Home. It was one of those words that held a strong distaste. Not because for any other reason than where she was. According to her memories, this was that at one time. It was like going back to Palo Alto. It hadn't been done in what felt like forever. Not because there was something keeping her away, other than herself. And traveling back through time to stare at herself and watch her own sufferings, to meager through temptation after temptation to do something about it. That didn't count. This was different. Home wasn't even Boston. It was a person. Out of everything else, that was all she had. In the end, it was all that began to matter. There was no telling what he was going to start thinking or doing there. What she would be putting him through being here. Because, in the end, this felt like her own fault. Something that she had done, without meaning to do. One of those conscious thoughts finding subconscious means.
Even if this wasn't her life, even if it was all a lie and she was some sort of schizophrenic psycho, she needed to get back to him. Her aggravation moving through her physically, as she began to beat at the door. Slapping it, slamming the side of her fist into it, calling out and yelling words and phrases that she wouldn't recall. Her shoulder ramming into it, even as she used not only her own force, but the powers and abilities given to her. Nothing was moving, nothing was budging. With each hit, her emotions bubbling out of her. Eyes darkening, as she held it back, barely pushing it all back. It was coming up again. Teeth clenched, what was she to do here?
She hated being the victim. Control. It felt like a long spiral she had lost and fallen from. Out of control. There was nothing left of her own life. Paranoia was to be lived by and through. A type of loneliness that was self illicited because who was going to be able to handle what you had? Because you were just another problem to someone's life and list of things to handle. Slamming herself again and again, she couldn't even be bothered to feel pain. Screaming and yelling in Spanish, darkness came to her call. Surrounding her, pouring from her. It was everywhere. Her own flesh changing color, shifting into another hue. A darker one, a shade of red that was unnatural. Yet, there it was, held to her. Eyes shifting yellow, as four of them appeared. A sneer on her face as her hands grasped the sides of the door, an electrical current pouring through.
But that was when it happened. She hadn't opened the door, there was no unlocking it. It wasn't hers to do so with here. Not yet. It was something else. A memory, an honest memory of where she was. What this was. She stood there, eyes widened, bright and shining like the sun. Sharp teeth grinding, but a type of fear running through her as fast as if it had been the electrical current itself. She swallowed hard as the flash came. Book after book, her studies, what she needed to know of her father and how one was able to separate their soul self the way she did. Darkness, those passions, they were to be removed. But she was of her father. This door, it led to one place. And before she knew it, there it was. She had disappeared once again. It may as well have moved in a flash, but it was as if the world had moved in slow motion for her. Everything swirled around her, like a drunken moment with friends, the kind she would imagine people to have. But this was Rachel. Friends were few and far between outside of Devin. People were too self involved and acted a way that she felt was unbecoming. The word friend meant too much to her to hand out frivolously. It was earned by those she believed would live up to what one was defined as.
The world shifted, because she wasn't simply traveling from place to place. This was special, this was what she needed to recall. If only she could get out of her own head. These memories were tripping her up. There it all was though. From Azarath to hell. Nether-Realms. It was what she would have expected it to be.
Fire, brimstone, what another possible life could have led to and she already looked like she fit in. If only there had actually been others here. Demons. Anything. There was no one though. She was all alone. Was that better or more frightening? There was that uncertainty still standing and there was only more questions to be added to her large stack of them. Rachel was left with that eerie, unsettling feeling over all of this.
The robe was still around her, but it was no longer necessary for warmth. It was now only necessary in comfort because this was not where she wanted to be. This was not home. She wanted to keep him safe from this, what this life meant or could be. The only memories she held of this woman were her childhood. There was no telling what could have come to life given the teachings she did know of. What was said to come to pass. What was going to.
Her knees felt weak as she stared at these new surroundings. They wanted to give out, to drop and allow herself to cry, scream, and really destroy something. This place shouldn't be here. None of it should be. She only wanted to go home. It wasn't safe though, she wasn't safe. Rachel was the risk and she knew it to be true. She didn't know what she was doing, and she couldn't just shut off her feelings the way that the teachings upheld. What if it allowed him to get control of her? To come back and take the world that was her own? Rachel wasn't Raven, she didn't know how to stop him. Stop her own father, but it wasn't her father. It was Trigon. But where was he? If not here, where was he really? She wanted to go home, but she held one weakness, and it was showing in front of no one. At least she had that much.
There was that constant struggle on how much she should tell anyone. What to hold back and what to give. No one should worry about her. And right now, she could only imagine one person specifically doing that. What could come of that, she didn't know, and it bothered her more than anything else here. But was it what brought her here? The struggle and fear of what she was and what she would or could do to him? What she could do to all of them, for the sake of not being able to hold herself together the way she needed to. To be that person that learned to guard herself from emotions, even though she felt them so continually. It was one thing to feel, to hold that moment of happiness or guilt. But it was those that didn't stop, didn't end. To feel love, which could be used against her. A foot hold for a father she didn't know. What if he was here, even though she couldn't find him? What if he was free and out there? Back where she deemed home already and she didn't know? She didn't want to be the cause for any of that. To sit there and watch the world burn was one thing, to be this person, this thing that she didn't fully understand. She didn't want it.
What she wanted now, was to be rid of all of this. There was no food, but with these feelings, she felt no hunger. Her stomach growling at her, speaking another story, but one she could tune out and barely hear. The worry that filled it was enough to keep going. Tired, and without the energy to do much other than to keep forging ahead to see if there was anything she could do or find to help herself still. If this was hell, or some version of it, there should be many here. She knew the stories, how he was created. What thoughts there were to be held over this. And while her curiosity itched at her, Rachel wasn't looking to actually meet Trigon. And she wouldn't.
The expanse was huge. More than huge. There had to be a way that covered more area than to keep walking. There were no doors or special angles to take in. There had to be another way out. Maybe a way to go home that was more than she was realizing here. Meditation was still a trying aspect of this life. As much as she did try, it always felt like she was failing. To sit there and try to be at peace with herself and everything else. It wasn't entirely one of those things she had ever been. It was more an acceptance of what happened, consequences, and to simply live life. Emotions had yet to be dealt with. Experiences moved on from, but forever there digging at the back of her mind. The way she had been treated, the way people acted without real thought or care. Yet, they all expected as much. There were few things that she felt she expected of other people, but they were larger pieces. Aspects that she felt contributed to bonds that held strong to her. The rest of it, none of it mattered. Acceptance was easy and simple. But not the way that she was tossed aside by people that were supposed to care before. People like that deserved what they gained.
Her abilities were used to transport herself further and further, but only to areas that she could see. Fear of finding herself transporting herself inside some wall or fire. It came close, more than a few times. The edges of the robe she wore singed again. The smell was no longer an issue, as the warmth from the flames licked at the air towards her. Brimstone filling her nostrils .This was another life. She hoped it wasn't one that she lived and was about to wait on new memories to have to deal with from it all. Her breathing slow and less erratic than when she first made it here. The anger eluding her as she felt lost. No better than being stuck in some vacant desert, uncertain of which direction to take next. Time passed, but she was never sure of how much. There was no sun and moon to pass. Times to take a seat and simply sit as she continued to grow more and more tired. But there was that thought that egged at her. What if they were here and watching her? It was a paranoid one, but it kept her awake. Pushing and forcing herself on still, refusing sleep.
This happened until she was too tired to think. Back against a wall, and between the days she had been gone. To have gone through hell and ignoring the thoughts of being insane. Her mind was finally clear of everything. Thought, worry, cravings, and needs. The world was gone, as she only closed her eyes for a second. One that she thought, anyway. Her eyelids heavier than they had been in weeks. Exhaustion taking her, but not so deeply that she hadn't made that conscious decision this time. The whole world may as well have been clear. Of action and debris, as sounds and scents were changed. The world shifting to something else. She was on grass? Warmth gone, outside of the robe. Hood still over her, but her features were normal.
Rachel wanted to pinch herself, or better yet, slap herself square in the face. This had to be a dream, didn't it? She had fallen asleep in some version of hell? Rubbing her eyes, she stifled a yawn. Her stomach growling and gurgling so loud it may as well have been in her ears. The dark of night was at least easy enough to hide in, but taking in what was around her? The grounds of a church. Of all the places in the world.
Moving to get herself up, she had enough trouble. Weakness set in, enough that she leaned against the wall of the church and nearly slid down it. No powers were going to be used, unless absolutely necessary. Not with the way she was feeling now. About ready to rest her head in her hands, she was almost positive she was seeing things. The movement in front of her, the way things shifted. Was she dreaming or seeing things again? That had to be it? Except, he stopped and came back, just as fast. There was an odd sense of deja vu. The color red wasn't right or was it? But the emotions that were coming to her weren't helping her state of mind, except to not fight it. She just wanted sleep.