emmett le roux. d1 fin

calla
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just a litle creacher

emmett le roux. d1 fin Sept 29, 2019 22:47:03 GMT -5

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Post by calla on Sept 29, 2019 22:47:03 GMT -5

e m m e t t l e r o u x
sixteen | career

and i shall be the wolf
who dines upon wolves,
the sheep upon sheep,
the man upon men

i will ruin what i cannot have,
i will bite the hand that feeds,
and i shall suffer none so much
as they shall suffer me.

— out of spite | m.a.w

Last Edit: Oct 3, 2019 22:18:41 GMT -5 by calla

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calla
RP Tutor

2,122 POSTS

Pronouns: she/they
last seen Apr 23, 2024 23:49:00 GMT -5

just a litle creacher

emmett le roux. d1 fin Sept 30, 2019 21:49:29 GMT -5

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Post by calla on Sept 30, 2019 21:49:29 GMT -5

♚

When I was born, they thought I was dead.

There were no tears, no screams, just a quiet world and a certain stillness, the sound of falling snow. The wet nurse had tried to take me away, and the words of a prayer were already forming when she lifted me from my mother's chest. But my mother had held me back, pulled me close when my lungs suddenly opened, my soul detached, and I started breathing again.

They thought I was dead, but she knew better.

Because that's the thing about rebellion. You don't know it's there until it's clawing at your throat and screaming to get out.

That's the thing about Le Rouxes. You don't know we're there until you're under our feet.

I used to be like them, my cousins. I used to pretend to be a lion, golden-haired, I draped fur over my shoulders and wrote my name out all bold and underlined.

I used to pretend until I realized I didn't have to.

See, I was the last of three children, a third place consignment prize, and I remember someone once saying that Silk and Harper had taken all the fight for themselves, all the glory and the righteousness.

We were blue blooded children but I had always felt so red.

I could never fight as well as Silk, could never charm as well as Harper. I was always just Emmett, the leftovers, pulling pigtails and spitting in teacups.

My room was in the far end of the house, against one of the outside walls where the rain fell and sounded like bullets against tin. The sound had always soothed me, the chaos of it all, and it stopped the ache between my eyes that came at night.

But my first girlfriend had soothed it too. She liked to talk about anything and everything, enough that I barely had to give up any piece of myself. We wrote rumours together under the bleachers and I listened to every one of her dirty little secrets, every problem that was going on in her life until she finally asked, "What about your family?"

My teeth had flashed in the dark when I laughed and told her, "I don't have one."

I blackmailed my sixth grade teacher when I found her and the principal in the janitorial closet together, passed with flying colours after I told her that I just so happened to pass by her husband's office every morning and wouldn't it be a right shame if someone tipped him off on what was happening.

I had never felt much like a lion, anyways.

My mother had taught me to be the snake in the grass, the bleeding lamb, the one people liked to tell their secrets to. I learnt how to fight dirty while my cousins learnt how to keep their heads high. But I had seen what could be done by people like us, like me. I'd seen the results of a well placed lie, a compliment, a threat - the only things I was ever good at. Secrets became currency and I was determined to be rich.

It happened last year, the glacial melt, the turning point, and it started, as all things do, with a boy. His father was a retired peacekeeper, corrupt, with enough information and records tucked away to cause a tidal wave. I was young and eager, and he had something I wanted.

"I'm Adrian," I told him when we met in the training centre, right near the boxing ring because he was a fighter and I had been tailing him for weeks. He was dangerous, and I liked that, a boy born in a web of betrayal.

And so it began.

I don't know exactly when it happened. But I stopped feeling. Because getting him to talk was so easy. I let him leech the gold from my veins and spent a summer in silver. My footsteps started to stutter and I looked back for him, watched him leave from the window and followed his figure down the street. I spent less and less time at home, and he became my rainfall.

My mother thought that I'd lost myself, that my fangs had dulled and my claws had been clipped. She thought that I was letting myself be used and threatened to send me to the detention centre, just to scare me, to make me act proper. But I had dared her to do it, goaded the fire in her veins and held my hands to the warmth. I threw all the unlawful death records I had gathered in her face. Because this was a new sort of rebellion, a kind of power I'd never had before.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked late one night when the stars were hidden behind clouds and we were trying to coax them out from the roof of an abandoned building.

Nothing, I wanted to tell him, golden courage lies in my limbs and there is a laurel of legacies on my head. How can there be room for anything in my bones but bravery?

"Falling in love." I whispered to the sky instead. "Letting myself let go."

I felt him shift, the movement of air around him and the burn of his gaze, he took a breath, deep, like he was about to dive underwater, "Well, I lov-"

"Don't." I told him softly, because I guess I was softer back then, "I'll chew you up and spit you out."

My hand fell to his cheek, "I'll destroy this," his throat "and this" his chest "and this."

"I can't live without you," he had said after five months and I felt like a god.

I felt invincible.

"I need you to do something for me," I whispered back, "there's something in your father's study I need."

It only took a week for him to break, to hand me the papers and go running back, to bring his father downstairs where I had stashed everything we'd taken, where the case I'd been putting together was all laid out.

I guess I had never understood family. I never understood loyalty. I had only ever known how to fail and how to fall, how to disregard an escape plan.

"I know who you are," His father spit out, crashing into the room like thunder, "Le Roux." He crossed the room in three steps and grabbed me by the collar, "I could arrest you right now -"

But I had threatened his career and fucked his son and there was nothing he could do about it except kill me.

"Coward," I had hissed at one of them, both of them, I don't remember, "dirty fuckin' loyalist."

And I saw stars.

I had to go home with a black eye and two broken ribs that night, drag myself through the window and curl up on the floor. I lied there and waited to die, had failed in every sense of the word. And I felt like a kid again, all blurry-eyed and shaking with foreign feelings.

But he showed up again sooner than I thought, looking pitiful and hopeless and the something inside me twisted.

"I can't live without you." He choked out while I watched from across the sidewalk. There was a milestone, maybe he knew that that wouldn't work anymore, and he changed tactics, eyes misted over, "They'll kill me," he said and his voice broke.

Giving out secrets was a crime in that family, the rust that crept over their gilded thrones. He had fraternized with the enemy and hadn't realized it until too late. It was something we had in common.

"I know." I told him.

And I didn't look back.

Last Edit: Oct 3, 2019 22:21:47 GMT -5 by calla

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calla RP Tutor 2,122 POSTS Pronouns: she/they last seen Apr 23, 2024 23:49:00 GMT -5 just a litle creacher	emmett le roux. d1 fin Oct 3, 2019 22:20:38 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by calla on Oct 3, 2019 22:20:38 GMT -5 uhhhhH idk!! ripred_bot
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Python Head Librarian 4,515 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 27, 2024 16:53:09 GMT -5	emmett le roux. d1 fin Oct 3, 2019 22:33:53 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Python on Oct 3, 2019 22:33:53 GMT -5 you're beautiful ✔