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Nevaeh Reed
I dreamed a dream
Sun Nov 13, 2016 23:40

It began in total blackness. “Goodbye, Nevaeh.”

She took a few steps forward, completely isolated and afraid. Alone. But as she stepped, her legs wobbly with nerves, light came. She could discern a figure she knew was him, but he was walking away. Nevaeh launched forward into the blurred unknown, latching her hand onto his. He looked over his shoulder at her momentarily but did not speak.

She followed closely behind him, and eventually they came upon a trio of blurred girls she could tell were her friends: Tess, Raine, and Nat. They let him pass, but in an instant they stood in a line that broke her connection to him. “What are you doing?” Nevaeh demanded “I’ll be back and we can hang out later.”

“He’ll hurt you,” the girls said in unison.

“No he won’t,” the Aladren insisted, physically struggling to break through their line. There were no obstacles on either side, but it did not occur to her to go around; getting through was important. “He cares about me!”

“Not enough.” But they were gone, their bodies vanished as their one voice echoed. The instantaneous removal of the barrier meant a stronger charge forward, and she ran directly into something else, someone else. Her chin collided with muscle-coated collarbone; without even looking up, she knew who she had found.

“Jax Donovan.” She stood close--something stopped her from backing away--and could tell that his expression was blank. In fact, he seemed to look over her, not at her. Nevaeh raised her arms in a quick motion, but Jax was even quicker, seizing her by the wrists. Still he did not look at her, but his facial expression warped. Hot panic ran rampantly through her blood as she fought against him, wriggling to escape. Eventually she managed to free her dominant arm, and she swung for his head.

She made contact with his nose, and despite a well-known boxing history, Jax crumpled, covering his face. Nevaeh’s expression softened, and she knelt down beside him. “Jax?” she called gently. Her hand landed in something sticky, and she pulled lifted it to her face to examine it. It was blood. Jax’s blood. “Jax?!” she repeated with more urgency.

He slowly lowered his hand, revealing his bloody nose. He also had a black eye. For the first time, he looked at her, though he was not quite the real Jax anymore; there was a madness in his non-swollen eye. “It was for your own good,” he nearly growled. Then he transformed, and suddenly he was Scout. The German Shepherd that had been Jax whimpered off beyond her visible range.

Nevaeh stood weakly, the shaking of her legs renewed, and walked on once more. Soon enough, she was reunited with him. He was facing away, but as she got closer, he turned slowly to face her, his lips offering the ghost of a smile. “Nevaeh,” he said by way of greeting, and she felt her skin prickle. She froze in place, and he came the rest of the way to her.

“Barnaby, I-” His swift motion cut her off; sharp but kind hands landed beneath her arms, forceful but not painful, as he pulled her as close to his level as possible without completely taking her off the ground. She could feel his breath, and for a moment, she was lost in a trance, his pale face and icy blue eyes so beautiful, and such a stark contrast to her own dark features. He was a familiar, comfortable, and amazing blur, and she wondered how she could ever look away.

But she did, as something told her to look behind him. There stood his brother, Professor Pye, but he looked beyond her, much like Jax had. Nevaeh turned her head to see where he looked and was surprised to find her mother, Isis Carter, in a similar state. Action from Barnaby stole back her attention, her body dropping and reraising quickly as he snaked one hand all the way around her back and beneath both arms, holding her closer, and his other hand gently captured hers, raising it to his lips.

Her cheeks flushed, hotter than the sun, as his mouth made contact with her skin. But his kiss was… wetter than she expected. It was very wet, actually, almost like….

Nevaeh woke up and discovered her arm hanging off the bed. She reeled in her hand and found immediately that it was in fact wet. She rolled over to find Scout beside the bed. The third year had no way of knowing what time it was or if there was anyone else asleep in this room, but she did know it was a Saturday morning, so she took precautions, keeping her voice low as she addressed her service dog. “Licking again, huh?” she asked with a weak smile. “You must want to go get breakfast. Let me get dressed and we’ll go.”

She rose carefully, her legs still stiff with sleep, and found her clothes, each shift in her appearance focused on intently as she tried to let go of the strange dream she’d just had. And, she noted idly before pushing it away, if she could let go of a few other things, she’d probably be better off as well.

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