Gjbkvfgnjbk Do Not Match I Just Had To Write A Little For Context!! - Blog Posts

WHO: @cutthroat-service WHERE: thera's place

The tower was quiet this late —just the hum of stillness and the weight of too many hours folded into the dark. Irene hadn’t said much when she arrived. She never really did. Thera had opened the door without a word, like she’d been expecting her. Maybe she had. Irene hadn’t asked how.

Now it was just her, the steady rise and fall of Shiv’s breathing, and the thrum of something still clinging to them—like a wire pulled too tight and left humming in the wind.

She moved slowly, boots soundless on the floor as she crossed to the bed, pulling the chair closer. Her coat was still damp from the walk. A long shift, a longer night, and now this—whatever this was going to be.

Irene sat, eyes soft but tired, and let her hand hover for a second over Shiv’s face. Cold fingers, colder than usual. She touched their forehead lightly, thumb brushing against damp skin.

“Hey,” she murmured, low enough it didn’t have to be answered. “I’m gonna try something.”

She didn’t know if they could hear her. Didn’t know if they’d recognize her even if they did. The file had been thin. The fear, thicker.

Her eyes closed. Her body stayed behind.

But her mind slipped forward—past breath, past waking—toward the quiet edges of a dream she hadn’t built yet.

Toward Shiv. Wherever they were. Whatever they were seeing. She was going to find them.

The breath she took before slipping under was shallow—more habit than need. Like she could brace herself for something she couldn’t see. Like that ever worked. Irene had walked through a lot of dreams. Built some from nothing, pulled others back from the brink. But this was different.

This one wasn’t hers.

This one had teeth. It had magic, and it was the wrong kind.

Shiv’s mind wasn’t open so much as cracked. The kind of break that didn’t bleed but never really healed, either. And she could feel it the second she stepped in —like walking barefoot onto glass. The air didn’t smell right. Not dream-sweet, not unreal. Just off. Wrong in a way she couldn’t name.

She stood in the dark for a moment, the place slow to take shape. This wasn’t a memory, not exactly. It shifted like sand under her thoughts. Sounds crept through the silence —muffled, tinny. A phone ringing somewhere too far to reach.

Irene frowned and took a step forward.

She didn’t know what she was walking into.

Didn’t know if Shiv would know her.

Didn’t even know if she’d know him in here.

But the connection was still there —fragile and thin as a spider’s thread, tied to her body back in that quiet room, tied to his heartbeat, still going.

She followed it.

Because someone had to.