[ powder doesn’t come out the other side, so – of course vi follows. it’s disorientating from that first step. one moment she’s in a sparse landscape of rotted trees and ruined architecture. in the next? can’t be. the smell hits her first. whether it’s actually clogging her lungs or it’s a figment of her imagination is unclear, but she swears it’s there, the unmistakable scent of ocean, worn streets, and industrialized shit buildings. there it is. the cannery. it’s a relic of a past vi’s already spent years agonizing over. she did her time, in more ways than one, so whatever mind fuckery this is? she’s out.
… except she doesn’t turn away. because there’s a light. someone’s inside. ]
… No. [ she mouths the word, barely above a whisper. it wouldn’t be that night. except – fuck, the light flickers from where it spills from two slates, partially blocked by something ( or someone ) moving in front. it’s dark and there’s distance yet but if it’s that night and if all the players are inside except one, then…
she takes off running. it doesn’t take much time at all for her to reach the building, face upturned high to spot powder there, slumped and not looking right at all. smaller? it’s difficult to gauge with stories between them; whatever, doesn’t matter what trick is being played here, because she’s catching the fragments of words that act as her cue to stop hesitating and move. ]
Powder. I’m coming up. Just sit tight. [ she can’t decide if it’s good or not to be drowned out by the sound of metal on metal erupting from inside, followed by a hard hit to bone. is this just a memory? or is she actually in the past? she climbs up the nailed boards, thinking that nothing about this feels right. she needs to get to powder. she needs to get powder away from this.
that plan becomes far more convoluted once she hauls herself up onto the ledge and gets a proper look at powder who is, in fact, smaller. younger. ]
Powder – hey. Shhh, it’s okay. Breathe, just breathe. [ and she’ll reach for a changing powder anyway, wanting to hold her through the panic, all the while ignoring the sound of her younger self going to war inside. ]
v. b; undoing the past.
… except she doesn’t turn away. because there’s a light. someone’s inside. ]
… No. [ she mouths the word, barely above a whisper. it wouldn’t be that night. except – fuck, the light flickers from where it spills from two slates, partially blocked by something ( or someone ) moving in front. it’s dark and there’s distance yet but if it’s that night and if all the players are inside except one, then…
she takes off running. it doesn’t take much time at all for her to reach the building, face upturned high to spot powder there, slumped and not looking right at all. smaller? it’s difficult to gauge with stories between them; whatever, doesn’t matter what trick is being played here, because she’s catching the fragments of words that act as her cue to stop hesitating and move. ]
Powder. I’m coming up. Just sit tight. [ she can’t decide if it’s good or not to be drowned out by the sound of metal on metal erupting from inside, followed by a hard hit to bone. is this just a memory? or is she actually in the past? she climbs up the nailed boards, thinking that nothing about this feels right. she needs to get to powder. she needs to get powder away from this.
that plan becomes far more convoluted once she hauls herself up onto the ledge and gets a proper look at powder who is, in fact, smaller. younger. ]
Powder – hey. Shhh, it’s okay. Breathe, just breathe. [ and she’ll reach for a changing powder anyway, wanting to hold her through the panic, all the while ignoring the sound of her younger self going to war inside. ]