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“I don’t really wanna talk about it.” He didn’t want to be thinking about it either. He’d gone so long without dwelling on it and he just knew his nightmares were going to come back now. “The green came with the, whatever this is … why do you want to get closer?” He frowned slightly at ‘Land trying to figure out what was up with him. He didn’t really want to get closer. He also kinda wanted Land to shut up. He still felt off balance and the other babbling about crap wasn’t helping.

“Dude! Shut up for two seconds.” He snapped, as he yanked his hat back onto his head. “Can you not talk for five seconds about s**t I don’t wanna talk about?” He could hear the slight snarl in his voice and for a moment it looked like he was going to keep going but he clenched his mouth shut.

Oh he knew that wasn’t going to help. Not with Land, Mr Busy Body extraordinaire who seemed to not have any care about personal space or boundaries some times. That was probably just going to make things worse since Land was just going to want to know –why- he didn’t want to talk about it. This probably meant he was going to completely snap on one of his few friends which never ended well he knew from experience.

“Please, please just shut up and don’t ask. Ever. I don’t talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it and if you keep poking at me I am going to chew you out so bad you’ll never want to talk to me again so just no. Leave it. I don’t do emotional sharing and caring bullshit. That’s where the line is.” Land could just stay on that side of it.

After moments of attempting to find peace, suddenly her heart was struck with panic and uncertainty. She was watching her nightmares unfold around her, becoming a reality. She found herself back in a school from a couple years before that she was SURE she had completed. So immersed into her memories she started to wander the halls, what period was it? What even was her schedule?! She looked up and down the empty halls and started to n** at her lower lip. Her mind started to fill with false memories, the kind that dreams often create. She had already been attending classes here, something about missing credits. She had gotten her notification of passing, but there was something wrong with it. It was, outdated? Or someone had made a mistake? But in order to pass, she had to retake her last year.

Her false memories which fueled the dream started to feed her lies that she had started to skip and miss so many classes previous, that's why she couldnt remember her schedule. She was growing frustrated. ******** this! She didnt need to do all of this all over again. Why should she? Her mother... that's right. She was doing it for her mother. Her mother had asked her to, or convinced her that she needed to. That it would be good for her. Whereas she viewed herself now as an embarrassment for being the oldest one here, for feeling like a dumb idiot who couldnt pass?

The dream muddled and skipped to where she was finally at home, she was packing her things. She was leaving. It skipped again to a confrontation with her mother. Everything was a blur, it was as if she were trying to move and act in water, but yet everything happened so fast. Before she could realize it, she was tearing and clawing at her mother, hitting her, crying, yelling at the elder gargoyle. She would pull chunks of hair as she lost herself in her fit of rage. The fact that her mother didnt even seem phased by it pushing her further into her frenzy. And what was worse? Was that she would NEVER lay a hand on her mother or anyone she loved like this, NEVER. But now she couldn't help herself.

He hadn’t always been able to at least warn people before he lashed out ………


…….In hind sight he probably shouldn’t have called the kid a raging douche before punching him in the face since it meant an unscheduled extra trip to see his shrink. It had been a rather pointless session since it once again was him trying not to roll his eyes at the nice man as he went on again and again about ways to control his temper. Anger management didn’t actually work when someone was calling your family trash.

The rest of the day might have been okay too except after he’d gotten done with his session his shrink had asked to talk to his parents for a moment. He’d leaned on the wall outside the door and hadn’t meant to listen to their conversation but there it was.

Home schooling … stronger therapy … medication

His hands clenched into fists and he was pretty sure he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wanted to scream at them all. How could they think anyone would be okay after what he went through? Did they really think that drugs would actually make the problem go away? All that would do was dope him up so he wasn’t himself anymore. Nothing was actually going to help so long as no one believed him. Not while they all called him a liar.

He closed his eyes as he heard his mother saying something about his ‘outbursts’ and could taste the slight coppery tang on his tongue this time. Slowly, taking in a shaky breath, he let go of his lip and managed to unclench his hands. His parents were going to be out soon and if they saw him like this it would just make it worse

He had to relax...

OOC

My character's username: DrgnZ0rd
My character's level: 48
Character's HP: 40
Current party: n/a
Current Guild: Queen's Rangers
Location:

Character journal: here

The Hierophant

All America has to do is think of attacking again and the memories rise up to quell her.

For a very brief moment, a bedroom flickers into existence and there is a small, homely boy waiting for you and then the scene shifts and twists into something else, the first too new and unexplored for you to have truly learned from it. Not now. Not just yet.

You're laying down, head pillowed by a strong thigh, and there are fingers sifting through your hair. "Ya tebya lyublyu,” you murmur against Konstantin's leg, high up in a half-built treehouse, under gently rustling leaves and clear blue skies. You say it because it's true, and somehow it doesn't hurt. More than a friend, more than family, but nothing like a lover, this man is the one you love most and best.

He is quiet for a moment, and you know he wishes he could repeat it back, but that the truth between you is forever more important than wishes. Instead he finally answers, "Ty moy samyy blizkiy drug." And that is more than enough to make you smile, make you reach up to lace your fingers with his.

Some things are beyond love, because you've learned that soul mates do exist.

Rhythm charged with her axes, planning on attacking the queen, unfortunately that plan ended rather quickly as the girl became distracted by memories, that where pulled out of her, and seemed to dance around, it looked like she was not the only one to have memories on the loose but her eyes where only on her own memories. Cadence sat with her arms crossed a look of annoyance on her face, the same look that had been on her face ever since her parents had thrown out the grim reaper toy she was so fond of. Well when her parents where around anyways, sometimes the grumpiness would slip in the presence of her twin. Over all she was not pleased about it, it had been a while since the toy had been removed and her initial temper tantrum had long since passed but her grudge was still going. She knew her parents had apparently meant well and all that, trying to get her to ‘grow up’. But that was not something you could force on someone was it? but she was still upset over it. Her mother seemed upset and frustrated that Cadence had still not forgiven them. The girl sighed softly; she supposed that she should forgive them, what good would it do to spend the rest of her life mad at them over, a special very special toy. Part of her wanted to stay angry but her mom had walked over and was gently explaining things, and that she was sorry that Cadence was still so upset over it. The young girl sighed softly. “S’okay, I forgive you mom.” The memory faded and Rhythm found herself thrown back in to the present. She shook her head to try and clear away the last foggy remains of the memory. She needed to focus, to fight.

<Speaking moon talk funnily~>>

"Tenya pipe down." He accidentally mumbled aloud. He needed to somehow shake off the oddly tender moment between his friend and his nanny-maid. That seemed a bit private, but a thing he now wouldn't be able to unsee.

<

"TENYA!"

lizbot

He'd been... surprised to say the least, to see the Cheshire Cat Wraith from--well. The fight against the Cheshire Cat. He'd recognized her however, as he moved from the haze of that memory. Moved towards her--faction didn't matter any more in his mind. Not at that point. He'd rushed towards her, in a sense grateful to have another he recognized out there.

Hadn't been prepared to enter her memory. Not that it.... was... one? It was something he understood though, the darkness. The emptiness. Carefully, Burn rested a hand on the tiny ghoul's shoulder. Took a little bit of leaning to do it, and he said no words. None were appropriate for such a thing, nor needed in his mind.

In his mind . . .

To relieve a great fear, is that experience speaking or true terror?

His eyes were open. That was it. It was all he knew. A great weight pressed against his body, pulled him down. Kept him from moving to his feet. He... was laying there. On the ground. Where? Where was he? What was he? What was this weight?

Wings. They flexed and protested against how he was crushing one between his bulk and the ground. He slowly understood they were his. The weight. No, not all the weight. He looked around, moved his head--it was the first time he understood he could move his head. Bright. Something bright over him. Over a lot of him. The weight came from the shiny things. Light from above reflected on the surface. The heavy, heavy surface. With markings carved into it and fused onto it.

Armor. It took his mind a while to comprehend. To verify. He didn't know how he could. Or how he didn't know before. Muscles worked, flexing and relaxing--he pushed himself to his elbows. His wings felt better. Pushed himself onto his knees. Armor bit into the ground, lift imprints. Clinked and ground as he moved. To his feet. He wobbled, fell back to his knees. Teeth gnashed and lips curled back, disgusted. By... what? Falling? Why? Yet he was. Weak, something told him. It was weak to fall. He was not weak.

He was too proud to be weak.

He was proud. Pride? No, that was not him. It was not him. He was proud, not Pride.

So.

What was he . . . ?


. . . Burn grit his teeth against that memory. His very first. This place... was not kind to those like them, was it?