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The past few days had been... weird. Aside from her normal weird dreams, Hanna had added vivid manifestations of her horseman self into the mix. And then, on this particular night, she had been consumed by a nightmare so graphically violent that it had stolen any hope she had of sleeping that night. It wasn't the gore that had done it to her; it was the target. Her mother. She dreamt of killing her mother.

A sheen of nervous sweat coated her body as she slipped out of her bedroom, wearing long pajama pants and an oversized t-shirts. She didn't even bother to put shoes on, which was a problem, since there was broken glass all over the grounds. Hanna stepped gingerly, wincing when glass caught on the soles of her feet, but she didn't stop moving.

No, she made one pit stop for a cup of coffee and then wandered down to the beach. The Death Hunter collapsed into the sand and stared out into the distance at the rolling waves. It was not the most intelligent choice, for sure, but the ocean always calmed her down. And right now, what she needed to be was calm because the image of her thumbs pressing down into her mother's eye sockets until flesh exploded on all sides would not bleach itself from her brain.

And, in spite of herself, tears stained her cheeks, tracing the same pattern as her tattoos, illuminated by the shine of the wide moon overhead.

It would have been embarrassing for her, as a Death Hunter, to not notice someone trailing along behind her... at least the entire time. She picked up on it when, you know, Cami's familiar voice whispered through the still night air. There was no use pretending that she wasn't crying, but Hanna did anyway. "You Suns always working out," she said, laughter muddled by a clogged sinus cavity thick with tears.

One golden eye sneaked around to glance up to her friend. Hanna knew immediately it had been a mistake. A fresh wave of tears racked her. She curled her knees to her chest, pulled up the thin hood on her t-shirt, and buried her face in her legs.

This was one of the most embarrassing things that had happened to her since she came to the island, but there was no avoiding it now.

For awhile, Hanna just continued to sob quietly against her knees. She didn't shift closer to Cami, but appreciated the presence. The fiery Sunhunter was one of her closest friends on the island, and truth be told, Hanna didn't have a lot of friends. It seemed like people needed some sort of exuberance or a harrowing shared experience to bond them together. Exuberance was not exactly Hanna's thing, and the harrowing experiences that she had had so far seemed more isolating than uniting.

Her breathing evened after awhile, cheeks still wet, nose running. She wiped it against her sleeve and drew in more air. Her throat was thick from crying, and she didn't want to hear it ringing in her voice. When she spoke, it was there anyway, a tingle and shake of emotion. "I go on walks when I don't know what else to do," she said quietly, not looking at Cami. Then, softer: "I don't want you to get in trouble for missing a post because I am having an embarrassing emotional episode."

Only a moment had passed before words broke out of her again. She glanced up toward the moon, cheeks shiny, eyes angry. "Jesus, you would think that with all the s**t they have, all the information and technology, they would have a goddamn pill to keep the ******** up dreams away, you know? Like, what, we can possess golems and ******** teleport, but we lack SuperAmbien?"

Hanna laughed, but it was muddled, buried underwater. Her limbs felt heavy and keeping them wrapped around her legs was a challenge. The image of her mother's severed head floated through her mind. She balled her fists and ground them against her wet eyes until they burned. "The Sahara didn't get to me," she said, voice low. "It should have, I guess, but I only had a few weird ones about bugs, nothing like..."

A breath whispered out of her lips, mouth sticky. There was a moment of silence, just the lapping of the waves. Hanna didn't particularly enjoy sharing her feelings with anyone, even someone like Cami who was one of the people she felt closest with here on the island. But the images in her head were not satisfied by her fists gnashing, the beach, the walk, even Cami. So maybe speaking the words out loud would.

"It was my mother," Hanna said, voice quiet, distant. It sounded far from normal. "I... jesus, Cami, I was ripping her apart. I was killing her. Blood everywhere. I cut off her ******** head, and the entire time, the entire dream, I felt such rage, such fury, that I was only happy when I was making her scr-scr--"

Her voice gave out on her and Hanna was reduced to sobs once more. "What kind of person has that dream?" she shouted abruptly, ripping up a handful of sand and throwing it towards the water.