06-11-2018, 03:01 PM
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[sup]c) miithers[/sup]
★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
If this was Saturday, then this was one hell of a birthday present for Hazel.
It wasn't like she was used to presents on her birthday; Mother never acknowledged the date with the exception of laying on more chores, telling Hazel she was old enough now to do this and that and remember a whole new set of rules. Hazel couldn't do much but nod and obey, eager not to have certain scars reopened. But ever the dreamer, Hazel had always hoped for some sort of gift and small "happy birthday!" one day. She thought she might find that in the Ascendants.
She was wrong.
For the entirety of the day, she had spent tracking Arion down and convincing him to let her groom his tail while he took a nap, hoping to give herself a distraction from the exhausting emotional rollercoaster she rode wherever she went. Arion hadn't agreed quietly, having been busy searching for Bastille and O himself, but he caved in the end after she offered him carrots. Quick was the girl to busy herself in the task of brushing away the burrs and knots in his tail and mane.
She tired quickly, her body and mind exhausted with the spontaneous cycles of anger and fear and confusion. Every time she saw Bastille, her anger started low, hovering just under the surface like the hum of a motorcycle, knowing that he was driving himself closer and closer to an edge that they couldn't save him from. Knowing that he was doing it to himself, doing it to them, and that one day he would break and lash out. Knowing that one day, he would turn on them all, and then Hazel would just be reliving the nightmare she had worked so hard to run from.
And this went on, every day. Every day, there was the fear and hurt and anger of him turning into Mother, of him going to far, of her not being able to do anything because she was, after all, just the golden girl.
Just everybody's little ray of fucking sunshine, She thought bitterly, not caring that the voice inside her head wasn't hers. Just a child, just an asset; unable to fight or heal or even get close to someone else because you're fucking weak and useless. Hazel yanked the brush through Arion's tail on a particularly stubborn knot, and the colt's head shot up with a snorted complaint. But she hardly spared him a second glance; just kept going, kept working, kept feeding the anger that was driving her mad. She couldn't help Bastille because she was pushing him away, and she was pushing him away because she was scared he'd turn into Mother. She couldn't get close to anybody because all she could feel was pain and pressure and suffocating heat every time she made contact. She couldn't fight because she'd been locked away in her room all her goddamn life. She couldn't even read because her teacher was inebriated and high over half the time and couldn't stand to be near her.
Couldn't stand to be near her...except for when he could. When he was so out of it, so gone, that he didn't have any sort of voice or feeling telling him no, don't, and he reverted back to his factory settings. And Hazel knew, in those little moments, that somewhere, he did care, and he wasn't numb, and he wanted help but couldn't figure out how to ask. But those little moments came and went so quickly that she hardly had time to figure anything at all, and it left her right back where she started: frustrated, scared, and a fucking coward.
So when people started rushing past, and someone screamed from the border, Hazel was on her paws in seconds, livid from the fury she'd worked herself into. She was sprinting, going as fast as her legs could take her, partially because it felt like she wouldn't vibrate out of her own skin like this and partially because whatever was going on at the border sounded serious. But when she reaches the border, she stops.
Just - just fucking plants her paws and skids to a halt, because she could see the limp form and she could smell the foreign scent of Tanglewood and she could hear Margy and Suite crying and see Rin and Rad working and feel everybody else there and -
And it didn't matter.
It didn't fucking matter, because "He's gone." She croaked. "He's already gone." It doesn't matter how she knows. She doesn't care how she knows. Doesn't care that she can tell his pulse is gone and his heart isn't beating and he's not breathing because fuck, how did this all go to shit so quickly? How did she not get to him sooner and when the hell did he even visit Tanglewood and why didn't Hazel know?
Hazel stood there, drowning out every other sound and word around her with such a torrent of anger and despair that she goes deaf for a moment. There's a heartbeat, where she wants to murder everything alive and find Tanglewood and crush Beck's windpipe into the ground, and then the heartbeat passes.
And she sucked in a strangled breath.
And doesn't register the tears. Shoves it down, deep down, like she did as a child, trying to avoid the punishment the tears would bring.
"Happy birthday to me," Hazel whispered.
It wasn't like she was used to presents on her birthday; Mother never acknowledged the date with the exception of laying on more chores, telling Hazel she was old enough now to do this and that and remember a whole new set of rules. Hazel couldn't do much but nod and obey, eager not to have certain scars reopened. But ever the dreamer, Hazel had always hoped for some sort of gift and small "happy birthday!" one day. She thought she might find that in the Ascendants.
She was wrong.
For the entirety of the day, she had spent tracking Arion down and convincing him to let her groom his tail while he took a nap, hoping to give herself a distraction from the exhausting emotional rollercoaster she rode wherever she went. Arion hadn't agreed quietly, having been busy searching for Bastille and O himself, but he caved in the end after she offered him carrots. Quick was the girl to busy herself in the task of brushing away the burrs and knots in his tail and mane.
She tired quickly, her body and mind exhausted with the spontaneous cycles of anger and fear and confusion. Every time she saw Bastille, her anger started low, hovering just under the surface like the hum of a motorcycle, knowing that he was driving himself closer and closer to an edge that they couldn't save him from. Knowing that he was doing it to himself, doing it to them, and that one day he would break and lash out. Knowing that one day, he would turn on them all, and then Hazel would just be reliving the nightmare she had worked so hard to run from.
And this went on, every day. Every day, there was the fear and hurt and anger of him turning into Mother, of him going to far, of her not being able to do anything because she was, after all, just the golden girl.
Just everybody's little ray of fucking sunshine, She thought bitterly, not caring that the voice inside her head wasn't hers. Just a child, just an asset; unable to fight or heal or even get close to someone else because you're fucking weak and useless. Hazel yanked the brush through Arion's tail on a particularly stubborn knot, and the colt's head shot up with a snorted complaint. But she hardly spared him a second glance; just kept going, kept working, kept feeding the anger that was driving her mad. She couldn't help Bastille because she was pushing him away, and she was pushing him away because she was scared he'd turn into Mother. She couldn't get close to anybody because all she could feel was pain and pressure and suffocating heat every time she made contact. She couldn't fight because she'd been locked away in her room all her goddamn life. She couldn't even read because her teacher was inebriated and high over half the time and couldn't stand to be near her.
Couldn't stand to be near her...except for when he could. When he was so out of it, so gone, that he didn't have any sort of voice or feeling telling him no, don't, and he reverted back to his factory settings. And Hazel knew, in those little moments, that somewhere, he did care, and he wasn't numb, and he wanted help but couldn't figure out how to ask. But those little moments came and went so quickly that she hardly had time to figure anything at all, and it left her right back where she started: frustrated, scared, and a fucking coward.
So when people started rushing past, and someone screamed from the border, Hazel was on her paws in seconds, livid from the fury she'd worked herself into. She was sprinting, going as fast as her legs could take her, partially because it felt like she wouldn't vibrate out of her own skin like this and partially because whatever was going on at the border sounded serious. But when she reaches the border, she stops.
Just - just fucking plants her paws and skids to a halt, because she could see the limp form and she could smell the foreign scent of Tanglewood and she could hear Margy and Suite crying and see Rin and Rad working and feel everybody else there and -
And it didn't matter.
It didn't fucking matter, because "He's gone." She croaked. "He's already gone." It doesn't matter how she knows. She doesn't care how she knows. Doesn't care that she can tell his pulse is gone and his heart isn't beating and he's not breathing because fuck, how did this all go to shit so quickly? How did she not get to him sooner and when the hell did he even visit Tanglewood and why didn't Hazel know?
Hazel stood there, drowning out every other sound and word around her with such a torrent of anger and despair that she goes deaf for a moment. There's a heartbeat, where she wants to murder everything alive and find Tanglewood and crush Beck's windpipe into the ground, and then the heartbeat passes.
And she sucked in a strangled breath.
And doesn't register the tears. Shoves it down, deep down, like she did as a child, trying to avoid the punishment the tears would bring.
"Happy birthday to me," Hazel whispered.
★ — hazel — "speech" — eight months — the ascendants — tags — ★
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better