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hesitating won't make things happen
Mar. 18th, 2018 07:20 pmTina remained few happy things about the later years of her childhood. The times before her parents had died were held precious and were her greatest, happiest memories. Few other memories could contend with the short time she'd had with her family. She'd stopped thinking about what she wanted the day they had died and lived, in short, to make things the best she could for herself and her sister (but of course, even in their adult lives they still had very little money).
She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.
The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.
Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.
Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.
Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.
She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.
The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.
Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.
Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.
Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.
