She's spent a lot of time surrounded by invisible bars, by the limitations of threats and fear and duty, and the demand by one or more of those factors that she remain in lonely white rooms for the foreseeable future. Even in Asgard, she knows those walls are still there, even if their boundaries are much farther away than she's accustomed to them being. But in each and every one of those situations, at least she could move.
The darkness around her is suffocating despite the fact that she's perfectly capable of breathing. Her eyes dart every direction they can manage, her head trying to turn with them, and if not for the fact that she can feel the dirt and stone around her, she'd honestly believe she'd gone blind. To her credit, she doesn't begin to thrash or fight or panic - the feeling of terror creeps up far more slowly than that. She tries what she can, shifting and scratching and wriggling, but the more she attempts it the more she realizes her limitations, and the more she realizes her limitations--
She thinks she hears her name. Until that moment she didn't realize quite how loudly her heart was pounding, and wide-eyed she tries to will it to slow enough for her to hear the distant voice. (Or perhaps it isn't so distant at all; the dirt makes it so hard to tell.) What little she can make out sounds familiar, and she tries not to let herself think that it's only a hopeful imagination. ]
Terezi--?
[ It's louder than she usually speaks, but likely not loud enough to penetrate the surface of the ground at any louder than a murmur. ]
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She's spent a lot of time surrounded by invisible bars, by the limitations of threats and fear and duty, and the demand by one or more of those factors that she remain in lonely white rooms for the foreseeable future. Even in Asgard, she knows those walls are still there, even if their boundaries are much farther away than she's accustomed to them being. But in each and every one of those situations, at least she could move.
The darkness around her is suffocating despite the fact that she's perfectly capable of breathing. Her eyes dart every direction they can manage, her head trying to turn with them, and if not for the fact that she can feel the dirt and stone around her, she'd honestly believe she'd gone blind. To her credit, she doesn't begin to thrash or fight or panic - the feeling of terror creeps up far more slowly than that. She tries what she can, shifting and scratching and wriggling, but the more she attempts it the more she realizes her limitations, and the more she realizes her limitations--
She thinks she hears her name. Until that moment she didn't realize quite how loudly her heart was pounding, and wide-eyed she tries to will it to slow enough for her to hear the distant voice. (Or perhaps it isn't so distant at all; the dirt makes it so hard to tell.) What little she can make out sounds familiar, and she tries not to let herself think that it's only a hopeful imagination. ]
Terezi--?
[ It's louder than she usually speaks, but likely not loud enough to penetrate the surface of the ground at any louder than a murmur. ]