infect me [no! brutalize me] ((lalalalia))
Jul 24, 2011 21:04:47 GMT -5
Post by cinder on Jul 24, 2011 21:04:47 GMT -5
.............
Work your fingers to the bone
Building castles out of snow
I'm a nomad walking on
Humming to the same old song
Work your fingers to the bone
Building castles out of snow
I'm a nomad walking on
Humming to the same old song
For those of you just joining us, welcome to Marina Papadopoulos' life! She's a religious cult break-out queen who currently stands somewhere between the front door and the kitchen table. Her thoughts are long and fast-paced, at least compared to her achingly feeble heart beat, and the slow, steady thrum of a water leak from their "kitchen." But in her life, sinks aren't shiny and new, they're buckets to be filled, sitting in a rotten frame built into the house. Everything is old, nothing ever changes - at least for the better.
She is the girl of the small stature with electric impulses running through her hay-wired eyes, glinting and shining as bright as the pale grease spots where reflections catch her unwashed hair, silently smiling at everyone and everything without ever wanting to. But part of her knows that this, she does not make sense because part of her is modern: wild and wired. Her eyes tell the story of a girl with a background and a wish to make herself something brand new, an advancement of society, herself, and her family.
But unwashed hair cries “slave” to all who care and look long and hard enough at her, and technology doesn’t scream the name Marina Papadopoulos, District Ten. It tells her she should belong to the Capitol, or at least District Three. She may be wired, but she’s hardly in touch with this side of herself, only the small, faint cries echoing louder and louder as the days of reclusive lifestyle being to settle into her marrow “you’re right, marina sage papadopoulos, you are uniquely your own, and/but you do not belong.”
“It” should be a sacred shrine to her inner-self, the something-spark no other living creature possesses, but instead “it” has been twisted into a scar of remembrance, not of the life she lived, but of the potential torn away from her. If her savior, a young boy with a large heart, had meant to “save” her from Derpir, than he had succeeded; for every day she strayed further away from her childhood teachings and blessings and deeper into the world of the living, the land of the natural light which sharply contrasted her unnaturally shining inner-fluorescent light, but nonetheless grew an ache in her chest to be understood by the natural light. She wanted to step out of the darkness if ignorance, learn to master the language light creatures spoke, and harness the good fire of knowledge and human company.
But, (and there is always a but involved in matters of saving someone else from their miseries, the torture they endure) if her savior had only understood her and perceived her upbringing as more than an outlandish cult, he may have rethought out his childhood mission to “break her out” of the endless cycle of birth, devotion, death that Derpir donned upon all worthy followers and their children. If he had understood the torments of slavery to Derpir’s callings and most of all his holy priest, the consequences of his actions, then he might have, or rather should have been forced to restrain himself from meddling with her life. Look where it had gotten her. She was a free woman, but not just free of Derpir’s abuses, but his blessings! It should have been her choice to make. The price of freedom was a high one…
Hesitantly Marina would also assume that if not for her wayward lover, she would still be an alter girl under stiff wool materials that was a double blessing, half curse: it protected her from prying master’s eyes, but scratching her appealing skins so badly she was at the brink of becoming a shell of flesh so unappealing, men would not even desire to look upon her in the first place.
She thinks of her life in general as a double curse and a half blessing; events happen for a reason, might it be Derpir’s will or the universe’s workings, and Marina suffers for (or from) her fate, but in the end things work themselves out, and she completes one small step into her journey taking Marina closer to the “light” (humanity and all its wonders). Marvelously she survives, day after day, agonizing encounter after the next, and excruciating fear and anxiety to remind herself of the old wounds of bondage, which had not seemed so bad too long ago.
She decides right then and there, with one foot out of her front door and one inside, that she is a creature of two worlds, or rather voices the opinion she has always held of herself. One foot belongs to nature and her workings (ie, “the outside” with fresh air and slow-passing evolution) and also to the technicolored, soft static glow of differentiation from the norm (ie “the inside” and her secret, unnatural advancements pressed on by an inhuman part of her that would never ben successfully integrated into the genetic make-up of her offspring, because it did not occur in nature, although the technicolored light wished to serve society as an able and accepted member). Her life is split between these two categories. Mars pauses, feeling especially alien in her own home, her own skin, and in the company of her soft-spoken room-mate, sipping coffee at the table.
There’s the strangest desire to pull over Paula and explain to her the changes in dear, gentle Mars. Paula would stare at her and think “now here is the girl who was battered and bruised by her religious cult, I can only feel pity for her.” Marina would enjoy the acceptance by her room-mate, and grow to love her like a sister. They would teach and learn from each other, but mostly Paula would teach Marina about the way of things, and Marina would learn from these lessons how to attract a little bit of the healthy, “right” crowd’s attention.
But her heart is equally torn between speaking to Paula and leaving her home for another early morning excursion as it is torn between what she should and could be, and what she is. Telling Paula of her troubles means a life of acceptance. She would be well-liked as a survivor, an unrealized beauty, and a hard worker. Her husband would provide Marina with just enough support so that they could live happily with children in a small house like the one she shares with Paula and two other silent, ashen-faced girls who keep to themselves. She’d be happy.. happy enough.
Walking away would take more strength, as evading one’s set path in life in favor of an excursion into the wilds is always a difficult choice. But Marina hopes that she could find someone to love her at the other side. She may not, she may, but it’s a risk her heart has to willingly pick. To be accepted by Paula’s inner circle means servitude to appearances, slaving away in an entirely new way: making herself appear to be something she is not, and hiding her over-whelming and evolving sorrow for what-ifs. But she may be loved and understood if she becomes bold and strong enough to make such a choice all on her own.
In a state of hypnosis, Mars realizes she had been thrumming her finger tips across the doorframe because Paula looks up from her coffee with haze in her tired eyes and is too weak to tell Marina to stop, but strong enough to impress upon the girl that she is unwanted in their kitchen. One of the other girls living in the home, Skyler, slams her door and shoves Marina aside with her shoulder so she can fit through the door-frame. Marina is tossed outside by the impact, but speechless and observant, she watches the fourth girl, Skarlett, walk out quickly, this time avoiding bumping into Marina.
This ruins the spell! Marina is unable to remember exactly what she had been thinking on, only that Paula is irritated now and that Marina is the only target left to take it out on. She isn’t powerful enough to stand up to the “land lady” this morning, so Marina flees the scene and barely remembers to shut the door after walking three large steps away from the cottage.
A second thought runs through Marina’s head, one that bugs her and keeps her from remembering her deep inner musings,
could the girls Skyler and Skarlett be sisters? They were wearing mirror-images of anger when each girl stormed out of the cottage…
Mars sighs, she can’t ever tell things about normal people, and she never trusts her instincts because of this. There’s a thought in the back of her head that maybe it’s because she’s always had to focus all her energies on preserving the self, not comforting the others, but she is walking too quickly to think of such matters with any depth. So instead, she increases her pace and forgets that she’s walking down an unfamiliar path.
[/blockquote]ooc- you may be wondering "oh cinder, why on earth an open thread the day before you leave for a week?" Good question! Alas, there's no good answer except Marina started whining and I wanted to present her now, before I leave and she changes from my original intentions to something else. ALSO, any wannabe-responders, please don't be intimidated by the length - its my first post with Marina. If you're down for a long-arse thread, fine by me. But if you want 500-800 word replies, I post as quickly either way