Poetry in Motion

23

The ceiling wasn't particularly interesting to look up at it, it was just something to stare at. An attempt at being a distraction, yet utterly failing in its job. The peeling whitewash seemed stained and coloured by years of smoking inside the small space, but also from the lack of replenishing the coats of paint. Honestly, Arthur didn't think he had once redecorated in here. The paint was peeling back in chunks in places and allowed his tired eyes to see the plaster underneath. He was between staring emotionlessly at the ceiling, and watching the smoke from his cigarette trail upwards to help discolour the paint some more.

Imelda was still asleep nestled against him. He hadn't kept track of the time. He couldn't even remember what time she got here, or what time they came to settle on the sofa. From the window, Arthur's eyes slid sidelong to look out at the dark night. The lashings of rain had slowly petered off to a slow drizzle, but the outside still looked utterly miserable. The rain in Gotham if anything just perpetuated how much of a pitifully sad city this place was.

Feeling a twitch from the woman sleeping in his lap, Arthur lifted up a hand and removed the stick from his lips, it was just lifelessly hanging there as his eyes stared off at nothing. It was more like his gaze was phasing through the walls and windows, in an effort to perhaps find and spy something; something that even he didn't know that he was looking for. He tapped the cigarette ash into the tray beside him and looked downwards. Even with her slightly battered appearance, Imelda still somehow managed to look somewhat peaceful. Arthur was grudging of that, the slightest thing could unsettle him in an effort to get sleep, and he'd know for sure he wouldn't look as content as she did now.

He didn't know how long she had been asleep, honestly Arthur hadn't kept track of time in the slightest. Sleep would encourage healing, so his thought process was to leave her to it. As long as she was comfortable where she was, he wasn't intending on waking her. Arthur had succumbed to a sleepless night in all honesty. Yet no, she seemed to be waking even if it was incredibly slowly.

Her eyes had yet to open, but her breathing wasn't as heavy as it was moments ago. If anything, it was speeding up a little and it was perhaps stupidity on Arthur's behalf not to realise that she was having a nightmare before it was too late. Her twitching wasn't her waking, it was her reacting to something within her sleep. She all but practically spasmed in his lap, letting out disgruntled border-lined scared sounds. Arthur understood panic attacks, he had had his fair share and knew how to cope with them.

But when one was happening within a nightmare, what was the protocol here? Even Arthur knew that you weren't meant to wake someone, it could detrimentally have repercussions. Yet considering he had to now wrap his arms around her to stop her almost lashing out, Arthur let out a groan when the only things which weren't within in his grasp, came literally kicking up and around. Her legs. Her heels dug into the cushions as she tried to wiggle free, her head also crashed against him in her efforts of gaining freedom.

But all that happened was her letting out a pained whimper and then falling motionless. Not falling, just, collapsing was perhaps more apt. Arthur hesitantly let her go, he brushed hair out of his face. It had become unsettled from this moment, and so had hers. He tucked hair out of her face and almost jumped when behind the dark locks, her eyes stared up at him. It was a strange gaze though, almost not quite here. Unless she had taken to sleeping with her eyes open, Arthur was inclined to say she was awake.

Awake and processing the past moments which had left her a little out of breath and Arthur uncertain whether another moment would come about. Imelda looked around the room, as if she needed to recollect where she was before sighing and burying her head against the crook of his neck. Arthur held onto her tightly again, not like he did a moment ago, but enough to be reassuring. She let out a sigh again from the action and remained silent before she mumbled something against his skin.