let me shatter .// {NLMG}

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d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris
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let me shatter .// {NLMG} Sept 8, 2013 14:33:11 GMT -5

Post by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris on Sept 8, 2013 14:33:11 GMT -5

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Fragments of morning light dance into the room from between the crack of a curtain. Your eyes shine with pride and content as the delicate and ever so feeble rays of light reflect off one of the mirrors that you have just recently hung on the ceiling, and before long, an exasperatingly beautiful show of lights shines all around you. A weak laugh escapes your lips, before your purse them quickly. This show of wicked beauty could easily be perceived as something innocent and pure. Perhaps one would see it as an innocent little girl hanging up mirrors in her room as to lighten and freshen the dark and bland area in which she slumbered. Yes, of course they would.

But this isn't your room. Is it, Eve?

This is why you purse your lips, because slumbering just beneath the hanging mirrors is a girl with hair like the dark and earthy soil that you'll never be able to feel against the palms of your hands. It's hard not to burst out into laughter, isn't it? If anyone who did not know you (no one knows you) was watching you at this moment, they'd be awfully confused.

"Eve, why are you hanging those mirrors?"

"That's so sweet, Eve. Are you trying to brighten Cora's room?"

"She's going to be so happy when she wakes up, Eve. You're an ideal patient!"

That's what the nurses would say if they walked in and caught you, but they won't. You've been planning this little...prank, as we'll call it, for days now. And, like with most things, you're absolutely certain that no nurses enter Cora's room at this particular time. Stepping off the sitting stool on which you were standing, wincing as your fragile legs come in contact with the cool ground, you walk a few steps back and admire your work. Soon, Cora will awaken, and when her trickster eyes come in contact with the reflections that hang above her, the fun shall begin.

You giggle gently, realizing that even an explosion from the lab in the basement (you haven't seen it, but you know it's there) couldn't wake up the deranged idiot. With a sluggish and slow stride, you walk over to your wheelchair and inhale, before sitting yourself down. A devilish smirk plays on your lips.

"I hope your dreams were ever so sweet," you confess to an awakening Cora, as you start to roll out of the room. You stop in the threshold, however, taking the time to peer over your shoulder. "Because, my dear friend, your day won't be sweet for long."

In a matter of moments, you are rolling through the halls with various nurses stopping and striking up conversations with you.

"Ah, Eve, so glad to see you up and awake this early. Are you alright? I'm happy you felt strong enough to handle yourself this morning, but please do be careful!"

"Oh, Eve! It's great to see you and your cheerful smile so early in the day. You've just given me the boost to tackle today's work."

You reply sweetly to each, your smile never faltering, even though your insides twist and burn and screech. If you could have it your way, you'd tie them all up and lay them along the hallways. And, one by one, you'd crush their spines and lungs and hearts with the wheels of your wheelchair.

But, as always, you never get what you want.

You're a short distance from your room now, and you can't stop your eyes from trailing over to a door with a sign labeled "Eris W." placed on the slightly rusting metal. A delicate sigh (one of dreams and poison-laced hope) falls from your lips, and you reach out a dainty hand and brush your fingertips across the door's surface. You bite your lip, your eyes shining with a devilish glint.

"I'll see you soon, Eris," you whisper, with a gentle hint of longing ~~and deadly lust~~ on your voice. You then continue to roll through the hallway, until you finally reach your room. With a smirk you grasp the doorknob and count to three internally.

One...

Two...

Three.

A piercing scream sounds in the distance, and you smile the most sincere smile you have allowed to grace your lips as of today.

"Oh, I wonder what could ever be the matter?"

It's time for a very fun day, my friends.

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e·ve
(noun) /ee-v/
1. female, sixteen, district 6
2. lost, fake, alone, disturbed
3. You'll take pride in knowing that you won't be going to Hell alone.

“Death is easy, peaceful. Life is harder.”

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e v e l .

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OOC: Ripred bless Zoe for this layout, and may Ripred bless Ella even more, for allowing me to start the first ever group-thread for the (Never) Let Me Go plot! Basically, for you few members of the plot who perhaps do not know the basic scenario we have planned out for this thread, Eve has just pulled a devilish little trick on Cora, all of the patients are going to run in and check on her ~~idk about the nurses??? can we just say calliope got them all high and they currently don't give a frack about the girl screaming down the hall???~~, Cora is going to throw a fit in front of them all and bada bing bada boom: Finn runs away and our precious little group of weirdos goes searching for him as they wonder which of them was the one who pulled the evil trick on Cora, if Finn will be okay, and take the time to ask ever so pressing questions. Such as:

"Will we ever be free?"

No.

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Last Edit: May 14, 2015 17:16:37 GMT -5 by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes

cass
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last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

let me shatter .// {NLMG} Oct 24, 2013 6:08:00 GMT -5

Post by cass on Oct 24, 2013 6:08:00 GMT -5

fear
/fɪə/
¹ an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.
² a feeling of anxiety concerning the outcome of something or the safety of someone.
³ the likelihood of something unwelcome happening.

Run, run, run away
Buy yourself another day
A cold wind's whispering secrets in your ear
So low and only you can hear
Run, run, run and hide

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The halls were cool under his feet, they reminded him of his dream last night, and he tried to ignore the memories, unwilling to fall under their spell once more. Instead he reached upwards, a thin, pale hand grazing the smooth, cold walls that surrounded him.

Last night he saw her.

But then that was hardly odd, he saw her every single day and night. He saw her when he closed his eyes and when he had them open. It wasn’t hard to imagine her standing there beside him, a comforting hand pressed against his back, fingers gently circling around as though tempting fate. And it was the tempting of fate that had his heart racing, his eyes rolling, flickering left and right, trying to keep his eyes focused on that figure that seemed to just flicker from his vision, playing with him in the corners of his eyes. But that was only when his eyes were open. When they were closed she stayed there, a dancing woman that swirls, the cloth of her dress so rich and beautiful Finn A was certain he had never seen them before. She’d whisper to him, and bend down, brushing a soft kiss on his head, before telling him how brave he was. Sometimes she’d fade away and he’d scream out her name, begging her to appear before him once more, but she never did.

It had been five days since he had last glimpsed her.

He was starting to worry about his mother. Just like always, his mind forming the story he so badly needed to ease the rapid panic that had begun to build up within him. Normally she never responded to his questions, but at the point where he reached impossible fear she appeared and for the first time in two years she had whispered to him, speaking, but a few words before disappearing once more. Keep looking for me. She had said. The words as soft as the wind that had wrapped itself around the curtains in his isolated room. They had echoed in his mind, swirling in that madness that they called a brain. They’d played with him, every possible meaning of what they possessed flashing before his eyes, he’d shake them all off, tick, tick, tick, he’d done them all, he’d done every single one of them. And none of them had led to the treasure he searched for. None of them led to the warm, caring woman who haunted him every single day.

All he wanted was to feel her arms around him. Just like they always had been around him when he was sad, but now when he cried they never came, now when he wanted comfort and protection he only received coldness, and an aching heart that spoke of abandonment. But he’d never stop looking. It wasn’t within little Finn to give up. Besides the disease that addled his mind and picked on his habits meant that was something he couldn’t do physically. The clash between his personalities was like a tape recorder re-winding. He didn’t mind, though, he just meant he’d never ever forget and it meant that one day he’d feel his mother’s touch again, and her soft words and her love. But for now she was gone. She’d disappeared and she wasn’t coming back. The Warden often reminded him of that little fact and when he chose to speak her name or question her presence it was meet with cold, cruel words as though they couldn’t see her as he could. It was almost like they thought she was never going to come back, ever.

Finn knew better.

His mother would never leave him. The Warden and the others were foolish to think that. Sometimes it upset him and frustrated him and he’d snap, and then those awful men with the uniforms would grab him and hold him. And sometimes he’d feel a little prick and a small spike of pain and then the world would drift away. He hated it when that happened, he hated it when the people told him his mother was long gone, one of them had even said she was dead and he’d looked on dumbfounded, the term so new to him that he couldn’t wrap his mind around what dead meant. And so he assumed that it simply meant she was missing, or that she was like any hero and searching for a way to defeat the evil that plagued Finn. Finn fought every day, the crimson fields of battle a reminder of what he had lost his mother to. Yes. That was it. His mother had simply gone to defeat the evil he could not, he had to hold the fort whilst she went to search for the answers. How could they all not understand this?

At first the sound that pierced him, sending chills racing down his body, did little more then make his steps falter. It wasn’t until it vanished all at once, leaving the world in its sinister silence did he realise what had happened. His entire body hesitated, and it took most of his will power to follow that scream, it took all his bravery to step closer to the room in where it had occurred. But as he reached the door he stepped backwards, his legs suddenly to weak, the scream suddenly far too familiar. But then wasn’t the sound always familiar in this slaughter house? Yes, but this time Finn didn’t want it. This time, when his mind snapped and his personality shifted he wasn’t that rational child that knew how to live; he was the scarred, hollow fitting of a boy that had been damaged. And so he stepped backwards, his feet falling over each other until he was around the next corner. There he stopped, before sinking to the ground and wrapping his arms around his knees. His body began to shake and he bit down on his lip. He closed his eyes.

Somewhere no one else can find
Tall trees bend their leaves pointing where to go
Where you will still be all alone
Don't you fret, my dear
It'll all be over soon

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Last Edit: Oct 24, 2013 6:50:21 GMT -5 by cass

Python
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Pronouns: She/Her
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let me shatter .// {NLMG} Nov 15, 2013 22:15:23 GMT -5

Post by Python on Nov 15, 2013 22:15:23 GMT -5

When she blinked, she saw Hell’s reflection. The shimmering portals into nightmare worlds decorated her white walls from floor to ceiling, leaving little room for a narrow escape. The creatures lurking within their bodies were waiting for the blue eyes to seek them out and widen at their horrors, but it wasn’t until the sunlight streamed through wrinkled curtains that patient Cora S. was plucked from her slumber. Dreams behind closed lids vanished with just one blink of weary eyes as the delicate form stirred beneath her white sheets, stretching creaky limbs and stiff muscles. There were no whispers of warning of the terrors that awaited, no bad omens to caution her to close her eyes and blind herself for her own sake. She just opened her eyes and saw Hell staring back.

She blinked once, twice, three times with her head cocked uncomfortably to the side, gazing into the blue eyes of a girl that – if she recalled correctly – looked exactly like her, until the irises turned black with malice and oozed onyx sludge out of their edges. She felt her heart leap wildly into her throat and her stomach freeze as the realization struck home; reflection. She was a fish captured by the hook, unable to escape the device reeling her in. This always happened – she would look, and then she could not look away. It was like a horrible addiction that she wished she could quit. I tried, I got rid of my mirror. Why did it come back? She parted her lips for a gasp of breath and her demonic reflection did the same – except between its lips were rows of razor teeth with blood dripping from the ends. Then she screamed.

Her flailing body was ensnared in tangled sheets as she desperately rolled off of her mattress and landed ungracefully on the floor. She clung to darkness with her eyes squeezed shut and curled into a secure ball until she could breathe evenly again. There was no banishing the images from her memory, but she would try and try again to distract herself from them, lest they try and haunt her during the forthcoming night. As soon as she recuperated, she freed herself from her bed sheet cocoon and stood up. That was when she discovered that the nightmare was far from over.

The sheer number of mirrors was no coincidence. Somebody had planted them as a sick joke to wring her brain of its sanity and twist her further into indestructible knots because they knew, they all knew what happened when Cora Scarrow stood in front of a mirror. There was only one name that crossed her mind: Eve. But figuring out the identity of the perpetrator was a victory short-lived, because everywhere she looked there was a portal into a chaotic abyss and it was impossible to escape their lures. Left and right she captured glimpses of claws, slit eyes, forked tongues, eviscerated organs pouring from her own abdomen – in one she was missing her entire mandible as if it had been torn from her skeleton leaving tattered flabs of skin in the wake. In another she had been skinned alive, and every fiber of muscle was visible to her empty eye sockets.

In the real world she was dragging her nails through her own scalp, backing into walls to avoid the forbidden images as she gasped for breath and repressed her sobs. Every mirror taunted her with an illusion of her inner demon and a lie that she could not be as beautiful as the men used to say was. No matter which direction she turned, the creature’s eyes were staring into hers, wearing her body like a costume, and when she stole an accidental glimpse at the mirror closest to her door she could see the shadowy outline of her distorted body reaching for the glass between worlds with extended claws. When it scratched the surface, tracing lines along the glass Cora screamed and bolted after it with a fire raging in in determined (yet fearful) eyes. She could not let the creature escape, even if it was all part of a fantasy. She tore the mirror off the wall, and with an animalistic bellow slammed it into the floor and relished at the sound of the glass shattering to pieces. Then, she went to work on the others as well, ripping them from her tainted walls and tossing them one by one until her floor was littered with shards. The sharp edges drew blood on her soles but she ignored the pain until she was free of the mirrors.

When the nurses burst into her room, pausing and gasping to survey her mess, she stormed past them leaving a trail of bloody footprints against tiled floor and collapsed in the hallway, clutching her hands to her chest. Their voices were drowned by her frantic heartbeats, but she didn’t want to listen. She just wanted to cry, and ask ”why?” to the devil in disguise.

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