wrath and ruin {scissor sisters vs children of sorrow}
Oct 27, 2017 14:27:03 GMT -5
Post by arx. on Oct 27, 2017 14:27:03 GMT -5
MARIELA PITRE
I'm only standing for a moment when another blade slices across my chest. I know it shouldn't knock me off my feet the way it does, but I stumble as I back pedal, keeling forward and falling upon my one good knee. The earth beneath me spins as I struggle to stand again, more blood seeping through my fingers as I clutch my chest and collapse
I remember when I was little and I asked my grandmother about my parents. I used to ask everyday; she never answered me. I don't know when I stopped asking about them and who they were, but it was probably about the time I stopped trying to make friends. Grandmother always told me I didn't need friends, not when no one in District 9 was worthy of being friends with a Pitre.
I wish I'd known them. I wish I'd made friends. I wish I'd had someone back home waiting for me, the way Delilah waits for Hayden. Or an unwavering faith in an unseen and unknown entity, the way Samson does. Or a conviction to honor, the way Cynthia does. I've wished on hundreds of stars and yet I've never had any of those things. I've always been a coward, always followed direction, never done anything for myself, never believed in anything or anyone.
Gosh, I'm so cold.
"Cynthia, I'll do you and Mariela a favor. Free shot on my neck or heart. One shot each or Mariela dies."
And I believe him. I'm already stumbling, cuts deep across my chest and thigh, blood seeping uncomfortably into my skin-tight outfit. He's nearly a blur in front of me, toying with me now as the tip of his sword draws a fine line over my stomach.
I remember when I was little and I asked my grandmother about my parents. I used to ask everyday; she never answered me. I don't know when I stopped asking about them and who they were, but it was probably about the time I stopped trying to make friends. Grandmother always told me I didn't need friends, not when no one in District 9 was worthy of being friends with a Pitre.
I wish I'd known them. I wish I'd made friends. I wish I'd had someone back home waiting for me, the way Delilah waits for Hayden. Or an unwavering faith in an unseen and unknown entity, the way Samson does. Or a conviction to honor, the way Cynthia does. I've wished on hundreds of stars and yet I've never had any of those things. I've always been a coward, always followed direction, never done anything for myself, never believed in anything or anyone.
Gosh, I'm so cold.
"Cynthia, I'll do you and Mariela a favor. Free shot on my neck or heart. One shot each or Mariela dies."
And I believe him. I'm already stumbling, cuts deep across my chest and thigh, blood seeping uncomfortably into my skin-tight outfit. He's nearly a blur in front of me, toying with me now as the tip of his sword draws a fine line over my stomach.
oh she fleeing and doing all sorts of maint
also like, sorry for the wait
getting this up for everyone and immediately filling it in please hold xoxo