high inside the church of the neon lights

Can't sleep. Can't dream. The nightmares have returned, par for the course with the turning of winter. It's the time when she's closest to the incident, when it replays over and over. Hazel longs for it to stop, but there's no way to clear it from her head. Hell, she couldn't even go ask Halo for something that would knock her out. Another pang cracked through her chest, enough to drag her from bed. A walk. Fine, she'd take a fucking walk.

Inside her head it's too loud. Too busy. Too much noise. Hazel won't confront the fact she's spiraling, not yet. This time of year is always the worst-- she knows why. Giving up entirely on sleep for now, Hazel moves first to free a stashed bottle from its hiding place, and then out. Out of the home that had been Sirius's, out into the frigid night air. Snow crushing beneath her paws as she makes her way out, scenting the air first. No, no danger.

A long sip from her bottle, then another. Hazel walks the Col, unsure exactly where she's going until she arrives. Grim expression, a heavy sigh in her chest. A clearing near the edge of the Col, the place her father had done his damndest to take her life-- it's been two years, nearly to the day. Hazel sits heavily, her back firm against a broad tree. Snow falling around her, concealed by the dark of the night, the general drinks.

Hazel, The General