Light and noise. These were the first things to register; the things that jerked her spine straight, and press her back against the bench the sat on. Her fingers gripped the back of the bench so had that the wet wood splintered, digging into her palms. She stared into the light as it caught her, stunned her, froze her into place and blinded her dialating pupils. As quickly as it came, the light was gone, and with it went her vision, save for the brightly colored ghosts that drifted across the darkness.
The roar of the engine left strains of music behind in her numbed brain, kicking it back into gear, and pushing everything else into sharp focus. There had been a man on that bike, and he was looking at her.
Still frozen, her eyes darted from the bike, to the man, to the ground, and the inconsequential smear of color he\'d made of her drawing. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. You don\'t need to talk, her mind told her, You need to run. But her limbs were frozen with the same terror that pushed them to move, and her vision was going dim. She had forgotten to breathe.
Godammit Think!
Don\'t go away
You can\'t go away
Connections
There are connections here
Make them
Bitch bike.
Blue lightning.
Red hair.
Fire.
Chaos.
Chaos.
"L-l-l-l-loki," she breathed in sharply. She made a connection; the wrong one, but it snapped her out of her head. It was an answer to Delsen\'s question, though it might not be interpreted as such. Her pale eyes focused on the newcomer, then slid away, noticing that Delsen had moved, but thinking nothing of it beyond that. Her breath came sharp and shallow, her thin chest rising and falling in a panicked tempo. Her heart hammered rabbit fast, hard enough to flutter the thin fabric of her white tank-top.
A sudden gust of wind whipped her hair in front of her face, ends wet with the rain, and caused the frayed ends of her white silk skirt to flutter around her bare feet. Only her taut muscles, hands gripped to the back of the bench, kept her from being blown over. "E-entropy," she answered Tom. The incipient madness of bleakest terror was fading from her wide eyes, now hidden behind the curtain of blonde hair, but still ringed in chalk and fixed squarely on the redhead.