drag {me} down with {you} Elwyn's

[cass]

[bg=0A0B09][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] Come away little lass Come away to the water To the ones that are waiting only for you Come away little lass Come away to the water

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Gently, ever so gently the water would tug teasingly at my long lean limbs. It would pull and slide, gracefully slipping over each leg, each arm, over my torso and my chest. The clothes I wore were covered in dirt, it had weaved itself into the very fabric and no amount of scratching would ever remove it. It was a permanent stain. It was a simple dress; it tangled itself down towards my knees, where it was cut off abruptly, a rigid edge that looked as though it had been simply ripped. A careless hand had grasped the fabric, tearing the length down until it appeared to the eye to be more comfortable. Long dresses held no pleasure, they often disrupted each of the movements of your legs, and they destroyed the freedom of feeling. They restricted and contorted your ability to simply be free. I had hated the length, and it had reached my feet, enveloping itself into each of my steps and destroying the usual elegance that had bestowed itself upon me.

The water tickled me. It made small shivers ripple up my body. As they cold disappeared small little Goosebumps took over. The floated their way down the entire length of my body, till every inch was covered. The pond water was cold, and it stretched its fingers into my body. It seeped into each of my limbs and it froze my blood. Traces of snow still lingered over the small forest that I called my home. It was the first day since winter had ended; it was the first day that I had dared step into the icy waters. My heart, my head and my chest had ached for me to go sooner. I craved its touch, even if it killed me. Every day I tried to breathe, swallowing in lungful’s of water, and every day it would never work.

But when winter befalls the district I knew I had to stop. I knew that the only way I could die was within the waters grasp, and freezing to death was not an option. It took every bit of strength and every bit of effort that I had to not step onto the ice and watch it break beneath my bare feet. Sometimes I would tease myself by tempting fate. I would carefully edge a single foot out onto the ice. The cold would bite viciously into my skin and within seconds it would feel as though some fire was tearing into my flesh. But I would keep going, and slowly, - as though the Gods were watching and waiting - I would lower my weight onto that one foot. Leaning forwards, closer and closer to the edge of the iced pond, where everything was hidden under that thin, delicate layer of ice.

Sometimes I would never hear the sound of the ice giving away, under the weight of my foot, and it would just slip through the ice, slip through the thin glass that had only seconds ago separated me from my life. Sometimes I would hear the loud cracking as it snapped, as it fought against the weight of my foot, and even in those times I would not draw away. I would hold myself there, pushing the ice further, daring it to hold me, and pushing it to its limit. It would never hold me, it would always give way. Sometimes I would almost fall in, the black waters swaying under the broken ice, as though they wished it would happen, but I never did. Some part of me - no matter how fragile and frail it was knew that if that were to ever happen I would die. I had to learn to breathe before I died.

No matter if I did or I didn’t my foot would plunge into the water, the broken ice skittering around my ankle. Sometimes I would scream, sometimes I would cry, dragging my foot away, as the fire ripped through the skin. It hurt; it made me hurt so much to know that the water was doing this to me. But no matter how much the pain hurt, no matter how long it raged through my body, until I could warm my limbs up again I would do it again.

Lungful’s of water slipped down my throat, its ice cold touch burned the whole way down. As the seconds past my lungs began to burn, familiar, but painful. My head began to pound as though I had been kicked, and my body forcefully dragged itself away from the water, the surface that had been so still and calm, where I had laid only moments ago was now rippling, shaking. The water thrashed around my body as I fought the urge to breath in air. As my body fought against every instinct it had to just forget to breathe the air and breathe in the water. But it would not work. As the darkness crept along my vision, as the darkness seeped into my own mind and heart I give up, and I throw myself upwards. As I break the surface I suck in massive lungful’s of air. It was painful, so very painful to breathe in the sweet, sweet air and within seconds the blackness had faded from my eyes.

I still ached painfully, my head throbbing, my throat, my heart and my body ached. Furiously I kick at the water, thrashing my legs carelessly this way and that. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! ARGHHHHHHHH.” I screamed. Frustrated I slap pitifully at the water, but as always I give up after a few seconds. The water paid no heed to my cries. It ignored every curse, every outraged cry and fury filled hit. I hated it, I hated it how it would ignore me. Fuming I storm out of the pond. I was so tired of the failure that I had faced for ten years now; I was so tired of the days, upon days of trying, but never, ever receiving. It made me hurt, it made me ache painfully in my chest to know that I was always failing. All I wanted to do was breathe and be free, all I wanted to do was feel that water trickle down my lungs and not make me want to scream in agony. I just wanted to breathe.

With an empty heart I walk away from the pond, clothes soaking, hair dripping, and dirt clinging to my skin, and for once I'm too dejected to even spare it a glance.

Away from the life that you always knew
We are calling to you
Come away little light
Come away to the darkness
In the shade of the night we’ll come looking for you

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[Python]

- - - - - -

The creature of the night was a black smudge plaguing the pale canvas of skin, crawling its way inch by inch with tendrils tickling sensitive hairs and beady eyes unblinking. The spider was a friend to nature and enemy to humankind, but merely a pawn in the fabricated fantasy world of Ingrid Elwyn, where the earth was twisted and everything was underwater rather than hovering above the surface of a blue abyss. The creature was of no threat to her, even as its fangs like small daggers pulsed in an instinctive desire for bloodshed in return for a stream of sweet venom.

I am invincible. Poison could not scorch veins of steel; fangs could not penetrate titanium flesh; nature was powerless against the girl who was blessed by the angels of the deep, and there was a reason behind this strange invulnerability. There is only one proper way to die, she will say, as she allowed the serpents to embrace her ankles and cut the blood flow to her vessels. It was not by the hand of a human (such a thing is blasphemy, the Games are a crime against the holy!) or by the claws of nature’s children; it was by the water, and the water alone. One day - teehee! - you will all watch the world drown. And that was why nature was her ally.

The hairy beast latched onto her clothing - a flowery dress that skirted at her knees and billowed in a gentle breeze - and clung to the loose fabric as Ingrid basked in the shadows of the treetops and shielded herself from a hot sun’s kisses, its heat trying to peel her skin as she prowled through the tall grass like a predator on the hunt for easy prey. Her footsteps were quiet, her soles having grown accustomed to the scratchy twigs and rough terrain and itchy soil, and thus nature greeted her with the melodies of songbirds and brushes of wind and sounds that soothed the mind rather than disturbed the tranquility. Nature was her home, so she certainly hoped it would welcome her with open arms after each sunrise and sunset. It was a gift from them, this eternal beauty. The rich soil, the towering oaks, the flowers that blossomed each spring, the bees that sweetened their nest in coats of delicious honey; it was all part of the cycle that would run eternal, a blessing to the suffering from the creatures that dwelled beneath their feet. In the churning waters, they watch us. With glass eyes and scales carved of pure gold they mothered the earth like it was a long lost child, cradling the fragile crust in their arms and channeling their powers into its core to feed the dirt-walkers that would eventually join them in their holy world. This was Ingrid’s fantasy and reality; a world conquered by the mermaids of the ocean she would not reach until after her tragic death.

My sister seeks to join them early. As a scream pierced the crisp air, Ingrid tilted her head and relished the high pitches of frustration and the low growls of pain. A splash of water. Who was disturbing the peaceful waters at this hour? Who would act with such violence toward earth’s beloved resource? Dear sister, you should not be playing with your fate. A glimpse past the brush confirmed her suspicions that it was Arletta trying once again to seize the power of the angels herself, or perhaps perish with their tails wrapped around her windpipe as she thrashed wildly about. As expected, the girl had found no success in her attempts. Ingrid shook her head, stepping out of her hiding spot to reveal herself to her foolish sister. She, too, was scarred by nature’s wear and tear, the mud stains clashing with her dress and the tears littering the seams. It was evident by her drenched cloth and twisted features that she had been once again exploring the forbidden world, treading water that would forever fail to bring her the magic she sought as long as she remained in the overworld. And even if she did wish to drown instead of breathe, there were forces beyond her control that decided her fate. Now was not yet her time to pass, and any attempts to claim their power would end in disappointment.

”You can’t hope to breathe the way they do, Arletta,” said the dark spirit, her words fashioned together by the string’s of a harp, yet these strings were as sharp and deadly as a double-edged sword. ”They are magical creatures, and you’re just - human.” Her eyes were half-lidded and hollow, as if she were floating in a dreamlike state, head still tilted and mind completely oblivious to the spider that crawled its way to her spine and sent microscopic chills skittering across her skin. They were all human, she will admit, all with the same holy waters coursing through their veins. Even the spirits that visited her quarters past the hour of midnight had once reigned as humans and walked this earth as mortals. Death was what brought them their eternal life and blessings of prosperity and magic, because only those cleansed by the waters were pure enough to possess such power without crumbling to ash. Sin must be wiped away before the human spirit can bear such honor, and you, dear Arletta, have not yet been deemed worthy of drowning by their hand.[/blockquote][/justify]

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 111714; border: 0; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px;] imelda narcisse elwyn

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The clouds kissed me in my dream last night.

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Somehow, I had felt it, and it had made my heart beat so fast.[/i] The dream was like any other: me standing on the balcony of my castle, the clouds swirling around the towers and royal flags with the grace of an angel, and the sky itself singing me a lullaby.

"Princess of the high,
Prepare your final goodbyes,
The clouds are coming,
To make your heart keep churning,

Prepare yourself young princess,
For here is the answer to all your wishes,
The clouds are coming, my child,
To whisk you away,

Prepare yourself child of the sky,
For the clouds do not miss their target,
And do not fear,
For this is what you want,

To be higher than the highest high."

The words had flowed into my every being and wrapped around my eardrums. They left a never ending stain of yearning as I had found myself leaning over my balcony, the sound of the winds making my eyes flutter closed and giving me the strength to spread my arms.[/color] The clouds really were coming for me, and I could sense it.

I leaned over further and felt my fingers spread as my lips parted. I wanted the clouds to take me now. I was a part of the sky; I was a princess of the high.[/i] The crown of the high skies was to be placed upon my waves of brown locks, whilst the mortals bowed down.

A cackle escaped my parted lips at the thought, before a finger came and stopped my sickening song of joy. Except, it was no finger, it was the soft caress of a cloud, that caused my body to go limp with pleasure.[/color]

But, as my body went limp, I found myself tumbling from my balcony, and cascading back down into the land of the damned and back into my weak body.

Opening my eyes and abruptly awakening from a pleasant dream was no fun deed. I had found myself letting out a frustrated groan as I sat upright. "Damn," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. Pulling my feet to my chest I sighed, casting a glance upwards at the grey sky. I had fallen asleep on my rocky outcrop while stargazing last night, which explains the dream. I'm pathetic; I'm still too pathetic for the sky to accept me. But, of course, I'll never let my sisters notice that.

A yawn escaped my lips as I arose with a shake of my arms. With narrow eyes I glanced around, before they locked onto a soaked Arletta and sneaky Ingrid. With furrowed eyebrbrows I charged forward, my face in a snarl.

"Arletta are you insane?!" my voice echoed through our little patch of woods. Shoving Ingrid out of my way I grasped Arletta's shoulders. "You're going to catch your death and die, you idiot!" My eyes lock onto Ingrid now. "And you! You should not be up this early, I mean, just oh my Ripred, you two are the biggest idiots on this foul planet! Argh!" I found a scream cutting through my lips as I stomped around.

But, was I really angry with my adventurous sisters? Or was I just angry at myself?

Angry at myself for being pathetic...[/justify][/blockquote]

graphic: zoe
table: zoe
fc: merle bergers darla baker
plot: cass

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[florentine, d4b ❁]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2pqlzd1.jpg); width: 500px; padding-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true] orianna elwyn.

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There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back
Well tell her that I miss our little talks
Soon it will be over and buried with our past
We used to play outside when we were young
And full of life and full of love[/center]

Your skin itches with something inconceivable - it first you wonder if it is perhaps excitement or greif or hunger or something else new

, but in a heavy turn of realisation you remember that it is fear. (Always, you will be afraid. Don' try to escape that.) If it is not the simple ground beneath your feet that poses a threat, it will be something else. I am not the only monster that lurks beneath the surface of sanity, my dear. Others, like the ones that plague your sisters, would not be so lenient with you. Be thankful that I do not reach up from my place below the feet of the living with vengeful hands and pull you down into the world of six-feet-below. I am patient, and I wait for you to fall of your own accord.

(Some people are drawn to disaster, spreading mischief with them wherever they go.) Although you have been known to make things awkward with your requirements, and break things as you tumble around in a terrified rush, you never did chase commotion. (Go on, can't you hear them argue? With lilting voices are fierce tongues? Go on.)

[/color] What point is there to spending time in the treetops, I ask you, when you could down there, part of the fun? I dare you to follow them.[/color] You're hesitant, slow. Carefully, fingers edge toward the outermost branch of your home. You are comfortable in the treetops, no longer precariously balanced and uncertain of your step as you were when we first met. Even so, it takes you more time than I would like for you slide a leg from the shelf and take your first step away from your sanctuary.

(Your curiosity is my biggest tool when it comes to prising you toward me.)[/color] You can turn down a challenge, a dare, a taunt, but you can't stay away from something undiscovered and unknown. Aching to see the argument that unfolds somewhere nearby, you make a heart-stopping leap with outstretched arms, catch yourself on another branch likely, and begin to build up another swing.[/color] Legs bent, you hurtle through the air again. You fly. Tumble, head over heels. Expertly, you manage to navigate your way from limb to limb, never doing what I ask and complying with gravity. (I'll have you know it's inevitable, Orianna. One day, we'll meet properly.)[/color]

Finally, keen eyes catch sight of the pond. You do not see it as it is - a simple body of water, rippling and filled with life. To a coward, to you, it is an entrance to the underworld, a hand in which I can take from the living easily, a bottomless pit in which to fall.[/color] (What you do not know is that I only lie at the riverbed - that you could swim above me in the same way you dance above me now, and I would never catch you there.)[/color] Unless a petrified little foot kicked out to stop it's owner from drowning. Then, Orianna, I would strike. With silent, watchful eyes you survey the scene before you. Hidden in the treetops, you are not required to make an entrance.

You wait longer than I would before you finally snap. (Snap like a twig, like a branch, like the bow of a tree that could snap right beneath your feet if only luck was on my side.)[/color] "You really shouldn't, you know," you say with a smooth, mesmerised voice. Unlike the others, you are not panicked or worried about your sibling. Anger doesn't bubble in your throat or ripple beneath your skin. You whisper, as though you are worried I might hear you. And I do. Every single breath you take, Orianna, I hear.[/color] You appear from beneath the cover of leaves in one elegant movement, a light-footed, fairy-like jump where you go from treetop to lower branch, simply dangling there with one knee bent to your chest and the other hanging out over the air.

"Get so cross at her for that. She wont drown, she can't. But if she wants to, let her try." What puzzles me is your intent - you are no coldhearted or malicious, simply wise. Your mind has gaps where other people see sense; your world is made up only of scattered panic attacks, the tops of wardrobes and the open sky. What does it matter to anyone what Arletta does? In your eyes, people should be allowed to run away from their fears in any way they want to. "None of us can really preach on sanity." You understand that there is a series of criss-crossing lines between right and wrong, true and false. You do not question them. You move on, a rush of air and a kick of legs and a wordless goodbye. (As you away your sister's response, I await your eventual demise.)
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You're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
All that's left is the ghost of you
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart
There's nothing we can do

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[semper]

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.

The acorn was small in her hand, lightweight and with a large crack running along its side. A frown tugged at the corners of Mabel’s mouth. It never got the chance to grow. She curled her fingers, moving the poor little seed along her mud-stained palm, examining the full extent of the wound. It’s alright, little seed. I’ll take care of you. Fingers then closed around the acorn in a caressing manner before she stood up, other hand resting against the rough bark of a pine tree to keep her steady.

The air was still rather cold but it was not a good enough reason for Mabel to believe she needed to put her socks on. Her red-hued toes wriggled around in the thawing dirt and dew-soaked grass scattered with musky dying leaves. It was the earth’s way of feeding itself, she believed, much like how she picked berries to feed herself. The ground’s berries were the leaves (that’s why all the leaves have to die and fall before the forest flowers again) and she knew well enough to crush up dead leaves when planting her seeds, not only to give them a soft cushion but to let them start off well-fed. But this poor acorn had no chance to take root and she knew it. The seed was dead, any slim hope of expanding the forest eradicated from its tiny, thin shell. It’s just like how the humans treat this forest. The humans, the savages, they were tampering with her forest, her safe haven, my home.

Mabel’s fingers continued to squeeze the acorn until pinpricks of pain caused her to quickly loosen her grip. Shards of the brown shell were stuck in her dirty skin and the cap lay busted in her palm. The frown on her face deepened and a mournful expression bogged her features. She stood still, staring blankly at the broken seed until a sharp cry pierced her dark cloud of doom and gloom.

Acorn forgotten she bolted, bare feet slapping against the cold ground, following the sound of who she knew was her sister. Is she alright? Of course she was, all of her sisters were strong and could endure just about anything, but what would cause one of them to scream?

Mabel reached the area her sisters were in and found three of them already huddled around Arletta. Arletta was fine, much to her relief, but was soaking wet and Mabel thought she would catch a cold for sure. The same thought must have run through Imelda’s mind because she scolded their sister, questioning her sanity for being drenched in this frigid weather. The young sister stopped and stood on the outskirts of the gathering, watching her older sister as she turned on Ingrid, also. A small grin drew across the young one’s face as the other two were chastised for their actions while she remained unnoticed, shrouded by the shadows of the trees around her.

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The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.

Lost, David Wagoner

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