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all, then most, now none — jane&wade
Apr 15, 2018 21:26:53 GMT -5
Post by lucia valentine [d8] 🐞 tris on Apr 15, 2018 21:26:53 GMT -5
Cinnamon candy, split lips —
she doesn't mind the sting.
Blistered feet, she leaves them bare and walks across bleached floors. And the cameras are watching, tracking her every move, but Mother doesn't call her a 'Little Shadow' for nothing. 'Little Shark,' 'Little Tornado' — tiny terrors in the guise of a girl that just wants to run. She accepts her flaws, shows her teeth and slides across a wet hallway. Crashing and breaking and always laughing. Always looking for a distraction. It's never her intention to hurt others, but she's a gun with a hair-trigger. Her bullets ricochet. Daring her friends to perform reckless stunts and looking away as their limbs are wrapped in casts. Colliding with carers and biting the inside of her cheek as they pick up the contents of a dropped tray.( "Just go away, Jane." )
She wishes she could. Maybe if she could swim, if she could fly, if— there's no way out. She tells herself to accept that, but even mice try to find the exit of the mazes they're forced to enter. Each day, each week, each year; an eternity of escapism. Just to wake up and be thrown right back into the labyrinth. All for nothing, no reward, but they still fight. They still hope. She does, too. A dead flower in her hair, she runs a finger across the braid and smirks to herself. She'll find a way to keep going, even when they strap her to a table and take all that she has. Lungs stretched to their limits, a heart too tired to keep beating, bones riddled with fractures and eyes that still have so much they want to see. The menagerie of a damaged girl. Deathless. Only almost.( The flower's still dead. )
No war ever truly ends. Even when the last body falls and the final bomb detonates, the decay is still there. The rot keeps spreading. She wants to be like that — without end, a bad memory. A scar that doesn't heal. It's never her intention to hurt others, but if the institute wants to kill her at eighteen, she'll be a hypocrite. She'll live on, somehow. A hole punched in the wall, windows with snapped hinges and footprints on the roof. Small traces of a life cut short. They'll wash her blood away, but not her soul. Not everything. She knows that her actions will never stop them, that they'll continue to harvest and to destroy long after she's gone, but it's better to scream than to whisper. Her echoes will remain here for centuries. She'll become a battle cry. A white flag stained red.
Security footage blurs — and she disappears. A twirl, crouching, pulling herself through a hidden passage and crawling to her secret place. She lifts a hatch, feels wind blow across her face and she smiles. Standing above her own grave, yet she's never felt more free. There's easier ways to get to her rooftop haven, she knows, but she enjoys the rush of vanishing from plain sight. Nothing frightens her more. She tiptoes across the unsteady surface, holding her arms out and dipping from side to side. Like the birds taught her. She's at the edge when she realizes she's not alone, tilting her head and offering a confused grin to the intruder. She goes back to that night in those vents, sixteen and distraught and held close by a familiar stranger. She hates how safe he makes her feel.( Roan hasn't in months. )
"You're just full of surprises — aren't ya, Wade?" She kneels down beside him, but it's not long before she's twisting her torso and positioning herself to hang from the ledge. Knuckles white, fingers strained, she arches her neck and laughs at the sky. "Didn't take you for the brooding type." She lets go with one hand, closing her eyes and inhaling through her nose. She remembers all of her balance exercises, core tightening and a slow burn washing over her limbs. This is what keeps her going. The adrenaline. The knowledge that she's still kicking. She pulls herself up to where he's sitting, but she keeps her back facing the open air. She tosses a glance over her shoulder, at a freshly cut lawn bordered by an uncharted forest. The ocean lingers in the distance. "Hey, wanna jump off and see who breaks the least amount of stuff?"[dars]
