Why is it, one might ask, that a wolf's past will always haunt them so? Within moments of settling my body, flames rise up in the water before my eyes, liquid still flowing as though unharmed, yet the brilliant golden orange pushes me back to my feet. So many days, I've told myself I won't remember, I won't let myself remember... yet, at the same time, here I am with red spots blazing around the corners of my eyes. It's obvious that these are merely from my own memory, and yet knowing that doesn't cease to revive the heat in my memory. The one time my own pain... overflowed..
These few times I lose my mind... what is it my body does without me? I could try to stop myself, but a girl's instinct is strong somewhere along the line. I could just not pay attention and let my body take over, but what if it turns me into a monster? That isn't me, that isn't who or what I particularly desire for myself. For once... I will try a different approach. And likely be haunted by one more thing later. My instincts, my training... they will take over whether I like it at a point like this. This time, I think I'll let them.
Motion. Something's moving.
Every muscle ripples, moving away in a direct line from that crazy sense of feeling, of location of another on the move, and shoulder muscles twitch into action, rolling to toss with applicable strength against the oncoming attack.
Protect yourself, Estelle, for there's nothing that will hurt you more than your own self- by doing nothing to protect yourself.
The voice echoes through my memory as a ghostly whisper from where my very own mother had whispered this advice to me so many years ago now. And my whole body purrs with feeling at the evocation. The very mix of emotions present here, it's putting my conscious into a sort of sleep, despite my hopes and efforts to the contrary. I may never know.. if I turn into a monster behind these walls upon losing.. track of... myself.
~*~*~
Estelle's eyes fading, the gaze that falls from them is no longer one of fear, no longer of that overtly emotional girl that she has known as herself. No, these are the eyes of a fighter. Of a calculated winner. One leg goes backward just enough to anchor a counter attack as she presses forward, fangs barred against the golden-ivory and snapping at his attempts to snag her skin in his own teeth. The racing pounding of her heart has changed to a more steady, yet adrenaline-lined, pulse, and this is the point at which she begins to acknowledge the presence of yet another. With an ear flick, none the less, but it's acknowledgement. There's something in her look, though, something that just wasn't there before. Be it anger, anguish, or merely too much of a fight to give it up, the girl's eyes reflect a determination unlike any other. Her jaws move deftly, blocking any passage to the tender tendrils that could bury one in an instant by merely keeping them out of the others' reach. Yet, did he get close at any of these points? About as much as one could really get close to someone whose mind is overtaken by the strong will and instinct to survive another day, to rid this place of what she would never openly admit or allow herself to consider the thought of.
"Tace."
The single word leaves her lips like a seething hiss, a single warning to the both of them. She was never one to be half-hearted about anything, even if there was a little... disparity, between what one side wants and what the other side will enact.
But, of course, you're not planning on revealing her dual personality to the girl herself, now are you? No, you're here to see the red run.
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"Tace" is apparently Latin for "quiet, you" (singular "you").
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estelle · 11 years · angel · truly alone · lhx
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