11-11-2018, 02:12 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-11-2018, 02:12 PM by cleo roux..)
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;"]Never before had Cleo felt as alone, as isolated, as she did as she collapsed upon the floor of the submarine, eyes stinging with tears that would not come. Silus was gone, Goldie could not remember her, Aphra had returned, and her father... She was still terrified of the prospect of interacting with her father. Even in that all consuming darkness, she had the faces of those who cared the most for her seared into her memory, her only constant besides the warm ground her still body had once rested upon. She had fought for them, killed for them, and yet... Everything was different now. Everything was wrong. She was still a disappointment to her family, her worth only lessened by her inability to move and hear properly. Her ailments had never bothered her before but in that moment, all she could do was wish that she was someone else who had a body that worked. She knew that she should go to Pincher but couldn't. She'd surely break under the weight of what she anticipated to be his disappointment, his hatred, and she lacked the ability to voice the horrors she had endured.
A part of her rationalized that her fighting to return should be indication enough that she was different now, but she was too wrapped up in her own paralyzing fears to entertain that idea. She had rejected and loathed her family, distancing herself from them as much as possible over some petty dramatics of her own creation. Pincher wouldn't want her back - she didn't even want her back. She was nothing more than a shadow of the creature she had once been, a trembling mess of a girl once so self-assured and confident, a girl accompanied by snakes of all varieties who might have died for her. She didn't know who she was anymore, not when everything that had made her her had been wiped away and her identity stolen. She was trying to rebuild but it was hard, harder than anything she had ever experienced before. She wanted to give up.
But she couldn't. She owed it to herself and to the family that might not even want her anymore. Cleo still wanted to cry though, but like every attempt before, she could only stare blankly at the walls of her father's submarine, hoping and praying that it would not be him to come across her. Then again, maybe the tears would finally come if she encountered him, those invisible dams giving way to all the emotions that lurked just beneath her skin. She felt as if she were about to burst, drowning in feelings she failed to comprehend and nothing more than an extension of her own melancholy and confusion. When would it end? When would she finally be granted some peace? Some solace?
Or did Cleo Roux not even deserve that?
[member=66]PINCHER[/member]
A part of her rationalized that her fighting to return should be indication enough that she was different now, but she was too wrapped up in her own paralyzing fears to entertain that idea. She had rejected and loathed her family, distancing herself from them as much as possible over some petty dramatics of her own creation. Pincher wouldn't want her back - she didn't even want her back. She was nothing more than a shadow of the creature she had once been, a trembling mess of a girl once so self-assured and confident, a girl accompanied by snakes of all varieties who might have died for her. She didn't know who she was anymore, not when everything that had made her her had been wiped away and her identity stolen. She was trying to rebuild but it was hard, harder than anything she had ever experienced before. She wanted to give up.
But she couldn't. She owed it to herself and to the family that might not even want her anymore. Cleo still wanted to cry though, but like every attempt before, she could only stare blankly at the walls of her father's submarine, hoping and praying that it would not be him to come across her. Then again, maybe the tears would finally come if she encountered him, those invisible dams giving way to all the emotions that lurked just beneath her skin. She felt as if she were about to burst, drowning in feelings she failed to comprehend and nothing more than an extension of her own melancholy and confusion. When would it end? When would she finally be granted some peace? Some solace?
Or did Cleo Roux not even deserve that?
[member=66]PINCHER[/member]