Post by Truthy on Mar 27, 2014 21:59:46 GMT
Shattering like glass was the peace. So sudden a life like water, still and never changing in its dark depths, became a wave. All it took was a surge of energy. A single moment, a split second decision.
But if you take a fish from the sea and throw it into a bowl, even if it lives, that salty home would never part from it. True, a fish's memory resets every seven seconds. But the stains of residence will always be marked on the scales. And even if that place was the cruelest and the dirtiest, it will always bring about a sense of belonging. No matter how much you wish it wasn't so.
The same can also apply to people. Just as a prisoner can develop love for their captors, can one begin to view that as how things should be. The horribleness of it can't change the emotions. The desire to be there follows soon after, then a need to be there. To be needed even if it is for all of the wrong reasons.
To run, to hide. Yes it is cowardly, but in certain situations, there is nothing else that can be done. Not when facing things would only hurt you in the end. The wish to escape pain is present in all of us, and sometimes it is best to go with it. Turning toward what you fear isn't always courage, but rather stupidity.
.x.X.x.
The images flickered across her vision. Shadows of the cage, looming bars of steel and oppression. A tangled mess of blonde hair and a small frame wrapped in the white of a thin dress. Her golden gaze was hollow, her pale cheeks sunken. It was the form of a sick child so use to darkness that she held no fear towards it.
Then the scene shifted once more. Extreme pain, men in billowing white struggling to hold down the fighting figure. Cuffs clung to her thin wrists and ankles. The shine florescents highlighting the whites of her teeth as she bit down, drawing blood from the hand over her mouth. It took a few hits to the head to get her to release her grip.
“Why don't you just knock her out already!?” Was the hissing yell of the man who had struck her.
“We can't. She needs to be awake,” The man whom she had bitten replied calmly.
More difficulty assumed as they worked. The second the pain started, the girl went limp with pain. The stabbing sensation of her right eye was enough to make her scream. Blood began to fall down her left arm as magic symbols inscribed themselves into her skin.
Then it was over and the girl was once more in the cage, eye and arm bandaged. And it continued that way for months, until the training started. Erase them, kill them, blood, death, destruction... Until she would die...
.x.X.x.
Two toned eyes opened wide as the frame shot up, pale blonde hair flicking at the sudden movement. Sitting there in the darkened room for one more moment, the female struggled to regain her composure. Her birth name was unknown to her, what she was called after that being TRAC301. She came up with the name Tessla by chance. And she met Marina by a strike of luck.
The elder female was 18, while Tessla was only, at an estimate, 11. But, thanks to the experiments she underwent, she looked no younger than 16. She was found by chance, while living on the run, sleeping in the streets. Marina took her in with no questions asked and rewarded the girl with the last name Tesih. Ever since then, they have lived together like sisters, Marina teaching Tessla all she could. Together they ran Starling-And-Stitch, a cafe in the midst of a small town.
Despite being blind, Marina functioned well. If it wasn't for her eyes, no one would guess a thing. But naturally she did have the occasional slip up and her kindness only went so far. She hated it when someone changed things around without her knowledge. It made her maneuverability fail.
Tessla allowed her frame to stretch, her mind relaxing with the familiar thoughts that she ran through it. It almost helped her to forget. Almost. But, gazing sideways, she just happened to spot her left arm, covered in dark inkings. Self-consciously, her hand reached up to touch her eye. It seemed to give off its own heat, the energy radiating off it tangible.
The call of...
But if you take a fish from the sea and throw it into a bowl, even if it lives, that salty home would never part from it. True, a fish's memory resets every seven seconds. But the stains of residence will always be marked on the scales. And even if that place was the cruelest and the dirtiest, it will always bring about a sense of belonging. No matter how much you wish it wasn't so.
The same can also apply to people. Just as a prisoner can develop love for their captors, can one begin to view that as how things should be. The horribleness of it can't change the emotions. The desire to be there follows soon after, then a need to be there. To be needed even if it is for all of the wrong reasons.
To run, to hide. Yes it is cowardly, but in certain situations, there is nothing else that can be done. Not when facing things would only hurt you in the end. The wish to escape pain is present in all of us, and sometimes it is best to go with it. Turning toward what you fear isn't always courage, but rather stupidity.
.x.X.x.
The images flickered across her vision. Shadows of the cage, looming bars of steel and oppression. A tangled mess of blonde hair and a small frame wrapped in the white of a thin dress. Her golden gaze was hollow, her pale cheeks sunken. It was the form of a sick child so use to darkness that she held no fear towards it.
Then the scene shifted once more. Extreme pain, men in billowing white struggling to hold down the fighting figure. Cuffs clung to her thin wrists and ankles. The shine florescents highlighting the whites of her teeth as she bit down, drawing blood from the hand over her mouth. It took a few hits to the head to get her to release her grip.
“Why don't you just knock her out already!?” Was the hissing yell of the man who had struck her.
“We can't. She needs to be awake,” The man whom she had bitten replied calmly.
More difficulty assumed as they worked. The second the pain started, the girl went limp with pain. The stabbing sensation of her right eye was enough to make her scream. Blood began to fall down her left arm as magic symbols inscribed themselves into her skin.
Then it was over and the girl was once more in the cage, eye and arm bandaged. And it continued that way for months, until the training started. Erase them, kill them, blood, death, destruction... Until she would die...
.x.X.x.
Two toned eyes opened wide as the frame shot up, pale blonde hair flicking at the sudden movement. Sitting there in the darkened room for one more moment, the female struggled to regain her composure. Her birth name was unknown to her, what she was called after that being TRAC301. She came up with the name Tessla by chance. And she met Marina by a strike of luck.
The elder female was 18, while Tessla was only, at an estimate, 11. But, thanks to the experiments she underwent, she looked no younger than 16. She was found by chance, while living on the run, sleeping in the streets. Marina took her in with no questions asked and rewarded the girl with the last name Tesih. Ever since then, they have lived together like sisters, Marina teaching Tessla all she could. Together they ran Starling-And-Stitch, a cafe in the midst of a small town.
Despite being blind, Marina functioned well. If it wasn't for her eyes, no one would guess a thing. But naturally she did have the occasional slip up and her kindness only went so far. She hated it when someone changed things around without her knowledge. It made her maneuverability fail.
Tessla allowed her frame to stretch, her mind relaxing with the familiar thoughts that she ran through it. It almost helped her to forget. Almost. But, gazing sideways, she just happened to spot her left arm, covered in dark inkings. Self-consciously, her hand reached up to touch her eye. It seemed to give off its own heat, the energy radiating off it tangible.
The call of...
*in a toilet*