Alabaster Conan || D2 || DONE
Sept 2, 2014 22:32:52 GMT -5
Post by Death on Sept 2, 2014 22:32:52 GMT -5
[googlefont="Give You Glory:400"]Alabaster Jessie Conan
male | aged 18
district two
g l e a m i n g i n t h e m o o n l i g h t
c o o l a n d c l e a n a n d a l l I ' v e e v e r k n o w n
a l l I e v e r w a n t e d
I’m breathing quickly. There’s someone in my house. In my impenetrable fortress. My parents said nobody but them would ever bother me. I could be alone with my animals and myself and my family and never have to face the world again.
It’s… a girl.
She sidles up to me and places a hand on my cheek. “You’re so pale,” she murmurs. “But your skin is so smooth, like marble. Or alabaster.”
I can scarcely move. What is she doing here? How’d she find her way to my room?
Her other hand goes to my hip, resting against it. She must be small to everyone else, because she’s nearly six inches shorter than me and I’m only 5’ 9”. She traces my jawline with her finger tips that she’s moved from my cheek. A thin jawline. Diamond-shaped. Like a woman’s would be. A delicate, gender-fluid face that shifts between man and woman. Between male and female.
She traces the curves my cheekbones create, moving up above my dark eyebrows to my average-sized forehead. Back down to the tip of my nose, which is thin at the bridge and thick at the end and nostrils.
Then, slowly. Ever so slowly, she presses her lips to mine. She takes my thicker lower lip between hers and tugs ever so slightly.
She pulls away and meets my gaze. “Your eyes are so pretty. Like silver. I can see why the boys would think you were a girl.”
“How could you possibly—“
“Alabaster, you’re dreaming.”
“Can I wake up?”
“Only if you want to.” With a small smirk, she changes the position of both her hands. One is around my easily palpable ribs and landing against my ridged spine. The other is behind my head, her fingers tangled into my long hair. I normally keep it black, but this month it’s a dark brown at the roots and nearly white as it reaches for the tips that rest just lower than my shoulders.
I don’t think I want to wake up.
“That’s my boy,” she murmurs, going up on her tiptoes to allow her speaking lips to rub against my ears that house multiple silver rings.
This girl. I know her. She’s a girl I’ve dreamed about for years. She’s the only one who understands but the only one I can’t let in. She’s the reason why I only leave the house for Reaping Day.
Her kisses are sweet, soft. Just how I like them. How I imagined she’d kiss me.
I'm a timid person. But not in my dreams. In my mind. In my mind I am powerful and strong. In my dreams, I take her into my arms and take over. I become the master, not the servant.
My hands are around her waist and my lips are at her neck. She sighs and then, suddenly, I'm staring up at my ceiling in the darkness.
Alone.
I don't want to get out of bed. Most days, I don't unless I'm caring for my animals or training for the games. Everything just feels like a lie. Like overly complicated bullshit and nothingness that just won't leave. It's just work. I'm on my last year training for the games and it just means nothing. What's the point?
The next thing I know, the sunlight is streaming in through the curtains and it feels like no time has passed and yet I just survived all of eternity.
I'd love to bullshit myself into thinking being alone wasn't my choice. That they forced me into it, but that would be a lie and the one thing I actually have an opinion about is lying to myself. I won't do that. I chose this solitude. I chose to shut the whole world out and live alone inside my head with my animals.
My whole body aches dully as I pull myself from the tangles that are my sheets. It doesn't feel good, but it doesn't feel bad either.
I glance at the half-empty bottle of booze perched on my desk, debating on whether drinking in the morning is a think that my parents would be okay with. And then I remember that they gave me this whole wing to myself. They won't bother me here unless they want something. They have no expectations except that I don't do drugs. They don't want to be associated with the drug lords.
Grabbing up the bottle, I swing back a few short gulps of the burning "happy" juice. Except, of course, it doesn't really make me happy. Nothing make me happy. Except, maybe my animals. At least they give me a purpose for living.
Clear glass bottle in hand, I walk out of my room and across the hall to my menagerie, thoughts still lingering over the girl. Lanie. Her name was Lanie Fleck.
She was my best friend.
Alabaster wasn't always the gloomy Gus he's become. Although he's been to several shrinks for his clinical depression and alcoholic dependency, he has refused any further help or to take the medication prescribed to him.
In all honesty, his family is truly to blame for how he's turned out. Although he thinks he did something wrong, his family purposefully ruined his relationship with Lanie.
Lanie was an illegitimate child born to a single, drug-ravaged mother. From a young age, she was exposed to influences that someone her age shouldn't have been. She began dealing drugs secretly when she was nine to help make ends meet and support her mother's ravenous drug appetite.
Her mother ODed when she was 12, leaving Lanie to figure out how to escape her dealing position and the eventual forced placement into the orphanage.
Enter Alabaster. Lanie had been living in a cavern located on the Conan's mining property. When exploring and playing by himself, as he so often did as a child, he stumbled across her walking back to her cave. Rather than report her, he decided to help her and bring her food. He was 14 at the time.
Their friendship developed quickly. By 16, Alabaster was convinced that Lanie was the girl he wanted to marry and planned to marry her as soon as she turned 18. He used his rather generous allowance to support her and keep her safe and hidden.
Wondering where all the money we was spending went, Alabaster's parents began to follow the money trail and found out about Lanie who had been a secret all this time. Rather than confront their often unstable son, they told Lanie that she had two options. 1) Break their son's heart by refusing to see him anymore and be rewarded handsomely or 2) be delivered to the drug lords who had been searching for her.
Terrified of her past and hoping to someday be able to patch things up with Alabaster, she chose the first option. Not only was he heartbroken, but he was also pushed over the edge. At first he was angry, then he slowly began to lose all forms of emotion and shut himself off from the rest of the world.
To be frank, his parents are almost getting desperate enough to tell him the truth.
Alabaster has very little contact with his parents or his younger brother at any given time. He maybe speaks to them once a week and they live in the same house! His brother is named Stone and is three years younger. The golden boy. Alabaster loved and admired him so much before he hit his crisis years.
His parents were always on good, loving terms with their son. Rather than confront him directly, they always manipulated his life behind his back. They were good at it until he had no life left to manipulate.
Alabaster firmly believes he did something to deserve his unhappiness and chooses to be alone because of that. Until that changes, he's never going to be able to reach his full potential.
Then, slowly. Ever so slowly, she presses her lips to mine. She takes my thicker lower lip between hers and tugs ever so slightly.
She pulls away and meets my gaze. “Your eyes are so pretty. Like silver. I can see why the boys would think you were a girl.”
“How could you possibly—“
“Alabaster, you’re dreaming.”
“Can I wake up?”
“Only if you want to.” With a small smirk, she changes the position of both her hands. One is around my easily palpable ribs and landing against my ridged spine. The other is behind my head, her fingers tangled into my long hair. I normally keep it black, but this month it’s a dark brown at the roots and nearly white as it reaches for the tips that rest just lower than my shoulders.
I don’t think I want to wake up.
“That’s my boy,” she murmurs, going up on her tiptoes to allow her speaking lips to rub against my ears that house multiple silver rings.
s w e e t p e r f u m e s o f i n c e n s e
g r a c e f u l r o o m s o f a l a b a s t e r s t o n e
a l l I e v e r w a n t e d
This girl. I know her. She’s a girl I’ve dreamed about for years. She’s the only one who understands but the only one I can’t let in. She’s the reason why I only leave the house for Reaping Day.
Her kisses are sweet, soft. Just how I like them. How I imagined she’d kiss me.
I'm a timid person. But not in my dreams. In my mind. In my mind I am powerful and strong. In my dreams, I take her into my arms and take over. I become the master, not the servant.
My hands are around her waist and my lips are at her neck. She sighs and then, suddenly, I'm staring up at my ceiling in the darkness.
Alone.
I don't want to get out of bed. Most days, I don't unless I'm caring for my animals or training for the games. Everything just feels like a lie. Like overly complicated bullshit and nothingness that just won't leave. It's just work. I'm on my last year training for the games and it just means nothing. What's the point?
The next thing I know, the sunlight is streaming in through the curtains and it feels like no time has passed and yet I just survived all of eternity.
I'd love to bullshit myself into thinking being alone wasn't my choice. That they forced me into it, but that would be a lie and the one thing I actually have an opinion about is lying to myself. I won't do that. I chose this solitude. I chose to shut the whole world out and live alone inside my head with my animals.
My whole body aches dully as I pull myself from the tangles that are my sheets. It doesn't feel good, but it doesn't feel bad either.
I glance at the half-empty bottle of booze perched on my desk, debating on whether drinking in the morning is a think that my parents would be okay with. And then I remember that they gave me this whole wing to myself. They won't bother me here unless they want something. They have no expectations except that I don't do drugs. They don't want to be associated with the drug lords.
Grabbing up the bottle, I swing back a few short gulps of the burning "happy" juice. Except, of course, it doesn't really make me happy. Nothing make me happy. Except, maybe my animals. At least they give me a purpose for living.
Clear glass bottle in hand, I walk out of my room and across the hall to my menagerie, thoughts still lingering over the girl. Lanie. Her name was Lanie Fleck.
She was my best friend.
t h i s i s m y h o m e
w i t h m y f a t h e r , m o t h e r , b r o t h e r
o h s o n o b l e , o h s o s t r o n g
n o w I a m h o m e
Alabaster wasn't always the gloomy Gus he's become. Although he's been to several shrinks for his clinical depression and alcoholic dependency, he has refused any further help or to take the medication prescribed to him.
In all honesty, his family is truly to blame for how he's turned out. Although he thinks he did something wrong, his family purposefully ruined his relationship with Lanie.
Lanie was an illegitimate child born to a single, drug-ravaged mother. From a young age, she was exposed to influences that someone her age shouldn't have been. She began dealing drugs secretly when she was nine to help make ends meet and support her mother's ravenous drug appetite.
Her mother ODed when she was 12, leaving Lanie to figure out how to escape her dealing position and the eventual forced placement into the orphanage.
Enter Alabaster. Lanie had been living in a cavern located on the Conan's mining property. When exploring and playing by himself, as he so often did as a child, he stumbled across her walking back to her cave. Rather than report her, he decided to help her and bring her food. He was 14 at the time.
Their friendship developed quickly. By 16, Alabaster was convinced that Lanie was the girl he wanted to marry and planned to marry her as soon as she turned 18. He used his rather generous allowance to support her and keep her safe and hidden.
Wondering where all the money we was spending went, Alabaster's parents began to follow the money trail and found out about Lanie who had been a secret all this time. Rather than confront their often unstable son, they told Lanie that she had two options. 1) Break their son's heart by refusing to see him anymore and be rewarded handsomely or 2) be delivered to the drug lords who had been searching for her.
Terrified of her past and hoping to someday be able to patch things up with Alabaster, she chose the first option. Not only was he heartbroken, but he was also pushed over the edge. At first he was angry, then he slowly began to lose all forms of emotion and shut himself off from the rest of the world.
To be frank, his parents are almost getting desperate enough to tell him the truth.
Alabaster has very little contact with his parents or his younger brother at any given time. He maybe speaks to them once a week and they live in the same house! His brother is named Stone and is three years younger. The golden boy. Alabaster loved and admired him so much before he hit his crisis years.
His parents were always on good, loving terms with their son. Rather than confront him directly, they always manipulated his life behind his back. They were good at it until he had no life left to manipulate.
Alabaster firmly believes he did something to deserve his unhappiness and chooses to be alone because of that. Until that changes, he's never going to be able to reach his full potential.
h e r e a m o n g m y t r a p p i n g s a n d b e l o n g i n g s
I b e l o n g
a n d i f a n y b o d y d o u b t s i t
t h e y c o u l d n ' t b e m o r e w r o n g
"All I Ever Wanted," from The Prince of Egypt
