All My Friends Are Heathens :: [Day 1]
Jun 24, 2016 22:53:07 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Jun 24, 2016 22:53:07 GMT -5
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just because we check the guns at the door
doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades
doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades
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There are people who think beautiful things exist to be destroyed. Sick, twisted hearts laugh in ironically perfect unison looking at the mess that has been made of Scout Krigel — her bones smashed, flesh flayed, everything bloody and bruised and terrorized. Everyone knows she's the one to beat. Victory is in her genes, but not her expression. This is the face of a girl who hates herself for being who she is, who wishes with complete and utter sincerity that she could be anyone else in the world right now. At least the tributes whose canons boomed are at peace. Scout's soul is at war with itself, with every labored breath she takes, with the threat of every wavering shadow.
She doesn't have the courage to die. It might be easier to release the pressure she's holding on her wounds... that's all it would take at this point. (Just let go.) It's work to live like this with the effort of every step screaming through her like death row electrocution. The only places she's not covered in her own blood are the pale tracks down her cheeks where her tears have washed a small, pathetic part of her clean. Despite the horrifying effort of moving, she insisted she and Roger turn around to sneak back across the vacant battlefield in search of anything left behind by the Wealth Alliance. There is blood. There are bones. There is darkness both within and without. There is nothing left. Scout should let it all go, but she's too scared of what she can't predict to run away from the hopeless situation she's gotten herself into. The devil she knows is better than one she doesn't and that says a lot in this place.
A star falls in hell.
Some fleeting thought whispers that it looks like all of the magic falling free from her own body, as if in that moment she were the sky. Whatever sparkled within her eyes before coming here seems to be laying at her feet, glowing and out of place in this pit of endless night. With a frantic heart, she scrambles away from it until her back thuds against the whitewashed bones of the cornucopia. The ache of collision coaxes a yelp from her throat and she clutches at both the pain coursing through her and the structure of tangible fear rising up from the ground, because it is something to hold onto. It is not a comforting embrace or reassuring protection, but it's real and so that must be better than the deceptively pretty piece of impossibility sparkling at her feet.
Still, a star has fallen regardless of what it is the battered and broken Scout Krigel is staring down and so she makes a wish. "I wish someone who loves me were here," she whispers too quietly for Roger to overhear, knowing they are only close by shared circumstancebut isn't this true of all of Scout's friendships, "I don't want to be alone." Whether she's wishing on the thing that plummeted from the sky or if she's wishing on her own downfall is difficult to say, but everyone watching smiles — some because they are kind and know the faces of her family live within that star... and the others because they are cruel and know no one is really there at all.
She doesn't have the courage to die. It might be easier to release the pressure she's holding on her wounds... that's all it would take at this point. (Just let go.) It's work to live like this with the effort of every step screaming through her like death row electrocution. The only places she's not covered in her own blood are the pale tracks down her cheeks where her tears have washed a small, pathetic part of her clean. Despite the horrifying effort of moving, she insisted she and Roger turn around to sneak back across the vacant battlefield in search of anything left behind by the Wealth Alliance. There is blood. There are bones. There is darkness both within and without. There is nothing left. Scout should let it all go, but she's too scared of what she can't predict to run away from the hopeless situation she's gotten herself into. The devil she knows is better than one she doesn't and that says a lot in this place.
A star falls in hell.
Some fleeting thought whispers that it looks like all of the magic falling free from her own body, as if in that moment she were the sky. Whatever sparkled within her eyes before coming here seems to be laying at her feet, glowing and out of place in this pit of endless night. With a frantic heart, she scrambles away from it until her back thuds against the whitewashed bones of the cornucopia. The ache of collision coaxes a yelp from her throat and she clutches at both the pain coursing through her and the structure of tangible fear rising up from the ground, because it is something to hold onto. It is not a comforting embrace or reassuring protection, but it's real and so that must be better than the deceptively pretty piece of impossibility sparkling at her feet.
Still, a star has fallen regardless of what it is the battered and broken Scout Krigel is staring down and so she makes a wish. "I wish someone who loves me were here," she whispers too quietly for Roger to overhear, knowing they are only close by shared circumstance
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actions.
+ uses f/a on herself for -3
+ receives f/a from Roger Strangways-Teach for -3
+ receives f/a from Iris Flower-Oak for -3
+ receives f/a from Cedric Lane for -3
+ receives sponsorship: medical kit, rope, duct tape, antidote, flint
+ uses antidote for her festering wound
+ uses n/t for -5
+ uses 5ft of bandages for -1
+ receives an illuminated crystal from RE
+ takes one of the torches lighting the cornucopia