11-15-2017, 09:35 PM
Some hours ago Margot had gone to her room, leaving some to make their way back out of the house and others in the magick-stained study to fall asleep (or lay motionless) where they were left to recover. The little witch had tried to lay down, but didn't want to stain her pillowcase so she'd tried to nest on the floor but that hadn't seemed right either. She paced, restless, for another hour and change before falling asleep sitting up on her bed with her head back against the wall.
Though she'd been unconscious at least two hours before the pounding on her door awoke her, it felt as though she'd only closed her eyes for a dozen seconds-- just long enough to flash vivid-red-fast through a dreamscape of burned lands and rains of arrows and blood-edged blades and the pounding of wardrums that would follow her into consciousness in the form of a hammering heart and pounding headache and the slamming of Doc's fist on the door before being followed by shouting.
"God damnit," she croaked quietly to herself and rubbed her arms, feeling like they were covered in static electricity still. She lifted her hands to rub her eyes and called louder so he would hear through the door. "I am, just open the door, it's not locked."
When he did, he'd find the room had the feeling that it housed a caged lion instead of a young woman, and could all but physically feel the cloying dense quality her magick tended to leave in the air. Margot was still sitting where she'd drifted off, and was eyeing the Doc in the doorway from between the fingers that still covered her face. Not quite saying 'What?' like a disgruntled teenager out loud, but projecting it heartily enough in the quiet that she sat in instead.
Though she'd been unconscious at least two hours before the pounding on her door awoke her, it felt as though she'd only closed her eyes for a dozen seconds-- just long enough to flash vivid-red-fast through a dreamscape of burned lands and rains of arrows and blood-edged blades and the pounding of wardrums that would follow her into consciousness in the form of a hammering heart and pounding headache and the slamming of Doc's fist on the door before being followed by shouting.
"God damnit," she croaked quietly to herself and rubbed her arms, feeling like they were covered in static electricity still. She lifted her hands to rub her eyes and called louder so he would hear through the door. "I am, just open the door, it's not locked."
When he did, he'd find the room had the feeling that it housed a caged lion instead of a young woman, and could all but physically feel the cloying dense quality her magick tended to leave in the air. Margot was still sitting where she'd drifted off, and was eyeing the Doc in the doorway from between the fingers that still covered her face. Not quite saying 'What?' like a disgruntled teenager out loud, but projecting it heartily enough in the quiet that she sat in instead.