IP: 24.18.171.195
Posted on May 20, 2010 at 11:05:56 PM by Charlotte Tweet
 What she sees is a lot of hurting people both mentally and physically. Those who hurt on the inside, she sees, are the ones stuck in corners with their eyes concentrating on the floor or staring off out the window trying to imagine a better place. Those hurt on the outside, well, it’s a bit more obvious so she doesn’t have to try so hard to understand them. All of them are freaks in one way or another – but this is a good term coming from Charlotte, she feels she can fit in better with this castle full of misfits better than she could back home. Granted, her family consisted of six other random people that her Aunt Shelley picked up from street corners, bars, jails, shelters, broken homes, all of them lost faces with even more lost people behind them. Yet somewhere inside, there was not only extraordinary talent, but a person begging to be found behind the architecture of a human-sized building. Well, once upon a time… People looked different here. Not Laulliette different; not Bo different; not Anya different; not even her kind of different (she had yet to look in a mirror and find herself slightly modified). Most of them had animals, exotic ones; big ones, small ones, some the size of…a full-grown male lion? Okay, so they are pet people, she thought to herself as she began to wander again. Wishing for cigarettes and having absolutely none to soothe the nicotine craving, she wasn’t in the best of moods but not in the worst of moods either. A flip of long gray-white hair and an exasperated sigh helped ease the worst of the addiction. If only she could go back in time and become a spokesperson for Nicorette, she’d tell them she found the end-all for anyone, everyone. Laulliette would be laughing at her right about now by how harried the poor thing looked. A ripped dressed and scuffed shoes, her hair frizzy and unorganized in it’s usual straight sheets of gray, blood staining a shoulder (she must have hit something outside without realizing it) and mud smears that went from bird to bird. Yes, the large tattoos even went down her slender legs, disappeared up the hem of her dress only to re-emerge from the top hem and continue on. They expanded down her arms, along her back, around her neck…her face, her snowy white face was the only place they weren’t. Then again, the thick fringe of bangs hiding both her eyes did not help at all. Laulliette would still be laughing at the young nineteen year old, laughing hard at the fact that she was so disorganized and inside her head rather than how he was used to seeing her. Bo would try to hug her and she’d shove him off. Anya would share her toy cat with her…if she were here. But they weren’t. No one was. She refused to mourn over the loss of her friends, over the loss of her own life in one world and coming to proverbial Hell in the next. Well, that is, until she tripped on the edge of a rug, the toe of her shoe torn and therefore capable of snagging it at the worst possible time. She went down hard, with a loud stupid and clumsy sounding oof! To her surprise no one laughed and Jensen (who she had yet to learn the name of) only stared and asked if she was alright. “I’m fine!” She huffed, scrambling to get to her feet, her knee having caught the wood just right to split it. “Ouch!” Charlotte sat back down to investigate the damage. “Damnit. I’ve only been here for an hour and I hate this place already.” She said purely out of frustration and deprivation of what she wanted the most of right now. She glared at her knee, ignoring Jensen as she tore yet another piece off her already small garment to address the wound as properly as she could. The blood was always something she really hated to see – irritating her at once when the pinpricks of pain darted along the central area of where she hurt herself. “Is there anything here that is remotely usable?” She asked, pale gray eyes finally showing themselves as she looked up at Jensen, frantic to just get over this mild tiff already and pretend it never happened. So we did make love. Is that what you're calling it? …this is probably just another one of those cry-for-help things. |
Replies:
- they said "at ease soldier" - By Jensen & Kopa May 23, 2010 at 11:11:50 PM
- We are Happy Landfill - By Charlotte Tweet May 25, 2010 at 10:09:45 PM
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