|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 2:52 pm
The call for another task was cause for immediate reaction, for making the Goddesses wait was something close to treason. The Goddesses had given them a place to stay, offered them blessings and asked only small favors. They were trifles, really! Compared to the glory of the Goddesses a few fights and dangerous quests were simple.
There seemed no reason for Annabell not to believe that the Goddesses had nothing but her best interests at heart, but that might have just been because she revered them above all else in this gray world. They were full color, bright and illustrious when she was small and so pale in her colors. The more tasks they gave, the brighter she might get and she had been oddly affected by the first fragment she had found that had told her she was glowing. So when the call came for another task, there was nothing to stop the girl from hurrying back to the Shrine as quickly as she could. The plaque was not given more than a cursory reading and that was because one of the Goddesses was there, waiting and expectant.
Being presented with a bag, even an empty one, is more than she had expected. Momentarily startled and confused and in awe of a gift, Annabell missed the little nervous tic of the Goddess, only able to look back up when her help is asked for. That is at least half expected and the girl turns soft, smiling gently at the Goddess who asks a small favor. The scissors are taken, turned in her hands for a moment as the girl tries to acclimate herself to them. Having been using a sword for quite a while, something as small as this little bit of sharp metal feels off, but somehow familiar. She does not stick her fingers into the holes just yet, though she knows that is how you use them, for she is certain something will attack her on her way.
But Annabell does not speak of this, she only continues to smile calmly, wanting to give off a confident, sweet appearance to this figure she admired so heavily. There is no worry of the things that must have their heart removed, they are dead, after all, and the girl has spent most of her time here fighting terrible creatures. This will be easy, she thinks as she curtseys and leaves, returning the smile to the Goddess so that they share the same expression for a moment and that makes the girl feel hopeful.
A small opening is nothing, easily passed through when there is a task to complete. Just past the entrance is another entrance, this one split into three varying choices. Three doors, like the three goddesses.
For a long moment Annabell stands before them, weighing each feeling from the door, the scissors clenched tightly in one hand. The first door was a temptation, for it would be simple, she was sure of that. The second door she cared nothing for, its scratched surface too uncouth for someone who knew nothing of class but still clung to it. The third door, despite its ill feeling, had caught her eye. Wouldn't the Goddesses be pleased by her effort? Even if what lie behind that door was dangerous, it would make them happy to know she had worked so hard for them.
She could give them that.
With a deep breath, Annabell stepped through the third door slowly, cautious just by crossing the threshold. That should have been warning enough.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 7:47 pm
Silence greets the girl.
But it is not that way for long, a dull thudding noise filtered down through the way. It repeated and echoed and turned into a name just too quiet to be understood, but the click of the door behind Annabell was what jarred her back to movement. But the startled step she takes forward is straight into darkness, the hallway instantly rising up to meet her foot and not stopping so that she felt it was almost pushing her up. Suddenly off kilter the girl hurried forward only to find the floor beneath her feet move away and then to the side, trying to push her forward but making her feel uneasy. It almost felt like a trap, like if she kept going where this place told her to go it would only end in pain. But when she tried to step to the side, the darkness seemed to shift around her and in the end it felt useless.
After a few more tentative steps the girl decided to just throw caution to the wind and bolted down the hallway. It wasn't terribly long, but it was shorter than she expected and with a cry she crashed into something. Thankfully it was solid enough that it did not move when she barged into it, but it had been enough to scare her into dropping her scissors onto the ground, a soft crisp sound of metal hitting hard ground. By then, the echoing thudding noise from before had grown louder.
Having been knocked to the ground, Annabell reached out a hand toward the object she had hit, fingertips grazing against mildly smooth, uniform stacks of wood.
A crate.
Odd that she knew that without having seen one in this crumbly world yet, but the girl shrugged such a thought off as she pushed herself to her feet to inspect the crate in the relative darkness. Despite the lack of light, somehow the girl's eyes had acclimated to her surroundings and just by craning her neck she could see that the crate blocked her path. There was no top to it, something red awkwardly fitted inside with a piece hanging out.
For a long moment Annabell stared at it, an attempt to coax her brain into functioning faster so she could get on with this task. When she could only stare at it and think of nothing, she became impatient and stomped over to find her scissors. This time they fit snugly into her hand, there was no hesitation in her grasp, and feeling confident because of this, the girl reached out with her free hand to snatch the object hanging from the crate.
It was not anything her mind had tried to piece it together as.
It was a hand, connected to an arm, connected to the rest of something.
Sensation felt clearer with this revelation and Annabell realized with a soft intake of air that the thudding had stopped. Gently she pushed her hand along the arm, palm flat against the skin as she moved down into the box to find more of the thing within. When she pushed against the odd texture, the thudding became a thumping, pumping heartbeat.
Oh. The thing under her hand was more skin. And her bag remained empty.
Slowly she removed her hand and sat down next to the crate, the scissors cradled in her lap as she considered her options. Bring a heart and get a blessing. Leave the heart and fail the Goddesses. There seemed no alternatives, no other hearts to be found in this room or if there were, they were not the strong, powerful beating like the one in the box. That one would make the Goddesses happy with how intent it was on drumming out its beat.
The noise got louder and the darkness pressed in. That odd, unwelcome feeling that had emanated from the door returns, sliding down the girl's spine in a hiss that shoves her to her knees. Without thinking she shoved the scissors into the box, met the resistance from before and kept going. There was only one little bit more refusal to bend before her scissors cut through the skin.
That stopped her and with a gasp she pulled them back, threw them away from her and gasped for air. She had sliced and shot and slapped monsters ad naeseum, had fought Harpies and braved dangerous, bottomless ends of the world. She had met friends and given them smiles, had heard people she didn't know speak to her and now she was to cut out a heart? She was to slice into someone?
But her doubt was unhinged a moment later by the swelling of desire within her, the want to do well. This was what they wanted, this was the task the Goddesses had given her. If she did not complete it, she would be stuck in this room forever. She would fail.
A breath is taken, something to steady herself as she grabs up the scissors and does not ground herself in her task. Instead she counts the people she has met. With a shove of the sharp metal back into the little hole she has made, she thinks of the monsters she has defeated. It should not be a surprise that now the thing within wails, and thrashes, but even the shock of it does not deter the girl for more than a moment. When the scissors become too little and the creature too frantic, she shoves her hand into the hole and thinks not of the warmth or the liquid that squelches between her fingers or how the arm has scratched along her own arm and shoulders, but the beautiful light that each new person carries with them. The scissors cannot do all the work, not if Annabell intends to bring the heart back in tact, and she drops them back to the floor in favor of both her hands. Though she is as frantic as the thing in the crate, fighting it as hard as it fights her, she does not stop and grits her teeth to finish her task, its peals of anguish and pain ignored.
These hands have been with her from the beginning, have helped forge her path. They fought first before she made her weapons and now they tear and rip the pulsating strings out, they force the hole bigger until they slip in the sloshing noise and she sniffles, realizing she is crying. The creature has not stopped, but it had slowed down and in this moment of weakness, the girl angrily pulls back on the cavity to reveal the little red glow of the heart. Then the monster stopped, then it grew still.
Gently, she pulls out the heart, noting that it stops beating when she touches it. Sure to be slow because her hands are wet and the heart could slid out at any moment, Annabell puts the heart in the bag, tying the ends languidly.
The second the bag was secured, a vision overtook the girl, something strange and foreign that she must suffer through before she can leave.
The room she stays in is her favorite, for it is her own despite her young age. She does not understand that now, but she will later on and that is what counts. But even though this room is her own, she is not alone in it now. Delphinium, her older sister, stands in the doorway, arms crossed and a huge frown on her face. Her bundle of red curls are pulled down into two low pigtails. She wears a pinafore of dark blue, a black apron tied over her front. Her sister, the girl whose room this is, who is having this vision, wears a similar outfit, only of lilac and black, her own bright red curls pulled into two high pigtails the stick out from the sides of her head.
"Delphie, Delphie hi Delphie--"
"Momma says you won't get your magic as fast as I did."
The younger girl had been sitting on the floor, walking two dolls across the rug to go scare the Humans.
"Daddy says your hair looks stupid like that. That it's unmanageable."
"What's... Un-man..g'ble?"
The elder sister stands there a moment longer before she unfolds her arms and steps into the room. She stoops down only for a moment before she snatches one of the dolls out of her sister's hand.
"You'll never be as good as me."
But for the life of the younger girl she cannot figure out why she would want that. Her sister is pretty and people like her and she makes up the best games. She can run the fastest and jump the highest and she can even make sparks fly from her fingertips or make a book slid across the desk. Why would being better than that even be wanted?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 8:01 pm
Sometime before the vision, Annabell began to walk again. She is not sure how she managed that when the crate was blocking her way before, but it does not matter. Her bones ache and the bag in her hand is heavy, fitted awkwardly as she tries to hold both bag and scissors in one hand. It feels necessary to keep a hand free for who knows what.
After consciousness comes back, so does clarity. The floor under foot is turning less stable, more wet and as the girl moves she begins to slip and slide. When another set of footsteps behind her startle her into turning, she trips on the wetness and falls just as she sees nothing but darkness behind her. The water catches her, wraps her up in the cold and she keeps walking.
There is more noise behind her, but she ignores it as best she can, even when someone speaks. Please give it back.
Half buoyant the girl jumps forward, but finds the water only rising higher.
Please give me back--
Annabell sloshes forward, finds the tips of her toes leave the floor as something wraps around her back, a fist clenching the fabric of her dress. It shoves her forward and she gasps one last gulp of air before the cold slaps against her face.
Down, down, further yet the girl is pulled and pushed, the air squeezed in her lungs so tight it hurts. When she is sure she will lose, a face swims before her.
Give me back my heart.
The grey eyes that stare at the girl are wrongly colored, but in the right shape. When she tries to speak the word sister, the air bubble she had been holding so tightly to comes out of her mouth instead.
"She taught you to broom surf?" The voice, Delphinium's voice, is incredulous of this, but the girl only laughs, both of them older now. The girl has grown into this body, the one that her eldest sister gives strange glances to that allude to her lack of approval.
"She did! You want to learn?"
"I already know how to broom surf." Delphinium tches at her sister, lounging on the roof with a book. The youngest sister grins all the more and wiggles at her, not caring that parts of her bounce and that Delphinium eyes those parts with mingled jealousy and suspicion.
"No you don't." The girl says in a sing song voice, sticking the broom in her hand in her sister's direction. "She told me you don't know how and that I know and that if you'd let me, I could teach you."
"Well I do not care to learn."
The girl shrugs and hops off the roof onto her broom, but later that evening, when twilight turns the air purple, Delphinium will ask to be taught. They will find common ground in learning, and laugh, and though their prejudices will remain, they will share a small bond.
The grey eyes that stare into Annabell are all malice and anger, the bread and butter of what she expects from her sister. There is no jealousy, no weakness here, but the girl knows that they should be. That her sister is equal parts frustrated and sad. That things should be different.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 11, 2013 8:10 pm
Confused and sad and finding spots of black popping in her vision, Annabell looks up to her sister. A plea is given, not in words because the water drowns them and swallows them, but in motion. In the eyes that stare into the blank ones belonging to Delphinium.
But the eldest sister is ruthless, as she always has been. Her hands dig against Annabell's chest, squeeze angrily and push further down. They will drown her youngest sister, they will relish in her demise, for that is all the eldest daughter has wished for since Annabell was born. Hating that, the girl closes her eyes.
There is no choice.
An attempt at apology is made as Annabell grips the scissors tight and swings her hand forward. It easily pierces the gaping wound in her sister's chest, dives down past the vacancy and lodges against her back. A loud, terrible shriek pierces everything as Delphinium disappears into nothingness.
The water drains, Annabell finds her feet. Gagging and sputtering she coughs up the remaining water, one hand clutched at her stomach for the pain and because she feels everything inside her will come up. When it doesn't she notices the light and scrambles toward it, tripping on her own feet.
As Annabell passes through the threshold, she looks back like the fool she is to see a pair of hateful eyes staring at her. It is then she realizes she has dropped her scissors, that the figure has them. But the light swallows the girl up and there is nothing she can do about it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 13, 2013 7:21 pm
You cannot escape forever.
It feels as much as a warning as it does a reminder of things that are.
The girl tilted her head up to look at the Goddess, growing faintly bolder by the day in her interactions with their holiness, and waited. When she hops down from the podium, Annabell backs up, bold but not that bold that she would block the way. Upon being circled the girl stands up straight, hopes to hold up to scrutiny. A dagger is pressed into her hand instead, neither an answer nor confirmation of anything.
The Goddess keeps talking, the dagger turns red, and Annabell tries to stay calm. A dagger is more dangerous than a pair of scissors, it means something different. But she wants to do her best, she wants to make herself, and more importantly the Goddesses, proud. That is why when the thin opening of a doorway is presented, the girl steps through without hesitation. She takes a breath as she walks through, but that is all. That is all she wants to show as weakness.
The sensation of waking up cold is somehow new and expected, mostly because Annabell has forgotten what its like to sleep. But she is roused quickly by the feel of harsh metal that bites into the fleshy part of her lower arms and thighs. With a groan she pushes herself to her feet, a hand pressed to her head. Lights hum and ring and burn bright enough to sear her eyes. Everything is bright white compared to the darkness of sleep and Annabell stumbles toward the door.
There is no relief in the hallway, but stopping here will not make it better. Her feet move on their own, tripping on each other when a loud noise behind her sounds. When she turns around, the door she has exited through is still open. On a normal day she might have considered that more, but Annabell is tired and confused, she has to squint to see and she wants out of this. She has not even been given clear instructions and she is becoming frustrated. Failure seems already happened.
With a sigh she turns around and heads down the hallway. It begins to morph and stretch and try her patience again, but finally a small gleam of hope in the form of an exit materializes at the end of the hallway.
Thud
The door is open. She hurries on down the hallway faster.
Thud
She screams and runs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AyeAvast rolled 1 4-sided dice:
2
Total: 2 (1-4)
|
Posted: Tue Aug 13, 2013 7:27 pm
Panic forces her faster, blurs her vision and heightens her sense. The heavy footfalls of the thing giving chase are easy to hear, nearly thunderous and clear despite the hurried beating of her heart. Breath is hard to find as Annabell runs, her chest aching in worry and fear. But if she stops, if she slows down even for a fuller gasp of air she is dead. She knows this from the endless hissing of death threats from the thing behind her, its words resentful and nasty as it lets murderous filth fill the void between its loud, echoing footsteps. It growls for the girl's heart, promises to cut it right out of her chest and then promises worse. The goddess has asked which, predator or prey, the girl will be, and it seems time to find out.
Having hastily made her way down the hallway, the moment the door is close enough to touch Annabell is tugging on it, scrabbling for freedom. The door only rattles uselessly and doesn't budge, but the girl only tries harder, thinking it stuck, thinking her strength sapped by her fear, thinking anything but the worst possible outcome that she must face; It is locked.
A louder, closer thud sounds behind the girl and she gasps. Frantic eyes search over the door for a clue and Annabell finds the red letters jump out at her, stark and clear. Now that she was noticing details, she sees the entry pad next to the door. A spark of hopes light in her, for that has to be it! That has to be key to escaping! But what was the passcode?
Another thud makes her gasp again, the fact it is so close has her almost turning around to see how close the creature has really gotten, but she manages to stop herself before the full turn is enacted. It ends up as a half jerk toward the opposite side, her eyes swinging across the paper taped to the left of the door and then swinging back. Letters! There were letters that didn't make a word!
They should mean something, why would someone put this here if it wasn't to help?!
A strained noise bubbles up in her throat, the panic rising higher as she stood there, shifting frantically from foot to foot as though she were running in place.
Who would post a hint here-- thud-- if it wasn't helpful?! Who would just stick a scrambled word-- thud-- on a wall next to a number keypad?! Surely it had to have something-- thud-- to do with the keypad! It was just figuring it out-- thud-- that was the key! If only she could just concentrate-- thud-- but it was getting closer, it was gaining on her it was--
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AyeAvast rolled 1 4-sided dice:
4
Total: 4 (1-4)
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 6:09 am
But there was another piece of paper, there was something else there next to the first one. A hand slammed against the wall next to it, the girl leaning in desperately. She was grabbing at anything that looked like a lifeline, she was drowning and she was going fast if it weren't for this clue. Numbers! This paper has corresponding numbers to letters!
Faster than she thinks possible the girl counts them out, finds the letters next to the numbers and jams them into the keypad. It seems to take forever as her fingers shake against the buttons, hitting them too quickly and then waiting too long to make sure the number did not accidentally double. When they don't she holds her breath.
When the door slowly opens, she lets it out.
When there is a deafening thud behind her gasps and bolts again, grateful for freedom but knowing the battle isn't over yet.
She's not even given a chance to fight back as she rushes out the door, tripping over the threshold and refusing to fall. Its an awkward little run back to rights, but finally she's normal, finally she is dashing across the ground, so close to being free, she just has to keep going.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AyeAvast rolled 1 4-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-4)
|
Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 6:58 am
The slap of cool air against her face is drawn into her lungs as Annabell hops over a small dip in the ground and bolts across the lawn. There is no time to look back to inspect the building she has just left, only time to focus on the ground in attempt not to trip. A forest waits before her, the girl takes another ragged breath and heads for it.
Air wooshes pasts, her hands clench and her legs pump harder, she can find safety in that forest. Something, not the forest, but something about running this quickly toward a forest seems familiar for a reason she can't recall, but its wiped away as the trees spring up before her and Annabell must dodge around the trunks.
A snipping noise has her ducking her head in attempts to cut down on her resistance, feeling too slow as she hurries on, never stopping or slowing but sliding and running as fast as she can. It feels too slow, but she's reached her limit and has plateaued, she can run only this one speed. It will have to be enough.
Just as the creature promises to tear her apart just for her heat she spots the bridge, veering in her path to race toward it. The closer she gets to it, the more she realizes how terrible an idea this is. The bridge looks rickety and unsafe, a terrible idea, but the only chance of escape she really has.
In a few more seconds she's right before it and has to trust the thing that swings mildly in the air. The first steps creaks loudly and only now does she honestly realize she could fall through to her death. But there's not time to backtrack, the creature murmurs something else about her pretty little, glowing heart and she pushes herself forward again.
Holes line the structure, holes that require careful jumping and timed responses with how the bridge is swinging. Its not as bad as she has feared, but the worst part is how the further she crosses the more the bridge begins to swing. There are only two short steps left when it swings wildly and forces her hands to grab on for dear life. The wind seems to last forever and just when it begins to die down, something closes over the girl's shoulder. Its grip becomes tight, tighter into pain and the girl finds herself being pulled back.
Something sharp touches the edge of her back, gently presses in, as though asking for entrance.
The request is denied with a scream and a hand that shoves backwards while her feet push herself forward. In a brilliant moment of fate the wind suddenly stills and Annabell lurches forward, off the bridge and onto ground where she breaks back out into a run.
The spot on her back aches, but her heart is still there and she's free, she's free, she's--
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
AyeAvast rolled 1 6-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-6)
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 7:23 am
She's still running.
The forest ends, the dead grass under her feet cracks with pavement, twisted in with the cement so that they are nearly equal in their coating of the ground Annabell runs across. Her chest is aching, she can hardly breath and black spots are popping on the edges of her vision. This has to stop, she cannot keep running like this. That creature is not like her, she knows this enough to know it will pursue her until she collapses. But where else can she go?
A building rises in the distance, it doesn't offer safety for shadows play below its awning, but the girl runs toward it regardless. It has to be something, it has to be more than a dead end.
But that's exactly what it is. She realizes this as she nears the building, slowing and then stopping altogether. She's done for, she's...
The red of the dagger glows in her hands and stupidly the girls curses herself. This has been with her the entire time and yet she has not used it. Panting she turns around to face the creature. It draws closer, hissing and snipping its scissors. Predator or prey. Which are you?
The Goddess's words ring in her mind, but as Annabell steels herself for the task before her, the world begins to morph. She finds herself shrinking, just a little and then--
She has been gone, Delphinium has been gone to school. She has come back, taller, prettier, with her nose held a little higher. Hemlock and the girl having the vision, the younger and youngest, are still at home, they watch from the doorway as their parents pull into the long driveway and pull out Delphinium's bags from the car. The witch steps from the car, smiles at them and looks up to the porch. A wave is not passed to her sisters though the girl waves happily first but instead a smile is offered. It is not a good smile, not a happy to be home smile. It is the smile of smug accomplishment. Delphinium has become more than her sisters.
All that evening she dominates the conversation the family has. She has the most stories to tell, the most spells to show off, the most of them all. They tolerate and encourage her, the younger two sisters petering off as night descends until they finally fake being tired just to escape.
The girl has the misfortune of meeting her sister in the hallway later on when the rest of the family is asleep. Delphinium smirks at the sister that tries to duck into the bathroom, fast enough to grab up a fistful of her youngest sister's hair to give it a good yank.
"Look at these sad excuses for curls! I ought to chop them off in your sleep."
"You did that already--" The girl begins, but her sister pulls down on the curls again and she squeaks in pain.
"I don't even need scissors! I learned a great spell that slices without scissors."
The girl shakes her head, a tentative hand touching her sister's in a plea to stop, to let her go. Delphinium's smirk fades, for she is not finding the same pleasure in torturing her sister. The youngest has gotten taller, is beginning to fill out, will soon be pretty. Already she is blooming with the way she smiles when she is happy, something bright in that smile that Delphinium knows she will never have.
The eldest gives one final yank before she lets go.
"What's wrong with your hips? Are you gaining weight? You need to lay off the candy." Delphinium says airily, scooting into the bathroom the girl was trying to seek shelter in. "And why are you wearing so much pink?"
"I like pink... Its a good color on me." The girl says in a moment of honesty, her eyes lighting up with her joy.
"Oh. I hate to say it," She really doesn't, "But it makes you look piggy."
The joy in the girl's eyes drains, turns into tears as she almost begins to cry. For a moment she stares at her sister before her eyes look down at the ground.
"M-Mama says they're t-thinking of holding you back." The girl begins, finding herself stuttering as she tries to get this out. It will be her best attempt at an insult and its the truth, so there is little hurt in that. "Th-that you barely passed any of your other classes b-but magic..."
Delphinium says nothing to this, only staring at her sister in angered awe.
"Th-that you didn't study right-- That you wanted to be the best at magic that you forgot your other classes--"
"Where did you hear that?" When Delphinium does talk, she's quiet.
"Mama got drunk... She... She didn't know what she was saying."
For a long moment the two sisters stand there, separated by the years and their odd distrust of the other. Finally Delphinium steps forward and hooks a finger under the girl's chin, raising it up to look into her eyes.
"You're a clever thing, aren't you?" She asked before she lets go. The girl thinks she is free, takes a breath of relief and hears the crack before she feels the palm against her cheek. It is not the first time Delphinium has caused her some sort of pain, but it is the first time that she dares to touch her sister's pretty face.
The figure has Annabell's long, curly hair caught in its grasp. It tugs down on it with a malicious grin.
It only hurts once. The thing says in her sister's voice, the scissors pressing in against her chest.
"I am better than you and you're jealous--"
Only hurts once.
There is a loud noise, a snip and Annabell cries out. This is revenge, this is her sister finally extracting what she's always wanted. The pain lances across the girl as her chest splits open. A clawed hand pulls out the heart and Annabell watches the figure that pushes her body away. The heart beats still, bright and shining as the figure sighs to see it. It holds the scissors in its other hand and lets it sister fall to the ground.
Annabell stared up at the figure, consciousness fading slowly until it is black.
She is dead. She is dead and sad because she has died, she has failed. She has become the prey, but that is not quite true. She has always been the prey when her sister was involved. She will always be the prey unless she can reach beyond herself to become greater.
That will take far more than this simple task.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 4:08 pm
Yet you are still so little.
A wry little smile greets the Goddess as Annabell makes her way forward, the smile turning genuine when she see show excited her holiness is to be found. Despite what the Goddess might say, the girl is not quite so sure she will get much bigger. But she trusts the Goddesses and gives a soft chuckle at the question. The offer of a cookie is taken, even if the girl only holds it in her hands, her fingers worrying the edges and making it crumble ever so slightly.
Longing is excitable, someone honestly after the girl's own heart, but she cannot find it within herself to be as enthusiastic this time around. Which is a shame, as she glows the same soft blue her Goddess does and of all of them, she wants to make Longing the happiest. But the heart that beats within Annabell has been bruised, has been cut out without consent and taken. Somehow it was returned, for which the girl thanks the Goddesses who obviously worked a miracle or some elaborate vision to test her, but the ache is still there.
The memory of it being taken by something, the reminder of fragility weighs heavy on Annabell's shoulders.
At the mention of a tea party, however, she perks up. Curiously her heart stirs at the speaking of emotions, but it settles in and waits. There is danger in getting ones hopes up too soon, so the girl is patient and steps forward toward the table. She smiles back at the Goddess, takes a breath and moves forward to the table. The cookie is still in her grasp, but she pockets it and belatedly realizes she has not spoken her love to the Goddess who so freely spoke it to her. When the girl turns around, she is alone, left only with the table and crumbling cookie in her pocket.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 8:21 pm
Lilting music greets her the closer she steps to the table, but the sound she focuses on is the odd, minute crunching. Curious eyes look down, find white and then find more white falling from the sky. The scene is peaceful enough to take the edge off so that the girl more confidently approaches the table. It isn't much of a party with just herself, but Annabell is not inclined to judge the Goddess' idea of what constitutes a party. At least, not when she is offered food and drink. But first, there are two jars: One pink, one blue. Without thinking the girl reached for the blue one, stopping before her fingertips touched it when she realized it exuded a melancholy feeling. In a flash her hand was drawn back, a frown on her face as though she had been struck. Her glow was blue, but her heart was bruised and she wanted nothing of more sadness. When her eyes turned to the pink, even despite the warmth it gave off, she felt something for it. A fondness of her own volition, a love of the color. Maybe this was the right choice after all. And when it says 'Drink Me', there is no hesitation. Everything after that feels light and airy, the spinning table no concern at all. And when more snacks are presented, Annabell lets out an appreciative coo. The treats looks delicious and she wished she could eat them all! But since she has already taken a cookie, she instead looks to the cake. Forefinger and thumb reach out to take a piece, but it is decadent enough that it breaks off instead so that the girl is left with a large enough piece to eat but not the whole thing. Quite ready to relish the treat, she is surprised to find it tastes so absolutely delicious. But its too good, its too delicious. A fingertip presses against her mouth to keep from coughing even as she finds herself smiling despite the discomfort, and its a blessing to notice tea cups. Feeling indulgent (and half because it is closest, and possibly an even smaller fraction because something inside her sits up and "ooooohhhh"s quite loudly at it), the girl hooks a finger through the handle of the golden tea cup, and after a small raise of the thing up into the air as a form of cheers to her Goddess, drains the cup. It warm, and rich but balanced with something sweet and-- 
This particular mode of thought manifested itself all the more acutely when said sisters were actually present in the home, but given their general removal to school, was not usually much of a problem. Of course, that was only true for a large majority of the year. During the summer, however, both witches decided that being home was the thing to do and thus descended on their parents home to the ignored squeaks and whines of Belladonna, youngest of three witches who would really rather just be left alone with her fashion magazines and silly books, thank you very much.
But ignoring the youngest would really kill the fun of summer for the eldest two, so they resolve at the beginning of the summer, not so much in spoken words but more in glances and intricate signs left all over the house (a random bit of grass clippings found in front the youngest's door, already beginning to shrivel, mean she will be rude in the morning and thus deserving of torment), is more how they decide to extract their revenge. It isn't revenge so much as just sibling rivalry fed by their parents in apathetic sound bites. When the youngest complains and begs her parents to do something, showing them her bruised shoulders and arms where her sisters have used her as their target practice for various objects, the parents airily wave their hands in the air. They claim "Ghouls will be ghouls, and sisters are cruel until they are older" before they instruct the witchling to go make nice.
Making nice is impossible in the middle of a fight.
Typically, it was not revenge that spurned the two elder sisters to torment the youngest, just a mild sense of boredom and relish in an easy target. But on a particularly warm day, it is revenge that drives their actions.
The day dawned too warm for comfort, enough to make a person honestly sweat if they walked at a brisk pace outside. Mother and Papa Divine decided that neither of them could be bothered with staying home to watch after their daughters. And, because they are all old enough to take care of themselves, comforted themselves with the thought of such as they both left the house, not even bothering to give a backwards glance. Perhaps driven by the heat or remembering the crossed knives at breakfast (crossed knives at a table always mean a fight) or even because they are all bored with each other, the sisters are instantly at each others throats. Even the eldest Delphinium find herself quarreling with her accomplice in her crimes Hemlock, who just wants to be left alone. But even she does not want that more than the youngest, who hides in her mother's library in hopes her sisters will not find her. But it isn't long until they come tearing through the home, both Delphinium and Hemlock screaming like banshees to find that their favorite dresses have been tied to Mother and Papa's cats, who have not only shed black and gray and white and auburn fur on them, but have also taken their claws to the fabric in attempt to get them off.
It is something the youngest will feel terrible about later on (not the dresses, the cats. She did not mean to torture them so much as she meant to torture her sisters), but something that will have to wait as she hides it out.
It isn't long until she is discovered and drug screaming out into the field the house rests on, a duel proposed.
"Two against one is hardly a fair fight." Belladonna pipes up, fingers massaging her hair that her sisters have pulled to get her down the stairs and out the door.
"Yeah, well fair went out the window about an hour ago." Hemlock hisses, mostly upset that the cats have put scratches in a dress she had meant to distress herself.
"And it isn't as though you can't handle yourself. You have a weapon after all!" Delphinium says in a voice she has been trying to perfect all summer, something high and dainty that only sounds nasally. But she smirks at her sister, knowing with a bare of teeth that Belladonna does not have her weapon. She has not bonded to anything and is currently a Reaper in flux. This is the witchling's ultimate point of contention, the thing that hurts her and angers her and frustrates her more than all others. Her sisters got their weapons when they were a few years younger than she, and here she sits, stuck at 13 with an awkward body and no weapon.
She is prepared to lose this fight.
Delphinium summons her black scrying glass, a flat, square thing decorated with silver etchings that she most often uses in a boomerang fashion, a broad grin on her face. This will be fun! This will be enjoyable and she will get to show off.
Hemlock summons a pale blue pendulum on the end of a long chain that she grips between her hands, swinging it in intervals to figure out her momentum. This will be revenge. This will be frustration vented in physical form, her favorite.
Belladonna stands there, not even bothering to take a fighting position.
"Are you jealous that you can't fit into my dress?" Delphinium asks as she traipses over to her sister and darts around her. Its no fun when the youngest refuses to fight, as it seems is the case today, so some goading is in order. "Its your hips! They're too big!"
The witchling flinches at the same time Hemlock does, though she does it because her hips are nonexistent and the two sisters have joked that Belladonna would donate some of her width to her elder sister if it was possible.
"Or is it because burgundy looks terrible on you?" Delphinium taps her sister with the glass on the small of her back, but Belladonna only takes a calm step forward to avoid it.
"Not talking today? Cat got your tongue?" The eldest laughs, repeats the motion with more force. "Where is your cat? Why don't you call him, you can bond with him. Make him fight your battles."
Because she knows if she doesn't help that she too will receive some torture, Hemlock tosses out the chain to wrap around the youngest's ankle. Its too loose to hold, but she still tugs on it lightly.
"I haven't seen Binx all morning. Certainly hope he's alright~" Delphinium has begun to sing song, her free hang tugging the youngest's hair. But it is something in the way she says that last part that make Belladonna spark.
In a flash her hand is smacking the glass away, the other finding her sister's wrist and digging in with her nails.
"If you hurt him I swear to Hecate I'll--"
Delphinium smacks her across the face with the glass and Belladonna cannot speak for a moment. Instead she stumbles to the ground, a hand on her cheek. That hurts more than anything and her fingertips try to find the bruise that will surely form.
"You'll what? Tell Mummy and Daddy?" The eldest stares down at the witchling and sighs. Its not even worth it to keep fighting. She lets the scrying glass go and it vanishes. With a motion she indicates that Hemlock should do the same before she turns to head back to the house. They will lock the doors and make the youngest wait in the heat, the least they can do for how rude she's been.
And quite sure of her fate, Belladonna does not stand up. She lets the hand fall from her face to the ground. Discomfort caused by a rock brushes her palm and in a moment of malice she picks it up. She glares at the backs of her sisters and throws the rock.
The rock sails from her hand, a perfect arc that will land straight on Delphinium's back and make her annoyed. But as the rock begins to descend, as it turns in the air, it glitters for a moment in the pumpkin sun. With a hopeful look, Belladonna watches as the rock falls uselessly to the ground and a card takes its place. The card shoots forward and glances against Delphinium's back, sharp enough to have sliced the fabric of her shirt.
A bright spark erupts around the fallen ghoul and with a tiny shriek of surprise, Belladonna is on her feet. But when she stands, when her sisters turn around to look, they see the witchling surrounded by a perfect circle of floating cards. Three sets of pink eyes follow the circle, notice the curling lines on the cards and they all know even before Belladonna shouts it out: They're tarot cards.
"Look! Oh my stars look! The Fool, The Magician, look look The Lovers! Oh, oh its beautiful-- The Moon looks so pretty and ah the Four of Cups has roses!" The witchling's hands snatch at the cards, pull them from the air as to inspect them. The fact they are floating, that they appeared because she attacked completely misses her for the moment as she is too enamored with their beauty. They are gilded on the edges with gold, filigreed with symbols and meaning and patterns that she loves. And when the one she has thrown returns, it floats into her open palm.
The sisters stare in silence, half worried and half upset. But Delphinium breaks the silence with a frown.
"What card did you throw?" She asks, folding her arms across her chest. She is not impressed (liar), she could care less (liar, liar), she really could (lies, lying, lied).
A bright grin blooms on Belladonna's face as she looks at her sisters, turning the card around to face them slowly. Having always been one for a bit of drama, she is reveling in it now.
"Strength." She intones with a now mischievous smile, taking one step forward before she flicks her hands to send a volley of cards at her sisters. Most of them miss, but the two witches still run. With a cackle Belladonna chases after, flailing and trying to figure out her weapon. She doesn't care that in a few moments she is sweating and panting, that she has hardly landed a hit on her sisters and that they are angrier than before, that they will not talk to her for the rest of the week. For now, Belladonna could not be happier, could not be more proud. She has reached within herself and pulled out something beautiful, something glistening and sweeter than a scrying glass or pendulum. She has made for herself a full set of cards with her own Fear, something connected deeply to herself, multifaceted and full of opportunity.
For one of the first times in her life, Belladonna has found something she enjoys about herself, something she relishes in. If she had a whole deck of cards waiting to be discovered, what else about herself has she yet to find?Oh... What a delightful party, after all!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 8:22 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 8:40 pm
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: Pale yellow Description: Torment, downtrodden, pride and achievement toward the end. Your commentary on its flavour: Tiletk smirked a little bit. Nothing like getting the leg up on a tormentor! He was glad that she had gotten the better of her sisters toward the end. At least to some degree. He also made a note not to mess with her if he ever met her... Nothing happier than a discovery of one's own power.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 9:03 pm
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: Pale Yellow Description: Lukewarm at the beginning, sweet vanilla that suddenly turns spicy at the end Your commentary on its flavour: There was something about the struggle of an underdog that called to her. Rostym pondered the taste of the memory with a curious look, inwardly rooting for the youngest sister even before she knew her. It was like a story, with development and conflict and a climax and falling action, though the resolution wasn't quite enough; she wished she could have tasted power more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 15, 2013 9:05 pm
Tea Guest Log Colour of Tea Tasted: Pale yellow Description: Triumphant honey mixed with dazzling raspberry. I want more of this tea. Your commentary on its flavour: Chaesel, still being hungry (no goddess could sustain her hunger), went to try more teas. She began with a dainty cup, one that reminded her of the little ones she'd seen while out battling. She wanted to stomp all over the sisters' faces for being so cruel, but alas she was just a bystander for this memory. So she settled for a loud cheer when she woke up from the memory. " You rock Belladonna." Whoever that was. The tea gave her a sense of triumphant victory, one that was palpable. She applied the technique to the rest of the table and kept devouring the food.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
