ana. capitol. fin

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	ana. capitol. fin Oct 13, 2015 22:56:02 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Oct 13, 2015 22:56:02 GMT -5 anastasia keva fontaine. twenty-two. 3rd daughter of the fontaines, founders of fontaine cards: personalized greeting cards for any occasion. had some fun times with the bae until he carted off to marry someone else so she is sad.
	Last Edit: Oct 31, 2015 17:08:14 GMT -5 by fox

fox
Graphics

1,363 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5

but a butt ?

ana. capitol. fin Oct 16, 2015 19:14:56 GMT -5

Post by fox on Oct 16, 2015 19:14:56 GMT -5

ANA

I’m told that fate
makes fun of us.

You said "let's run away together."
I said, "where to?"
"Doesn't matter," you promised, "I'll be with you."

(Ugly duckling.)
I was never pretty.
An afterthought, five years late, born in the dust of two shining stars but -- why not, mother and father said, make three?
three
three
three on a match: there's unluck in reaping the light of a dying flame, thrifting through the flicker to find some strength in numbers. And from embryonic beginnings, there hadn't been enough spark left to ignite my bloodstream golden --
one last time for
three.

Anastasia, no just plain Ana, standing five-foot-two in the lightness of shadows -- dark and small and shrinking. I held myself up in the frame of rickety houses and floundering family portraits, wobbling comically up on a podium of limelights built by the modest empire of a business name -- one, two, misstep. bow.
At eighteen -- face half-concealed by a plume of dark hair spilling from behind my ears; eyes too large, mouth too wide for a baby face; a mix-match of girl dresses, cleats and lipstick; uncertainty and stubborness and skittish smiles -- I was only a child playing dress-up in woman's clothes: ridiculous in appearance, callow in demeanour.

Brink of adulthood, knees still scrapped by asphalt and schoolyard games, I was winter left unopened, spring budding aggregates of bloomless flowers underneath my skin, (and I scratched at them, implored then to unfurl. But the petals were green and waxy and blushing shy.) At eighteen, we never had the time to grow up at our own pace. At eighteen, father promised me a new face, a new body (a new life.)
Then, you could be pretty too, he said.

How kind of him.

(But they could not fix me on the inside.)

My mother and father,
they were more than willing to make me into the glass resplendence Eli and Rosa were. They told me my wishes were the tools for an alterable reality: make-up and dyes and clothes were piled up at my disposal, "if you don't like it, then change it sweetie."

~~but I am sick of being told what to want.~~

A paint-by-numbers method to beauty, an add-them-up-on-fingers type of easy. Simple. Effortless. Wilting, shy, still not pretty -- I was never radiant even with the mathematical aesthetics of magazines. (And they let me be in an imperfect skin.)

I was used to having my shadows
deep
down,
born with somber embers in my heart. Shapeless, static Wallflower in the safety of background noise, of streams underneath shafts of ice, of an internal blossom unknown -- I did not feel brilliant dressed up in stolen light.
(I was innocent from incandescence.)
(Until you gave me the dawn.)

"You are the first and last person I'll ever love" -- a last vow before tying the knot around my veins, winded and blue.
and you broke me so simply,
just like that,
as if I was always supposed to be like sunshine fragmented between your your fingers -- left in pieces by the rule of your hands,
always.

Moments are all that's left of us: reduced to a gesture, a sound, a sight. It seems like centuries since the start -- repeated memories sprouting days between our four years. And we were an extended dalliance we could not hold onto against a fading summer,
a love that should've ended at first kiss,
at your hands on my waist,
at bed sheets around my shoulders,

We were the runaway youth fueled by fickle sentiments, falling down a peerless edge,
and between you and I, we could both see the end the second we'd leapt, knowing what was coming when we hit the ground. You told me our love was infallible,
but now I am in pieces,
holding onto this
weight.

Our mirages: the fall was gentle and the fall was breathless; you pulled me down so soft and sweet, (and I could not protest this undoing.)
I had never felt radiant cloaked in the gravity of artificial spotlights, but you were my first morning of real sunshine. You were rose-red blood in vessels of glittering heavy metals. You were spring making roots overnight and you were the avalanche of all emerald things into my chest. (If you loved me, then you were the first to make me feel beautiful. Desired in the way I was.)

I've always stumbled, moved uncertain
and clumsily,
taking crippled steps but
walked my own roads
all the same,
off-beat and willful and alone,

yet I fell gracefully
for you.

When we met, you had been a measured carelessness of constructed nonchalance, a wild thing still bound by the honourable ties of responsibility, of family, of money. I was your freedom -- the slightest dip out from an unchanging fate etched clean in copper. Dream and dream again, you could have your untamed hopes without fear of familial expectations. I was liberty for you, and you could say you loved me in our leisure without much thought. But those only had been

irresponsible words.

(Oh, but I thought I wanted my heart to be broken by you.)

You said "let's run away together."
I said "you can't."
you can't see me anymore and
you can't hold me anymore,
and you were crying when you said "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I love you --"

When we met, I remember you said to me "My God, I'm so fucking happy right now." And these were amphetamine-induced words, miles high on speed and disco lights. You are always three lies at any given time, and I could only figure you out from derivatives of continuous movements, watching you flicker like flames,
waning
waxing,
finding constants in the lines of your body.
You had my feeble patience clenched in both fists, exhausting it all at the end of our four years. And sometimes I've wondered with your written fate erased, if things would've still ended up the same -- snapped bones and dull blades and all promises made into fools. You made me feel lovely and perfect and free -- fragile things to hold for the first time with ingenuous hands,
and it broke me entirely.

No, we were never allowed to grow up at our own pace.

But that night, I still believed in your words.
in the simplicity of pure emotions,
and I let you lead me away, feeling like I belonged in someone's heart.

But I should've left you when I had the chance;
I should've known better.

You said "let's run away together."
I whispered "I can't."

Last Edit: Nov 8, 2015 17:17:27 GMT -5 by fox

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	ana. capitol. fin Oct 31, 2015 17:08:46 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Oct 31, 2015 17:08:46 GMT -5 mmm done???

Rosetta
Retired Staff

1,872 POSTS
last seen Aug 5, 2020 8:28:28 GMT -5

ana. capitol. fin Nov 2, 2015 22:27:05 GMT -5

Post by Rosetta on Nov 2, 2015 22:27:05 GMT -5

Hey Fox! This was beautifully written and I love the template. Personally, however, I'd love to see more personality and appearance! I'd like to know more about what she looked like before and after (though, did she end up getting a new face? That seemed a bit unclear). Furthermore, give me a little more on her personality! All I can really see is low self-esteem and confidence, but I'd love to know more! While the format is beautiful, the way I'd suggest doing this is by making it a bit more clear of a distinction between appearance/personality/history. You're on the right track! Post here when you're done.

^^Made by the excellent Shrimp!

fox Graphics 1,363 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 25, 2024 12:23:42 GMT -5 but a butt ?	ana. capitol. fin Nov 8, 2015 17:21:11 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by fox on Nov 8, 2015 17:21:11 GMT -5 yeeah, hopefully i whipped this baby into shape cx fixed!

Avalon Retired Staff 1,291 POSTS Pronouns: They/Them last seen Oct 24, 2016 10:04:26 GMT -5 when i plant a fat ass cracker bitch i expect her to stay planted	ana. capitol. fin Nov 8, 2015 18:45:07 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Avalon on Nov 8, 2015 18:45:07 GMT -5 yes hi hello absolutely beautiful i l o v e her! <3
	*"solitaire something you consider rare"* credit to zoë