fait et la mort }{ wives }
Mar 9, 2016 22:56:21 GMT -5
Post by Loony on Mar 9, 2016 22:56:21 GMT -5
Nell Locke
Nell was not usually organized.
She tended to keep herself in chaos, enjoying being lost in a world of mystery and confusion. She liked the rush of not knowing anything, not thinking about anything, not being anything. She enjoyed disarray because it let her hide behind her mess rather than deal with the mess she had become. But she has reached a point that the pile of disorganization had become a mountain, threatening to kill her with each waking moment.
So, she begins a list in her head, because she lives in a world that changes by the moment, and right now, she needs constants.
Things that cannot be changed:
Death. Dreams.Family. Thought. Freedom. Memories. Home. Fears. Personalities. Friendships. Hopes. Humanity. Morals. Damnation. Mountains. Heaven and Hell? Passions. Instincts. Victories. Loses. Life. Nell Locke. Facts.
It isn’t much, it’s a barely enough to sustain her when just hours ago she stood above the body of a girl not yet done with puberty, but it is enough that she no longer feels like drowning herself beneath the waves of guilt. Shame boils within her just like the water above the fire, simmering and hissing each and every moment, threatening to bubble over. But she does not do anything.
She can’t do anything.
She can’t blame Sully for what he did, and she wouldn’t ever speak her suspicions outloud. But the mood was different around the fire tonight. Death was an omnipresent cloud above their heads, his black cloak hanging between the misfits like a fog. Even the fire that she had painstakingly made was dimmed by the reality that death was so close just hours ago. She can’t even stare into the flames without smelling the stench of burning flesh and metallic blood.
Nell hugs herself, the flames did not bring her warmth after bringing such a cold fear of death earlier in the day. Goosebumps remain firmly on her arms as she stares at the others around the fire.
Sully sat to her left, his eyes turned away from hers. She stares at the side of his face, wanting to remember it all in case it changes as the week drags and death swoops in once again. He was the only artifact of home, a relic in a land of buried dreams and dead empires. District 5 had let them stand upon that stage without even a moment of kindness towards them. That was not home, and she made sure she made a mental note of that.
Things that can’t change:
Death. Dreams.Family. Thought. Freedom. Memories. Home. Fears. Personalities. Friendships. Hopes. Humanity. Morals. Damnation. Heaven and Hell? Passions. Instincts. Victories. Loses. Life. Nell Locke. Facts.
Sully, Astrid and Atticus were her home now. And right now her home was shattered. It was her job to piece it together like a puzzle with no instructions.
She cleared her throat, and let the words flow like a river,
“I’ve only seen one other dead body. My brother, in the morgue, when I had to identify him. He was so pale…” the softest of laughs escaped, “Even paler than me… It was the first time I can remember that he wasn’t smiling.”
She looked at the faces of the ones she cared about, “Promise me that when I die, one of you will be there to make sure I die smiling.”
She looked down, and whispered against the crackle of the fire, “I want to be happy, even if it is only in death.”
[Nell has started a fire using fire making and a bundle of wood]
[Nell drinks her purified water from sponsorship and then drops the empty canteen]
[She has used F/A on Astrid]
[She allows Sol, Atticus, and Astrid to use the fire to boil their unpurified water]
[more to come, but this is it for now]
Nell was not usually organized.
She tended to keep herself in chaos, enjoying being lost in a world of mystery and confusion. She liked the rush of not knowing anything, not thinking about anything, not being anything. She enjoyed disarray because it let her hide behind her mess rather than deal with the mess she had become. But she has reached a point that the pile of disorganization had become a mountain, threatening to kill her with each waking moment.
So, she begins a list in her head, because she lives in a world that changes by the moment, and right now, she needs constants.
Things that cannot be changed:
Death. Dreams.
It isn’t much, it’s a barely enough to sustain her when just hours ago she stood above the body of a girl not yet done with puberty, but it is enough that she no longer feels like drowning herself beneath the waves of guilt. Shame boils within her just like the water above the fire, simmering and hissing each and every moment, threatening to bubble over. But she does not do anything.
She can’t do anything.
She can’t blame Sully for what he did, and she wouldn’t ever speak her suspicions outloud. But the mood was different around the fire tonight. Death was an omnipresent cloud above their heads, his black cloak hanging between the misfits like a fog. Even the fire that she had painstakingly made was dimmed by the reality that death was so close just hours ago. She can’t even stare into the flames without smelling the stench of burning flesh and metallic blood.
Nell hugs herself, the flames did not bring her warmth after bringing such a cold fear of death earlier in the day. Goosebumps remain firmly on her arms as she stares at the others around the fire.
Sully sat to her left, his eyes turned away from hers. She stares at the side of his face, wanting to remember it all in case it changes as the week drags and death swoops in once again. He was the only artifact of home, a relic in a land of buried dreams and dead empires. District 5 had let them stand upon that stage without even a moment of kindness towards them. That was not home, and she made sure she made a mental note of that.
Things that can’t change:
Death. Dreams.
Sully, Astrid and Atticus were her home now. And right now her home was shattered. It was her job to piece it together like a puzzle with no instructions.
She cleared her throat, and let the words flow like a river,
“I’ve only seen one other dead body. My brother, in the morgue, when I had to identify him. He was so pale…” the softest of laughs escaped, “Even paler than me… It was the first time I can remember that he wasn’t smiling.”
She looked at the faces of the ones she cared about, “Promise me that when I die, one of you will be there to make sure I die smiling.”
She looked down, and whispered against the crackle of the fire, “I want to be happy, even if it is only in death.”
[Nell has started a fire using fire making and a bundle of wood]
[Nell drinks her purified water from sponsorship and then drops the empty canteen]
[She has used F/A on Astrid]
[She allows Sol, Atticus, and Astrid to use the fire to boil their unpurified water]
[more to come, but this is it for now]
