We've Been Broken (Chaos)

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sadniss everdeen
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nyte: date fossils? is that some kind of fetish?

We've Been Broken (Chaos) Jan 2, 2012 17:14:54 GMT -5

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Post by sadniss everdeen on Jan 2, 2012 17:14:54 GMT -5

Flight DeRicasho

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| How can the darkness feel so wrong? |

and I'm alone now
me and all I stood for, we're wandering now[/size][/font]

There is an innate sense of knowing before she even opens her eyes that she's back in District Nine. Everything about the ground under her feet and the air swirling around her fingertips. The world is warped and stilted, rotting breeze touching her face and brushing hotly like a lover's exhale. She's moving without direction; rain hits her skin, the shadows bend to her like a pack of rabid dogs, skeletal trees whisper as she passes.

She's walking down a dirt road and it's pelting now. She's alone save for the weeping clouds and a hidden sun. There is a voice inside her head, soft and needy from where she can hear it from the edges of her range out of her right ear.

(It's a dream.

She hasn't left yet. It's a dream but she's still here.

She hasn't been left yet.)

There is a house on the distant horizon, promising as a fairytale. The faster she runs to it the farther it retreats, darkness licking at her heels. They scream in voices she knows, voices she's missed, voices only she can hear because she stole their final breath.

It's dark and raining and so, so cold. (She's dreaming.)

When she slams the door open and yells her name out into the abandoned house there is silence. Everything has gone dead and the quiet is deafening, like it would push its way through her head and rip her open for the world to see. Flight treks gingerly into the house and runs over pale carpet, glances at the barren walls and the angry shadows in the corners. A thousand eyes she can't see peer at her through darkened doorways.

(It takes a long time to realize she can see through both eyes.)

The words leave her lips in a whisper this time, scared at the response.

Kaya?

Her feet carry her through the home (their home) and her fingers touch the cherrywood doors almost in longing. There are no pictures here, nothing left of the house they built together. Every move she makes is followed by the tendrils; writhing and moaning, feeding off of her growing apprehension. A quiet sob, she whips her head to the noise.

Another door at the end of the hallway. She passes a window, doesn't even realize that it's still raining.

(It was raining the day Flight left. Not like she noticed the cold; she had other things on her mind, like her. It was raining the day she ran, too.)

It freezes her fingers when she touches the knob (a lover's caress) but she swings it open anyway and steps into the room. All the air is forcibly sucked from her lungs and she recoils, but the fetid shadows at her back stop her from running out of the room. They snicker as she tentatively edges forward, toes careful not to step on the corpses littering the floor. Each follows her with dead eyes as she picks her way across the space, empty and sad. She recognizes every single one at the end of her blades.

A flicker, a muffled sob and one form runs across the room. Flight reaches out for her but misses, draws her hand back before anything else can touch. The stranger with red hair (no, no) curls into a corner with her back facing the bodies, face buried in her hands. She recognizes the curve of her spine and swallows the fear growing, how it's suddenly gotten darker and the corpses with the following eyes have begun to murmur.

Kaya. Now there is nothing, no crying and no shaking. Below them, the squelch of rotten flesh sends a wave of late nausea over the taller figure as the bodies roll restlessly in their graves.

(She's dreaming, but she forgets.)

Her fingers graze the stranger's skin and she screams, voice fragmenting and shattering the image. Shadows laugh and Flight stumbles back into the waiting arms of the squirming masses, catching only a glimpse of how blood streams from every orifice and there are no eyes, dead sockets and hollow mouth and all of a sudden her voice is joining the others, hoarse and terrified as the fingers grab her and drag down down down into the smothering depths.

(Everything is moving and she's dreaming but she can't stop, voice cracking as she thrashes against the hands and it needs to stop, just stop stop STOP.)

When her eyes snap open again the ground is hard and unforgiving but the air is crisp, muscles aching and hand curled into a tight fist, other loosely grasping Luna's shirt for fear that she'll float away. Tears have managed to make streams down her cheeks and her breath comes in tight, rasping sobs, the image of Kaya's lifeless face burned forever into the depths of her skull. Flight can still feel their hands on her, reminders of every single person she's ever ruined, torn down for her own gain and pleasure. She tucks her head into her shoulder and shields herself from the world, left hand still holding the girl opposite her as an anchor to a rapidly spinning world. "I-I've done... s-so many things. They won't leave me alone."

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(So uh, different style. Dunno if this is what you were aiming for but here you go.)[/blockquote]

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

We've Been Broken (Chaos) Feb 27, 2013 21:04:22 GMT -5

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Post by Stare on Feb 27, 2013 21:04:22 GMT -5

You're gone, gone, gone away, I watched you disappear
All that's left is the ghost of you.
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart, there's nothing we can do
Just let me go we'll meet again soon

I am spinning, swirling, twisting away in a sea of nothing where not even gravity can pin me down. Somewhere beneath me there are glimpses of my past, fragmented memories that show themselves in fleeting glimpses of hot summer nights and my mother's face. The present time is hidden somewhere in the back of my mind, an image of Flight's bright eyes flashing in front of me, but it is gone before I can even begin to reach out to touch it. Just one more fading moment that will be gone when I open my eyes. She won't be, though. She promised she won't let me go again, and here in my subconscious I am willing to admit it is a comforting thought. She's said she'll stay with me, no matter how broken I am. Warmth spreads through my chest with great intensity and before I am even aware of it I'm falling, crashing through the remnants of my broken history.

One particular memory is selected and I'm thrown into it suddenly, blinking in confusion as I recognize the night sky, the lake, the party. I'm on a slick boulder of some sort, toes icy against the stone despite the summer heat. In the distance teenagers are laughing, dancing, and getting drunk, just as Flight promised they would. A hint of a smile tilts my lips upward - I remember this night. Flight had suggested that I was no fun and I had agreed to come along in order to she her she was wrong. The night had proven to hold more trouble than I originally thought it would, but I look back upon it fondly - it was fast and fun and dangerous, everything that we used to be. I glance at my reflection and am startled to see a younger version of myself, face free of all my current anxieties. I'm actually smiling. I dip a hand into the cool water, closing my eyes and focusing on the way it almost feels (because truly, my senses are never fully functioning in my dreams - everything is always dull and distant and quiet), before silently shoving myself off the rock and into the lake, pushing myself under until I am completely submerged, enjoying the feel of the water all around me.

A hand grabs me, latching onto my shirt and pulling me up, up, up out of the water, off the boulder, through nothingness and back into reality.

And she's crying.

Alarm shoots me so abruptly that I barely register the fact that my sight has returned to me, all my focus immediately channeling itself toward her broken grace. Even though she is absolutely shattered, time having worn her away into something more tired (but never fragile), warmth hums quietly through my veins at the sight of her face. It's the first time I've seen her in months, the first time I've once again been able to recognize her smooth features, the curve of her jaw and the proud tilt to her chin. Everything has changed but she has remained the same, and in my mind a single word echos softly. Home. One hand rises unconsciously to wrap around her wrist, holding onto her tightly even as she buries her face into my shoulder. I can feel her trembling and tilt my head toward hers, pressing against her and trying to hold her steady. "I-I've done... s-so many things. They won't leave me alone."

"I know," I whisper, and for once in my life, I do. I finally know what it's like to live a life filled with regret. Sometimes, on worse nights, I can still see the little children huddled against their mother, eyes wide. The images, cloaked in darkness, causes something horribly close to self-hatred to flow through me, a poison that pumps right from my heart into the rest of my body until I feel like I'm slowly but surely rotting away. But I'm beginning to learn that once you've hit the bottom, the only way to go is up. And if she's willing to rescue me from the depths of my despair, the least I can do is try to return the favor. I'm startled to find tears streaming down my own face, hot and messy, and yet when I speak my voice is surprisingly steady. "But I can't tell you that they're going to go away, because they aren't. But for what it's worth, I'm not leaving, either." I pull closer to her, feeling slightly thrown. It's always been the other way around for us - I was the one to break down, and she would comfort me. "And I know that you're better than they are, Flight. You are."

She won't believe me. I'm almost certain of it. She's always thought herself a monster, no matter how often I tell her otherwise. She holds herself in darkness and only shows herself to an underworld which is just as horrible as she deems herself to be. But she's better than the dirt she tries to keep as company, above them all in every single aspect - she is the sun, strong and passionate and fierce.

And I'll keep reminding her of that fact until she listens, even if it takes a lifetime.

Don't listen to a word I say, hey
The screams all sound the same, hey
Though the truth may vary this
Ship will carry out bodies safe to shore

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