[ your name is Rose Lalonde and god damn fuck it all, are you tired. every joint in your body feels like it's creaking, weary and old and rusted with centuries of unuse. logically, you know you just barely slept for the better part of two hours. it doesn't stop you from feeling like Honi the fucking Circle-Drawer and his seventy-year nap. you woke up and everything was wrong, like the world turned on its head the moment the last drop of consciousness slipped away, and now the air's too cold and you can't breathe right and the buzzing at the back of your mind has flared up to new, intolerable heights.
all you want is to go back to sleep, but you don't think you can.
(no, coward, you don't dare to.)
you want the buzzing (hissing, clawing) to die down. you want the prickling at your fingertips to recede. you want to stop feeling like your eyes might go up in flames within your sockets, but for that to happen you need to be able to allow your eyelids to close for longer than it takes you to blink.
you are completely and utterly and painfully exhausted, but wound up far too tight to let yourself sleep. and you think you've got a solution to this.
odds are, this is incredibly stupid. odds are, it might also provide exactly what you need.
1/9?? \o_O/
all you want is to go back to sleep, but you don't think you can.
(no, coward, you don't dare to.)
you want the buzzing (hissing, clawing) to die down. you want the prickling at your fingertips to recede. you want to stop feeling like your eyes might go up in flames within your sockets, but for that to happen you need to be able to allow your eyelids to close for longer than it takes you to blink.
you are completely and utterly and painfully exhausted, but wound up far too tight to let yourself sleep. and you think you've got a solution to this.
odds are, this is incredibly stupid. odds are, it might also provide exactly what you need.
you are knocking on Vriska Serket's window. ]