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+---- Thread: SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open (/showthread.php?tid=12681)
SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open - GEORGIA. - 09-02-2020
"She told me she was hollow,"
Georgia, uncharacteristically, could be found in a clearing not too far from the tavern. She'd set off with a purpose: slipping from her tree house and down into the daylight, set on ridding her ears of the sound of crashing waves. It was monotonous and infinite - a constant reminder that the waves did not care how her father died. Even under her control, the ocean did not pause for her father's death. It paused for Georgia; it waited on her every command with baited breath. But it had no mercy for those who held no rights to it. This bothered her. This bothered her terribly, itching underneath her skin and raising the hair along her spine in anger.
"That's far from what I see."
She'd stopped eating for the first few days after the storm. On the third day, her body could take no more. She broke into the snacks and goodies Goldie had been leaving her - nearly ate so much she was sick. After she drowned out the hunger in her mind, her emotions slipped back, receding like the tides that came and went every night. She was already thin as it was; it didn't take much for her to show more ribs than she needed to. It began to hurt to walk and move; her joints and muscles became stiff from lack of exercise. She'd perch on the open window; would listen to the wind and the birds and the trees. But it was always the ocean waves that drove her inside.
"She's more than just the daughter of a broken man to me,"
Outwardly, it wasn't terribly difficult to keep up her attitude. The paranoia of having to deal with a conversation about her wellbeing was real and it was harsh. She was constantly snappy, constantly biting her tongue, not caring that people didn't understand. It felt as if Seapaw was constantly on her heels, and even though he meant well, Georgia was two steps from evicting him. She'd taken down most of her ocean memorabilia; he kept bringing more in. She wondered why she'd let him in when she was in such a state. She was an awful roommate.
"She told me she was shallow...her rivers run so deep,"
Georgia's mood came and went. Anger took so much energy to uphold; most days she was just tired and unwilling to move. Her head felt empty, stuck on repeats of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'd change places with you in a heartbeat. Lullabies her father sang swam in her head. Conversations danced in front of her eyes. Dread was slick on the back of her tongue, always wondering how many more memories Krios had tampered with.
"If I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea."
Her father always told her she had an eerie voice. A hauntingly, ocean-like siren song. Light and willowy, breathy and beckoning. She was no siren, but there was grief to her voice now that made it crack around the verse her father always picked out for her. Georgia blew a blade of grass away from her nose.
Georgia, uncharacteristically, could be found in a clearing not too far from the tavern. She'd set off with a purpose: slipping from her tree house and down into the daylight, set on ridding her ears of the sound of crashing waves. It was monotonous and infinite - a constant reminder that the waves did not care how her father died. Even under her control, the ocean did not pause for her father's death. It paused for Georgia; it waited on her every command with baited breath. But it had no mercy for those who held no rights to it. This bothered her. This bothered her terribly, itching underneath her skin and raising the hair along her spine in anger.
"That's far from what I see."
She'd stopped eating for the first few days after the storm. On the third day, her body could take no more. She broke into the snacks and goodies Goldie had been leaving her - nearly ate so much she was sick. After she drowned out the hunger in her mind, her emotions slipped back, receding like the tides that came and went every night. She was already thin as it was; it didn't take much for her to show more ribs than she needed to. It began to hurt to walk and move; her joints and muscles became stiff from lack of exercise. She'd perch on the open window; would listen to the wind and the birds and the trees. But it was always the ocean waves that drove her inside.
"She's more than just the daughter of a broken man to me,"
Outwardly, it wasn't terribly difficult to keep up her attitude. The paranoia of having to deal with a conversation about her wellbeing was real and it was harsh. She was constantly snappy, constantly biting her tongue, not caring that people didn't understand. It felt as if Seapaw was constantly on her heels, and even though he meant well, Georgia was two steps from evicting him. She'd taken down most of her ocean memorabilia; he kept bringing more in. She wondered why she'd let him in when she was in such a state. She was an awful roommate.
"She told me she was shallow...her rivers run so deep,"
Georgia's mood came and went. Anger took so much energy to uphold; most days she was just tired and unwilling to move. Her head felt empty, stuck on repeats of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'd change places with you in a heartbeat. Lullabies her father sang swam in her head. Conversations danced in front of her eyes. Dread was slick on the back of her tongue, always wondering how many more memories Krios had tampered with.
"If I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea."
Her father always told her she had an eerie voice. A hauntingly, ocean-like siren song. Light and willowy, breathy and beckoning. She was no siren, but there was grief to her voice now that made it crack around the verse her father always picked out for her. Georgia blew a blade of grass away from her nose.
© LEXASPERATED
[align=left]
THE SEA WAVES ARE MY EVENING GOWN:
Re: SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open - michael t. - 09-02-2020
Michael Townley had learned from a very young age that life was a bitch. It was hard not to, when you grew up with only your family to rely on, only to find out that they were all bastards that would hurt you and make you repress parts of yourself to make them happy. Ultimately, the thief had ended up killing his father himself, but unlike Georgia, he felt no guilt or shame over it. His father had not been a caring or loving parent, but had instead taken every chance in his life to beat and berate him, and shut down anything that was even vaguely out of line with what he wanted. It had made Michael a hostile and bitter being, ready to snap at anything that moved in order to protect himself from being hurt. Things had changed a lot since then, but the fugitive still didn't entirely trust parental figures. He clung to the thought that he would be a far better father than his dad had ever been, but he still had nightmares about what would happen once the puppies came. Would he fuck it all up? Would he end up just as bad as his dad had been? He was fairly sure that was impossible, but those thoughts lingered in his mind these days, often making him lose sleep or even just lose track of time worrying.
Unfortunately, because Michael had changed so much since his bitter and lashing out childhood, that meant that he cared a lot more about those that resided within The Typhoon. Including those that were relatively new to the group, such as Georgia. Truthfully, the coyote wasn't sure why he had become attached to the teenager so quickly. Maybe it was just because he was protective of all those who were younger than him, or maybe just because he could see hints of his younger self in her. Either way, he had tried to keep tabs on her, able to notice the steady decline in her mood, and in the way that she was living her life. He had kept his distance for a while, noticing that she already had Seapaw and Goldie around breathing down her neck. He didn't want to be yet another pushy person in her life, considering he could remember quite well all the times that he had been depressed, or anxious. He could remember the hours spent restless and desperate to do anything to relieve the buzz in his mind. Back in the day that had meant stealing, and eventually it had meant drinking. He could only hope that Georgia didn't end up going down a similar road.
The reaver had been out on a walk of his own when he heard the slow, pained trill of Georgia's voice ringing out, causing his dark ears to perk up. For a moment, he considered staying away, and letting her have some time on her own. However, his worry eventually won out, and it wasn't long until the pregnant canine pushed his way through the branches, and into the clearing. The grief in Gia's voice was enough to make him feel a ball of anxiety in his chest, and he hesitated before stepping forward, "Georgia...? Was that you just now?" It was an obvious question, but he wasn't quite sure how to proceed, never having been the best at comfort. Eventually he continued, ears pinning back, "If it was... your voice is very nice. What song was it?" Perhaps focusing on something other than the raw emotion in the air would be best. Even if he felt like crumbling in on himself at the moment.
Unfortunately, because Michael had changed so much since his bitter and lashing out childhood, that meant that he cared a lot more about those that resided within The Typhoon. Including those that were relatively new to the group, such as Georgia. Truthfully, the coyote wasn't sure why he had become attached to the teenager so quickly. Maybe it was just because he was protective of all those who were younger than him, or maybe just because he could see hints of his younger self in her. Either way, he had tried to keep tabs on her, able to notice the steady decline in her mood, and in the way that she was living her life. He had kept his distance for a while, noticing that she already had Seapaw and Goldie around breathing down her neck. He didn't want to be yet another pushy person in her life, considering he could remember quite well all the times that he had been depressed, or anxious. He could remember the hours spent restless and desperate to do anything to relieve the buzz in his mind. Back in the day that had meant stealing, and eventually it had meant drinking. He could only hope that Georgia didn't end up going down a similar road.
The reaver had been out on a walk of his own when he heard the slow, pained trill of Georgia's voice ringing out, causing his dark ears to perk up. For a moment, he considered staying away, and letting her have some time on her own. However, his worry eventually won out, and it wasn't long until the pregnant canine pushed his way through the branches, and into the clearing. The grief in Gia's voice was enough to make him feel a ball of anxiety in his chest, and he hesitated before stepping forward, "Georgia...? Was that you just now?" It was an obvious question, but he wasn't quite sure how to proceed, never having been the best at comfort. Eventually he continued, ears pinning back, "If it was... your voice is very nice. What song was it?" Perhaps focusing on something other than the raw emotion in the air would be best. Even if he felt like crumbling in on himself at the moment.
MICHAEL TOWNLEY-PHILLIPS - THE TYPHOON - REAVER
[sup]template made by tikki[/sup]Re: SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open - SUITEKIT. - 09-07-2020
THE TELLTALE HEART
I never learned to trust a love song
[size=9px]( cream tabby ; three months ; typhoon minnow )
It was not because the words were trite[/SIZE]
[size=9px]( cream tabby ; three months ; typhoon minnow )
It was not because the words were trite[/SIZE]
Untamed and above the base desire to enact a sense of fleeting control. Cruel the waves that arose in peaks adorned in a dwindling lace of foam, forth racing to a demise written against jagged peaks, a hunger insatiable made apparent by that held in shadowed depths. Yet kind it in turn, tranquil and soothing with the hushed hum as the tide arose, creeping forth and retreating in similar manner. A force of nature, that both shrouded in the danger afforded the unknown and the beauty revelled in by those past.
The ocean, beyond the notion of identity hung upon unbowed neck those seeking the simplicity of the known to understand, bore no care for those who walked sand lined shores.
She knew this, at least within base manner the mind of one suspended in such a time of life may come to do so, and crushing the fear that arose until restricted each breath. Always was it there, lingered within peripheral vision, intrusive presence inescapable no matter the distance she traversed. And so she gave up.
Cool that which lapped at wandering paws, sodden the fine strands briefly laced with foam before it too fled, once more grasping at thin wrists as the tide swept close again. A repetitive action, cycle unending. Where her own actions not as such, basic desire a whim she answered, tending what she might as the ocean answered its own beckoning call. Broken the stream of her wandering thought beneath the arising lilt, a melody bearing crackling edges, grief a veil in fading voice.
Forth did Suitekit stumble, abandoned the surf in favour of supposed origin point, found only when the brief questioning drew her attention. A siren she may not deem herself but to child she was, tentative the little smile curling about pale lips. "You have a very pretty voice, miss."
The ocean, beyond the notion of identity hung upon unbowed neck those seeking the simplicity of the known to understand, bore no care for those who walked sand lined shores.
She knew this, at least within base manner the mind of one suspended in such a time of life may come to do so, and crushing the fear that arose until restricted each breath. Always was it there, lingered within peripheral vision, intrusive presence inescapable no matter the distance she traversed. And so she gave up.
Cool that which lapped at wandering paws, sodden the fine strands briefly laced with foam before it too fled, once more grasping at thin wrists as the tide swept close again. A repetitive action, cycle unending. Where her own actions not as such, basic desire a whim she answered, tending what she might as the ocean answered its own beckoning call. Broken the stream of her wandering thought beneath the arising lilt, a melody bearing crackling edges, grief a veil in fading voice.
Forth did Suitekit stumble, abandoned the surf in favour of supposed origin point, found only when the brief questioning drew her attention. A siren she may not deem herself but to child she was, tentative the little smile curling about pale lips. "You have a very pretty voice, miss."
code by Reggan
Re: SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open - PAOLA - 09-07-2020
[shadow=#292c2e,left]PAOLA VASQUEZ[/shadow]
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]oh, you seemed so happy to everybody you knew
She didn't know what it meant.
When Georgia's voice drifted over the ever-present surf and burrowed into Paola's senses, she'd felt something chill deep within her. She had shivered and trembled, figured it to be nothing more than the wind, then followed the haunting sound until she found her friend and a small audience of onlookers. For a long moment, Paola was entranced, hiding only slightly out-of-sight and uncharacteristically speechless, until the song came to an end, heralded with praise.
Paola stayed silent, however, and continued shyly glancing at the back of Georgia's head, the only thing she could see from where she stood behind her. Something burned painfully in her chest but she hardly knew what they were other than that they were pillars of fire, rising up in stark contrasts, writhing into an unfathomable mess that she couldn't even begin to unravel. She could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.
On top of it all, the underlying concern for her friend continued to burn. Paola didn't know a lot about people. For most of her life, she'd been alone, faced only with opposition—now she cared for plenty, and she didn't know what to do with that. Georgia had been her first friend in the Typhoon, and yet she didn't know how to help, or if Georgia even wanted or needed her help. Georgia was going through so much, too much, but what could Paola do? She didn't know. She didn't know and she was angry at herself, angry that she didn't know anything, couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything—
She couldn't say anything except, "Gotta agree, Geo; your voice, man, that was probably the nicest thing I've ever heard in my life. Sweep me off my feet, why don't you?" When she finally came into view, she'd pushed her anxiety aside in favor of a familiar, bright grin unfurling across her muzzle. She took a seat not far from the gathered group and blinked kindly at Michael and Suitekit before turning back to Geo and offering her a playful look. "Really. I mean it, no joke. It was very lovely."
[table][tr][td]When Georgia's voice drifted over the ever-present surf and burrowed into Paola's senses, she'd felt something chill deep within her. She had shivered and trembled, figured it to be nothing more than the wind, then followed the haunting sound until she found her friend and a small audience of onlookers. For a long moment, Paola was entranced, hiding only slightly out-of-sight and uncharacteristically speechless, until the song came to an end, heralded with praise.
Paola stayed silent, however, and continued shyly glancing at the back of Georgia's head, the only thing she could see from where she stood behind her. Something burned painfully in her chest but she hardly knew what they were other than that they were pillars of fire, rising up in stark contrasts, writhing into an unfathomable mess that she couldn't even begin to unravel. She could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.
On top of it all, the underlying concern for her friend continued to burn. Paola didn't know a lot about people. For most of her life, she'd been alone, faced only with opposition—now she cared for plenty, and she didn't know what to do with that. Georgia had been her first friend in the Typhoon, and yet she didn't know how to help, or if Georgia even wanted or needed her help. Georgia was going through so much, too much, but what could Paola do? She didn't know. She didn't know and she was angry at herself, angry that she didn't know anything, couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything—
She couldn't say anything except, "Gotta agree, Geo; your voice, man, that was probably the nicest thing I've ever heard in my life. Sweep me off my feet, why don't you?" When she finally came into view, she'd pushed her anxiety aside in favor of a familiar, bright grin unfurling across her muzzle. She took a seat not far from the gathered group and blinked kindly at Michael and Suitekit before turning back to Geo and offering her a playful look. "Really. I mean it, no joke. It was very lovely."
10 MOONS
[/td][td]BETA
[/td][td]TYPHOON
[/td][td]SHE/HER
[/td][td]© AUDACITY
[/td][/tr][/table] I WON'T STOP FEELING THE WEIGHT OF MY WORLD:
Re: SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS HOLLOW | open - Simon F.M. - 09-08-2020
[align=center]
I KNOW WHY YOU'RE MAD AT ME, I'VE GOT DEMON EYES
& THEY'RE LOOKING RIGHT THROUGH YOUR ANATOMY
Diya found herself stricken every time she found that the young Suitekit had wandered from her side, she wondered if this was the age of which was normal. Should she not be so quick to follow after the young feline, should she allow them their room to roam? She couldn't be sure so, she followed from a distance. She had felt fear upon finding Suitekit so near the waves but, kept watch from a distance.
Georgia's singing had caught the vampire's attention aswell and she followed after the kitten to the source. She greeted her girlfriend's brother with a nod, eyes falling upon the grieving hirl. She knew not how to offer the needed words of comfort and, instead opted for a moment of silence. Laying herself behind her child, she kept a worried eye on Georgia. "They're right, it's quite lovely." she commented softly.