fiora thorne | d5 | cb [fin]
Mar 25, 2019 8:17:21 GMT -5
Post by shrimp on Mar 25, 2019 8:17:21 GMT -5
What do you want from me?
Why don't you run from me?
What are you wondering?
What do you know?
Why aren't you scared of me?
Why do you care for me?
When we all fall asleep,
where do we
go?
(bury a friend - billie ellish)
FIORA THORNE ("FEE") - 17 - D5
My mother speaks for the dead.
Sometimes it's in our living room, nearly knocking our guests out with her revelations, if not the haze of lavender and cedarwood. Yet it's also when I restock the soda, and she spots me in her periphery from over by the counter.
"The spirits will welcome you with open arms when you fall off that ladder and break your neck."
I wait until she turns back to her astrology before I lean over, pushing a liter three inches to the right. Ghosts have better things to do than watch me teeter back and forth.
My future is bright, he says, nestled in the folds of my palms, lines haphazard but crisp, clear. Uncle Ollie never talks about my heartline, how it sprints forward before stopping dead in its track. He's conflict-averse, I don't expect anything from him but a facade of compliments. A shower of good fortune.
My sister, however, doesn't stop telling me how stupid Polyantha Inquiries is, as she sits next to me in a house that creaks and murmurs with the wind. The radio across from us sputters and spits, my questions reaching no answers tonight.
Not all investigations are paranormal. They shouldn't be. But the ones that are - oh, I have stories etched in my dreams.
I can only say so much - confidentiality: everyone knows the path between the dead and the living, but some don't like to meander there and back again. So you have me, walking along the tracks, looking for clues in the grooves.
We all look for a resolution, an ending splashed in ink: truths, however - their facets are infinite.
