snakes on a ripley // [Noah + TSH Day 1]
Feb 3, 2013 14:57:26 GMT -5
Post by wimdy on Feb 3, 2013 14:57:26 GMT -5
When I go down, I go down hard. My mud-slicked descent is quickly over, my limbs curled in to try and protect me from my impact. I land in a sea of hissing squiggles, my body tense in fear as they immediately draw back and strike forward again. My head is craddled carefully in my arms to shield my face from the vicious attacks, small fangs attempting to get a grip on my skin, pierce through and suck my life force from my veins. They snap prematurely and snag on my clothes, cutting through the simple cotton and letting go to escape the giant who has crushed their world. The snakes beneath me slither frantically, trying to pull themselves out from under my pinning weight. It is of no use, though, for I am solid and unmoving above them.
Eventually, the hissing dulls in my immediate vicinity and the snakes begin to worm their way around me. They intersect and tangle, slipping over the planes of my prone form as I remove my face from hiding and watch what is to become of me. Give me vicious dogs any day over snakes. I can deal with brute force and vicious tendencies, but the misleading grace of a snake defies my logic. My body sinks into the wiggling bunch a little more fully, my face laying upon one of my arms and half upon the mess below me. The snakes slither quickly around me, weaving over me in all my stillness until I am practically buried in them. My heart is racing in my chest as one slinks over my neck and stays there, hissing quietly at the thrumming of my hummingbird heartbeat. I can feel some of them slipping against my bare skin, tracing through my hair, wrapping around my lifeless fingers. I am their perch. I suppose most of their victims would fight and thrash until they are free, but I'd rather not get bitten, to be honest. I hate snakes. I always have. I simply don't understand how something so graceful, lovely even, could be so lethal.Is Penelope a snake then?
Over the seething hisses of the snake blanket that covers me I can hear the telltale signs of approach. I can just barely pick up a word shouted about me, something about geraniums? Or germanio? Wait, no, the voice said 'Geronimo!' My breath catches in my throat, the snake on my neck sliding free and moving to rest over one of my arms. I am practically face to face with a pile of snakes, but there is greater danger coming. There are tributes coming, people who could kill me easily if they wished. I wonder belatedly where my spitfire groundings have gone, my body lying limp instead of readying for a fight. I let myself go completely slack, my eyes slipping shut and my mouth parting just the slightest bit. It's not too difficult being dead.