Welcome to Gaia! ::

A nightmare.

It awakened the flower girl in a cold sweat, a cry threatening to be torn from her throat; she couldn't remember all what her mind conjured, only that it had to do with herself, a black tiger with the moon in its eyes and an alpha wolf decorated in jewels. There was a struggle - too much bad blood - and here she was, sitting up in bed with trembling lips, her quilt kicked to the floor and the sheets tangled around her legs. Crystal took a deep, shaky breath, finding the air stagnant and thick. While the heavy air was probably all in her mind, she couldn't sit still, desperately in need some form of comfort. Her slender hand dipped under one of the many pillows from the plethora on her bed, touching the clip Qadir gave her, the other hand curling into the jacket Irene had left behind; her skin broke into goosebumps despite how warm she felt, a last traces of her dream trying to be recalled by the gifts, almost able to remember the clash--

She grumbled and rolled to the otherside of the bed, flipping on the radio, hoping for some soothing songs.
"It’s not always rainbows and butterflies; it’s compromise that moves us along--" No. She didn't need to hear that. It felt too much like a certain noble.
"--'d give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me someh--" ...more no. WAY more no. Not when there was someone in her life who may as well live forever. She turned it away from the softer stations, starting to frown.
"--has nothing on this, you're breathing in fumes I taste when we kiss--" Crystal believed was beginning to believe that somewhere out there, something was mocking her right now.
"--ou to know I love the way you laugh, I wanna hold you high and steal your pain--" "For the love of..." she scowled. One or two more channels and she was going to be mad.
"I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real; I wanna find something I've want--" TURNED. Surely the jazz stations wouldn't have lyrics...
"You're a butterfly in the mind, you're a butterfly before my eyes; you're a butterfly who says he's mine, but who leaves before he arrives--"

"This is madness," she murmured through her tight throat, somewhat annoyed. It seemed her conscious was trying to tell her something, and she just wasn't willing to listen. She flung the damp sheets off of her body (once she could untangle them), striding sharply across the floor and flinging open the door to her bedroom. A cool gust of air greeted her, toying at the man-sized shirt she wore, for it was in fact all she wore to bed. Had she really been so worked up in the dream that the room had heated up? Ridiculous. She stalked down the hallway, her bare feet making a dull thumping noise as she crossed the hardwood into the kitchen. Surely, all great comforts could be found here?

Crystal shook out her now loose but still very obvious curls, scowling at her refridgerator as it yielded nothing of value. For once in her life, she cursed her healthy living style and lack of a sweet tooth. Cheese and crackers would do, but she didn't want to be up longer than she had to; she simply wanted something to clear her mind, some type of...comfort. She closed the fridge door and pressed her warm forehead to the cool machine, closing her eyes and trying to think. The men were obviously out of the question - not only were they part of the problem, one was across the world and the other forbid her to come near his estate - and the only woman she really counted as someone she could talk to, she didn't have any contact information for. Kyoko may as well have been from a different universe for all she knew. Her mother was also out of the question, and her father...didn't have a high opinion of those involved in her life. "Now what?" she pouted at her kitchen, rolling on her shoulder so that her back was against the fridge. Comfort, a sense of peace, a distraction--

A strange memory came to her, one of a green plant and red fruit. Where had she seen that before...? "Oh!" she exclaimed to the empty house, "Pomegranate!" Her grey gaze swept over the dark house, remembering that she had put it on the dining room table, where it had remained ever since. Crystal glided across the floor, feeling around the dark wood table before her fingers came in contact with the cool glass of the scent she had bought what seemed ages ago. She brought it under her nose and took a breath, feeling that strange warmth came over her; yes, this would do nicely! Now, to light it and unwind. She mulled over the pomegranate scent and her limited knowledge of it: it wasn't a very well known fruit, although it was infinitely useful, apparently inspiring enough to land a leading role in the story of the Greek gods. The woman shook her head to rid of the thoughts that indicated she was a lot more tired than she realized. She looked at the kitchen wearily, not wanting to paw through her junk door for matches; she blinked and looked at her fireplace, remembering that she had one of those handy lighters that were used to light kindling with a press of a trigger. She maneuvered around the furniture in her lightless home, miraculously not stubbing her toe along the way, reaching up to the mantel where she removed the lighter with a twinge of triumph.

She struck the trigger, being rewarded with a soft dancing lick of flame. Very carefully, she pulled the wick up with her thumb and lit the tea-light candle beneath the oil. Replacing the lighter with satisfaction, she crinkled her nose at the immediate smoke-scent that came with lighting just about anything, starting back through her living room with the oil candle as her guide. She wound through the obstacles with ease, turning to start down the hallway when something strange caught her eye. It was one of those strange things that one sees in the dark, something that stands out despite the lack of seeing anything, a foreign object in a familiar setting. The woman turned, and nearly dropped the glass cup with a soft gasp of surprise.

The tendrils of smoke from the scent had followed her pattern, weaving through the room and rolling like a river. That's very much what it looked like; a river in motion, complete with small flowers and foliage at the banks. The river started to dry up as she watched, the plants withering from a change she couldn't see, the bed without water seeming to turn into a ghastly hand, the lining plummeting into ghostly images of contorted faces and hellish appendages reaching... Crystal blinked her eyes slowly, hoping the image would just be a play of her imagination; as her gaze focused, she saw the smoke simply disappearing, as smoke is supposed to do. No rivers, no hell, nothing. Of course there wasn't anything...it was just a scented oil! The history of the fruit and its influence on Greek mythology was apparently in the forefront of her mind.

"Comfort," she hissed tightly, "I need comfort, not strange images of dead Gods! You hear me?" The woman turned her gaze to the oil in her hands. Some of the strain in her face started to ease as the scent of the oil finally started to become prominant; it was a soothing, dusky scent that wasn't overpowering even though it was very distinct. "That's better," she murmured, suddenly feeling tired. She walked back to her room, only partially seeing the image of a tree growing within the whisps of smoke from the oil, choosing to chalk it up to her cotton-filled mind rather than anything else. The woman decided she had enough problems without worrying about a magical oil.

Crystal placed the glass on her nightstand, crawling into bed by its faint light. She didn't realize that her sheets were no longer damp, or that she was resting her head on the aforementioned jacket, laying her arm under a pillow as her fingers curled over a hairclip she'd never worn. Misty eyes watched the gentle wafting of smoke from the oil, picking out images of a mother and child amidst a hail of leaves. Crystal didn't think much of it or anything else as her eyes closed under the influence of the gentle scent, lulled to a deep and peaceful sleep as the tendrils of smoke seemed to reach out to her in comfort.