Promise Me // [OPEN]

Have you ever thought about
what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones
and other various parts.
So it's fairly simple to cut

I feel kind of bad, fingering the trinket in my hand, examining the scratches and dents put into it's body, that I just ditched the toy. Sure, I'm not a kid anymore, Thank Ripred, but I can't imagine someone doing that to me. Just tossing me on the ground, allow me to get run over and trampled on. The plastic elephant feels heavy in my hands, like the plastic is intertwined with all of the childhood problems I went through. Like a scraped knee or a stomach-ache. As I got older, this toy, and a bundle of others, were gone, and so were habits I wish I could pick back up. Like being able to color outside of the lines, or simply not having to go to school because I was seven and why did it matter anyways? When my fingers first found this trinket, nostalgia hit me like a train on a track.

The last time I saw it, I was probably eight or nine, but I feel like memories after that are still attached to it. Everything that was perfectly innocent was. Like Phoebe. To be honest, I could pick up any item of any sentimental value and Phoebe will always be there. I decide, for once, it may be good to get rid of a piece of her. To dismiss her - if only for an instant - out of my mind. So, I get up, floorboards creaking over the sudden weight, and I walk out of my room, to the front door, down the concrete stairs, and set my sights on the pawn shop the Libertines own.

Right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle
That makes us confess.
And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise

I have a jealous for them I doubt they'll ever understand, And I probably won't either. It's that even though they've sent two of the daughters into the Games twice in a row now, they'll still be able to see their bodies again. I never saw Phoebe after she died. Only the casket. I don't know if I would have wanted to see her body. Anyways, there were probably marks all over her body like a tiger's or zebra's. It's still sad knowing the last time I saw her face wasn't the day I expected to. Wasn't the week or month or year. At least the Libertines will be able to say good-bye to their sisters or daughters. If I could have said good-bye to Phoebe, maybe everything would be okay.

I doubt it.

As I push open the door, a sharp breath entering my mouth, I look at all of these miscellaneous items and wonder how much my elephant will be worth. Exhaling, I figure it doesn't matter. It's more of the memories I want to sell, not the toy. His name was Edwardo, still is, I suppose. Around his neck is a red cloth of some sort, almost like a noose. It's pale-blue skin, like the morning sky right after the sun is finished rising, and big white tusks are attacked with scrapes which reveal the black of the plastic. Slapping the souvenir down on the desk, I eye the blonde kid behind the counter. "Hi... Um... Uh. I'm Lyle Brigham and I... I wanna sell this elephant-thing?"

And we are just,
Breakable,
Breakable,
Breakable
Girls and boys

(OOC: Sorry this isn't exactly the best. I'm a bit tired, so hopefully my posts will increase in quality/quantity.)

( H A R P E R K E L L A N L I B E R T I N E )

You took my heart and you held it in your mouth
And with the word all my love came rushing out
And every whisper, it's the worst
Emptied out by a single word
There is a hollow in me now

It takes a moment to convince myself to look up and accept whatever the day has decided to bring me. The palpitations of fear won't leave my chest, because the deeply seeded sorrow won't leave me either, although my gut tells me the footfalls of the person approaching me aren't heavy enough to be bearing the tragedy of my sister. Paranoia is the only thing that's after me in this moment. When they brought Pen 'back to us' I could hear it in every step the unlucky delivery men took. It wasn't just a matter of the physical weight of her coffin — Penelope was so small that, if anything, her literal weight was always the easiest to bear — but rather the dread that hunched their backs and caused them to flinch in their approach. We could hear our own misery coming that day, but I don't hear it now.

"Hi..." An uncertain voice breaks the silence and I finally manage to pull my eyes up from their stubborn focus on the floorboards. "Um... Uh." For a moment, my gaze flickers around the shop, as stammering and unsettled as his voice, awkwardness pinging back and forth between us with an ironic kind of effortlessness. "I'm Lyle Brigham and I..." We seem to settle into ourselves in time with each other, Lyle Brigham struggling to find his words as I attempt to remember how to steady my own sight, holding eye contact long enough to appraise the situation. There is nothing in this moment to justify the dramatic panic of my thoughts and slowly my heart settles into a steady, boring thud thud thud that promises this is just another day for me. "I wanna sell this elephant-thing?"

The smallest of sighs slips from my mouth as I reach forward to absently nudge at the toy being presented, spindly fingers tipping the elephant back and forth with lazy scrutiny. It has been poorly cared for. Here and there the colored plastic has been scraped away until harsh black scars have been revealed, the damage of time. I don't have to look closely to know that it's worthless. Pausing in my assessment, I take a long look at Lyle, my face expressionless as I search for his personal connection to the toy between us. It's beyond worthless... but once upon a time someone loved this elephant. That love is etched into the damage marring its tusks and today, well, I guess that might be worth something to me.

Softly clicking my tongue against my teeth as another customer enters the store, the sound echoes through the air with a whisper of condescension, as if to ask are you serious, Lyle? What do you expect me to give you in exchange for this? Instead, it is only a remnant of sarcasm that escapes as I reply: "Elephant... -thing?" Raising an eyebrow as I quirk my mouth into half an excuse for a grin, I pick up the toy and childishly help it to trot across the counter top, as if testing it out. The stumps of its feet drum lightly across the wood as it runs in sync with the motion of my hand and I try not to think about how it is the two of us are able to identify the creature as an elephant. (A few years ago there was an elephant graveyard in the Games and back then I thought more about the elephants than —)

"What's it worth to you?" It's a deeply honest question disguised with an offhand tone of voice. For all he knows I'm simply asking for a price and, to be fair, I am. However, there's perpetual judgment slipping into my words as well. Were you the one who loved this elephant? How much is that love worth to you? A couple coins or maybe even a piece of paper? Is your love so cheap? "I don't think I can give you much." These words are perhaps too honest as well. You can't expect me to compensate you for the loss of memories that don't mean anything to me. Shifting in my seat, the truth of the thought makes me uncomfortable and I want to prove it wrong, but I know I can't. We all have something we have to accept and things we have to come to terms with — our misery simply isn't worth much to anyone else.

So I put my faith in something unknown
But I'm trying to hope with nothing to hold
I'm living on such sweet nothing
And it's hard to learn and it's hard to love
When you're giving me such sweet nothing