07-25-2018, 06:44 PM
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair
Differences between reality and memory rarely blurred for Hazel. She could settle the past from the present, could sift through the rubble of her childhood and say that it was physically behind her. Her only time of trouble between the two came when Titanium was having her fun or when Hazel wandered too close to a triggering situation. Both happened more often than she would have liked, but...nevertheless.
There was a discernible quality to the occurrences: they were always an instant replay. Hazel had no control over her body or the situation during a flashback, which was objectively terrorizing. Reliving her past was a chaotic sense of being caged inside your own mind and convincing herself that it wasn’t real. Clearly, it wasn’t real — the transitions from present to past were far too choppy — but that didn’t make it any less horrifying. It only helped convince her of her broken pieces.
Since her the earth had crackled to life underneath her paws, Hazel hadn’t heard much from Titanium, even in situations the girl would normally jump to exploit. It was...unnerving. She didn’t miss the voice in her head, but the largest thunderstorms were always prefaced with the longest stretches of silence. She didn’t want to know what Ti was planning.
At that particular moment, Hazel had been inching along the far wall of the observatory, trying to make it back to her room without being noticed. Unfortunately, that godforsaken tether between her and Bastille tugged insistently, dragging unsettling whispers across her ears and discomfort down her spine. She didn’t want to go near him; he was avoiding her, it only seem right that she do the same back. (That was called being petty but oh well.)
Regardless, the more her attention slipped and strayed to the bond, to Bastille, the more she recognized the itch under her skin. The want, the need. The detached daze he seemed to be floating in.
Hazel approached as he spoke, tail tip twitching at his words. To see the stars from inside would be...marvelous. Crowded, but amazing. She glanced at Myliu for half a moment, noting that they were unfamiliar before opening her mouth. “Opening the roof sounds like a great idea, so long as it doesn’t rain.” Hazel gazed upwards, eyes trailing along the metal paneling and wishing it were transparent. “I’d fall asleep under the stars every night if I didn’t like my room so much,” Hazel admitted, mostly to herself.
As people began to suggest ways to open the roof, Hazel let her gaze finally fall to Bastille again, eyes clouded. Her mind traveled to a time not long after she joined — of a certain excited feline with electricity that crackled around his paws as he woke them up in the midst of the night. “There is a way to open it.” She murmured, attention flicking to those who had gathered. “We’re supposed to open it once every two months for the full moon — for the Night of Stars. We don’t really open it outside that, but I don’t think Starry would mind us admiring the constellations for a night.” Her voice wavered over the previous Seraph’s name, but she carried on, hoping Bastille didn’t have a poor reaction to it.
There was a discernible quality to the occurrences: they were always an instant replay. Hazel had no control over her body or the situation during a flashback, which was objectively terrorizing. Reliving her past was a chaotic sense of being caged inside your own mind and convincing herself that it wasn’t real. Clearly, it wasn’t real — the transitions from present to past were far too choppy — but that didn’t make it any less horrifying. It only helped convince her of her broken pieces.
Since her the earth had crackled to life underneath her paws, Hazel hadn’t heard much from Titanium, even in situations the girl would normally jump to exploit. It was...unnerving. She didn’t miss the voice in her head, but the largest thunderstorms were always prefaced with the longest stretches of silence. She didn’t want to know what Ti was planning.
At that particular moment, Hazel had been inching along the far wall of the observatory, trying to make it back to her room without being noticed. Unfortunately, that godforsaken tether between her and Bastille tugged insistently, dragging unsettling whispers across her ears and discomfort down her spine. She didn’t want to go near him; he was avoiding her, it only seem right that she do the same back. (That was called being petty but oh well.)
Regardless, the more her attention slipped and strayed to the bond, to Bastille, the more she recognized the itch under her skin. The want, the need. The detached daze he seemed to be floating in.
Hazel approached as he spoke, tail tip twitching at his words. To see the stars from inside would be...marvelous. Crowded, but amazing. She glanced at Myliu for half a moment, noting that they were unfamiliar before opening her mouth. “Opening the roof sounds like a great idea, so long as it doesn’t rain.” Hazel gazed upwards, eyes trailing along the metal paneling and wishing it were transparent. “I’d fall asleep under the stars every night if I didn’t like my room so much,” Hazel admitted, mostly to herself.
As people began to suggest ways to open the roof, Hazel let her gaze finally fall to Bastille again, eyes clouded. Her mind traveled to a time not long after she joined — of a certain excited feline with electricity that crackled around his paws as he woke them up in the midst of the night. “There is a way to open it.” She murmured, attention flicking to those who had gathered. “We’re supposed to open it once every two months for the full moon — for the Night of Stars. We don’t really open it outside that, but I don’t think Starry would mind us admiring the constellations for a night.” Her voice wavered over the previous Seraph’s name, but she carried on, hoping Bastille didn’t have a poor reaction to it.
© MADI
[align=center]
WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better