EQG: Broken melodies

It used to bring about a sense of comfort.  Peace. Reassurance she’d embarked on the right path. Unusual to most, but she rarely walked the ordinary road. Strangers in their world, strangers now; faces, places, only one thing stayed the same. Wrapped itself around her shoulders like the friend she’d come to call it. Remind her why she stayed her course.  Faces, places, ambition and the like; all fell to discourse in the end. Struggled and strained against their lesser selves, their fear, desperate to escape their inner darkness. Perhaps a standard observation, but no less true. She’d watched them before, watched them in this new begrudging form.  Such fragile things, and easily corruptible because. The right note, rhythm, and that fear leapt to the front lines, baring teeth and claws. She used to draw from that. Take pride in her ability.

She doesn’t, anymore.

Hunched over now, in bed, shivering in silver light, Adagio Dazzle no longer trusts the darkness. No longer welcomes its embrace.  Curls sticking to her forehead, bunched between her fingers, palms, she sees the icy sheen beneath. One wrong step, too much pressure, it will crack, shatter, dragging her down until she suffocates.

An unsteady breath drops from her lips, trying to breathe past her thundering heart. You’re alright, you’re alright, it was just a dream, calm down.

No.

Not a dream.

In those she strut about like the goddess she perceived herself to be.  Basking in the wake of chaos as her power surged.  

This was different.   Every step became as a struggle to keep herself afloat. The squandering, anarchy she’d grown so used to kick-starting now reared their ugly heads at her. Snapped and snarled from all sides until she couldn’t get away. She tried—desperately—but the darkness coiled around her throat. ‘Help!’ she tried to scream, clawing at her ethereal restraints. It didn’t like that, yanking her wrists away with a reactionary shriek; would-be, anyway, if her voice matched fear in volume.  

Adagio’s eyes snap shut, and her teeth grind together. You’re alright, she tries again, hoping this time, she’ll believe the words. If her aching chest is any indication, it’s an empty wish.

“Adagio?”

The former siren freezes.

“Are you alright?”

Yes, yes I’m fine, go away, retorts her mind, coaxing her body to unfurl itself. The Former siren cards through her hair, stomach knotting as she turns towards the door. Eyes meet Aria’s much wider ones, Sonata peering from behind. You should have locked the door, Adagio.  Oh she would have—did, too, for several nights, before the green-and-violet-haired girl voiced her discontent. ‘We don’t get any privacy from you, that’s not fair.’ However true that was, they hadn’t many other options. When their magic shattered, so did their previous life.  Unable to keep their landlord under control, and with  no form of employment, they’d been forced to downsize.
Needless to say, it was less than pleasant. Were she not the self-assigned head of their trio, she’d be forced to share the pull-out sofa with Sonata. Or Aria, but the former seemed far less… qualified for her position.  Besides, they didn’t seem to mind when the lights went out.

“…I’m.. fine.” Rasps Adagio at last, a breath reflecting her state of mind chasing the reply.

“You don’t sound fine.” Pipes up Sonata. A sideways glare from Aria shuts her up.

“What Sonata means is that we heard you screaming.” She folds her arms, popping her hip as she leans against the doorframe.

“We heard you last night, too.” Starts Sonata again; Adagio waits for the usual silencing, but Aria’s eyes remain forward.

“Every night, actually.” She says instead, adding to the blue-haired girl’s statement. Her frigid layers peel away, something akin to concern between her brows. “What’s going on, Adagio?”

Nightmares, nightmares I can’t stop I don’t know what to do--  “--nothing.” Says their leader quickly. Aria’s brow stays up. Of course it does. The curly-haired songstress tries again, forcing authority in her reply. “Nothing is going on. But if there were, it’s only a reaction to our current lifestyle.” Not a perfect explanation, nor one her appearance reflected. However, she’d grown weary of this conversation, craving solitude apart from sleep lest anxieties escape her temporary control.

At first, Aria seems impervious , narrowed gaze glued in place. From her own eye’s corner, Adagio caught Sonata’s arms curling around one of the other girl’s. Whether a plea for retreat or simple need for attention, she isn’t sure; ultimately, it didn’t matter. A slow sigh crawls up Aria’s spine, drawing her shoulders forward on the way out.  “Fine.” She turns, mumbling “come on, Sonata,” as she leaves. Thankfully, the blue-haired siren hasn’t quite the intensity as they.

“G’night!” She waves, following Aria out.

The moment the door shuts, Adagio slumps, cradling her head once more before easing herself down. You’re a hypocrite, her thoughts chide. A disgruntled groan meets for an answer, staring at the ceiling. It is true she would have demanded a solution had the other two acted as she. That, or ignore them. She’d done that before, too. The difference, however, is their situation; power has always been their first priority. Without it.. well, why let them in on her nightly haunts? All she has left is her position. Jeopardize that… who’s to say she’d hold onto it? You’re being ridiculous, they won’t vote you out. To do that, they’d have had to vote you in. Maybe… but Aria had gained a stronger voice since their undoing. And an impressionable ‘sidekick.’ Even if they failed to take her position, the falling out – because there would be one – held little appeal. Like it or not, they had only each other. She could not risk a divide.

What will you do, then?

Wait it out, hope the terrors subside. She hadn’t been lying, entirely, when she’d said adjusting had been difficult. This might very well be stress, alone.  

The same nightmare?

… unusual, but not unheard of.  So she assumes. Or may have overheard… regardless, not impossible.

Do you believe that?

… she sighs, draping an arm over her forehead. “No…”

Then what will you do?

That… remains to be seen.  Until she has an answer, Adagio knows she won’t find sleep, again.