Allouette Büchner//d7//fin

Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie Veteran Member 1,637 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 27, 2024 8:40:35 GMT -5	Allouette Büchner//d7//fin Jun 30, 2023 4:43:35 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie on Jun 30, 2023 4:43:35 GMT -5 ALLOUETTE ⦿ BÜCHNER (al-oo-et-uh bee-k-ner) Nightwing club 17 "“There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion” -Edgar Allan Poe
	Last Edit: Sept 3, 2023 10:03:10 GMT -5 by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie Characters//UPAT Tracker

Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie
Veteran Member

1,637 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Apr 27, 2024 8:40:35 GMT -5

Allouette Büchner//d7//fin Aug 29, 2023 10:40:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie on Aug 29, 2023 10:40:42 GMT -5

Lou’s fingers tremble as she unfolds the crumbled-up piece of paper that sat heavy in her shallow pockets. The light illuminating the makeshift wooden stage shines bright. Forcing her to scrunch up her face as she struggles to feel comfortable on the elevated platform. The faces in the audience were scarce but enough to send chills down her spine. She breaths lightly into the microphone before her lips begin to move and for the first time she reads the words she has scribbled down in a moment of desperation.

”Penny for your musings and maybe a cup of coffee or two.
Tell them a lie because who wants to know the truth
Deserted promises mingling with vacant words
Spill your guts - and remain forever unheard

Sleepless nights drowned in sorrow’s sea
In terror of what awaits in the morning dew
Beneath your hollowed gazes, a spell unfurls
There’s a world apart, where I choose to dwell

In pages worn, a refuge I’ve claimed
Where depths of knowledge remain untamed
A library of thoughts, a holy ground forlorn
Where intellect’s flame is gently born

Here I’ll lay, here I’ll stay
In faded ink and parchment’s cold embrace
A cosmic dance of words and dreams
For all of it is mine, so it all seems

Let them taunt and let them sneer
As tempestuous ideas brew near
A symphony of syllables, a tapestry rare
In this world of words – I take my rightful share”

A feeling of relief washes over her as she takes a step back from the spotlight into the darkness. The worry and the dread that she would be screaming into in empty void were annulled as she heard the snaps of praise come from the audience. An exhale that released more than just air, but the sensation of being invisible for so long. Her entire life had felt as if she was nothing more than whisper waiting to be heard.

⸸⸸⸸

The nightwing club was not exactly the book club that Lou had hoped for. Actually, it was not a book club at all. One could only imagine the confusion on the girls face when she thought she would be discussing the works surrounding the creatures of the night. The gore of horror and fantasy had always called to Lou. She engulfed herself into fictional worlds where one could live centuries off of the blood of others. Men and women alike draped themselves over dramatic pianos and organs in a room surrounded by books and knowledge accumulated throughout their immortal life.

That is the reality that Lous sought out. A life of endless knowledge and youth. A life that only existed in her books.

Not many people would have considered her an approachable person. Often regarded amongst her peers to have her nose up in the air even if her face was buried in her books. Her gaze often frowning upon the girls who spent their time with what Lou considered of the frivolous nature. Yet her act was all a façade in there was nothing more she longed for than a place to belong. Amongst the misfits obsessed with the supernatural is where she finally had found a place to call home. The false advertising should have sent her running, raised a red flag, but the strangeness of it all allured her to stay.

Her parents were once concerned that the only friends their eldest daughter would ever have existed on pages and in her mind. As a kid, they often found her pacing the hallways of their home whispering quietly amongst herself. Hours on end, Lou would make up her own stories based of those she had just read. Plummet herself headfirst into the world of make-believe, she may have been alone…but to be lonely was an entirely different thing.

It was not until the girl had reached the age of ten, did she come to understand herself that the stories she would make up and on occasion write down, were nothing outside of those pages and her mind. The friends she believed to have made were not real, none of it was. The children at school teased her, they laughed as she explained the epic world she had created for herself. Lonely Lou, Bat Shit Büchner, Lunatic Lou….those were the names they had called her.

That night, Lou had cried herself to sleep and nothing, not even the tales of her favorite heroes could make her feel the way she had felt before reality had punched her in the gut.

Since then, she built up her walls and guarded her heart with care. Never letting anyone close except the stories she held dear. She made sure that there was not a question she could not answer in class. Lou studied relentlessly to ensure that she was better than everyone else. While other kids played, Lou would memorize encyclopedias. She became a vast presence of knowledge. Tidbits and facts one would consider irrelevant, made all the difference to her. Her logic was they could not hurt her if she knew for certain that they were inferior. She had convinced herself that her array of knowledge and love for literature was enough to fill the lonely hole in her hear that grew each day.

That was until she had found the flyer calling for artists to share their work. A space for those who felt as if they had never belonged in the first place. She had spent days debating if she should make an appearance. Her desk was filled with notebooks and loose pages of stories and poems she swore would never see the light. All her feeling she suppressed were released onto parchment. Years of anxiety, isolation, and forsakenness documented in perfect chaos. There was a little voice in a forgotten corner of her mind that whispered relentlessly of the possibility someone would find comfort in her work the way she wound comfort in the stories. A hope for solitude amongst peers.

That moment when she stepped up to that microphone, that was the moment Lou was no longer alone.

Last Edit: Sept 3, 2023 10:02:33 GMT -5 by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie

Characters//UPAT Tracker

Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie Veteran Member 1,637 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 27, 2024 8:40:35 GMT -5	Allouette Büchner//d7//fin Sept 3, 2023 10:05:53 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie on Sept 3, 2023 10:05:53 GMT -5 MATTIO she's just not like other girls (also no one ever let me attempt to write poetry again)
	Last Edit: Sept 3, 2023 10:06:34 GMT -5 by Hafen d4 ⚓︎ minie Characters//UPAT Tracker

MATTIO Librarian 2,307 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 27, 2024 1:00:48 GMT -5	Allouette Büchner//d7//fin Sept 3, 2023 13:44:33 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by MATTIO on Sept 3, 2023 13:44:33 GMT -5 lou: omg book club! nightwings: ma'am this is a vampire-aspiring cult.