the turn of a key | maggie v unsaid | day 3
Oct 27, 2019 0:24:41 GMT -5
Post by mat on Oct 27, 2019 0:24:41 GMT -5
[googlefont="Rancho:400"]
maggie mae
sword
maggie mae
Night comes and goes, people fall asleep and then wake up, but the opportunity to reunite with her family only comes once in a lifetime. She knows it is improbable to spend the rest of the games in this very room: she'd need to make a food or water run at least once or twice. But still, her eyes lay glued to the screen where two figures who she interprets as her parents, hold her tight. And even though it's just a screen on a wall, she holds onto them as if they're real.
A child again. Whole again.
A piece of her went missing when she got sent to the Pound. She grew more independent, which only added to her hostility. Maggie Mae dreamt day in and day out of being a princess and someday a queen, but those fantasies were snuffed out like a torch when she went from a family of metaphorical riches to one of literal rags. The tides turned, and her duty became selfish: survive, work, and play the game with the cards she's dealt.
And if you asked her two days ago if she'd welcome those fantasies back with open arms, she'd laugh her head off. But one only knows their genuine reaction when their hand is forced. Her nails claw into the wall in which the screen is placed. Maybe they're alive after all? And gave her up so she could have a different life than what they could offer. Regardless of their intention, the pieces of her home came back into tact today: the second day of her trail of terror.
Tears of joy allow Maggie to cry herself to sleep for the night. Home takes refuge in every ounce of her being. There's a weight lifted when someone finds the last piece of the puzzle hidden underneath the carpet. The burden they bear subsides for a moment, and they're able to find peace.
Morning comes and the sun drowns out the colors of the screen. Maggie gathers her belongings, taking her hand, sliding it slowly down every screen before she exits. There's memories of every tribute in every corner. A friend there, a loved one over there, probably someone's lover hidden away. The treasure that others might be able to find are too immense.
A good deed never goes unrewarded. The key to the house lies on a stool near the door, but she leaves it there. If anyone wants to see their family again, perhaps for the final time, they're free to do so.
Maggie waited years for this moment and knows that even a week or two can feel like an eternity away from home. Home is only a few miles away. It hasn't gone. Don't forget it.
She wanders now, with a pep in her step, to who the hell knows where.
Her newfound joy shows no regard for her current situation. You know, the Hunger Games, fighting to the death, trying to avoid dying. None of it feels relevant. How can she be in a hell when her mind, body, and soul are overflowing with a replenishing happiness?
A deep, monstrous crunch in the dirt behind her. Maybe that's how.
Taking her blade out in an act of defense, Maggie swings at whatever's behind her.
The immense amount of good she possesses now is without a shadow of a doubt, more powerful than the fear, hatred, and evilness that lurks on the outside.
Little Red finds her footing. Brave.
[maggie mae d10f attacks the unsaid, handsaw (sword)]
B8HJIiDpWSsword
1092 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage
A child again. Whole again.
A piece of her went missing when she got sent to the Pound. She grew more independent, which only added to her hostility. Maggie Mae dreamt day in and day out of being a princess and someday a queen, but those fantasies were snuffed out like a torch when she went from a family of metaphorical riches to one of literal rags. The tides turned, and her duty became selfish: survive, work, and play the game with the cards she's dealt.
And if you asked her two days ago if she'd welcome those fantasies back with open arms, she'd laugh her head off. But one only knows their genuine reaction when their hand is forced. Her nails claw into the wall in which the screen is placed. Maybe they're alive after all? And gave her up so she could have a different life than what they could offer. Regardless of their intention, the pieces of her home came back into tact today: the second day of her trail of terror.
Tears of joy allow Maggie to cry herself to sleep for the night. Home takes refuge in every ounce of her being. There's a weight lifted when someone finds the last piece of the puzzle hidden underneath the carpet. The burden they bear subsides for a moment, and they're able to find peace.
Morning comes and the sun drowns out the colors of the screen. Maggie gathers her belongings, taking her hand, sliding it slowly down every screen before she exits. There's memories of every tribute in every corner. A friend there, a loved one over there, probably someone's lover hidden away. The treasure that others might be able to find are too immense.
A good deed never goes unrewarded. The key to the house lies on a stool near the door, but she leaves it there. If anyone wants to see their family again, perhaps for the final time, they're free to do so.
Maggie waited years for this moment and knows that even a week or two can feel like an eternity away from home. Home is only a few miles away. It hasn't gone. Don't forget it.
She wanders now, with a pep in her step, to who the hell knows where.
Her newfound joy shows no regard for her current situation. You know, the Hunger Games, fighting to the death, trying to avoid dying. None of it feels relevant. How can she be in a hell when her mind, body, and soul are overflowing with a replenishing happiness?
A deep, monstrous crunch in the dirt behind her. Maybe that's how.
Taking her blade out in an act of defense, Maggie swings at whatever's behind her.
The immense amount of good she possesses now is without a shadow of a doubt, more powerful than the fear, hatred, and evilness that lurks on the outside.
Little Red finds her footing. Brave.
[maggie mae d10f attacks the unsaid, handsaw (sword)]
B8HJIiDpWSsword
1092 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage
sword
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