a wreath of thorns adorn the door.

'Mother, I'm h-having those dreams again. About the desert.'
'I'm sorry, dear. It's horrible what happened. You must have been so scared...'
'Did I.... Did you ever... I-I mean... Did I have a sister once?'

Her hands stop. They stop and in her reflection, I see something darken and harden in her pallid eyes. Cataracts, Father tells me. She'll lose her sight soon. That's why she likes to comb my hair and bask in the rays of the garden. However, winter has fallen and she can no longer comfortably lounge there. The cold is excruciating for me. I can't tell if that's what is making me shake and my teeth chatter, or if it's the nerves that make my hands writhe and my nails bite at the lace of my dress. She looks at me in the mirror, and her gaze feels like a knife at my throat.

'You've never had a sister, Arabella. You have a brother. His name is Aethelos.'
'Y-yes ma'am. I-I just keep seeing-'
'You only have a brother.' She tugs my hair sharply. Her tongue more honed, though she never raises her voice. Her punctuation is like razors. 'I think you need to see the doctor again. The sickness may be coming back. The fever may have addled your mind worse than we thought.'
'M-mother, no! Please! I-I don't like the doctor.'

Yet outside the door she stands, the carriage driver cruelly blocking the entrance back into the wagon and any sense of escape she had held onto with brittle, clutching hands. She takes a deep breath as she turns her attention back onto the rather plain doorway. For just a barrier of simplistic, aged wood, it sheltered her from a deeply entrenched feeling of dread. One that threatened to swallow and consume her and the fragile courage she had managed to hold together. Like a fading dandelion trying to keep itself together in the throes of a hurricane. She didn't know why, but she was so.... afraid.

She didn't have the chance to further prepare or postpone the inevitable as the elderly man wrapped his knuckles upon the surface himself. He did so while offering her a thin smile - not one of malice or annoyance, but something akin to pity. Like putting a suffering beast out of its misery. It was enough to make her swallow hard, her voice lost as the portal opened and she was pressed inside, and the opening closed behind her just as quickly.

She was left blinking in the shadows and darkness that followed. From the inside of the cottage, the only light that emerged was gifted from candles and the like. No sun filtered through the shuttered windows, and despite the small fireplace, it made the room even more numbingly frigid than it should have been. "H-hello?" Her voice was meek in the quiet as her sight further acclimated to the dimness. "I-I'm here to see t-the doctor?"

a wreath of thorns adorn the door.

“Ah, come in, come in.” That voice drew a cold shudder down her spine. While it was warm, welcoming even, there was an undeniable instinct that turned her blood cold with the realization. Involuntarily, she would take a few steps back, only feeling the chilling reminder of the closed door at her back. While the portal wasn't locked, it may as well have been, for she knew that the matriarch of the family would merely send her back once more - or even worse, accompany her herself. She had to remember, this time. She had to remember to steal the visions to her own company. She had to keep the over flowing fractions and incomplete happenings a secret between only she and the cover and sanctity of darkness. The night terrors were hers and hers alone. She assumed correctly that coming here was merely to rob her of them, to hush and sweep them under the rug so that she could no longer grasp at them like fingers in the hands of a frightened babe.

“A familiar face… how troubling.” The words accompanied the fixation of that mismatched stare that gleamed in the darkness of the room surrounding them. She felt her breath catch within her lungs as she looked down into that wretched face. She stiffened as she felt the glissade of those gloved fingertips tracing across her skin, in the beginning she stated to rip herself from their grasp - and yet where was she to go? The motion was half completed before she would settle, give in to what she was certain was to happen. Her pulse hammered, and the breath she pulled in was enough to make her dizzy and light headed in its sudden presence. She released it on a shivering waver, her sights drifting from those too courteous of features to where those digits timed vitality. “Arabella was it?” She would nod, swallowing the knot within her tongue before trying to speak. "Yes." The word was firm, much more so than what she truthfully experienced. Her intonation shook regardless, but the stammer wasn't pronounced as fiercely as she had thought it would be. Not when she shook like a leaf in a hurricane.

It wasn't only fear of this being. It was also for the loss she was about to suffer. It was akin to losing a part of her, things she knew to belong to her past being stripped away and leaving her barren upon the floor once again to try and collect the shards of the person she once was - that she should be. The trepidation of always being kept so scattered and incomplete. Barely more than a doll, ready to be dressed in whatever they desired. A feat she held little doubt that they were keenly aware of and exploited without heed of her own suffering. “Does your mind play tricks again?” The first tear breached the dam of her lashes as her arms fell limp and lifeless to her sides with a slight jolt. Her eyes closed as she breathed in. "They a-aren't tricks," came the plea - the yearning. "I keep telling them!" She knew better than to plea with the doctor, and yet she would implore regardless.

“Or does something more bring you through my door?” She didn't answer, knowing full well that the cruel man knew all too well that she was certainly there to be 'treated'. Was it a point of satisfaction for them, she wondered. Was it a sweetened cherry atop the cream for them if she would try to bargain for what rightfully belonged to her? ... If she did, would they listen? "M-must you take them from m-me?" came the low whisper instead, knowing she had scarce to nothing that would be of any value.