[Requiem] A debate 26 Nov 2006
Dec. 10th, 2006 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
basts_tailIn the night…
In the dark…
The 3 sit, as random senses flash around them, reflecting off the walls of her mind. The nameless one is the first to speak, and this surprises the others – she hides and looks scared all too often.
“He does not care.”
The old woman looks up, and says “Why so sure?”
“The way he’s touching her. He’s as bad as the others.”
The third one, the beautiful one looks up. “No he’s not. He looked after me. And I like it.”
“He cares for nothing. Not even you. If he did, there would be something else here. He wont ever let you see who he is, what he is, so the closest you will get is this image of perfection he displays.” The nameless one speaks quietly.
“HOW would you know what kindness is like, you who have only known pain and torture?” Her voice is angry.
She looks up and a terrible expression crosses her face. “Because once someone … Touched me, in a way that was not violent… and she opened the door to my cell. She gave me… Hope. Her actions spoke louder than his do now.”
The old woman watches the debate, considering. Her eyes flicker to the walls, occasional images flashing across them – a body aching with desire, a black gloved hand caressing pale flesh, now flushed with blood, lips of an angel stroking down skin…
She looks at her two cell mates – the beautiful innocent one who's heart will be forever scarred by an angel’s kiss, the nameless one who today showed for the first time that there is more to her than panic and pain, and herself, who looks at their respective pasts, and sees with heart chilling clarity that there is no one in the world who cares - that to him 'ma ange' she was nothing more than a possession, a toy, that to her sire she was someone who had to die, that to the doctor she was a subject, an experiment.
She sits in the emotional fire and lets it temper, or destroy her.
In the dark…
The 3 sit, as random senses flash around them, reflecting off the walls of her mind. The nameless one is the first to speak, and this surprises the others – she hides and looks scared all too often.
“He does not care.”
The old woman looks up, and says “Why so sure?”
“The way he’s touching her. He’s as bad as the others.”
The third one, the beautiful one looks up. “No he’s not. He looked after me. And I like it.”
“He cares for nothing. Not even you. If he did, there would be something else here. He wont ever let you see who he is, what he is, so the closest you will get is this image of perfection he displays.” The nameless one speaks quietly.
“HOW would you know what kindness is like, you who have only known pain and torture?” Her voice is angry.
She looks up and a terrible expression crosses her face. “Because once someone … Touched me, in a way that was not violent… and she opened the door to my cell. She gave me… Hope. Her actions spoke louder than his do now.”
The old woman watches the debate, considering. Her eyes flicker to the walls, occasional images flashing across them – a body aching with desire, a black gloved hand caressing pale flesh, now flushed with blood, lips of an angel stroking down skin…
She looks at her two cell mates – the beautiful innocent one who's heart will be forever scarred by an angel’s kiss, the nameless one who today showed for the first time that there is more to her than panic and pain, and herself, who looks at their respective pasts, and sees with heart chilling clarity that there is no one in the world who cares - that to him 'ma ange' she was nothing more than a possession, a toy, that to her sire she was someone who had to die, that to the doctor she was a subject, an experiment.
She sits in the emotional fire and lets it temper, or destroy her.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-10 10:35 am (UTC)While that is happening on the outside, hence images flashing over the walls, on the inside, nameless, Gwyn and Ceridwyn are arguing.
And i have a name for our nameless one now, but she will only own it on a certain day, when something happens.