. { melt in your hands [chelsey]

(OOC: Character Swap!)

( R O W A N D U N C A N )




And she spoke words that
Would melt in your hands
And she spoke words of wisdom
To the basement people

The wet sand clung to the gaps between my toes like the memories I've been trying to fend off for over one-half of my life. The only difference: this sand will come off with water. No amount of glass bottles of beer being thrown in the trash or smoke from a cigarette filling the night air will dismiss the past. It won't, it never will. By now I know there is no cure to the guilt I feel, no amount of late-night ice-cream or early-morning booze will rid of the experiences. I'm not over the past, but I'm sick of trying to get over it. The water washes over my feet, carrying the sand with it, but only after more of the grains take shelter on my skin. The breeze is welcoming, and I want to become it, just float away like a leaf or those white wish-blowers I used to think worked. "I wish mommy would come home," I'd whisper to myself. After months of trying that tactic, always failing, I gave up. (Now, I know the easiest thing would be to join her in the afterlife.)

My sweatshirt pulls away from my body with the wind, and I look in the direction of the breeze. From here, the sea looks infinite. Swimming it would be impossible. I would try, though. That's all we do is try. Even when we know nothing good will come out of it; when failing is certain; we try. We cling up to the last strand of hope, even when our knuckles whiten and blisters form. What else can we do? Giving up isn't an option for a Career, it never was and it never will be.

Waves crash over and over again like a broken record because one wave will never finish crashing before another one steals the spotlight. How selfish. The sun is high in the sky above me, and I feel like it's watching my every move. Just like the waves, I want to be the the best. I want the sun to watch over me. I start to drift towards the District, and the sound of the waves breaking becomes distant, but they're still there. The sounds of people meeting on the streets and moms yelling at their kids and people ordering food is not anything out of the norm. I shove my way through the crowd until I get to a less congested part of the District.

In the distance, I can see a white figure. For once, I'm not drunk and this is no mirage. Ursula Libertine. Of course I have heard stories of her, willing to do anything. For a price, of course. Right now, I don't need anything. But, apparently my body does because it drags me towards her. I wouldn't mind some beer, I start to decide, And there is a shortage at home... So it's been decided, Ursula Libertine is going to buy me beer.

For a price, of course.


(OOC: I got this out quick, feel free to powerplay her a little bit, but not like drastically.)