gentlemenpreferblondes: (And you can't straighten up)
J. M. Austen ([personal profile] gentlemenpreferblondes) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou_log 2016-04-24 10:25 pm (UTC)

[At first J just pants out heavily, her chest rising and falling slowly and oppressing movements, almost as if she was still struggling to catch her breath underneath a suffocating weight. Her whole body is shaking, covered up with a cold sweat, making her skin unpleasantly clammy.

She stares Sans with a bewildered eyes as the reality catches up with her. A nightmare.]


I aa-- [Shivering like a leaf, she lets out a quiet whine, incapable of forming coherent words. J knows that it was a nightmare. She's now on Moira, not in New York, school, orphanage or in her parents living room. None of what she just saw was real (even though it all was!) but she still couldn't shake off the awful, crippling feeling of the fear.

But as she keeps looking into Sans' hollow eye sockets she's hit by the awful sense of shame. She feels shame and embarrassment that he got to see her like this. Then the room began to feel too hot and cramped, like she couldn't breathe.

With one agile leap J's off from her bed. She quickly grabs the dressing gown from the chair and pulls it on, storming out of the door before Sans can stop her.]

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