Christine DeChagny (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lethermindwander) wrote2017-08-10 07:22 pm
lethermindwander) wrote2017-08-10 07:22 pm
Entry tags:
And here we stand, how broken now-- LH!Verse drabbles
It's been three weeks since she fell from grace completely.
The memory of that day plays vividly across her mind. All the murders, each more brutal than the last. Christine had tried to count each of them so that at the end of all of this, she would know for just how many lives she would need to atone for. (But is it really murder if they're already dead? She still clings to this.) She lost count somewhere after thirty. Once the flames no longer ate away at her skin and she could only feel the pain of them, she knew it was over then. But she also knew in that moment, that she would win.
Only, the fight had not been over, it had just begun and she'd lose everything. She'd finally gotten the confirmation of what she knew in her heart all along. It hurts in such an unquantifiable way. Christine doesn't even know how to describe it. It's far worse than anything else Erik has ever done to her and she can't even properly hate him for it.
But she doesn't think she'll ever see him again. Not now. He'll never leave his home and he'll never leave her. (It makes it easier if she doesn't think of her name. Its easier if she's not another living soul, just some faceless entity. Even though Christine knows her. Has spoken to her many a time in passing. Could have been the sort of person Christine would've called a friend if not for all of this.)
And Christine will never, ever go back. As far as she is concerned, on the haphazard map of Hell she has cobbled together in her travels, in the space where Little Hades should be, there is a big, black hole instead. So now she sits here, in the middle of the night, in the middle of Hell's lush, violent wilderness, keeping watch over her friends while they sleep. Her heart is thoroughly shattered and neither of them know the full extent of it. She feels guilty that it is her fault that they cannot take the train to this distant city yet. With her recent change in status, Christine had been barred from traveling to another city directly from Little Hades. It's a good thing that both her and this new Hancock have a bit of experience with drudging through this shitty landscape.
Her glowing eyes fall on Elizabeth and her chest hurts. Christine has told her closest friend so little about her ultimate downfall. Speaking of these events out loud brings a certain finality to them and Christine isn't ready to let go. It'll make it all the more real that Erik is now a part of her past with no chance of being a part of her future.
They're on the road to find Booker. The person Elizabeth has sought since her death; The parallel to Christine's own afterlife is uncanny. It makes her wish to selfishly shake Elizabeth awake and scream at her to run. To go in any direction but this one because a reunion with someone so deeply loved might best be kept in fantasies.
But she can't. Elizabeth needs this closure and Christine can't rob it from her because of her own broken heart. Perhaps Elizabeth's reunion with Booker will not turn so sour.
(The part that hurts the most is knowing that Erik gave up on her because that was easier than having any faith.)
For the first time in years, Christine prays. Actually looks up to the sky and prays. That if there is, indeed a God up there somewhere, that he should have mercy on Elizabeth. Christine prays for a happy outcome because Elizabeth is young, stolen from life so soon. Because Elizabeth is an angel that deserves for all her dreams to come true.
She turns her head towards Hancock. How on Earth a man with no nose can make such an odd snoring sound while deep in sleep is anybody's guess. He appears to be so peaceful, though. Even if that peace had been brought about by some wicked combination of drugs and booze. A small, barely there smile can't help but worm its way to her lips. Christine is happy that Hancock is back in her life in some capacity. A lone bright spot in a world of darkness. It hurts that he is not her Hancock but she knows that it hurts him in the same vein that she is not his Christine. A mismatched sort of pair desperately clinging to this shred of normalcy.
She could come to love him, she thinks.
Or maybe she just loves the sex. Its difficult to make the distinction but it feels so freeing to let her body crash against his. At least in the moment. In the afterwards, she can't help but feel guilty, feeling as if she is betraying Erik. She is. But Erik betrayed her first.
Christine is left in shambles in his absence. All she wants is for him to hold her in his arms. To take her face between his palms, stare deeply into her eyes and speak promises of love. To sweetly sing her to sleep. But these fantasies are viciously undercut with the cruel imaginings of him doing these things to her instead.
Hancock has tried valiantly to pick up the pieces of her in the aftermath he knows so little of. She has to give him credit for that but Christine knows with utmost certainty that the only way she'll ever manage to be put back together is if she finds the strength to do it herself.
The curtain has closed, a new day is dawning and all Christine's greatest fears have become reality. There's truly nothing left to scare her.
All she can do is hold her head high and keep running. There's nothing left to stop her.
The memory of that day plays vividly across her mind. All the murders, each more brutal than the last. Christine had tried to count each of them so that at the end of all of this, she would know for just how many lives she would need to atone for. (But is it really murder if they're already dead? She still clings to this.) She lost count somewhere after thirty. Once the flames no longer ate away at her skin and she could only feel the pain of them, she knew it was over then. But she also knew in that moment, that she would win.
Only, the fight had not been over, it had just begun and she'd lose everything. She'd finally gotten the confirmation of what she knew in her heart all along. It hurts in such an unquantifiable way. Christine doesn't even know how to describe it. It's far worse than anything else Erik has ever done to her and she can't even properly hate him for it.
But she doesn't think she'll ever see him again. Not now. He'll never leave his home and he'll never leave her. (It makes it easier if she doesn't think of her name. Its easier if she's not another living soul, just some faceless entity. Even though Christine knows her. Has spoken to her many a time in passing. Could have been the sort of person Christine would've called a friend if not for all of this.)
And Christine will never, ever go back. As far as she is concerned, on the haphazard map of Hell she has cobbled together in her travels, in the space where Little Hades should be, there is a big, black hole instead. So now she sits here, in the middle of the night, in the middle of Hell's lush, violent wilderness, keeping watch over her friends while they sleep. Her heart is thoroughly shattered and neither of them know the full extent of it. She feels guilty that it is her fault that they cannot take the train to this distant city yet. With her recent change in status, Christine had been barred from traveling to another city directly from Little Hades. It's a good thing that both her and this new Hancock have a bit of experience with drudging through this shitty landscape.
Her glowing eyes fall on Elizabeth and her chest hurts. Christine has told her closest friend so little about her ultimate downfall. Speaking of these events out loud brings a certain finality to them and Christine isn't ready to let go. It'll make it all the more real that Erik is now a part of her past with no chance of being a part of her future.
They're on the road to find Booker. The person Elizabeth has sought since her death; The parallel to Christine's own afterlife is uncanny. It makes her wish to selfishly shake Elizabeth awake and scream at her to run. To go in any direction but this one because a reunion with someone so deeply loved might best be kept in fantasies.
But she can't. Elizabeth needs this closure and Christine can't rob it from her because of her own broken heart. Perhaps Elizabeth's reunion with Booker will not turn so sour.
(The part that hurts the most is knowing that Erik gave up on her because that was easier than having any faith.)
For the first time in years, Christine prays. Actually looks up to the sky and prays. That if there is, indeed a God up there somewhere, that he should have mercy on Elizabeth. Christine prays for a happy outcome because Elizabeth is young, stolen from life so soon. Because Elizabeth is an angel that deserves for all her dreams to come true.
She turns her head towards Hancock. How on Earth a man with no nose can make such an odd snoring sound while deep in sleep is anybody's guess. He appears to be so peaceful, though. Even if that peace had been brought about by some wicked combination of drugs and booze. A small, barely there smile can't help but worm its way to her lips. Christine is happy that Hancock is back in her life in some capacity. A lone bright spot in a world of darkness. It hurts that he is not her Hancock but she knows that it hurts him in the same vein that she is not his Christine. A mismatched sort of pair desperately clinging to this shred of normalcy.
She could come to love him, she thinks.
Or maybe she just loves the sex. Its difficult to make the distinction but it feels so freeing to let her body crash against his. At least in the moment. In the afterwards, she can't help but feel guilty, feeling as if she is betraying Erik. She is. But Erik betrayed her first.
Christine is left in shambles in his absence. All she wants is for him to hold her in his arms. To take her face between his palms, stare deeply into her eyes and speak promises of love. To sweetly sing her to sleep. But these fantasies are viciously undercut with the cruel imaginings of him doing these things to her instead.
Hancock has tried valiantly to pick up the pieces of her in the aftermath he knows so little of. She has to give him credit for that but Christine knows with utmost certainty that the only way she'll ever manage to be put back together is if she finds the strength to do it herself.
The curtain has closed, a new day is dawning and all Christine's greatest fears have become reality. There's truly nothing left to scare her.
All she can do is hold her head high and keep running. There's nothing left to stop her.