dahlia :: capitol; wip

jsyk every pic i use of this pretty girl is basically dahlia when she was tala because bitch u ain't seein her face beofre the /accident/

""The drug abuse was brought upon after the death of her husband," they say. A drop of her drug gave her visions of ghosts to Tala Tansy, spirits who occupied the empty of her floorboards and made it seem alive. Gave her a reason to not feel lonely, they'd chant her name with every step she took. One day, she was visited by a soul, Penelope Conry. She asked too many questions about the death of Mr. Tansy, brought up too many bitter ends. Tala drove a screwdriver right into her forehead, that's one way to get rid of a bad spirit. But her body never left, drove Tala to insanity it did. "She did it again," her husband said to her, "she'd get arrested this time." No. She had to hide, hide the proof that she ever lived and she had. When there's nothing left you must light yourself on fire, and she did. Tala burned the evidence, herself and Penelope. Her face was morphed to nothing more than unrecognizable scars and a pair of eyes she hid behind a hood under the name, Dahlia. Hid away from her home until she was left with the prayer of leaving, and to the capitol she went. These words were only muttered by Dahlia to herself, and whatever truth were burned into them, not even she knew."

Ms Tansy. They whispered (Ms Tansy, Ms Tansy, Ms Tansy). Again and again and again. They called her name during the morning and the night and anytime in-between. They were her company, her protectors when her husband had failed. They never called her Mrs Tansy, they never made her remember the man she had lost. It seemed not even ghosts could tell the difference between the name she'd been born with and the name that had been shoved upon her. Then one day it all changed, when that girl came to visit her. She asked too many questions, dug too deep into her fragile mind and when she spoke Ms Tansy couldn't listen. She she got a screwdriver and drove it into that spirits head, she had not believed that spirit would bleed, she'd thought it would disappear and she'd be safe again. But that spirit bleed and bleed and moaned and cried and died. But spirits didn't die. It never left, though, instead it remained there, those wide, glassy eyes watching her day and night, and when midnight struck it was like that body came alive and it would whisper to her, every over voice would cease to exist and Penelope Conry's would be the call of the night. The cry that shattered the silence.

"Mrs Tansy, oh Mrs Tansy, you did this. Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy."

Burn it. Burn it, start anew, get rid of it, kill that voice that demands she remember such bitter and horrible things (Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy). Burn it. Burn it. Burn it. Destroy it before it destros her. And so she did, she lit the place on fire and sent herself down to the fires of hell with that bad, spirit. And even within the raging flames that scarred her face and burnt her and destroyed her she could hear it -Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy, Mrs Tansy.

Stripped of her face, and her identity she hid beneath the shadows of a hood, naming herself Dahlia. She was shipped away, to the Capitol, where the spirits followed. And the new rumours began.

Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.