one for the road; curse v shelby [day five]
Apr 10, 2017 19:06:36 GMT -5
Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Apr 10, 2017 19:06:36 GMT -5
![](http://i1376.photobucket.com/albums/ah1/lancelotgriffin/Shelby%20Leviane_zpsyjhwc4ie.jpg)
s h e l b y ♔ l e v i a n e
In this heart there lies
Not faith.
There is no
Heavenly
Escape
Save
Ecstasy which
Makes for the same.
Seemed to be set alight and striking, my axe lands squarely in the boy’s back, sparking nonexistent flames upon the blood drawing from the wound. Unconsciously holding my breath, I am waiting for the same gesture of disappointment to be taken over by the sight of my flame going out once more. But seconds come and gone leave me with no indication that the same course of action is going to take place, and the slightest relief sets into my white knuckles until the realization has come to pass that I had never held fire in my hands to begin with.
Unlike twenty-four hours prior, once more I am aware of my body and the state of its being, from the throbbing pain in my head down to the sores on the soles of my feet. Amplified by my own poor choices, my body is longing for any form of rest longer than a single night. Sleep had been sought and found each sunset, but it was not the cure for the utter exhaustion that was settling into my bones.
Brought back to the boy in front of me by the sounds of his struggling, I see him flinging the coat from his back. Sensibility at the forefront of his mind he appears to be clutching tightly to an object I cannot make out. First instinct brings mockery to my lips, but the thought of the empty bottle of tequila still held tightly in my possession causes me to swallow the thought and hold my tongue.
The two of us each had to have something tangible to hold to remind us that there was something other than our own bodies to fight for. Another drunken loss later, and I still have not convinced myself of this, however, and I long for just one feel of a burning throat to bring me to my senses.
But if I was to say that I truly believe any amount of alcohol would help to force reality down my throat, I would be the liar I so despised. There was nothing regal about falling off the throne; there was nothing valiant about being so afraid of the world outside the castle walls that it could not be thought of without a numb mind.
However, it seems that this is all that I am, and all that I will ever care to be.
He had told me once that I was to rule the world, and with every slurred word and smirk I had believed him. I had handed him my heart to hold in the hopes that he would make it into something that I could not. I had lent him the knife and the broken glass with which he had carved into it with. There was no harm that had come to pass that was not by my own fault.
It seemed as though from the moment Cha Leviane had passed, falling free from the precipice of that cliff, I had been yearning to join her, whether I was conscious of the desire or not.
No one called it suicidal, because no one wanted to believe it could exist within a young heart so pure.
My mother and father had attempted consolation when it was convenient, and their words were filled with phrases of promise and time-healed wounds and a world in which loss did not hurt. When I had asked of the alternative, they had simply refused to acknowledge its existence.
They could keep their own minds from falling into that world if they refused to believe it was lingering on their doorstep.
But he had never once told me that I was going to find peace.
Perhaps that was why he was so enticing— because his tongue only knew truth regardless of the taste it left behind. Perhaps that it why I missed him now, throbbing mind and all.
This world we had come across was not one for displayed falsities, for the boy in front of me and I myself had put ourselves here by choice. No matter how one approached it and regardless of the angle, no one here truly cared what was to be found in the living moments past this place.
When he strikes out, catching my hip just hard enough to break the skin, I turn my head towards the ground to shield the tears in my eyes from his vision.
All four figures dancing in my sight, I forget what I am fighting for.
“Who are you?”
To whom the question is directed, I do not know.
Not faith.
There is no
Heavenly
Escape
Save
Ecstasy which
Makes for the same.
Seemed to be set alight and striking, my axe lands squarely in the boy’s back, sparking nonexistent flames upon the blood drawing from the wound. Unconsciously holding my breath, I am waiting for the same gesture of disappointment to be taken over by the sight of my flame going out once more. But seconds come and gone leave me with no indication that the same course of action is going to take place, and the slightest relief sets into my white knuckles until the realization has come to pass that I had never held fire in my hands to begin with.
Unlike twenty-four hours prior, once more I am aware of my body and the state of its being, from the throbbing pain in my head down to the sores on the soles of my feet. Amplified by my own poor choices, my body is longing for any form of rest longer than a single night. Sleep had been sought and found each sunset, but it was not the cure for the utter exhaustion that was settling into my bones.
Brought back to the boy in front of me by the sounds of his struggling, I see him flinging the coat from his back. Sensibility at the forefront of his mind he appears to be clutching tightly to an object I cannot make out. First instinct brings mockery to my lips, but the thought of the empty bottle of tequila still held tightly in my possession causes me to swallow the thought and hold my tongue.
The two of us each had to have something tangible to hold to remind us that there was something other than our own bodies to fight for. Another drunken loss later, and I still have not convinced myself of this, however, and I long for just one feel of a burning throat to bring me to my senses.
But if I was to say that I truly believe any amount of alcohol would help to force reality down my throat, I would be the liar I so despised. There was nothing regal about falling off the throne; there was nothing valiant about being so afraid of the world outside the castle walls that it could not be thought of without a numb mind.
However, it seems that this is all that I am, and all that I will ever care to be.
He had told me once that I was to rule the world, and with every slurred word and smirk I had believed him. I had handed him my heart to hold in the hopes that he would make it into something that I could not. I had lent him the knife and the broken glass with which he had carved into it with. There was no harm that had come to pass that was not by my own fault.
It seemed as though from the moment Cha Leviane had passed, falling free from the precipice of that cliff, I had been yearning to join her, whether I was conscious of the desire or not.
No one called it suicidal, because no one wanted to believe it could exist within a young heart so pure.
My mother and father had attempted consolation when it was convenient, and their words were filled with phrases of promise and time-healed wounds and a world in which loss did not hurt. When I had asked of the alternative, they had simply refused to acknowledge its existence.
They could keep their own minds from falling into that world if they refused to believe it was lingering on their doorstep.
But he had never once told me that I was going to find peace.
Perhaps that was why he was so enticing— because his tongue only knew truth regardless of the taste it left behind. Perhaps that it why I missed him now, throbbing mind and all.
This world we had come across was not one for displayed falsities, for the boy in front of me and I myself had put ourselves here by choice. No matter how one approached it and regardless of the angle, no one here truly cared what was to be found in the living moments past this place.
When he strikes out, catching my hip just hard enough to break the skin, I turn my head towards the ground to shield the tears in my eyes from his vision.
All four figures dancing in my sight, I forget what I am fighting for.
“Who are you?”
To whom the question is directed, I do not know.
[shelby leviane attacks curse jinx; flaming axe]
T4J3S9K6axe
[deep gash on left calf -- 8.0]
1-50
[it was nice while it lasted]
[ooc notes: tar was not drawn, violet-red crayon and scarlet match were not used, and the fire damages from the two previous posts should be ignored]
axe�1-50T4J3S9K6axe
[deep gash on left calf -- 8.0]
1-50
[it was nice while it lasted]
[ooc notes: tar was not drawn, violet-red crayon and scarlet match were not used, and the fire damages from the two previous posts should be ignored]