without roots — tumblehoes / dragged queens / blades (day 3)
Nov 14, 2018 20:30:53 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Nov 14, 2018 20:30:53 GMT -5
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I got fight, I got heart
I got the strength to tear it apart
I got the strength to tear it apart
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The hand that is not a hand, but the bidding of someone else's will, sends a knife flying into the boy's back. It doesn’t cut deep, but some pain isn't about the wound. It is not the blood or even the violence that bothers Denali — after all his brain, although questionable, remains within his skull — but the way his expression subtly twists as she calls him Piss Boy. It shouldn’t bother her. He's the one who taunted her first, who told her to drink piss and mailed her a fresh cup of it. There’s no way for him to know that he's not the first. "Piss Boy? Excuse me, but I am Parson Cham to you." (No way, you'll always be Piss Boy to me.) There’s no way for him to know that she has been bullied for as long as she can remember and that she thought at least that would be something she wouldn't have to endure here. "Come on, I bet you can be more creative than that for a nickname."
"You're not worth the effort," she mutters, eyebrows furrowing at the way he acts as if she's the one crossing lines of civility. It's easy to tell when someone isn't just a slightly lousy person, but deeply backwards in their basic mindset because they're the ones who lash out unprompted against her — against her little sisters — and then act appalled when Denali attempts to defend herself or her family. As if she's just supposed to lay down and take it, like a good girl. Guzzle that piss down, sweetheart. (NO.) Did he seriously expect her to thank him for such a thoughtful gift? It's not as if he actually deserves to die for being a basic bitch bully, honestly, but it certainly takes him off the shortlist of people she's willing to die for. (Ripred, Seville, I promise I'd volunteer for you all over again, but I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think —)
Her body rings like a bell. It is the clanging of a grand cathedral, loud enough to travel distances, and Denali feels her bones shake with the sound of her mangled armor burrowing into her side. It begs her to protect it as it protects her, but there are rhinestones scattered across the earth at her toes and she won't be stooping down to save them. Only the selfish survive here. "What's your name? Dandelion?" The air is bathwater in her ears and the voice of Lex's district partner sounds as if he is trying to speak to her from across worlds. ( — isn't he?) Like any girl who has ever thought herself ugly at times, but loved herself anyway, Denali Lyons adores dandelions. It is a fierce weed that mimics the face of the sun without shame and every spring Denali would pluck bouquets from the meadow to braid into flower crowns for her and each of her siblings. She wouldn't mind if she were named for them.
Instead Denali is named not for a flower, but for a mountain that she will never know. In the days before it was forgotten in favor of war and walls, it was renowned for being one of the mightiest and most isolated peaks in the world. Only the brave would attempt to conquer such an unfathomable wilderness and it is no wonder that the girl who calls such a mountain great, great grandmother Earth finds it impossible to bow her head to adversity. "I am Angel De Costa —" Although she might not fully know herself, she certainly knows what an angel is, but she never thought she would meet one in a place like this. Angels are meant to keep people safe or at the very least, they're meant to be kind. This one might have just killed her if not for the armor lining the cross stitched madness of her battle jacket. Beneath the the flurry of knives soaring from the mouth of a clumsily embroidered lion, her ribs would have surely broken against the wicked weight of his weapon. "— but you can call me Cigarette Boy."
Piss Boy? Cigarette Boy? Of course she could name them both better than that. "You're no angel to me. Cigarettes? Uh-uh. I should name you Burden, because your death will be a weight on my conscience. On Lex's. On Mackenzie's. On your family and friends. On —" (Piss Boy... Parson? No.) "— that guy." She could name him Conflict or Indecision. If she lives through this then maybe she'll even come to know him as Nightmare. There are so many things she could call Angel De Costa, but none of them will ever be his name. "Don't ask my name. You don't want to know it." Somewhere in this world there is a sometimes breathtaking, sometime treacherous mountain that Denali will never see and perhaps dandelions grow upon the cliffside. "It'll only make it harder to swing that thing at me again." She takes a deep breath before throwing, contemplating just how true those words might be, and she screams at the top of her lungs as the cleaver is released: "DENALI!"
"You're not worth the effort," she mutters, eyebrows furrowing at the way he acts as if she's the one crossing lines of civility. It's easy to tell when someone isn't just a slightly lousy person, but deeply backwards in their basic mindset because they're the ones who lash out unprompted against her — against her little sisters — and then act appalled when Denali attempts to defend herself or her family. As if she's just supposed to lay down and take it, like a good girl. Guzzle that piss down, sweetheart. (NO.) Did he seriously expect her to thank him for such a thoughtful gift? It's not as if he actually deserves to die for being a basic bitch bully, honestly, but it certainly takes him off the shortlist of people she's willing to die for. (Ripred, Seville, I promise I'd volunteer for you all over again, but I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think —)
Her body rings like a bell. It is the clanging of a grand cathedral, loud enough to travel distances, and Denali feels her bones shake with the sound of her mangled armor burrowing into her side. It begs her to protect it as it protects her, but there are rhinestones scattered across the earth at her toes and she won't be stooping down to save them. Only the selfish survive here. "What's your name? Dandelion?" The air is bathwater in her ears and the voice of Lex's district partner sounds as if he is trying to speak to her from across worlds. ( — isn't he?) Like any girl who has ever thought herself ugly at times, but loved herself anyway, Denali Lyons adores dandelions. It is a fierce weed that mimics the face of the sun without shame and every spring Denali would pluck bouquets from the meadow to braid into flower crowns for her and each of her siblings. She wouldn't mind if she were named for them.
Instead Denali is named not for a flower, but for a mountain that she will never know. In the days before it was forgotten in favor of war and walls, it was renowned for being one of the mightiest and most isolated peaks in the world. Only the brave would attempt to conquer such an unfathomable wilderness and it is no wonder that the girl who calls such a mountain great, great grandmother Earth finds it impossible to bow her head to adversity. "I am Angel De Costa —" Although she might not fully know herself, she certainly knows what an angel is, but she never thought she would meet one in a place like this. Angels are meant to keep people safe or at the very least, they're meant to be kind. This one might have just killed her if not for the armor lining the cross stitched madness of her battle jacket. Beneath the the flurry of knives soaring from the mouth of a clumsily embroidered lion, her ribs would have surely broken against the wicked weight of his weapon. "— but you can call me Cigarette Boy."
Piss Boy? Cigarette Boy? Of course she could name them both better than that. "You're no angel to me. Cigarettes? Uh-uh. I should name you Burden, because your death will be a weight on my conscience. On Lex's. On Mackenzie's. On your family and friends. On —" (Piss Boy... Parson? No.) "— that guy." She could name him Conflict or Indecision. If she lives through this then maybe she'll even come to know him as Nightmare. There are so many things she could call Angel De Costa, but none of them will ever be his name. "Don't ask my name. You don't want to know it." Somewhere in this world there is a sometimes breathtaking, sometime treacherous mountain that Denali will never see and perhaps dandelions grow upon the cliffside. "It'll only make it harder to swing that thing at me again." She takes a deep breath before throwing, contemplating just how true those words might be, and she screams at the top of her lungs as the cleaver is released: "DENALI!"
girl gang gin wigmore
[ angrily throws knife at an O sign ]
[ runs off like STOMP STOMP STOMP COMPLEX EMOTIONS BAHUMBUG ]
[ angrily throws knife at an O sign ]
[ runs off like STOMP STOMP STOMP COMPLEX EMOTIONS BAHUMBUG ]
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