if i {stumble} ♤ {south}
Mar 4, 2013 22:36:22 GMT -5
Post by ✨ zozo. on Mar 4, 2013 22:36:22 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 03040b; border: 0; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px;]pyrite shore |
To most people, going after a wanted criminal slash serial killer slash apparent worst enemy in the dead of the night would be a terrible idea.
But I'm not most people.
I suppose it is a bad idea. But who am I to judge what is a bad idea and what isn't? Who is anyone to judge what the hell I do with my time but myself. I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't give a flying fuck. It's not as if they bother to keep up with what's going on in my life, let alone any of my other siblings - except, of course, darling Emmy dearest in the Games. It's not as if they care I'm wandering the streets alone at midnight with the darkest of intentions. It's not as if they care that I'm about to steal back some of the most vital information they oh-so carelessly managed to misplace whilst obsessing over my older sister - and from one of the most dangerous people who, in their blinded eyes, isn't even breathing. No, I'm just good little Pyrite who does their dirty work for them. I make myself sick.
Named appropriately, I am fools gold. Who I am fooling, however, is an unsolved question I feel I'll never find the answer to. But as I traipse through backstreet alleys that only dirt like the Dempseys would skulk in, I find clarity in my judgement that tonight, I shall have the upper hand when it comes to the fool. Fueled by anger and the constant, never-ending longing to be right, to be praised for my actions instead of dismissed, I continue along with my journey, feet pounding against the once-pristine pavements of One. Tonight, he will pay for stealing what is rightfully mine. Because only fools steal from Pyrite Shore. Not even my deadbeat siblings know I'm here, clasping the element of surprise in my palm alongside a dagger of silver and fury that pumps through my body. Tonight, I'll prove that I'm worthy of recognition when I bring home a corpse of a ghost and our possessions in tow.
The story of how I came to slink along the shadows in black is a long and somewhat dull one, so I'll spare the details. All anybody needs to know is that I received a message from the Morenos, and here I am, acting on it. No sidekick like Beryl, no arrogance like Phena, no act of rebellious intention underlining my motifs like Lapis - just a thirst for vengeance and the perfect target to unleash upon. After all: nobody reports the murder of a dead man. In the shadows I feel a thousand sets of eyes blink back at me; watching, noting, endlessly judging. Nothing I say or do can shake them, for they're always there. The nagging never stops. Trying to lash out at them to make them leave me is like trying to lash out at smoke - eventually, it will spill over your vision and fuse together again. Never quite there, but never quite gone, either.
Just like this god-damned ghost I'm hunting.
Ghost hunting is not an easy task. That being said, it's far simpler to achieve when you know how to act like one yourself. Rising in the dead of the night from my bed, I sauntered through the house and slipped out of the premises as easily as my ghost had done so himself. Nobody notices you when you're invisible. Clad in black, dark curls of hair falling across the angles of my pale face and casting a shadow against my eyes, I keep my head down and my lips sealed shut. Although every inch of me wants to run into battle screaming my head off, stealth is key to my success. (Part of me is convinced that the only reason I am getting caught up in the nets of a war between people I despise is for the safety ofPhena my sister my siblings - but imagining the look on my parent's faces when I plant their stolen house blueprints in front of their noses with Dempsey's tongue about to be cut out forces me to believe the latter instead.)
Creeping further and further into the darkness, I eventually reach my destination. With a grit of my teeth and a grip on my knife, I begin my descend up towards the night sky on a ladder of windowsills and carefully sought-out footholds. A scrap of paper with a place and time signed with the letter M were all the clues I was given to Kaelen Dempsey's suspected whereabouts this evening. (Why they don't just send a Peacekeeper after him beats me.) But if I'm going to trust anyone in this messed-up game of politics, it's the Morenos. We may hate them, but I'd rather eat shit than side with a Dempsey. Positioned securely on the rooftops, I scan the streets and wait - armed, dangerous, and as furious as hell.
Unfortunately for Dempsey, my patience is as short as my temper. Had he waited just a little longer, I may have given up altogether and returned home secretly defeated. Had he not given away his location by his boot-covered footsteps as he sauntered along the pavement, almost asking to be caught, and gave away the only clue that he wasn't a figment of everybody's imagination or a dead-man walking, I may have fallen asleep on the grimy, run-down building and never heard him pass. Five. Lustful anger drives my body into an adrenaline rush, the need to strike pulsing from my fingertips. Four. I feel my lip curl upwards before I even realise I'm snarling. Three. It's hard to comprehend things when a boy you thought was dead walks into your view, but the thought of standing over his dead body like he stood over so many others somehow aids my mindset to do just what I was set out to do. Two. Up the pedestal towards our parent's darkened hearts I will sail. (It's the only thing that's pushing my body closer and closer towards the edge of all I've ever known - and all District One has, either.) One.
I take the leap.
Landing hastily against his shoulders, I clamp a hand over his mouth and press the cool tip of my blade against his throat, shoving him up against the wall before he has time to comprehend who I am and what is going on. His pulse against my fingers proves what we all thought was just a myth to draw us into a war that was not ours is in fact the utmost truth. Kaelen Dempsey is alive. Never have I been so furious at someone who does not exist, never have I been driven to such rage. Who my rage is aimed at is apparent, but the source of it is still unclear.
So, half in panicked fear and half in irrational anger, I take out a crowbar from my bag and sock him in the head.
It takes a while for Dempsey to wake up again. In the time I've bought, however, I've managed to drag him into a back-alley (out of sight, out of mind) and tie him up relatively well. The second he pulls himself out of his unconscious haze, I begin to interrogate.
"Where are they?!" I yell, encompassing him in a prison of arms where he awakes to a lethal punishment in the form of my knife slitting his throat if he dares try to escape me. "I know you have them, Dempsey, and you've got approximately four seconds to tell me before I slit your goddamned throat - although I hear suicide is your family's forte, so maybe I won't even have to try."
But I'm not most people.
I suppose it is a bad idea. But who am I to judge what is a bad idea and what isn't? Who is anyone to judge what the hell I do with my time but myself. I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't give a flying fuck. It's not as if they bother to keep up with what's going on in my life, let alone any of my other siblings - except, of course, darling Emmy dearest in the Games. It's not as if they care I'm wandering the streets alone at midnight with the darkest of intentions. It's not as if they care that I'm about to steal back some of the most vital information they oh-so carelessly managed to misplace whilst obsessing over my older sister - and from one of the most dangerous people who, in their blinded eyes, isn't even breathing. No, I'm just good little Pyrite who does their dirty work for them. I make myself sick.
Named appropriately, I am fools gold. Who I am fooling, however, is an unsolved question I feel I'll never find the answer to. But as I traipse through backstreet alleys that only dirt like the Dempseys would skulk in, I find clarity in my judgement that tonight, I shall have the upper hand when it comes to the fool. Fueled by anger and the constant, never-ending longing to be right, to be praised for my actions instead of dismissed, I continue along with my journey, feet pounding against the once-pristine pavements of One. Tonight, he will pay for stealing what is rightfully mine. Because only fools steal from Pyrite Shore. Not even my deadbeat siblings know I'm here, clasping the element of surprise in my palm alongside a dagger of silver and fury that pumps through my body. Tonight, I'll prove that I'm worthy of recognition when I bring home a corpse of a ghost and our possessions in tow.
The story of how I came to slink along the shadows in black is a long and somewhat dull one, so I'll spare the details. All anybody needs to know is that I received a message from the Morenos, and here I am, acting on it. No sidekick like Beryl, no arrogance like Phena, no act of rebellious intention underlining my motifs like Lapis - just a thirst for vengeance and the perfect target to unleash upon. After all: nobody reports the murder of a dead man. In the shadows I feel a thousand sets of eyes blink back at me; watching, noting, endlessly judging. Nothing I say or do can shake them, for they're always there. The nagging never stops. Trying to lash out at them to make them leave me is like trying to lash out at smoke - eventually, it will spill over your vision and fuse together again. Never quite there, but never quite gone, either.
Just like this god-damned ghost I'm hunting.
Ghost hunting is not an easy task. That being said, it's far simpler to achieve when you know how to act like one yourself. Rising in the dead of the night from my bed, I sauntered through the house and slipped out of the premises as easily as my ghost had done so himself. Nobody notices you when you're invisible. Clad in black, dark curls of hair falling across the angles of my pale face and casting a shadow against my eyes, I keep my head down and my lips sealed shut. Although every inch of me wants to run into battle screaming my head off, stealth is key to my success. (Part of me is convinced that the only reason I am getting caught up in the nets of a war between people I despise is for the safety of
Creeping further and further into the darkness, I eventually reach my destination. With a grit of my teeth and a grip on my knife, I begin my descend up towards the night sky on a ladder of windowsills and carefully sought-out footholds. A scrap of paper with a place and time signed with the letter M were all the clues I was given to Kaelen Dempsey's suspected whereabouts this evening. (Why they don't just send a Peacekeeper after him beats me.) But if I'm going to trust anyone in this messed-up game of politics, it's the Morenos. We may hate them, but I'd rather eat shit than side with a Dempsey. Positioned securely on the rooftops, I scan the streets and wait - armed, dangerous, and as furious as hell.
Unfortunately for Dempsey, my patience is as short as my temper. Had he waited just a little longer, I may have given up altogether and returned home secretly defeated. Had he not given away his location by his boot-covered footsteps as he sauntered along the pavement, almost asking to be caught, and gave away the only clue that he wasn't a figment of everybody's imagination or a dead-man walking, I may have fallen asleep on the grimy, run-down building and never heard him pass. Five. Lustful anger drives my body into an adrenaline rush, the need to strike pulsing from my fingertips. Four. I feel my lip curl upwards before I even realise I'm snarling. Three. It's hard to comprehend things when a boy you thought was dead walks into your view, but the thought of standing over his dead body like he stood over so many others somehow aids my mindset to do just what I was set out to do. Two. Up the pedestal towards our parent's darkened hearts I will sail. (It's the only thing that's pushing my body closer and closer towards the edge of all I've ever known - and all District One has, either.) One.
I take the leap.
Landing hastily against his shoulders, I clamp a hand over his mouth and press the cool tip of my blade against his throat, shoving him up against the wall before he has time to comprehend who I am and what is going on. His pulse against my fingers proves what we all thought was just a myth to draw us into a war that was not ours is in fact the utmost truth. Kaelen Dempsey is alive. Never have I been so furious at someone who does not exist, never have I been driven to such rage. Who my rage is aimed at is apparent, but the source of it is still unclear.
So, half in panicked fear and half in irrational anger, I take out a crowbar from my bag and sock him in the head.
It takes a while for Dempsey to wake up again. In the time I've bought, however, I've managed to drag him into a back-alley (out of sight, out of mind) and tie him up relatively well. The second he pulls himself out of his unconscious haze, I begin to interrogate.
"Where are they?!" I yell, encompassing him in a prison of arms where he awakes to a lethal punishment in the form of my knife slitting his throat if he dares try to escape me. "I know you have them, Dempsey, and you've got approximately four seconds to tell me before I slit your goddamned throat - although I hear suicide is your family's forte, so maybe I won't even have to try."
if i tremble, if i stumble, they're gonna eat me alive
hard to be soft, tough to be tender, come take my pulse
can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?
the pace is on a runaway train
help, i'm alive
hard to be soft, tough to be tender, come take my pulse
can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?
the pace is on a runaway train
help, i'm alive