though i'm past one hundred thousand miles, i'm feeling very still

[cestrumnocturnum]

Who: Benji Ryans and Bruce Wayne
What: Lest the gods get mad, Benji goes looking for the intended recipient of a swap meet item.
Where: Bruce's brain.
When: An evening not far after the event.
Warnings: TBA.

The room lended to her by Njoki is a small space, but in a comfortable kind of way; shadows that stretch any longer seem deceitful, hiding empty space and thus reducing it. There's still enough light coming in by the window by the time Benji shuts off the lamp and picks her way to bed, tired enough that maybe sleep won't be a struggle.

And the only reason it might have been otherwise is that she's set aside the blockers that the doctor had prescribed her, just for this evening. The fear that she might not have control by the time she shuts her eyes is a very real one, once more dragging the unwilling into her own nightmares in a singularly horrific invasion of privacy she still cringes at in memory. There is, also, always the chance that whoever it is sees she's seeking might not keep these hours, but then, she'll just have to try again. She lies in the dark for a good half an hour, the device set to rest against her chest, fingertips placed against it with the lightness of a resting spider.

She isn't sure that would help. It's not an exact science.

It's set aside again when she feels tired enough, and it's some time later that she finally does succumb to unconsciousness, her will flowing like a psychic current in search.