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+---- Thread: I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au (/showthread.php?tid=12670)
I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au - bubblegum - 08-31-2020
In the bathroom, the woman stood quietly by herself. It was still morning, she'd just made breakfast for her children. Pancakes and bacon. Not as creative as her usual meals, but it was easy, and they all liked it, so she settled for it. She wasn't hungry, though. She wanted something else. But she wasn't sure what exactly. Pain, to go away, she thinks. And she stares in the mirror, maybe at herself, maybe at nothing in particular.
It was hard to say whether it was getting easier or not. With age, pain did not become weaker - in some ways, it was even stronger - it only simply became more normal. And this was a sad mentality to take on, she did not want to think of adulthood, or later life, in this manner. But the simple truth was, people came and went all the same, and the longer you're around others, the more this was proven fact. And it was not time that would the wounds, but the simple act of allowing them to heal. But she couldn't let go, not quite yet, and in her grasp that meant she must hold on to everything, even the pain. Let the rose thorns poke her and blood run its coarse until it was time to drop them, let them sail to sea with the rest of them.
And she decides something. Her lightly scarred hands reach for scissors, intertwining with the handles, long curly hair pushed forwards now. And without much plan, they begin to snip. Break apart the strands, more and more falling, being cut shorter and shorter, until they stopped, seemingly satisfied. Set down gently, now grasping for something else, a box, unopened, seemingly having sat in its place for a while now. It's torn open, and Dee begins her work.
When she finally would leave the bathroom, now hours later, the first thing eyes would be forced to land on would be her hair. Naturally curly, long, dark black hair is what would usually be expected of her. Though as she leaves her home, steps onto her porch, it now sat just above her shoulders, a flashy, bold red. She wears a pale yellow sundress with simple white flip flops, and carried with a strap is her ukulele, still within its case. And Demetra decided, today, she would try to simply be okay. Ignore the blood, the weariness, and the deafening loneliness. Not yet ready to let go, but wanting to try.
It was hard to say whether it was getting easier or not. With age, pain did not become weaker - in some ways, it was even stronger - it only simply became more normal. And this was a sad mentality to take on, she did not want to think of adulthood, or later life, in this manner. But the simple truth was, people came and went all the same, and the longer you're around others, the more this was proven fact. And it was not time that would the wounds, but the simple act of allowing them to heal. But she couldn't let go, not quite yet, and in her grasp that meant she must hold on to everything, even the pain. Let the rose thorns poke her and blood run its coarse until it was time to drop them, let them sail to sea with the rest of them.
And she decides something. Her lightly scarred hands reach for scissors, intertwining with the handles, long curly hair pushed forwards now. And without much plan, they begin to snip. Break apart the strands, more and more falling, being cut shorter and shorter, until they stopped, seemingly satisfied. Set down gently, now grasping for something else, a box, unopened, seemingly having sat in its place for a while now. It's torn open, and Dee begins her work.
When she finally would leave the bathroom, now hours later, the first thing eyes would be forced to land on would be her hair. Naturally curly, long, dark black hair is what would usually be expected of her. Though as she leaves her home, steps onto her porch, it now sat just above her shoulders, a flashy, bold red. She wears a pale yellow sundress with simple white flip flops, and carried with a strap is her ukulele, still within its case. And Demetra decided, today, she would try to simply be okay. Ignore the blood, the weariness, and the deafening loneliness. Not yet ready to let go, but wanting to try.
Re: I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au - GEORGIA. - 09-01-2020
Georgia could barely walk because of the pain. It rattled around her organs, hollowed out her stomach; every joint creaked and ached like she was getting on in years. She knew what it was from and had refused to acknowledge it for days on end now. She survived on necessities, when her body screamed at her to eat something or move. When she was too restless to lie in bed. There was a certain caliber of emptiness that accompanied her wherever she went; she'd lay down and die if she were capable of it. However, her compulsions - not obsessive ones - got in her way; she'd move without consciously knowing. She'd reach for a piece of stimulation without actively thinking for one. It bothered her, when she came out of her daze, knowing her body was betraying her mind.
Today, she had climbed down from her house precariously, her bare feet aching on the wooden stairs. Her ankles, arms and legs were riddled with bruises from her useless bumping about. Her scrawny, weightless body was hidden in the folds of a massive white hoodie that swallowed her. Biker shorts could hardly be seen, as the hoodie nearly came halfway down her legs. Her freckles had faded and her hair had darkened at the roots - a lack of sunlight exposure haunted her appearance. Her curls were tied aimlessly in a bun against the crown of her head.
De would be around for her daily check in anytime now. Georgia wanted to escape her mentor's prying eyes and questions. She didn't appreciate the constant surveillance she was under. Hell, she knew Deniz was only there to keep an eye on her, despite what she said. Paranoia was creeping up her spine, and she struggled to hide it under her hoodie.
Despite her wishes to stay away from her mentor, Georgia somehow ended up at her front door instead. She stared at the door, very nearly banging her head into it with her frustration. The smell of bacon and pancakes was a little cold, but it made her starved stomach ache with the thought of breakfast. Georgia pushed her way inside with little precedent, fingers trembling from her exhaustion. She leaned heavily on a wall, shoving her hands in her pockets as De exited the bathroom.
"Hey, do you think I could - whoa," Georgia blinked, trying her very best to appear interested in De's sudden change of appearance. "Vibe check." She nodded, bits of hair falling out of her bun. "I dig the hair," She tacked on, not sure how she felt about seeing her Captain and mentor in a yellow sundress. She twiddled her thumbs, looking past De to the kitchen. "You don't think I could get a bit of breakfast from your kitchen, do you?" Gia asked nervously.
Today, she had climbed down from her house precariously, her bare feet aching on the wooden stairs. Her ankles, arms and legs were riddled with bruises from her useless bumping about. Her scrawny, weightless body was hidden in the folds of a massive white hoodie that swallowed her. Biker shorts could hardly be seen, as the hoodie nearly came halfway down her legs. Her freckles had faded and her hair had darkened at the roots - a lack of sunlight exposure haunted her appearance. Her curls were tied aimlessly in a bun against the crown of her head.
De would be around for her daily check in anytime now. Georgia wanted to escape her mentor's prying eyes and questions. She didn't appreciate the constant surveillance she was under. Hell, she knew Deniz was only there to keep an eye on her, despite what she said. Paranoia was creeping up her spine, and she struggled to hide it under her hoodie.
Despite her wishes to stay away from her mentor, Georgia somehow ended up at her front door instead. She stared at the door, very nearly banging her head into it with her frustration. The smell of bacon and pancakes was a little cold, but it made her starved stomach ache with the thought of breakfast. Georgia pushed her way inside with little precedent, fingers trembling from her exhaustion. She leaned heavily on a wall, shoving her hands in her pockets as De exited the bathroom.
"Hey, do you think I could - whoa," Georgia blinked, trying her very best to appear interested in De's sudden change of appearance. "Vibe check." She nodded, bits of hair falling out of her bun. "I dig the hair," She tacked on, not sure how she felt about seeing her Captain and mentor in a yellow sundress. She twiddled her thumbs, looking past De to the kitchen. "You don't think I could get a bit of breakfast from your kitchen, do you?" Gia asked nervously.
© LEXASPERATED
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THE SEA WAVES ARE MY EVENING GOWN:
Re: I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au - roan ; - 09-02-2020
For Roan, adulthood had brought with it nothing but pain and exhaustion. On some level, the male knew that he wasn't actually properly an adult. Yes, he was eighteen, but one needed more than just that to be an adult. Despite this, many had seen him as an adult ever since he was as young as fifteen, treating patients carefully after the disappearance of his grandfather, and mentor. As the years had gone on, Roan had felt the stress of life as a soothsayer weighing heavily on him, and it was easy to see in his appearance. Tanned skin bore darker circles underneath his blue eyes, and his formerly carefully kept curly black hair now sat in a mop atop his head. Most still found it rather cute, and he made sure to brush the tangles out of it, but beyond that, he made no effort to do anything fancy with it. The bright clothing colors of his youth had been abandoned long ago, replaced instead with black button-ups and shorts, or jeans. When it became especially hot, the black shirts were swapped out for white ones, just so that he wouldn't spend his entire day sweating his ass off while searching for herbs.
His work was hard, yes, but despite this, Roan had never had any desire to abandon it. For the brief time he had even considered it, he had felt so guilty and horrible about it that he had immediately returned, far too worried for his own – or anybody's – good. He imagined Dee felt a similar away about her position as captain, although he hadn't talked to his cousin about it in some time. He knew she had more pressing matters on her mind as of late, and the soothsayer didn't enjoy risking the possibility of making everything worse. Some said that he was good with words, but he always felt as though he was screwing up, just a few steps from saying the wrong thing and bringing someone else down with him.
He wasn't sure what exactly had pulled him towards his cousin's house that morning. Maybe he was just lonely, considering his favorite patient – much as he was loathe to ever admit that title to Devland himself – hadn't visited in quite a while. No matter the reason, the young man had found himself drawn over by the sound of Georgia's voice, his bag slung over his shoulder and full of freshly picked herbs. He was sure that he smelled of the jungle, and only hoped that the scent of mint and everything else wasn't too overpowering. Stepping up onto the porch shortly after Gia, Roan found himself pausing when he saw Dee, feeling a little bit stunned. The sudden change in her hair color – along with hair length – struck the medic for a loop, and he found himself just staring for a long moment. Eventually he spoke up, his voice sounding both flat and stunned at the same time, "Dee... your hair. You changed it." How anyone thought that he was eloquent or good at speaking, he would never, ever know.
His work was hard, yes, but despite this, Roan had never had any desire to abandon it. For the brief time he had even considered it, he had felt so guilty and horrible about it that he had immediately returned, far too worried for his own – or anybody's – good. He imagined Dee felt a similar away about her position as captain, although he hadn't talked to his cousin about it in some time. He knew she had more pressing matters on her mind as of late, and the soothsayer didn't enjoy risking the possibility of making everything worse. Some said that he was good with words, but he always felt as though he was screwing up, just a few steps from saying the wrong thing and bringing someone else down with him.
He wasn't sure what exactly had pulled him towards his cousin's house that morning. Maybe he was just lonely, considering his favorite patient – much as he was loathe to ever admit that title to Devland himself – hadn't visited in quite a while. No matter the reason, the young man had found himself drawn over by the sound of Georgia's voice, his bag slung over his shoulder and full of freshly picked herbs. He was sure that he smelled of the jungle, and only hoped that the scent of mint and everything else wasn't too overpowering. Stepping up onto the porch shortly after Gia, Roan found himself pausing when he saw Dee, feeling a little bit stunned. The sudden change in her hair color – along with hair length – struck the medic for a loop, and he found himself just staring for a long moment. Eventually he spoke up, his voice sounding both flat and stunned at the same time, "Dee... your hair. You changed it." How anyone thought that he was eloquent or good at speaking, he would never, ever know.
ROAN Ó FOALÁIN-ROUX - THE TYPHOON - SOOTHSAYER
[sup]template made by tikki[/sup]Re: I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au - Seakit Roux. - 09-10-2020
IF MY LIFE IS GOING
TO MEAN ANYTHING,
I HAVE TO LIVE IT
MYSELF.
tiguar . young . he/him
demigod of the deep
demigod of the deep
Unlike the other's that had approached the home, Deniz was already there when his mother stepped from the bathroom. He'd entered before, as if he still lived there, and began to eat the chilling food. He hadn't said much, wondering what she had been doing for so long in the bathroom.
When she finally exited the bathroom, he'd been mid-bite. Now frozen, bacon hung awkwardly from his mouth, hand half grasping the strip of meat. The approach of other's pulled him out of his shock. Gathering cold bacon and pancakes onto a plate, he came forward, taking in his mother's new looks. Silently, he handed Georgia the plate, not even making eye contact with her before moving on. A hand lifted, brushing against the bright red locks that adorned his mother's head. A short wolf-whistle and chuckle left the teen and, for a moment he felt light-hearted.
"Got enough practice on my head that'cha decided it was finally time to give yourself the same treatment?" He would take a step back, hand brushing over his own dyed dreads. A smile rested on his face, true and gentle, a twinkle in his often-times dull eyes. "I like it, Momma"
When she finally exited the bathroom, he'd been mid-bite. Now frozen, bacon hung awkwardly from his mouth, hand half grasping the strip of meat. The approach of other's pulled him out of his shock. Gathering cold bacon and pancakes onto a plate, he came forward, taking in his mother's new looks. Silently, he handed Georgia the plate, not even making eye contact with her before moving on. A hand lifted, brushing against the bright red locks that adorned his mother's head. A short wolf-whistle and chuckle left the teen and, for a moment he felt light-hearted.
"Got enough practice on my head that'cha decided it was finally time to give yourself the same treatment?" He would take a step back, hand brushing over his own dyed dreads. A smile rested on his face, true and gentle, a twinkle in his often-times dull eyes. "I like it, Momma"
Re: I ASK MYSELF FOR PEACE / human au - Keona. - 09-10-2020
[table][tr][td]
[/td][td]
[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin
The petite young Dealer had not been directly heading for the Captain's house. Viola case strapped to her back and hands carefully wrapped around Fala's harness, Keona meant more for the beach. To play along with the waves.
But an unusual amount of voices cut the air. "Fala. Stop." Brushing strands of her own red hair away from her face, Keona tilted her head towards the commotion. There was the smell of breakfast in the air, but she had a feeling that was hardly worth the attention Dee seemed to gather today.
"Fala, go to Dee. Dee."
With a curious smile, she stopped by the porch. Lightheartedly, the blind girl waved a hand questionably in the air. "Someone gonna tell me what's new?"
Keona certainly enjoyed individualism, in whatever form, even if she couldn't fully appreciate the view. From her ocean-inspired tops and worn down jeans; she certainly agreed looks were important to expression.
And sometimes it was just nice. To simply change something up.
[/td][/tr][/table]But an unusual amount of voices cut the air. "Fala. Stop." Brushing strands of her own red hair away from her face, Keona tilted her head towards the commotion. There was the smell of breakfast in the air, but she had a feeling that was hardly worth the attention Dee seemed to gather today.
"Fala, go to Dee. Dee."
With a curious smile, she stopped by the porch. Lightheartedly, the blind girl waved a hand questionably in the air. "Someone gonna tell me what's new?"
Keona certainly enjoyed individualism, in whatever form, even if she couldn't fully appreciate the view. From her ocean-inspired tops and worn down jeans; she certainly agreed looks were important to expression.
And sometimes it was just nice. To simply change something up.
© MADI