we would engage in was, at least on his part, veiled insults, while mine was just to protect myself from getting hurt. That must be it, he felt too bad to tell me that he loathed my presence, so he would engage in veiled insults to make it appear like he cared.
I am going insane.
I am beginning to doubt that I have been here for very long. If I did not know better, I would think that this was some sort of ploy. Someone, whose name and face I cannot recall, said something once about time existing in different dimensions, so maybe I could be gone for mere moments and it feel like years. This is the sort of insanity that is beginning to settle in. Talk of dimensional time and how I am in one while my friends are in another is simply ridiculous. I used to believe once that I was an alien, but if that were true, then I would have powers, which I obviously do not. If I had powers, I would not be here, in this room.
My name is Tess Harding and I am insane.
The more I sit here, thinking this illogicality; I wonder if my name is truly Tess Harding. I have come to accept that everything else is merely just a prolonged dream and I am coming into waking. In this dark room, with this loud noise and with my scarred arms I realize that I am nothing but more than just a ball of cells that have formed together to create a body with electrons and neurons and all of that stuff passed across things.
I am nothing but insane and tired.
I have come to accept this, these adjectives to describe myself, and I wonder what will happen next. I have no voice, no name, and if this darkness is any indication, no face either. Perhaps, I am blind because all I can see is darkness. But I can feel the fluttering of my eyelashes and see the light whenever I am shocked with it. It is blue, vibrant blue, like the kind of blue that frames a hot flame.
I am lost.
The more I sit here, the more I realize, I am in need of a purpose. I understand that I am nothing but insane and tired, but I need something to turn myself away from my obsessive psychoanalyzing. I remember crying, a long time ago, but I haven’t been able to get my tear ducts to function in a long time. I do not recall the last time I ate, nor the last time I drank anyway. I do not remember much of anything.
I am so tired.
I feel it, the sharp pain shooting up my spine; it is with more force this time compared to all of the others. It burns, a scalding pain, settling at the base of my neck and expanding over my head. I open my mouth in a vain attempt to verbalize my pain, but all that I can do is focus on all the screaming coming at me, the maddening level of the noise, increasing with each passing moment. It shocks me into waking as visions of death and decay begin to penetrate my being, overpowering every waning emotion of helplessness and confusion. Am I going to die? It is a question without answer and for the first time in a long time, I feel my eye lids meet, as an overpowering wave of exhaustion overtakes me in the darkness, overriding the pain and the burning.
It all makes sense now.
In sleep, I have regained my memory, and come to the realization that all of this up until this moment has been a nightmare I have lived through since being left alone all those years ago. But now, I know that I have a purpose. My name is Ava; however on earth, I am recognized as Tess Harding. Nacedo was not my protector, necessarily, but someone sent, by my lord Khivar to raise me as I should have been raised, as a fighter, not as a domesticate to Zan. Zan is a vile creature, who abused me the first time around and will do so again in the second.
Khivar, he loved me, he loves me still. He killed Zan for me, to avenge my death, I know this because he tells me, and I feel that I can trust him. He brings a sense of strength and purpose to me and a mission. Nacedo put it in place; however, he will aid me in bringing it to fruition. I am to seduce the vile creature known as Zan, or Max Evans, and then deliver him and the others to my lover’s bed along with the granolith.
Yes, that is it, I can see the light now.