so there was this DJ who was like kicking off

*Rave* · 05-12-2022, 12:39 PM

There's a ghost here. A ghost. Rave is the ghost. Rave is the ghost inside her own head. She's the ghost that haunts her bones. Bones! Oh wait, she's all bones. Skin and bones? Skin. She has skin. Skin that's raw and clings to the tattered creature's frame. Frick. Frick! Yo since when was she so... ow. Rave hurt. Another shaky breath. One more. Right. Focus on breathing. Focus. Focus, dumbass, focus. Her head swims. Buffeted by the waves, dragged along the bottom of the sea, and still she feels like it. Dry land? Dry land. Something like that. Nothing like that. No, there's nothing like Rave. You'd have to be half mad to dream her up, after all. Mad. Only half? More than half. At least three-quarters.

Cold. She's still cold. Voices cut through the fog, coming closer. Rave whimpered once, shrinking back into herself. Shrinking. If she made herself small enough, she'd cease to exist entirely. That would be ideal. Was she even supposed to exist anymore? Was she even real? Maybe. Maybe nothing was real. Shit, was this another weird dream? Could be. Could do. Could do all the weird things for weird dreams. Rave exists in a weird, dreamlike state nearly all the time anyway. This time... was she real this time? The pain in her ribs was certainly real. She's not alone in the nightmare, at least. Not alone. Close. Warm. The warm had come back.

Rave shrunk back into the strange boy, opening her eyes briefly. Everything was so... bright. Bright? What time of day was it, even? Rave didn't know, nor did she really... care? Any light was too much light. The sea had done a number on her head, smushing it against the sand and all. Though the concussion would only be considered mild by a medical professional, Rave wasn't a medical professional. Or a professional of any kind. She can't shake how dazed she really is, especially not now. More strangers. Less alone. A pale stranger, she caught his coat as she pried open her eyes once more. He smelled funny... no wait. No it's not him that smelled funny. Herbs. Achoo. Not a big sneeze, no. A small sneeze. A small sneeze that's followed immediately by another whimper, the sudden expand and contract of her lungs aggravating all of the already-angry muscles.

Restraining. Restraining her. Instead of pulling away, Rave pressed into the boy instead. Broad. Warm. He's warm. She is not. Eyes still mostly squeezed shut, Rave tentatively took the herbs. Taking drugs from strangers had never led her astray before, so she'd probably be fine. Another wave of nausea rolled through her system, but there was nothing left for her to throw up. No sea water. Just the herbs that she held in her mouth and would eventually (probably) swallow. Chew. Focus on chewing. Focus. Rave struggled to ground herself. Struggled with... struggling with herself. That was okay. She's okay. She's... probably not okay, but that doesn't matter.

"Th'fkn hurts," her speech is still slurred, though the words come through maybe a bit more clearly this time. Clear. Clear enough. Rave is, of course, baby. When she's injured she's a baby. You can be a baby and a bad bitch. Rave was both. Rave... was not feeling like her baddest self, or her bitchiest self, but that was okay. She'd survived. Surviving was good enough.

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