Crown the Devil, Part II :: [Calliope + Wolfgang]
Jun 21, 2017 14:52:21 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Jun 21, 2017 14:52:21 GMT -5
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pick apart every piece of me
and miss the point entirely
and miss the point entirely
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What the hell are you doing, Calliope? Her hands are shaking with a strange kind of fear, a type she hasn't felt in years. She's been carelessly brazen for so long she had forgotten what it's like to be nervous. "Seriously. What the hell am I doing?" It's a bare whisper, hesitant and naked in the quiet on this side of the college, away from the crowd gathered for the mayoral speeches out front.
Giving her own speech feels like someone else's memory. It's as if she's waking up from a blackout, trying to retrace her steps and it just doesn't make sense how she wound up here. This was never a possible future for her. Then again, neither was the life she's been living as a high school dropout cooking meth in her kitchen. It doesn't really matter how it happened, because it's definitely reality. One moment she was ranting to a co-worker about how things need to be better and the next she was ranting to the whole district.
There's a neatly written speech in her pocket that talks about optimism and reeks of saccharine cliche. It reads like an A+ tenth year essay - honor's class, of course. Every word is pretty, polite, and full of shit. When she took the stage and found herself standing in front of the podium, she forgot about the paper entirely and said all sorts of things she wasn't supposed to. Yelling. Swearing. Banging her fists.
She's not embarrassed, even though part of her is aware she should be. It's unbelievably satisfying to finally confront the world like this, instead of settling for sucker punching Mace Emberstatt and wondering why it didn't succeed in giving her closure. Her real problems are too big for his shoulders alone.
Taking in a breath, instead of trying to calm the nerves that worry this opportunity might be taken from her at any moment, she clenches her hands into defiant fists and uses the feeling to rile herself up more. What the hell am I doing? "I'm being being a badass motherfucker, that's what, because I'm Calliope Fucking Bloom and everybody can suck it!"
Fuck yeah.
Giving her own speech feels like someone else's memory. It's as if she's waking up from a blackout, trying to retrace her steps and it just doesn't make sense how she wound up here. This was never a possible future for her. Then again, neither was the life she's been living as a high school dropout cooking meth in her kitchen. It doesn't really matter how it happened, because it's definitely reality. One moment she was ranting to a co-worker about how things need to be better and the next she was ranting to the whole district.
There's a neatly written speech in her pocket that talks about optimism and reeks of saccharine cliche. It reads like an A+ tenth year essay - honor's class, of course. Every word is pretty, polite, and full of shit. When she took the stage and found herself standing in front of the podium, she forgot about the paper entirely and said all sorts of things she wasn't supposed to. Yelling. Swearing. Banging her fists.
She's not embarrassed, even though part of her is aware she should be. It's unbelievably satisfying to finally confront the world like this, instead of settling for sucker punching Mace Emberstatt and wondering why it didn't succeed in giving her closure. Her real problems are too big for his shoulders alone.
Taking in a breath, instead of trying to calm the nerves that worry this opportunity might be taken from her at any moment, she clenches her hands into defiant fists and uses the feeling to rile herself up more. What the hell am I doing? "I'm being being a badass motherfucker, that's what, because I'm Calliope Fucking Bloom and everybody can suck it!"
Fuck yeah.
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