Ancient Scars (Open)

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.


It's been too long... It hasn't been long enough...

The two thoughts continue to swirl around in my head as I walk through the silent woods. The wind doesn't blow, but the cold seems to seep right through my jacket and sweatshirt as if they are nothing, biting my skin with it's icy teeth. My ears have gone from stinging to a dull throb, and I can barely feel the fabric of my black gloves as I bring my hands up to try and warm them. I definitely should have worn a hat. But I was too nervous, and too excited.

It's a beautiful night, though. The sky is unusually cloudless, and with barely any light to compete with, the stars light up the night in a white fire. The dark side of the moon faces me, with only the tiniest sliver to show it's even there. The ground glitters slightly, as if someone sprinkled stardust over the snow before I came. The trees are like tall black shadows looming above me, and I can't help but feel like someone is watching me, hidden among the closely situated pines. You would think that after so many years, I would have dropped that feeling. But without the moon illuminating the woods in it's eerie glow, it seems like at any moment, the forest will become alive with ghosts.

These were the nights I loved to hunt on. I would become alive in the woods. The forest was one of the few places where I could be happy. It was as if my whole life, I had missing something amazing, and then I came here, and I was just... whole. Complete, even. I could forget everything, and just be free for once. Fly on forgotten wings. I could ramble on for hours about the feeling, because there is no one word that could describe it.

But I'm not here to hunt, or to gaze at the stars. It's been a long time, but tonight, I have a different mission. Right now, walking down flashback lane, I can feel... something. As if my past is reaching out to grab me, and pull me back into it's warmth. I recognize this part of the woods. I recognize these specific trees, and the pattern of the branches. I remember. And this whole image, all the memories, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach are telling me the same thing.

It's time. It's time to check up on my mother.

How long has it been. Six months? It feels like years. I've grown so much, and felt so much pain. What I've experienced in the past six months is equal to the experience a normal person gets in five years. And it's not good experience. No, it's the type of experience that hurts. The kind that tugs on your heart, and wears you down, and makes you think so hard your thoughts are swimming in circles and your brain feels like mush.

Suddenly, my ears pick up something. An soft, almost nonexistent crunch. I spin around, expecting the worst. But only the still night air greets me. I frown, looking towards the dark spots inbetween the trees, but no one appears to be there.

I forgot to include that it's the type of experience that drives you mad and makes you paranoid.

I sigh, and my warm breath makes a cloud in front of me.

Shaking my head, I turn and begin walking again. I'm tired. I'm cold. And worst of all, I'm alone. This thought makes tears press at the back of my eyes, reminding me that I've also become a huge crybaby. But it just hurts so much to be alone in life. I can forget friends. I hardly ever see Flight anymore. Or Jasik. It's hard to take what life throws at you alone. And life has been chucking a lot at me lately.

I frown at the ground, knowing my old home is so close, if I looked up, I would see it. Being alone hurts a lot. But this should fix it for a few days. Knowing she's okay, and that she's no longer being treated cruelly by her boss... well, it'll heal these fresh wounds that are aching so much. And-

Wham.

I take a step back, rubbing my head, and staring at the old familiar brick wall in front of me.

The back of the house. I walked right into it.

Just demonstrates how much I've changed for the worst these past few months.

I makes my way along the wall towards a window that light pours out of. My heart is pounding hard, and my legs are weak. I feel like I just ran ten miles. I take a deep breath, and peer around the edge of the window, into our living room.

Whatever I expected, what I saw wasn't it. The old, faded furniture is gone, replaced with bright, new things. The old pictures that hung on the walls are gone, replaced with nice little paintings. The ugly rug on the floor is now a stylish dark green one. And sitting on the sofa, reading, are a man and a woman. I don't recognize either of them.

Describing the pain, and the final brokenness is impossible. All I can do is compare it to being like a vase with a hundred cracks that's just been hit with a bowling ball. It hurts, and the tears are pouring down my cheeks before I can stop them as I stumble away from the window. I let out a small choking sound, and then turn on my heels and run into the woods.

Best case scenario: she moved.

The tears only make the cold sting my face more as I run, but I'm beyond caring. My mom was my lifeline. If something happened in my new life, I could always come back to her, and it would be just like normal again. I knew that she would love me and care about me no matter what. But now, it's all gone, and I'm left drowning with no one to save me.

And it burns. The pain is so real, I can't help but grip the place my heart used to be and wish it all away. But this is no fantasy, and there's no magic that can help me now. No person that will tell me it's alright while I cry. I'm all alone, and it burns.

Eventually, I drop to my knees in the snow and just sob. The tears fall off my cheeks and into the snow, making little frozen crystals. I cry until there's nothing left, and then just sit there on my knees, not even trying to deal with the pain and emptiness and the final feeling of being utterly alone in such a big, terrifyingly real world.

And when I hear the crunch of someone's footsteps in the snow, I just hunch my shoulders, stare at the white ground, and wish whoever it is away.

[/color]

[sadniss everdeen]

Things move quickly, and people are not as they seem. As winter's chill quickly seeps into the bones of the unsuspecting, reality and right are indistinguishable to one another - etheral and so very lucid, but there all the same. A fleeting fracture in the silvery stream of time is the only remaining echo that alerts me to my rift with Kaya, signalling that the world is a much more dangerous place than initially foretold. Under the vapor of my meltdown she pieced me back together; took the shards of my sanity and helped me repair the missing cracks, molding herself into the crevices where they couldn't be replaced. I ignored the hate I harbored of my own self and worked on repairing whatever fractured mind remained for her sake, hoping one day that I could again be steadfast and oh so confident in myself like I used to be.

But the hours go on and people change, and I believe to find myself filling once again with melancholy distaste of the world's apathetic aversions. Though this place is now viewed in a different light since I was torn and twisted and brought in on myself, it's plainly obvious that the outside worlds have not changed from their flithy superficiality that I always used to hate, and still do. This familiarity comforts me.

In fact, familiarity to a rapidly spinning life is the only type of normalcy I have left. I'm frightened half to death by these feelings I can't control, twisting ivy that crawls upon the walls of my heart and lodges deep in the vessels of my throat when I even think about trying to rid myself of the redhead. Her presence, in this sense, is both suffocating and comforting at once. She is a translucent figure that remains with me even after her physical body is gone, and that in itself is more disturbing than the fact that my bloodlust has been temporarily sated, if not flipped on its head. My secret passenger is quiet ever since my inner destruction, content on watching these half-insane feelings flit about my head and drive me into deeper depths like I've never known. Perhaps it is why I stand without even a coat of some sort tonight, watching the opal stars and the way my breath forms little cotton candy clouds that swirl upwards to disappear into the sapphire sky.

Saliva freezes in my throat and goosebumps run up my arms but it's of no great importance as I walk to who-knows-where, content in the enigmatic presence of the night and nobody else's. Snow crunches underfoot and seeps into the steaming warmth of my boots, nipping at my toes and steeping them in a frigid puddle of air that collects in the soles and remains. It is these nights that I can just be, safe from the asphyxiating struggles that are presented to me once I return to my own waking world.
Hn, asphyxiate. A strange word. One that presents both elegance and raw power at once. If I did that to myself, would I see the sudden burst of light and earth-shattering reverie that so many rave on about, or simply a dull ache like the last time I tried to do something as idiotic as trying to take my own life.

Watching myself watching myself in the fragmented reflections of a mirror is ironic as I watch watch watch all the mistakes I've made. What I lack and what I possess, however melancholy and down from my usual haughty personality doesn't score any pity points because it's such a long time coming - one can only live the way I've been for so long, perhaps I'm lucky that this epiphany came while I was still young and able to bound back from heartache. The lake shivers quietly under my lithe fingered touch and the mirage of a calm and collected teenager ripples and cracks under the intense scrutiny to which it is presented. Light spills from distant shadows of trees and pools into my open palm, shining now as it is with frigid water that drips steadily from the glossy off-tan of my chipped nails. The void between who I used to be and who I'm turning into is a continuous chaotic vortex, brought to surface as the unknown illumination from afar breaks the natural stillness of the night and begins to whisper in my ears. It is just a casual pass of the hand; a delicate raking along the shell of my ear from cold fingers but it shows that my insanity hasn't quite left.

It slumbers.

From aching knees I lever myself standing, but a phantom among the lonely willows that murmur for companions. I love this obscurity among the trees, this nothingness, because here I am alive. Here I can hear my own thoughts and steady heartbeat, so out of touch with reality that it takes a moment for it to register as my own. Towards the effervescent light and through the creeping tendrils of shadow that stroke at my numb ankles, until I have to slit my gaze from the glare. I meld myself a picture of what I would see, shaping and stirring contents from my own hazy memories of a picture perfect family.

Instead is a sterile place that feels like false affections and people who don't know anything of the steady love that keeps people together. The rug is too clean and the people too plastic, and I must tear my eyes away from the scene. Momentarily they flit downwards and dance with the faint, frenzied impressions of footsteps that long to be anywhere but here. Intrigued and spurred on by the cold light of evanescent stars I crunch through the bracken, making myself into the shape of satisfying fear that I believe I embody. Many look into my eyes and fear, but how is this when I can't even trust myself anymore?

Inside the pristine clearing there is a figure, and her raven hair is accompanied by a sudden jolt of memory so clear that my stomach lurches and I must swallow bile to avoid pushing it all up again. Wordlessly I travel to her and sink into the frostbitten snow, kneeling sideways to stare at her tear-stained face. Long have I learned the delicacies of inflicting and fixing tragedies with a single touch, and letting my fingertips touch the delicate porcelain of her skin is no exception. I remember how each fleeting slide used to make sparks explode and I believe she still has some hold over me, for I tug on her wrist and tilt her elegant jaw towards myself.

"What happened, Luna?" It hurts to see her so broken, usually the more calm and collected of us both. She knows that I'm here and will always be here, but it's up to her to give into that and let herself be comforted. It's a scary thing to give in to another, even for such a fleeting moment, and I tenderly brush back a stray strand from her face. Has it really been a lifetime since we first met?

I never thought to myself we'd be friends. It was always some crash and burn relationship that wouldn't work because one party was in too deep and the other wasn't in deep enough. Yet here we both are at some twisted turn of fate and I can't stop my heart from twinging at the sorrow etched onto the mismatched plains of her face. It seems so wrong to smile in this moment and by sheer force of will I keep it together and instead run fingers through her tangled locks, willing her to just this once, give in.

[/size][/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.


What happened?

Through all the agony, I find myself pondering this. Was it really one thing that happened? No. One thing couldn't break me like this. One thing couldn't tear my heart out and throw it into the freezing cold night. No, this happened over time. This happened as the people who protected me, helped me, and cared about me slowly faded into the shadows, leaving me alone when I needed someone the most. Falling apart, paranoid, and completely alone, I came here, knowing my mother was a person who I could always count of to be there always. She could comfort me if no one else could. If no one else would. I cracked long ago. But looking in that window... well, I didn't just break. I shattered.

I imagine this is what it feels like in interogation. They use every method they can think of on you, and each time, you crack a bit more, until finally, you just... break.

Breaking isn't what I thought it would be like. I thought it would be like just finally giving up and giving in, and then you were there. Defeated. I didn't know there was a stage like this, where there was only pain. And looking ahead, the emptiness isn't looking to fun, either. But this is where I'm heading, and it's useless to try to head any other way. I just wish it didn't burn so much.

And now, seeing Flight, the hurt only intensifies. I don't know why, but her golden eyes just make me want to scream out loud in agony. Shouldn't I be comforted by the fact that she's here, and she cares?

Something's off about her, too, though. Something isn't quite right. Even if I can't see her eyes clearly, it seems to be shining brighter than anything I've ever read there before. Shining doesn't seem to be the right word though. Because instead, what I see is like a ghostly light that wants to be the golden rich stuff the sun spills onto the earth daily, but just can't be.

Sun. Looking at her now, I realize what's wrong. She's usually full of the sun, and sunlight. The sunlight is not always good sunlight. In fact, most of the time, it's simply power and strength. But somethings weakened the rays that normally bounce around inside her. Like a fog, or thin clouds blocking it. The sun's still there. But it's dimming.

This confuses me even further. Confusion, though, is just barely something compared to the pain. But the dimming sun gives off the impression that she is tired. She has changed.

Like me.

I like if I try to pour any of my troubles onto her, she, too, will break. And Flight breaking is much more dangerous than me. But that isn't why I wouldn't dare try to drag her into this everlasting pain that no one can get used to. It's because I couldn't stand seeing her in as much pain as I'm in right now. She's my best friend.

But she always could comfort me. She cheered me up all the time, even if it was her trouble that made me down in the first place. Not that I'm blaming her. It's not her fault at all. Besides, this isn't her fault, so she should be able to cheer me up twice as easily. Unless...

And then it hits me. She's too late. She can't glue back the pieces. They're scattered too far, and too wide, and she can't find them all and rebuild me. I've shattered because I was alone, and all the company in the world can't help me now.

I let out a choked groan. It hurts. It burns. It's pure agony. And there's nothing anyone can do about it anymore. My fingers form claws, digging into the snow. Why does this kind of thing always happen to me? What happened to the girl a year ago who was brave, smart, and powerful? Where did she go? I want her back.

And it's no use holding back from her now. She's too far away to feel what I am. She won't be able to come close enough to helping me, which is where the pain radiates from.

"Alone," I manage to choke out. "No one- left. Mother gone. All- alone. Broken. Can't- help me. But- it hurts- so- badly!"

I burst into another round of sobs, as my broken words repeat in my head over and over again. Flight may be right next to me, but I've never felt so alone. Not even she can make the pain go away. I'm fighting it alone.

One barely trained warrior against a whole army of men.

(OOC: It's finished! Yay!)

[sadniss everdeen]

There was no anger in this disassociation from my feelings and my wants, in this turning vortex that went round and round and spat me back out as such a fragile, broken thing. It's strange the way things work out; in my effort to protect those around me from heartache I only injured them further. I didn't smoke around Kaya - it was to give the illusion I wasn't self destructing - but she could tell in the clothes I wore and the hood in my eyes, and it was always that soft, sad smile that killed me a little bit. In my effort to be alone and be strong and be myself I ended up pushing everything that defined me far away from this battered body.

I was always so angry at the world. At my father who adorned himself in superficial conquests and false allures so he could just feel something for once in his life, to forget my mother and the way the click-click-click of her heels sounded on the dirty pavement as she left and never came back. At my brother who let the bright neon lights of his dreams create stars in his eyes and cloud reality into nothing but a crepuscular haze of an unwelcome thought, requiring nothing but a fleeting wave of fingers to vanish. He was tenebrific in his own right - surrounded by light but shrouding it with his own denial. At Kaya for letting me leave her mind when she made one of those childhood promises that she'd never forget what we had. What we could've had, before it all simply... slipped away.

This anger that warped and twisted on itself, a chaotic mumbling of homicidal urges coupled with self-decimating tendencies that... still... defines who I am. You never really lose who you are, because all you need is a shard to regrow. Even if it feels like you're nothing but a broken mirror, time and a helping hand can repair the damages that feel like they can't be replaced.

Her threads are silky and off-black in my fingers, and it takes all the self restraint I own to not tug at them to snap her out of her choking haze. Instead I watch her while she cries - curiously and with a hint of heartache - until the words she sputters out in broken syllables begin to take proper form in my mind. I see myself in her, in the angry and tired and so very lost expression that rotates constantly in her eyes. The polychromatic agony that reflects in her orbs make me look away; the part of me that just won't die finds her pain delicious and refuses to let me comfort her when she requires it the most. Frostbite snaps at my knees and my fingers curl into themselves to warm the frozen half-ice that drips steadily from their lukewarm tips, matching the tears that slip down her face and curl into parted lips.

Instead I try to rub feeling back into numb cheeks, blinking incandescent eyes in an attempt to gather my scattered thoughts. Words bounce like double sided blades and hold just on the tip of my tongue, but refuse to appear out into the opaque night where countless souls whisper from above. Her shoulders hitched high with sobs and settled low; my chest rose high and sunk low, lower, lower. I've never been good with emotions - not even my own - so I can't do anything but give a sad smile and nod silently.

But as her meaning finally sinks in my eyebrows crease into a frown barely noticable. I know I haven't been the most available as of late (I've been a mess) but she honestly thinks I could just get up and leave? I should be offended but I can't, not with the luminesence pouring down to set her hair into limpid pools of black-blue. Luna looks pretty even in heartbreak, and I find an irrational jealousy that I have to swallow cold.

My hands find homes in the burning heat of my thighs, a welcome respite from the biting temperatures that surround these two fallen souls. I attempt to smile but fall short, remembering exactly what this feels like and wanting nothing more than to wipe the hurt from her face. "You think I've left, too?" While the sentence is soft it holds a sharp overtone, something only the old Flight could have put together. This fact both disconcerts me and pleases me, for it shows that I haven't shifted completely. "Do you honestly think me so heartless?" Suddenly the plastic emotions in the window make sense - this is where her own memories were made and shattered. Perhaps an older version of Luna once hid away from the world in those rotting panes since painted over, wondering where her daughter went and why she would run so far away.

Again a jealously so strong pulls up that it makes my jaw arch and clench in an effort to keep it at bay. She had a mother that would love and care for her no matter who she was, what she did. That she could return to no matter how the world dropped out from under her feet and sent her into another abyss even deeper than last. Why should you aid her? She was allowed to taste what you couldn't even touch. I have to blink furiously to banish the voice, cheeks flushing with being so ashamed of myself. It was an ethereal temptation, a seductress lingering on the edges of consciousness. Now is not the time...

(OOC: Is Luna going to be so angst!angry at Flight for the whole time? I do so want them to be friends again.)[/blockquote][/size]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.


It's my heart that aches, and it's my heart that breaks, so why do I feel like I'm going to puke? Why do I feel like my head's going to explode? Why does my throat hurt so much?

I've never, ever experienced pain like this before. It seems like there could not be anything worse than this, although I'm sure there is. I try to comfort myself by staring at the stars, but it only reminds me of a time when things were easy, and when there was barely any hurt.

That is another thing I've learned. The hurt never goes away. It's always there, even when your not sad or angry about anything. Even if there's nothing to be upset about, there's still hurt, somewhere, somehow. It never really goes away. Even when your happy, it's still there. It's just hiding behind other emotions. If you concentrate hard enough, you can find it. Pain, unlike other emotions, doesn't come or go.

It's always there.

The snow makes the cold bite right through my gloves, numbing my fingers. I force the tears to stop, because now isn't the time for crying. It's the time for talking. But it still aches, and all other emotion has left me. Just me and pain, face to face.

I've done a lot of crazy things. A lot of them seem to involve falling, one way or another. I remember almost falling out of pine tree. A fall that could have killed me if Ari hadn't been there. And then there was falling of the roof of the base. I couldn't fight for weeks. That's what I relate to now. It feels like I'm falling. It hurts right now, but I have no idea what happens when I hit the ground.

And then there's Flight. By the concern on her face, I know she sees what I'm going through. Maybe she's even experienced it before. With a jolt, I realize she has. And I realize who caused that pain. The real reason of everything I've done up until this point becomes clear to me, and I stare at her with wide eyes.

"This isn't your fault, Flight," I say, my voice still strained, but not choked by sobs. I let out a cough, releasing a bit of the pain from holding it back. "It's mine."

I have to stop for a moment, because a new wave of tears is pushing even harder against the back of my eyes. For a moment, I can't hold it back, and a few tears pool into my eyes and glide down my cheeks. I swallow, staring at the snow, and forcing it all back. Only the pain is able to resist. The tears have backed up, but the lump in my throat alerts me that they will be back, and soon.

"I was desperate. I couldn't control what was happening in me. My past haunted me every night," I let out another small cough, and the sounds of a scream and shattering glass seem to join it as the memories flood back. "The present threatened me every day. And the future hung over my like a fog that refused to go away. But I had to deal with it alone, Flight. Everyone else did seem to fade away. I won't lie to you and try to deny that. I saw less and less of all of you."

At this point, I'm fighting it again. My voice isn't steady. In fact, I can hear it shaking, and on the last few words, it cracks. It's all I can do to keep it from all flooding out again. In fact, a few tears continue to slip out again, and the pain is clearly recognizable in my voice.

"But it's not your fault. I knew what was happening. I didn't try to help it by finding you, because you had others that needed you more at the moment. I also knew I was breaking. And I couldn't drag you into this, Flight. You would have tried to help, and then we'd both be traveling down hill. And I just couldn't be responsible for you breaking again, Flight. I never want that to happen to you again."

By the last sentence, I'm crying once more, as terrible memories get a good grip on me, dragging me back into times and events I hoped I'd never have to relive. The world seems to vanish, and I let out a small whimper as the pain intensifies, absorbing the memories like food.

And the very first thing I see is that terrible night, when Flight was on the floor, dying.

[sadniss everdeen]

I was always a problem child. People stared and glared and made faces behind my back, but I honestly didn't care or didn't know well enough to do so. Dark was dawning long before my consciousness began to fray, but I was none the wiser to my own misgivings and faults.

To think that I was only nine the first time I took her against the back door of her house - raw and angry and hurt is something akin to a lucid dream in present day time. I barely remember scarring tongue patterns along the baby-soft surface of her throat, or murmuring that one day, she would reign. But for now, I was the Queen of Hearts.

Perhaps it was the paradisiacal feelings that ambled through my bloodstream whenever a well-placed scraping of ragged nails made them whimper and writhe under my less-than-contrite touch alerted me to the fact that I wasn't all that there in the head. I enjoyed their sinful disclosures even as they bit into the fragile shell of my ear to muffle their groans from the parents who slumbered in a perfect world - somewhere that I didn't exist - but I was far from disenchanted or sated to a reality I had just been exposed to. It was a constant cycle of self-destructing and violent altercations, punctuated with nights in bed with teenagers who thought me older than I really was.

Sometimes I long for that life. Where nothing matters and the substance up your nose is the most important thing in the world, and the rest of life can go screw itself because you're busy with things more important than they'll ever be. I was alloted very few moments to myself and to help foster the thing lurking inside, but I managed. Now I wish that they'd kept me so strung out, it would never have evolved past a shadow of my own consciousness.

My head tilts a fraction and lashes brush against the scarred ridges of my socket - the only indication I'm in any sort of confusion - before my hand absently darts out and rubs away the streaks of salty regret from her delicate skin. I don't understand a lot of what she says (I don't understand much these days) but the tone of voice speaks for herself. I'm content in letting her rage through me and through herself, and the angerhaterage that moans in an irritating staccato prose to be free. There is perfection in this suffocation, even as I slowly turn into an ice statue before her eyes.

I'm temporarily distracted as wisps of my life escape slick teeth and float skywards, creating pretty little patterns that in retrospect make no sense at all. I feel so far from the satisfying dark shape that I so love to be, but watching watching watching the fragile creature in front of me gives a new sense of purpose. "What you saw was only the beginning." Times flash and things change, but the one humiliating memory of where you remained completely dependent on another person remains no matter how much you will yourself to erase it from all subconscious thought. Pulling yourself from the depths of craven despair only to be thrust back into heartache is not a constructive way to raise yourself back onto your feet, and I fear that I may never recover fully from those wounds that have yet to heal on my soul.

"I'm not as socially impossible as you might think, Luna." Refusing to call upon me because she's afraid that I'd break again? It's impossible to damage what's already broken. Long have I accepted the harrowing truth that I'm nothing better than damaged goods. This reality clips my tone further despite attempts to stop it, scowling and biting my tongue at my own ineptitude to say the right thing. I'm softly backsliding all attempts at saving this situation, so I just sigh and bury my head in my freezing forearms.

Snow sparkles under the narrow cone of light I've created, and I watch her warily from candescent eyes that narrow ever so slightly in the darkness. People shift with time, but this complete one eighty I see doesn't suit her at all. "It couldn't be just that which bugs you. Tell me what's--" An interruption echoes against the stillness, and I blow a steady stream of irate crystals in the form of abstract mist from my nose. My head turns to see a hazy man wading towards us in the snow, a knife in one hand and a lantern in the other. I loved this obscurity in the inky blackness - where I could suffocate and be ignored; because here I am alive. This shadow of a human is about to ruin that inate intimacy with that flickering shell of light, and my frozen limbs are helpless to do anything but watch.

On closer inspection the door to his house swings ajar - a beckoning invitation in the form of shattered memories - and children's laughter floats from inside. My gaze travels over to Luna. Questions, questions. Never any answers.

What are you going to do?

[/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.


Sanity was something I always had. I was confident in myself and had a spirit that could tear down all the walls in front of me. Of course, it never was obvious. I didn't bounce through the hallways of school with a wide grin on my face. That would only earn bad gossip. I kept my face impassive, with that mysterious glint in my eyes that made people leave me alone. Because of this, I had nothing to worry about. I was very down to earth. Everything tied into each other perfectly, and I lived a good life. There was nothing to wear me down.

I knew other peoples' secrets, but I never had any of my own. No one trusted me with anything, or expected anything from me. I didn't have anything to be afraid of. Consequently, I was never at risk of loosing my mind.

That was a long time ago.

A lot of people think that insane people don't know there's something wrong with them. They think that they don't realize that they're loosing their mind, and that the insane thoughts just replace the sane ones.

That's not what happens to me now, seeing that man, hearing the voices inside the house. No, I feel myself loose it. Desperately clinging to the last threads of sanity that remain, I stare at the light that has suddenly entered this realm of darkness. And then the threads break, and I feel the pain being numbed, replaced by anger and a desperate emotion I can't begin to describe. The insane thoughts do not replace my regular ones; they simply cover them. I realize what's happened, and I know what I'm thinking isn't right.

There's nothing I can do about it, though. It's like another, more desperate version of me has taken over, and all I can do is sit and watch. I can struggle for control, but it only makes things worse, so I just give up and listen to the thoughts, obeying what they tell me to do and say.

"My mother would never leave me," my voice has become harsh, and a bit higher. It's a whisper, so the man can't hear it. I've heard other people speak like this. "Never. Not while she knew I could come back."

There's a high pitched giggling sound inside me, and I realize just how quickly and easily I've lost it. I wonder if this is what it's like for everyone, or if insanity is a personalized torture for people. I wonder if I'll start to hear a voice, like Flight. And most of all, I wonder why I'm so calm at such a scary time.

My eyes narrow. "They must have done something with her. She wouldn't leave for anything." A new thought sends fresh rage in waves throughout me. "Maybe she never left! Maybe they're holding her there!"

I whirl around to face Flight, my eyes wide. My whisper becomes intense. "What if they're bad people, and are going to hurt her? What if they've already hurt her? We have to do something! We should..."

Suddenly, my eyes land on the quickly approaching man, just yards away from us. The idea that comes to my head makes an odd version of satisfaction flow through me. But just for a moment, before rage once again rules.

"He has to pay for what he's done to her, Flight!" I hiss. "We have to attack him and find out where she is!"

Insanity is an odd, controlling kind of thing, and now, all I can do is obey it.


((OOC: I'm really bad at roleplaying insane people. D: ))

[sadniss everdeen]

Sanity is a fickle mistress. You can believe you possess its perilous embrace, but in reality it's nothing more than an illusion created by your own treacherous mind to satisfy your inner cravings for normalcy. As my once linear relationship with the delicate balances of knowledge and desire became twisted and far from their original format, my shield of humanity that I once wore so regally disappeared. That morality (whatever small fraction I possessed) kept me tied to this world, and in retrospect, to myself. If I was stripped of the things that kept me - somewhat - human, I would begin to turn into the monster I so feared that lurked within the depths and crevices of my depraved mind.

Some argue that normalcy is void. Simply a flawed logic to accompace our innate need to feel included in something other than our own devices. Others believe that is necessary to the survival of the human race - some have defied being like the rest and while it can reap great rewards, it can also sowe the greatest discontent.
But at times, it is all you have left. That false comfort that others are doing what you do, so it can't be wrong and you can continue on your parade without that mental raincloud stalking your every footstep. What if you were doing something so wrong, so vile, that your mind didn't want to acknowledge the beast that dwelled within that outer husk - that charade of a being - and instead debilitated your reasoning to nothing more than a shaking mess? That, perhaps, being high and shivering and raving is better than the fear you instill when you have your wits about you and can coherently form words into meaningful sentences?

It seems that my mind and body had turned against me; one continuous warring of snarling and fucking at my feet punctuated by lucid nights of half-truths and dying dreams where it pulled my soul (or whatever's left after all these years) into tangles from being so torn. My physical form was content in rotting in a supine, half floating state with a needle shoved so deep that the skin began to rip and bleed, while my mind was becoming increasingly dependant on the crystals and powders and smoke to keep the shadow at bay. In those rare moments where my eyes would contract and I would be sober, there was a terrible feeling that I was losing the last pieces of myself. The last pieces of my sanity.

But darling, they already left long ago.

[/size][/blockquote][/i]

Her eyes widen and the voice that comes out of her mouth is not her own; slippery and quick like sand running steadily from a broken timepiece. An eerie feeling starting in the hollow of my throat suggests that something is off and we should abandonfallbackretreat, far away from the wretched house that sings a delightfully seductive tune straight to her ears alone. Its spindly fingers brush against the softness of her cheeks, luring her with childhood memories that are too sugar-sweet to let go, but too painful to dwell. It hurts to see the shift of consciousness in her gaze, where it becomes incoherent and wild and wrong. I've fought too hard to become something other than what she's turning into; I'll be damned if my best friend succumbs to the same fate.

"Who's there?" His voice further frays the strings that hold her warbling grasp to this world, and upon instinct my lips curl back to expose shiny teeth in response to one who would attempt - even indirectly - to harm somebody dear to me. I know from experience that it's pointless and detrimental to stand in the way of somebody in an erratic state of mind, but I won't throw whatever fragile sanity away just to appeal to her turbulent thoughts. "Leave us." I snap without a trace of humanity, and he starts as our figures - crouching deep in the snow - are illuminated by the feeble glow of his lantern - for a moment; my eyes bloom an outstanding shade of xanthous as the coruscation bathes my features in lukewarm brilliance.

I feel like an animal, belly-deep in sleet that pools down into the hollow of my foot through my weary worn boots, glaring up at the frozen man that dares interrupt this hold on rapidly rupturing acumen. Nails shine a dull tawny glow when he hovers over us, indecision written all over his strong features. He's unknown to me - another faceless waste of flesh in a crowd of strangers.
"Is she all right?" My eyes can't help but form into twin glares that bore holes into his wide forehead. "Are you deaf?" I snarl, startling the two children that have now made their way outside. Ignoring him, I turn to the fracturing girl in front of me, threading fingers through inky black tresses to keep her grounded.

"Luna, listen to yourself. You aren't making any sense. We'll figure out where she is, but she isn't here."[/color][/blockquote]

[Stare]

Luna Whitestone
When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.

She holds me back.

It strikes me deep inside, like a knife through my chest, just barely reaching my sane self which watches it all go down. I'm surprised by just how intense, and how real, the betrayel feels. And suddenly, the one person insanity declared an ally has so quickly switched to enemy. Her hands running through my hair are not welcome, and I jerk away from her quickly, staring at her like she's a stranger. She's not welcome to try and help me. I don't need help.

"You're on their side, then?" I hiss. Somehow, it feels wrong to say that about her. The words don't feel right on my tongue. Maybe it's me, buried deep inside, who knows Flight is and always will be my friend. But this new, possibly improved, version refuses to accept this, and instead determines her not an enemy, but most certainly not a friend. Simply a possible obstacle, who can be taken care of if it becomes neccesary.

Ignoring her, I turn towards the man and his two children. My glare and position is much like that of a wild animal, ready to attack but held back by some invisable force. They have my mother. They have her, and they hurt her, and it is time for me to save her.

"No, I'm not okay," I say, my voice scratchy and strained. "I won't be okay until you give her back."

The man's children have reached us, and my eyes narrow dangerously at them. The older boy backs away a step, looking at his father for support. He offers nothing. The littler girl, however, tugs on his pant leg, gazing up at him with wide green eyes. "Dad? Who's she talking about?"

Before the old man can respond, I cut in, glaring at her. "I'm talking about my mother. Your parents have her, and they better give her back. They better."

Ignoring my response, the little girl frowns. "Why are your friend's eyes yellow? And yours dark dark blue?"

I jerk away from Flight once more, and the man steps back, shushing the girl and drawing her away, unsure whether to stay or run. If he knew what was running through my mind, he would be long gone, with his children and wife. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "She's not my friend."

Very good.

It's enought to strike fear directly into the heart of my sane self as I recognize the beautiful voices. They're just too familiar.

They're the voices I heard when I was dying.

[sadniss everdeen]

Flight DeRicasho

[/size][/center]

| Underestimate my anger, and I will tear you limb from limb. |

The monster whispers silky half truths peppered with razor-sweet lies into the hollow between my ears. It takes what I know and believe it, warping those simple beliefs into something sinister and altogether incomprehensible. As if it were to take reality, and corrupt it into a singular mass of agitated hatred that coils as a serpentine goddess in the center of my heart (where a soul should lay; instead, a rotting carcass that has eaten my being from the instead to create nothing but a oxidized cavern). It writhes and twines itself around my innards, integrating itself into my husk and making me nothing more than a puppet to its vile thoughts and abstract desires.

Sometimes it watches through my eyes - waiting and wishing and hoping that it has a form of its own to wreak havoc and instigate pain upon the general populace that seethes around me as a disguised mass. For all of its misguided covetting of chaos I am but human, and must abide to the rules that keep me alive and away from the clammy grasp of authority.

At times the tenuous and often imagined hold on the monster slips or breaks open completely; bestial rage coupled with frigid hatred melds together into a venomous cocktail of paranoid delusion that I hastily guzzle down, as so not to be without something inside the center of my chest. It creates irate gestures that sever my brightly lit irises with such an intensity that I have to give into its oftentime confusing will, so determined to make the swirling rollercoaster of nothingness halt and dissipate into the void between sleeping and thought. I hate to feel so very alone, and the monster secretly abolishes that selfish and often disasterous whim into something much more... primal.

[/i]

My eyes widen in nanosecond increments as she pushes further and further away from me, exposing the feral madness to which she has been shown and embraced. Something hot boils in my chest, and I have to swallow a cold, slimy lump that threatens to pull itself up my throat in a magnificent array of tentacles and onyx sludge. It has made itself known, and is pulsing an erratic staccato beat against the flimsy confines of my temple. Watching. This kind of insanity - the one I've born witness to my whole life - is something that I can dissect and cope, but this? When the sanity beside me turns into something all the more sinister, I suddenly find myself unable to form a reply save for the violent flashing of my eyes and the way my lips curl up on instinct. Still, I keep my mouth shut and the desperately straining fists at their proper place.

Show her you are not to be trifled with, fool. I suck in a ragged intake of misty wintertide air, feeling as the moistened beads get trapped in the barrier of my throat and create a waterfall that curls down the fleshy confines. Darkness pools in the center of my vision and I barely notice the savage visage that must grace my features, for the little girl squeaks and hides behind the stupid man that continue to push. No matter the generations that pass, humans refuse to be anything more than idiotic sheep that seal their own demise. Luna's lost her mind, I have to be the rational one here. It scoffs and plays with my expression; for a moment I feel a sinister smirk curling at the edges of my lips, eyes lidding and teeth shining stickybright. You know you're the epitome of unrealistic thoughts and emotions. It's been so long. You just have to... let go. A rush of molten anger courses through my veins and my muscles clamp down on myself, breath held mid-through a shuddering gasp and eyes screwed tightly to hide the twin orbs they guard. God no not here please no don't not again don't make me--

"She's not my friend." This snaps whatever fragile hold I have on the human part of me, and I let loose a howl as I barrel sideways and into her smaller frame. We roll twice in the snow before I pin her underneath my shaking frame, eyes wide and nostrils flared in an incomprehensible bout of unearthly rage. "You!" I screech. My voice is a trembling crescendo of uneven noise and crumbling thoughts, mine and the monsters melded together into an unholy harmony of grating noise. Each intake of breath further swells this sudden and irrational hatred, grinding my jaw together so hard I feel sparks pop in front of my monochromatic gaze. "You dare question my commitment to your side?" I snarl, fingers curled into claws by her head. "I have done nothing to warrant anything but your trust!" I don't look but I can feel the terrified stares of the humans behind us, and my lips split into a disgustingly animalistic grin at the thought of their screams, begging me for mercy. In a slim chance I catch my reflection in a pool of ice, and growl at the stranger staring back at me. Still, I glare hard down at Luna but don't soften my stance, nor do I remove myself from over her frame.

Yes, It cooes delightfully in my ear, wallowing in the wanton emotions it can feel springing off every person in the hallowed vicinity. Get her to listen. This is the only way she will accept. I breath heavydeep, chest heaving from under my thin shirt but snow melting upon contact to my feverish heat.

"You want your mother? Fine. We will go. But if you say something as untrue again, my actions..." I glance over at the cowering pieces of meat. "I am not held accountable for."
[/blockquote][/size]

[Stare]

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><>

A gasp escapes me as not only do the words that have left my mouth make sense to my sane self, but something big and loud crashes into my side. There's a momentary explosion of pain, and I feel movement. A tumbling movement, and ice cold snow soaks my back, and then stops. And soaks, and stops. And then she's on me, speaking words that I make myself deaf to.

The voices were listening, though. That is, if voices can listen. They giggle at every single syllable, enjoying her lack of control. Enjoying the way that her eyes try to burn holes in my skull. Enjoying the fact that they are in control, because whatever this strange insanity hears, it repeats. They're voices mix with the sane thoughts and the crazy thoughts, filling my head with sound that the ones outside my body are completely unaware of.

Tapping into past experience, I realize three things. She is stronger than me and bigger than me, which means I can't push her off. Also, she's lost control, but not completely. Some parts of me see this as good, but the voices tell me it is bad. If I want to her to reach her full potential, I have to make sure that she completely gives in. I must bury her common sense. And third, my only tool here is words. But I will never underestimate words.

Inside, sanity whispers for me to try and help her. To drop this thing that has taken control of me. But it is simply a whisper, and the voices block it out, so that it is only another precense in my brain.

By now, the man and his children are backing away, faster and faster, towards their house. A smart move. But those walls won't save them. This house is at the more dangerous part of the district. They can seek help, but only more danger will come from it. The best idea is to hide.

But that won't help, either.

I glare straight back up, into her yellow eyes. Into the dimming sun, and the twisted emotions, and the lack of control. Knowing what I must do. Waiting for the signal.

Oppose her. Accuse her.

"I didn't force you into this, Flight," I hiss. The voice I use is foreign to my ears. "I used to be afraid of hurting you. I couldn't harm you, even if it would help you. That was then, and this is now. If you turn on me, I won't hesitate to fight back."

Not enough. A wave of giggles run through my head. Strike harder. Aim deeper. Threats will not get her off of you. Lie, if you must. Make up something. Twist the truth around so it sounds awful. Make a nightmare come to life.

"Something happened, Flight. After spending days and nights wandering around terrified, I became less and less stable. And here I am now. If you're so loyal, then why am I like this? Why didn't you help me, Flight?" my voice is taunting. It almost hurts me, and my heart. Because deep inside, I don't want to loose Flight as my friend. I don't want her to think this is her fault. But there is no stopping what was on it's way for such a long time. "You act like you control the entire friendship that was there. But no matter how much you hurt or threaten me, it's not going to change. You're telling me that I must consider you my friend and ally. However, last I checked, that desiscion wasn't up you."

Good. Good. No more. Wait. See what she says. See how she reacts.

They can't wait the second it will take. The emotionless insanity doesn't care. But for the little part of me that hasn't lost her mind yet, the wait will go by far too fast, and the reaction will take far too long.


((OOC: Yay! New colors for Luna!))

[sadniss everdeen]

Flight DeRicasho

[/size][/center]

| Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the most fucked up one of all? |

Drugs are a haven of hallucinated feelings and sensory overloads; they feed you lies (baby steps, darling. one paradise at a time) and expect nothing but whole-hearted devotion in return. With slippery tongues and siren's songs they lure you deep into their malevolent maws, lulling you into sweeping addictions and insecurity masquerading as bipolar tendencies. No longer would the world be a singular organism that thrives with offspring, but instead a warped and twisted life that has no distinguished characteristics from right and wrong.

While the powder feels like sin incarnate in your hands, it's the sweetest poison as it finally spirals down into your blood. You sweat under the wrath of your own doing, mind nothing but a torn void of empty memories and hollow thoughts. Shivershake(s)cream and the high leaves, and you're nothing once again. (Slowly you return to yourself, an empty vessel of something that requires artificial life to animate.) I'd long passed the shame one would feel lapping at the edges of your consciousness, only coherent thought to findmoreneedmoremusthave. When you are only a stroke away from brilliance, everything else takes on lesser importance. Dignity crumbles away into dust, and it may take years of valiantly questing to find enough of the shattered pieces to reform them into a singular mass once again, some people never even regain what they had lost to diseased needles and dirty streets.

Addiction isn't only to the pretty little soldiers that stare up with accusing eyes, mouthing bitter-sweet soliloquies and urging for just one more hit. No, on the contrary, anything where the clarity of emotion and purity of mind rests upon the sole embrace of that one thing, it is an addiction. In a sense, I've always been addicted to the monster. It let me lean when I was weak, built me up strong. All it asked in return was my body.
And whatever fragile sanity I used to possess. But isn't that a small price to pay for never falling down?

[/size][/blockquote][/i]

A sudden tidal wave of stickyhot rage washes over the fragile grip on rationality, and I see nothing but tenebrific sparks overshadowed by an impending hatred that is manifested by the brilliant haze that now clouds my vision. Everything is shrouded in a fine mist of red, and if I unfocus my gaze I swear I can see disgusting figures crawling from the woods in ways that bodies aren't supposed to bend. My whole form is shuddering overtop her own; muscles clenching and relaxing in a haphazard song as tension rolls into me with waves. When nails begin to split from gripping so hard into the hard-packed dirt I can't help the low, keening wail to start in the back of my throat - a response to the scorching air that bruises my lungs, another being using my chest to fuel the cocktail of turbulent emotions coursing through every fiber of my being.

"Luna, please." I whisper, voice trembling. I feel close to crying as the repeated howling of the monster smashing against the feeble constraints of its cell echo in the deepest pits of my chest, I'm growing too weak to resist the constant battery. Liquid agony sloshes inside my skull, brain long replaced by acid that eats away at whatever shattered remains of reality used to exist. "End this. I--I can't..." Again it screams and this time I scream with it, muscles seizing and curling into myself - and by default, into her - as this next assault has me seeing nothing but darkness. It is as if I'm disengaging from my proper body, the puppet giving the puppeteer both the strings and the ability to move them. My ragged breathing is so loud in my hypersensitive ears, each inhale sending a jagged spike of poisonous pain directly into my churning core. From unseeing eyes there is a patter of feet and the frenzied slamming of doors, coupled with an eerie quiet save for my tortured noises. Yes. Let them fear.

"Get away!" I shriek, and as if propelled by some unknown force I'm suddenly on the ground. While the cold is a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that has gripped me in a death grip, it is unnoticable against the culmulative emotions that seethe throughout my core. I am unravelling and being reborn all at once - attaining a perfection through my destruction that could not be achieved alone. As my wails grow in pitch I hear answering cries from the house, likely the two children. Their walls won't save them. When I am the sole possesser of my body once more I will stalk over to their shelter and rip them apart, starting from the boy. I long to hear his tortured screams as I tear him limb from-- NO! Not now, I've been so good! Oh god I wan't this to stop I just need it to stop, please just stopstopstopstop

A sudden seizure has me arching my back as my orbs roll so I can view the insides of my mind, a horrible twisted place that I take no pleasure in visiting. The contents confuse and horrify me both at once; I struggle to rend myself from this nightmare. My body twists and writhes and claws but I can't escape from this blind agony which has me reduced to nothingness. Thinking hurts so I stop thinking, letting my physical form writhe as my consciousness slowly fades away.

Perhaps... just this once.

Sleep comes quickly.

[/size][/blockquote]

[OOC: I had more but I'm saving that for another post. When she wakes up she'll be monster-ized, but for now she's knocked out cold. Let her be asleep for seconds or hours, your choice. Btw, that rewrite was done in... 20 minutes. Scary or what?]

[Stare]

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><>

I don't deserve this. I've done almost nothing wrong. Deep inside, I'm a good person. So why do I have to go through all this torture? Why can't I go a month without experiencing some type of great pain? Just a few minutes ago, I was feeling something unbelievable. I'd never felt such a great amount of pain like that in my entire life. And now, insanity grips me tightly, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. What have I ever done?

There was that one night, though. That one night. The glass... the water... and worst of all, her scream. It was a horrible wail that filled every corner of my room, filled with sorrow and pain. And it didn't stop. Even after it was replaced by sobs, all I heard was that high pitched howl echoing in my mind. Not a single tear came out of my eyes, though. I tried. I really, really tried. But the hollow pain that encased my heart was not the kind that could make me scream, or cry, and go silent for days. It was the kind that latched on, and never really let go. It stayed there forever. An eternal ache that was far worse than anything I had ever felt before.

That must have been all I needed to do, though. It's hard not to blame others for all the pain I've been feeling. The easiest target is Flight. Maybe that's why I couldn't stop those words. Because I had longed to say them for so long. Longed for them to be true. But they are nothing but lies. All of this- every single detail- is my fault. I should have looked for help. I shouldn't have run away in the first place. I should have never tried to leave Flight that terrible night. I could have just done what my mother always told me to do. I could have stayed out of trouble. But that isn't what I did, and now, that tiny sane bit of me can't help but think that everyone would be better off if I had never existed. I've caused so much pain.

And now, the thing that hurts the most is that I simply watch her. I watch her through her terrible lack of control, as her weight leaves me. I sit up slowly, rubbing my elebows and brushing the snow off my back, which is soaked anyways. My eyes follow her silently, until she drifts into unconsciousness.

Leave her to the cold. She will only be a burden when she wakes.

I stand up slowly, brushing myself off, and glancing down at her in disgust. What a pathetic little waste of effort. She fought too much, and now she is useless to me. She was weak, anyways. And unstable. She would have turned on me.

My feet crunch in the snow as I drift towards the house, my eyes adjusting as one by one, the lights turn off. The warm yellow light no longer pollutes the night, leaving everything a dusted in silver and white. The stillness is almost unbearable.

I pause. Sanity's whispers can now be heard. I do not want to leave Flight. She's my friend. I have to go back to her. This is not the first time she's lost control, and the few times before, I was able to control her. She needs my help.

Your help? When has she ever needed that? She has others to take care of her. She doesn't need you, so she doesn't care about you anymore. They giggle. A beautiful sound. But also kind of scary. You faded into the background as she turned to others. You weren't important anymore. She didn't help you. Why should you help her?

I consider this, tilting my head to the side slightly. A wrinkles appears between my eyebrows. They make it sound so true, but somehow, that doesn't seem right. A lie seems to be masked behind the certainty with which they speak. Besides, she could be of some use yet. I may need her. We'll find my mother faster if there are two of us. And four against one... even if two of them are children, I could still loose. And then where would I be?

I turn, one hand moving up to brush some loose hair out of my midnight eyes. Upon reaching her, I lean back against the nearest tree, watching her. She's so still. She looks younger, despite her size. Almost innocent. But I know of the crimes she commits. I've even seen them a few times. I know that when she looses control, there is a price to pay.

However, there is also a price to pay for my own loss of control. I never knew it was this easy to break. I remember when I was as solid as a rock. But things have changed, and I have changed. It's almost scary to think of how quickly how transformed. How easily I lost the stability I once possessed. That was only a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I'm not the person I used to be.

Certain events changed me. Falling off the roof was definately a big one. I learned to trust. I learned to befriend. Perhaps, in some way, I became stronger. That was when I met Flight. Another big one was definately my arguement with her. I learned pain. And I learned loss. But worst of all, I learned that when it all becomes too much, I just go numb. It's my mind's way of protecting me. One of the biggest ones, though, was recent. Less than a week ago, actually.

It was when I spent my seventeenth birthday alone, wandering the streets with strangers. No one even tried to find me.

Not that I care now. It hurt then. But not now. Now, I feel only power. A power that radiates from within me. Maybe similar to what Flight has. Or had. I'm not sure anymore. And then I see it. A slight movement out of corner of my eye. I turn slightly, eyebrows raised.

She stirs.

((OOC: Over 1,000 words. I'm happy. I had a lot of muse for this one.))

[/blockquote][/justify]

[sadniss everdeen]

Flight DeRicasho

[/size][/center]

| You can hide your whole life, but never once may you deny the beast. |

My body rolls in this endless void; I am blind and deaf and dumb but at the same time I can feel the extended reality that thrums just out of reach from my dull fingers. Each breath is cold and slimy and tastes like death, but it helps cool the fire that moments ago was raging throughout my whole being. My teeth ache from being clenched but I can't find it in myself to loosen, especially when I feel a clammy hand touch the strong cheekbones that grant me an impression of fallen royalty. It was Luna's birthday a few days ago. It murmurs quietly, shadowed prose slipping silently into my ears. I shudder at the feeling of it invading my body - a foreign presence that doesn't belong and certainly isn't welcome.

And this is relevant, how? The words manage to be forced through gritted teeth and a numb tongue, flopping helplessly in its moist cavern. It chuckles and I can see a flash of gray from the peripherals of my vision, but the rolling continues and I lose sight before I'm able to fully grasp what it wants. A whimper rises from my throat as I halt on my stomach, arms and legs dangling down into the endless abyss that is presented to me. You don't want to go back, do you? It cooes, materializing beside me and gazing down into the chasm with me. I don't dignify it an answer, but the unspoken terror on my features speaks louder than whatever I could congugate.

It takes my most precious possession - a crescent moon of ultramarine brilliance - and dangles it in front of my eyes. A hand reaches out to snatch it but it's like I'm a clumsy child again, it moves far out of my reach before I've even made it half way. If you are weak, she will leave you. Do you want that? Uncertain where the energy comes from I shake my head vigorously, elegant eyebrows knitting into a furious scowl as I struggle to right myself. Never. It pulls a sword out of its sheath; they have been broke down to long knives but still gleam deadly, shining with a sickly promise in this horrible halfdark.

Then let me help you. The blade runs quickly across my throat and crimson blood spirals down into the gaping void, and I scream and scream but it just laughs and worms its way into my wound where my skin stretches and burns until it has integrated fully into my soul. All the noise turns into ominous silence, and I feel the sudden urge to smile. It is both mine and not, but the intent is obvious.

They will all die.

---

My eyes snap open with a strangled and undignified noise before I roll over and heave, coughing up the dredges in my stomach and frowning when instead, blood spews out from my mouth and saturates the ground beneath me. It creates a little pool that seeps to the frozen lake, curling into the ice and making intricate patterns where it frosts over and remains. I spit out the scarlet and cough slightly, righting myself and blinking hard when the world spins out of focus. In all honesty I should be falling over myself but I've never felt so... alive. It's like all the energy I've ever felt at one time is centered directly in my chest and is pulsing out into all my limbs like an organism feeding to its offspring. This... rage is what propels me to my feet instead of remaining on the ground in a monster-induced stupor, glancing around without direction. My eyes fall onto Luna's for a moment - why was I suddenly so frustrated - and I give a confused raise of eyebrows.

"Why're you staring like that?" A cough; my voice sounds so rough and wild compared to usual, it's slightly unsettling. "I'm sorry about your birthday, by the way. I tried to find you." That piece of information came without consent and I roll my eyes at the sappiness of the phrase, stretching and popping bones that are in all the wrong places. Instead the monster curls out in decidedly feline contentment, finally given a chance to breathe. Why don't I do this more often? Integrating it into my life makes me feel (complete?) free.

My breath spirals from delicate formations into the starry sky beyond; it's outstanding how much sharper everything appears. Each outline is in clear focus, I can even see the shallow rise and fall of Luna's chest when she inhales. The bitter air is delightfully cold upon my tongue, and the thrill of the hunt calls to me like a siren's song. Go. You have much to do. Let Luna come into her own... it may prove interesting. For a second my eyes darken drastically and a cruel smile curls at the corners of my lips, viewing the face of the one that got away so many months ago. "Wonderful to see you again, Luna." I purr, brushing a strand of inkblack hair from my face. "Amusing that you aren't trying to stop me this time. Perhaps I will let you keep your life." But then the strange wave is gone and I'm left feeling slightly dizzy - the spell was broken by the decidedly terrified slam of an inner door inside their flimsy house.

Yes... I murmur quietly inside my mind, feeling the euphoric rush of the chase settling upon me. Their screams are always the sweetest when I let them hope of their survival in the beginning. It is time. My gaze flicks over to Luna even as my crouch becomes animalistic in its execution and my fingers curl into crude claws. It is her night; for this one time, she will be Queen.

Lead the way.

[OOC: Horrible quality, but hey. It's progress.][/size][/blockquote]

[Stare]

When darkness falls,
You can see the stars.
<><><><><><><><>

I ignore her attempt at an apology. Strangers are not very good company. Swimming in a sea of faces, one feels very, very alone. I remember what I had for lunch. Soup that had too much water. The bread was good, though. That night, the stars were out. Something that is rare for winter. Usually the clouds block them out. But they were there. Dancing, reflected in my eyes... no, it will take a lot more than that for her to make it up to me.

My eyebrows raise slightly when she speaks. I've seen the monster before. Heard it, too. And I've felt fear. But never for myself. Only for others. For Jasik, and Ari, and Flight herself. Even when it addressed me directly, I was never really afraid. I screamed. I struggled. I taunted. But I never gave up, because it always failed to strike fear into my heart.

She wishes for you to fear her right now. They giggle loudly, as if this is the funniest thing they have ever heard. Right now, you fear no one.

My lips turn up in a slight smile. The first in a very, very long time. But it's not a happy smile. It's a cruel one. "I was never scared of you when I was sane. Why should I fear you now? I am stronger than I was. And colder."

There is more to be said, Luna, they whisper. If you wish to show her you mean buisness. If you wish for her to fear you for a change.

Sanity, although not in control, can still help me resist the voices. I do not need to upset her anymore. She's helping. She knows I'm in charge. She doesn't need to fear me. She will never fear me. It will never let her. I am weak, even in this state.

Try, Luna. Sometimes fear is good.

I bite my bottom lip for a moment, unsure. They have a point. I can't have her turning on me. She is physically stronger than I am. However, insanity has strengthened my mind. I am quicker, and more clever. And she has demonstrated her knowledge that I am in charge.

Swiftly, I don't bother to be silent as I approach the house. They know we're coming. I pause in front of the door, reaching in my boot for my blade. I smile as it glints in the moonlight.

"We're here to get my mother," I say softly. "Nothing takes priority. Nothing. So don't waste time."

I push against the door. Usually, when my mother and I were here, I just pushed open. You didn't have to turn anything. But, not to my surprise, I find it locked. My fingers reach into my pocket to find the key. I brought it, just in case.

When my fingers make contact, my midnight eyes widen and I feel a pain in my heart. If anything has happened to her, they will pay. She has to be okay. She was always so kind to me. She wouldn't abandon me, even though she went through so much pain to support us both. So I left her instead. I thought I was helping her. Looking back, I can't imagine the pain she felt.

How many nights did I spend awake, worrying about her? I can't remember one that I didn't. I didn't go an hour without thinking of her, even when I was in great danger.

I turn the key, and there's a click that makes my heart leap. She's in there... she needs me. I have to be there for her now, to make up for the year that I wasn't. The door swings open to reveal darkness. But I'm not fooled.

"Find her."

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