Nightmares [OPEN]

[kennedyk]

 She hasn't been seen in three days. Wait, four? No, it's been five days. The last person to see Kennedy was Iris during their girls' night in Kennedy's apartment. Her shop has been closed ever since, and she hasn't been seen outside of her apartment. 

It happened the day after Iris left. She thinks? Her vision blurred, heart racing as she felt the overwhelming drowning sensation of a premonition. A storm, vague like trying to remember a distant dream days after it happens. She tried to paint the scene, but couldn't remember details for the life of her and trying to produce what played in her mind onto a canvas frustrated Kennedy to a point where she tossed her brush and paints onto the floor. Even more frustrating than trying to paint the vision was cleaning her own damn mess. She cursed herself for losing her temper so easily and before she could completely wipe up the vibrant red from the wood floors, paint seeping between the cracks, her mind was attacked by an onslaught of visions.

Storms, murder, death, police, water, love, loss, the sounds of a life torn apart.

This continues for days.

It's confusing. Overwhelming. Locations range from seaside to plains to snow covered cities. Every time a vision fades, Kennedy is left weak, but driven to paint. It's a compulsion she can't break away from. She scratches messages and crumbling buildings into a notebook. Her walls are now covered in canvases--some streaks of violent colours everywhere, others with full scenes, dark and haunting. The visions repeat in a cycle and she can't sleep. She's long lost track of time, barely eating and sleeping. When she does sleep, the visions become worse, playing into her imagination and morph into truly horrifying nightmares that wake her up screaming and shivering. They've infected her mind. 

She finally passes out from hunger and sleep deprivation at 3pm Saturday afternoon and wakes up at seven Sunday morning. Perched gingerly at the edge of her bed like she's afraid to move or she'll shatter like glass, Kennedy takes several deep calming breaths and waits for the next wave of visions to strike. After thirty minutes of freedom, she ventures to get out of bed. This leads to washing her face, changing clothes, brushing her hair, and stepping out of her apartment--all movements that are automatic, her body taking control to care for itself while Kennedy's mind runs a-mile-a-minute, paranoid and anxious.

Next thing she knows, she's in front of Quill. There's a coffee in her hands, though she doesn't remember ordering it. She wipes her cheek and she's surprised to feel tears. When did she start crying? And before she can put the breaks on her emotions, she's sobbing on the sidewalk. A girl sobbing uncontrollably on a sidewalk with her coffee. 

Comments

[owenphillips]

He’d bought groceries – after all there were only so many takeaway places in Siren Cove. And his physiotherapist had explained that if he wanted to get back into the shape he was in before, he needed to start eating better. Which was true, there was only so many times he could eat pizza and Chinese and all the other junk currently filling his bin. So he’d been heading home, groceries tucked in a little case on the back of his chair when he’d seen Kennedy stood outside the Quill. He’d called out a small hello and got no response.

“Kennedy?” He’d called out, noting that she looked upset, but she was still not reacting to him. After a second of nothing, he grabs his stick, forcing himself up to his feet and taking a slow and calculated step in front of her. “Kennedy, can you hear me?” He asked softly, lifting his free hand to gently shake her shoulder. Owen didn’t however as she suddenly began crying.

[kennedyk]

His voice snaps something in her brain and Kennedy actually sees the world in front of her, sees Owen's face looking concerned and it's a gut reaction to reach and grab onto his arm that rests on her shoulder, like she's been drowning and needs a breath of air. She finally nods, breathing slowly to try to calm herself down. "Hi Owen, why am I looking up at you?" she asks, reaching for the most off-topic question that's running through her head right now.

[owenphillips]

It’s weird how much Owen can relate to this exact situation. To the point where he hopes whatever has upset Kennedy doesn’t leave the empty ache he feels in his chest most of the time. And even then there are people going through worse pain that he’ll ever have to face. The corner of his lip quirks up at the question, it is strange really. He is after all relatively tall and Kennedy is quite petite. “Oh, I am quite literally stretching my legs.” He replied, hooking his cane over his wrist and pulling a clean tissue out of his pocket. Folding the corner over, he gently wiped at the damp patches under her eyes as though it was nothing, adding, “And I’ve been wondering for ages if I could use you as a chin rest when I’m back to walking again.”

[kennedyk]

His height has properly distracted her and she laughs. "For a hot minute, I thought I'd missed a miracle." She lifts her chin a bit to allow him to dab under her eyes, her mind still filled with a million thoughts and she's trying to remember if any of the visions over the past several days had anything to do with Owen. "Think it'll work? You may be too freakishly tall."

[owenphillips]

His grin got a little broader at that, “Sadly no miracles, just the wonders of modern medicine and the human body.” Owen finished wiping her eyes before scrunching the tissue up and shoving it back in his pocket. He readjusted his stick so he was leaning slightly on it again. The hand that had been on her shoulder moved to lightly rest on the top of her head. “I think you’re a perfect height actually for chin resting. Even for someone as freakishly tall as myself,” replied Owen, pulling a face of mock surprise.

[kennedyk]

"Damn. I was going to sell your story to Lifetime. 'Miracle at Quill' or something catchier than that." She runs a hand over her face, hoping she doesn't look as ridiculous as she feels. But she smiles when he pretty much measures her. "Super stoked to be the perfect height for chin resting. I'll add that to my resume."

[owenphillips]

“I suppose you could lie, but I imagine the people at Lifetime get angry about that kinda thing,” he contemplated. The idea of his life as a Lifetime movie was pretty ridiculous, he wondered if they’d completely erase the whole escort section or if they’d just dust over the top of it really quickly. “You should, who knows, maybe it could be a unique business thing, you paint and act as a chin rest simultaneously.” He patted her head lightly one before moving his arm back to his side.

He hates to break the comfortable bubble they’re in and ask, because he himself knows he hates the question. But sometimes it’s better to put the question out there and let it get shot down than to ignore it entirely, “Are you ok?”

[kennedyk]

"You're right. That's totally an untapped market. There's so many people who need to rest their chins."

Her shoulders slump when he asks, and Kennedy can't seem to bring herself to lie to Owen and say yes, she's okay. After all, crying on a sidewalk in public screams anything but okay. "I can't shut off my brain," she admits, frowning. "It's exhausting."

[owenphillips]

“People have succeeded with weirder business ventures.” He agreed.

The brain, the natural enemy of anyone who struggled to shut it off. She looked almost defeated by the admission and he’d have hugged her had he known if it was ok to do so. Since he didn’t, he asked, in a tone that said she didn’t need to answer if she didn’t want to, “And what’s it so desperate to tell you Kennedy?”

[kennedyk]

"Bad things. Nightmares almost?" She's not sure how much he knows about the...magical side of the world and doesn't want to run him off. But she's also brutally honest and she's been tired of finding excuses for her weird behaviours. "I've been painting non-stop for days. I can't stop seeing things.'

[owenphillips]

Everyone has always underestimated Owen’s intelligence, including himself, but his ability to put things together has always been the reasoning behind it. His mind just makes connections. Had Kennedy only talked about nightmares, he’d have assumed it was as simple as that. But the paintings, the paintings were all of people in town, and it seemed odd she’d know so many people from such a variety of groups, so quickly. It was strange that he’d never even contemplated his current suspicions. She wasn’t a Siren, which was as far as his thoughts had ever gone. “Kennedy, do you have visions?” He breathed.

[kennedyk]

Well he certainly caught onto that faster than the rest of the people who just went along with the "guess I just remember faces" excuse when she first met them. She nods, chewing on her lip. "Kind of. Sort of...yeah, I have visions," she admits. "I can't control them."

[owenphillips]

His knowledge of magic related things is minimal. His parents believed that whilst they should ally with witches if required, they were best to distance themselves from either side caught up in the curse. Sirens he knew a lot about, humans he did by default, magic was one of the few topics he’d never thoroughly researched in his many trips to the library. “… Um, does it help talking about it, or… I’ll admit I don’t know a lot about this stuff. Transforming into a big scaly thing sure, but.” He gave a reassuring smile and a slight shoulder shrug to try and convey himself.

[kennedyk]

"I don't know?" She's worked through her visions on her own her whole life, only sharing them with people Siren Cove that are effected by them. She sits down on the curb, exhausted. "Usually I paint them and move on. But they keep happening over and over, the same ones. It's been.....days since I've come out of them."

Her eyes brighten. "You're a siren?"

[owenphillips]

Owen didn’t attempt to sit next to her. The amount of time it’d take to get down to that level was frankly embarrassing and he would need too much help getting back up. “Ok, well the first thing, if you don’t mind sharing, what have you been seeing exactly?” Slowly he took one step, followed by another. It looked akin to an old man moving back to the wheelchair, but hopefully he’d move better soon.

“Yep, a Siren. Although from English lineage, so a little different metamorphosis from most of the Sirens here.” He replied, slowly lowering himself into his chair.

[kennedyk]

"A lot of random things," she says, turning to face him and crossing her legs under her. "Bad things mostly, just snippets. Like a violent blizzard, and then someone screaming." She closes her eyes, trying to remember the paintings produced. "Black waves from the sea, a man searching for someone, and red. Like blood. I don't think it was all the same situation though."

"I had no idea there were different changes," she admits, squinting at Owen like she's trying to picture what he looks like.

[owenphillips]

Shuffling slowly, Owen moved himself back to the wheelchair. He lowered himself for a second before dropping into the wheelchair with a slight huff. “That’s… a lot of things.” He admitted, wondering what it was like to see things like that. He sometimes had nightmares about the crash, where he was awake and could see Abi dying, but it wasn’t real – he knows he didn’t see it since he didn’t even see the mysterious cause of the crash. “Are they literal visions typically or metaphorical?”

“Yeah, Sirens are not that common so as they’ve mutated and reproduced over time they’ve started to take on different transformation qualities. I guess it’s a little like dog breeds,” Owen guessed. He hadn’t known himself until he transformed once and everyone looked different.

[kennedyk]

"So many things," she agrees, nodding her head. "They used to be very literal, when I was younger. These past few years though they've been more symbolic. Sometimes that messes me up because I'll try to warn someone about a vision and later realize it meant something else entirely." She frowns. "It's so annoying, Owen."

"Awwww, you're a cute puppy!" She's smiling now, something to distract her from what a crappy week she's had.

[owenphillips]

Owen paused for a moment, taking a slow breath in and a slow breath out, “Maybe that’s exactly it. Siren Cove is smothered in magic, more than anywhere else as far as I know. Maybe the curse is interfering,” he suggested. It made plausible sense; the curse was build out of suffering and wanted to do the same to everyone else. It made him wonder sometimes why they all stayed here, but they did and he knew he couldn’t bring himself to leave. But then he didn’t know how most magic or visions worked. “If you could warn everyone about the things you see, then you’d kind of defeat its purpose right?”

Letting out a soft snort at that, he grinned. “Well, I am sensitive behind my ears and I am a good height for people to pat my head at the moment,” he agreed.

[kennedyk]

Kennedy rubs her chin, mulling his words over. "That's true...wait, there's a curse? What's going on here?" She gets up and pulls a chair up to his wheelchair. "I had a vision about this place before I moved here. I saw snippets of it. Beach, graveyard, a creepy old chapel, and the town sign. I asked my aunt if she knew of a place called Siren Cove, and she told me not to think of it again. Why would she tell me that? I mean, I knew I was born somewhere in Maine, but I didn't know I was borne here until she let it slip after drinking too much wine."

She's trying to piece the puzzle together. Obviously, she has roots here, her mother's family has history here, her mother died here. And some days she walks outside to crisp clean air and a clear head, and other days there's a darkness that clouds her thoughts. She figured it was just her, but Owen mentions a curse and that makes sense, right? Maybe she's more sensitive here because of the strong magic in the air.

"Just never stand up again, that's my decree."

[owenphillips]

Owen tilted his head slightly, surprised Kennedy hadn’t heard anything about the curse, “So according to local history,” he began. “Back in the 17th century there were Sirens and humans, specifically to name the Thorntons, living here. Then new settlers moved, who brought with them the Coombs family. Viviana Coombs and Jonatan Thornton started some sort of fling, but it was cut short by his family. They didn’t agree with the relationship, as all good tales begin.” Owen smiled with a slight shoulder shrug before continuing. “So he moved on, got married to someone ‘more suitable’ but Viviana was angry. That he’d moved on so easily and that her love was rejected, so she cast a curse. Hence why until the most recent generation the two families have hated each other ever since.” He concluded, apparently his history teacher had been wrong in telling him that he never paid attention.

“As for your Aunt – I wouldn’t know, until recently the curse has been very much a rumour, but something appears to have triggered,” he explained, a little more sadly. He can remember at school how they all used to laugh at the idea of a curse, and now here it was. Most of his school friends had left, but he wondered what they’d think if they knew it was apparently all true.

“You just like being taller, don’t you?” Owen asked with a grin. “Well tough luck.” He playfully stuck his tongue out at her.

[kennedyk]

Kennedy listens, frowning as he finishes. "That sounds ten thousand kinds of overly dramatic. Well, if there's some kind of curse going on around here, definitely could explain my influx of visions at least. I think I might have to talk to my cousin. Figure out how the hell to control them a bit more."

She winkles her nose at him. "Hey, being 5'2", you revel anytime you're taller than someone. Don't take this away from me."

[owenphillips]

“People with money and power have a tendency for the dramatic – I imagine it’s an attention thing,” he sighed. Had he grown up anywhere else, he probably wouldn’t have had such vocal opinions, but watching the wealthy of the town try to throw more money at useless things did wear you down after a while. Especially since he woke up a few weeks back to find that their once petty feud was now literally getting people killed. “You have a cousin in town?”

He grinned, a little lopsidedly, “When I’m back to walking normally, I’ll have to give you piggy backs – you’ll be taller than most people then.”

[kennedyk]

"That's very true," she nods. She grew up poor so living with her aunt who came from old money was a culture shock for Kennedy. She learned that the rich buy ridiculous things and took advantage of that fact with her paintings. Rick customers were the majority of her cliental. "Just found out after I moved here actually. Nerium Oleander?"

Kennedy almost flails herself out of her chair. "I'm holding you to that, Owen Phillips!"

[owenphillips]

Owen blinked once, twice. It was hard to believe Kennedy, friendly, adorable Kennedy was somehow related to the Oleanders. He’d admit he’d never spoken to Nerium so maybe it was a little unfair to be judgemental – but then the whole reason for that was that they locked themselves away in that huge house. “Oh? Maternal or paternal cousin?”

He can’t help but grin at her excitement, “As if I would break a promise, my word is my bond.”