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fandomhighdorms2012-07-23 09:54 pm
hurricaneanna.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhighdorms2012-07-23 09:54 pm
Entry tags:
Dorm Hallways & Stairwells, Late Monday Night
Somewhere on the sixth floor, late enough that all good little boys and girls should be snug in their beds, she appeared, flickering like an image on a television trying to fight its way out of the screen and into reality: Anna Dressed in Blood. Or perhaps, since her name was far from common knowledge on this island, The Girl in White. Girl of Nightmares, Girl From Hell. Anna didn't know what they called her, and she didn't care. She'd been here for months now, and the most the majority of the island would ever see of her was this:
She moved slowly through the dorms, up and down the halls and down the stairs, through each floor in turn, her feet dragging horribly, like she couldn't use them at all. Dark, purplish veins cut through her dead white skin, and her eyes were like oil drops, making it impossible to tell where she was or wasn't looking, or if there was any intelligence behind that gaze. Her hair was shadowless black, moving through the air as though suspended in water, snaking out and behind and drifting like reeds. It was the only thing about her that looked alive.
Her dress was mostly white, the blood only dripping down the front to stain the floor and rapidly soak in and disappear. It should have been a gown of moving blood, but no one in the dorms knew that, just like they didn't how much of an act of will it was to hold back. She didn't want them to guess how dangerous she really was. Let them think her an aimless spirit, wandering because she didn't know she was dead. Let the grotesque, shuffling thump of her steps disturb their slumber, or the creak of her hand on the banister, let them lie in their bed and wonder if they could hear each fat drop of blood from her dress strike the floor or if it was just their imagination. Let them tell tales about her, and let those that had seen her remember and feel a shiver they wouldn't admit to in the light of day. She was just a ghost, after all. Completely harmless. Let them think that.
She reached the end of her journey eventually, walking straight through the closed lobby door and out into the night. Anyone looking out their window on that side of the dorm might see her, in her bloodstained dress, float across the lawn in the moonlight, her dragging stride seemingly forgotten, before she turned and looked back at the dorms, something like a smile flickering on her black, lifeless lips. And then she flickered out and was gone.
That should do for now.
((NFI, reactions from safely behind your doors okay. Parts of this post adapted from Anna Dressed in Blood.))
She moved slowly through the dorms, up and down the halls and down the stairs, through each floor in turn, her feet dragging horribly, like she couldn't use them at all. Dark, purplish veins cut through her dead white skin, and her eyes were like oil drops, making it impossible to tell where she was or wasn't looking, or if there was any intelligence behind that gaze. Her hair was shadowless black, moving through the air as though suspended in water, snaking out and behind and drifting like reeds. It was the only thing about her that looked alive.
Her dress was mostly white, the blood only dripping down the front to stain the floor and rapidly soak in and disappear. It should have been a gown of moving blood, but no one in the dorms knew that, just like they didn't how much of an act of will it was to hold back. She didn't want them to guess how dangerous she really was. Let them think her an aimless spirit, wandering because she didn't know she was dead. Let the grotesque, shuffling thump of her steps disturb their slumber, or the creak of her hand on the banister, let them lie in their bed and wonder if they could hear each fat drop of blood from her dress strike the floor or if it was just their imagination. Let them tell tales about her, and let those that had seen her remember and feel a shiver they wouldn't admit to in the light of day. She was just a ghost, after all. Completely harmless. Let them think that.
She reached the end of her journey eventually, walking straight through the closed lobby door and out into the night. Anyone looking out their window on that side of the dorm might see her, in her bloodstained dress, float across the lawn in the moonlight, her dragging stride seemingly forgotten, before she turned and looked back at the dorms, something like a smile flickering on her black, lifeless lips. And then she flickered out and was gone.
That should do for now.
((NFI, reactions from safely behind your doors okay. Parts of this post adapted from Anna Dressed in Blood.))
NFB
She did indeed shiver, but also took note. Once the Girl in White had passed on by, she'd noticed, the coast was usually clear for the night.
And that meant it was borrowing time.
[ooc: lala, reaction, it seemed appropriate.]
no subject
Sometime, she'd get the nerve to ask someone about it. Or maybe peer through her door. Not tonight, though.
no subject
After shouting and thumping on his door, Bucky sat down on his desk and began writing a letter.
NFB
*I don't like her,* Zhahar whimpered in her mind. *She scares me.*
=I know,= Zeela soothed, glad once again that Sholeh always slept through the ghost's walk. =She freaks me out, too. But she's better than almost anything else for clearing the dorms.=
And if the dorms were clear, then Zeela could go out and catch up on news of the Resistance.