ataraxionlogs | some nights i pray a sign is gonna come to me;

CHARACTERS: pocket full of crazy and a wizard on a cloudy day
LOCATION: the gardens
WARNINGS: panic attacks and possible sad faces.
SUMMARY: we are still not allowed to have nice things.
NOTES: backdated to the 15th because I suck.

[ time isn't functioning - isn't functional in space. maybe planetside when everything is terraformed to match earth and follow her system, but it's outdated and old and time means nothing to river anymore. not when two years become a day becomes a lifetime she can't escape if she tries.

tried.

succeeded.

she didn't mean to blow james off the other day; it was rather the opposite. she's gone so long without sleeping that when she finally did, she needed to get away from it before it consumed her. their picnic should've been a distraction, something inane and fun like children playing at lunchtime and she wanted that.

but time means nothing and she wanted an escape. a distraction. she's always missed dates, with anyone and everyone, but never like this. never through sleep that so often eludes her, but this time took her down the rabbit hole and held on tight when she hit rock bottom.

she sleeps and it's peaceful and it was never supposed to happen. ]

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[ see, james? james isn't much for dates. he prefers to take the times as they come, stay flexible and adaptable and therefore if you don't keep a schedule you can't be late. his internal clock is fairly spot-on, though, which leads him to be on time more often than early or late.

as they say, the party certainly does not start until-

well. yes. basically that. but just because his schedule is a little strange, and a little off, he still expects others to somewhat follow along. even river, incredibly bright and eccentric and brilliant as she is, the three hours he spends in the gardens that day is a little long. he ends up napping through most of it, a dream that makes it hard for him to wake back up again, but he does and she's still not there and it...bothers him. not because he cares all that much about being stood up, but because he was kind of looking forward to some adventuring. and then of course he's worried about river - where she might be, what might be happening.

he comes back the next day, just to look around. he spends most of it as Prongs just because it's easier to move and to hear and to feel the gardens themselves, but he doesn't find her. that doesn't stop him from coming back the next day - spending more than just a few hours searching the gardens because he might have already checked in with other people who knew her, who might know where she is.

prongs makes it only one step into the small clearing before he sees her and - after having one too many awkward interactions as prongs - decides to switch back before he approaches her. ]

River? [ she's...sleeping. not dead, doesn't seem to be hurt - her hexed - but simply sleeping. he can't really blame her, considering what he's been dreaming about lately, but something off tugs at his gut as he moves to hover next to her, set his hand on her shoulder and shake. ] River, you alright?

[ when river dreams ( usually, normally, when she is not pulled apart and put back together wrong ), she dreams in colours and shapes. nothing solid and concrete, because her monsters are real and that fragile line between reality and dreaming was torn long ago. her dreams are terror and pain, things she hasn't lived ( yet ) and things that are but can't be. intangible, real in unreality; it's why she always wakes screaming.

it's why these dreams aren't hers. can't be, because they take colours and shapes and turn them into people and things, solid, concrete; real too, but in an entirely new and terrifying way. they take the form of people she loves, people she wished loved her back ( mom and dad pinned up in her locker, still smiling at neighbours that stopped asking when the kids will come home ), and that fragile line was torn so very, very long ago.

she doesn't wake screaming. she doesn't wake. she sees her, tom and derek wrestling in the yard the way pups do, and scott and stiles and sometimes lydia tut-tuting with a smile; simon and kaylee wrapped around each other in a hammock while jayne plucks at a guitar captain insists is out of tune; merlin stands in a lake that isn't cold and his king isn't dead and everyone is together. everyone is happy.

and someone is calling her name. someone warm and comfortable and no, no, she shakes her head and the grass is cool beneath her cheek and someone gets an elbow in her side and the ship is humming all around her. ]

No.

[ just a mutter, a mumble. her head shakes again, trying to find the dream, but it turns to shakes and colours again, watercolour paints spinning into ripples of time that moves outwards, concentric circles pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat so very very close to her.

so very close. river's eyes open slowly after days of disuse and have to adjust to the light ( unnatural, unnormal, right and wrong ) but she thinks she could still be dreaming because james is there and james is still - james is still good, right? he came to wrestle too, as pups do, so she lifts a weakened hand to touch his face with cold fingertips. lost fingertips. which one is dreaming? ]

I found you.

[ but he feels real. he feels real and everything does in a dream but her side wasn't caught by an elbow and she's confused; her brows furrow. ]

James?

[ it's her response that sets off the worry in him, his lips turned down in a frown, his head already formulating all the ways he can fix this, or find out what he needs to fix. she says no, and there's a sharp pain in his side because yes, okay. that was her elbow. in his ribs. he gasps a little, but doesn't lose his breath, just resettles on his knees and shakes her again. ]

River, c'mon. Wake-

[ and then he sees her eyes, and he relaxes, his face breaking into a relieved smile. ] 'ey there beautiful. [ but then she's lifting her hand, and his eyes follow her hand to his face before turning back to her, confused. should he still be worried? is there something still wrong, even if she's awake now? ]

Yeah, it's me. But I think you've got it backwards- I've been looking for you.

[ he says such silly things, such fantastical things like he's living in a fairy tale. james has an imagination that river would love to live in, she thinks, but she doesn't know where it comes from and she doesn't know why he's here.

she touches his cheek. his chin. she can't remember. ]

Why? We were right here.

[ the longer they sit the more he starts to worry again, only because it's river and he's just...not sure. his eyes follower her fingers as well as he can, before coming back to rest on her face. ]

Why? You've been missing for days. We were supposed to go adventuring, remember?

There aren't -

[ she doesn't believe in days. she doesn't believe in time and days are only imagined, they're constructs of man and - and her body is heavy like it hasn't been moved for anything, not the sun or the planets or the tug of space and time. she sits up suddenly, hand drawn back to support behind her, and she stares wide into james' eyes for a sign that he's wrong ( of course he is, of course he isn't; he's a liar, but not like this. not about adventuring ). ]

There weren't. I was right here. Fifteen became ten and -

[ and she found him. in her dreams. they all played and it didn't really happen, did it? ]

River...

[ he doesn't want to freak her out. farm from it, actually. so he just stays right where he is and watches her, his head shaking slowly. ]

Have you been sleeping here this whole time?

some nights i pray a sign is gonna come to me;

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