08-14-2018, 03:37 AM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]Black fur glistened in the moonlight, cascading the female with a silver lining that outlined her features like a crown, jewelry fit for a queen made of the stars themselves. Her movements mirrored those of royalty as well, no step faltering and each a graceful leap from the previous. She walked like on water, like the gods carried her through the darkness themselves and led her muffled paws to her destination, wherever that may be. Despite the surety that she carried herself with, Amelie knew nought where she was headed. Amelie knew nought where she had come from, either. And to finish the sad story which she carried on through, she knew nought who she even was, and an internal monologue carried her mockingly through her journey, eyes faded and staring into nothing as she spoke to a voice so similar to her own and yet so distant. Who was she talking to? Who was talking to her? Why did she have so many questions that the answers stubbornly refused to show themselves to.
Who are you?
The voice was nothing but a hushed murmur in her head, a sultry purr that sent each of Amelie's already frayed nerves into a new state of panic. She was not comfortable with this voice, this thing that sounded so hauntingly beautiful, so much alike to her own and yet not. It was an invader, a parasite, and the more it talked the more Amelie was convinced she was going insane. Still, she spoke back as if to prove it wrong, to stubbornly show that she knew exactly who she was so that the voice would not win.
"I'm me," the female responded boldly, strutting down the long railway with the same confidence as a sharp edge entered her tone and posture, defiant in nature and proud by default. She expected that to shut the voice up, to let her actually focus on where she was and where she was heading after her escape... instead she received an answer which she lacked the response too, step faltering and nearly causing her to trip over her own dainty paws.
Who is me?
If she knew any better she'd think the voice was being sarcastic. Instead it was too kind, too sweet... it was a genuine question that was asked out of curiosity and concern, not a jab at her response. But still she felt herself closing in, a dull ache forming in the base of her temple as her mind grasped frantically at the lifeline that was always hanging mere inches from her outstretched hand, ever out of reach. The memories would not come, and the further she tried to reach the foggier it got, and the more her headache actually started feeling like a headache rather than just a dull reminder of one building in her head.
"I-" she had no time to try and formulate a response, the voice calling out to her again and forcing the woman to an untimely stop, paw pressed tightly against her forehead and jaws clenched together so tightly she could feel her teeth grinding against each other.
Who are you? Who are you? The voice was taunting her, mocking her with it's false pretense of kindness. She couldn't sense anything true among it, nothing but lies and banter. But there was nothing underneath it either, no malice and no suspicion. Just a constant echo of the same question crawling underneath her skin.
"Please, I-" she couldn't remember. She didn't know. Who was she? Where did she come from? The question cascaded around her once more like a waterfall, none falling into place but rather falling away into even more empty and broken pieces, shattering whatever resolve she had struggled to build in the first place. The more she realized how lost she was, the more the suffering built up, until it was a constant ache in her very bones that would not leave her alone. She had forgotten who she was, who she had been. She didn't know who she was going to... who she was supposed to become. Amelie was lost. She was lost and the lifeline was so tantalizingly close, driving her madder and madder by the second.
You are you. The voice was a gentle murmur once again, it's previous questions fading away in a distant echo. It was hardly an answer, and she begged for release, for the ability to find out. She was her. She was Amelie.
But who are you?
But who was Amelie? Who was this woman, whom she'd only heard of in passing, heard her name across the tongues of many when directed towards the body she inhabited? Who was Amelie? What did Amelie like? Who had Amelie loved? What had happened to her? The questions wouldn't stop, and her resolve shattered, the lioness crumpling to the ground and clutching at her head, hoping the pressure would just make it stop. Because she didn't know, and no matter how hard she tried to know... it would never come to her. Amelie didn't know who Amelie was. Amelie was broken, far beyond her reach. She was forgotten, dead and six feet under the woman she had become now. And in the end... all she could reply to the voice was one thing. "I don't remember.”
Who are you?
The voice was nothing but a hushed murmur in her head, a sultry purr that sent each of Amelie's already frayed nerves into a new state of panic. She was not comfortable with this voice, this thing that sounded so hauntingly beautiful, so much alike to her own and yet not. It was an invader, a parasite, and the more it talked the more Amelie was convinced she was going insane. Still, she spoke back as if to prove it wrong, to stubbornly show that she knew exactly who she was so that the voice would not win.
"I'm me," the female responded boldly, strutting down the long railway with the same confidence as a sharp edge entered her tone and posture, defiant in nature and proud by default. She expected that to shut the voice up, to let her actually focus on where she was and where she was heading after her escape... instead she received an answer which she lacked the response too, step faltering and nearly causing her to trip over her own dainty paws.
Who is me?
If she knew any better she'd think the voice was being sarcastic. Instead it was too kind, too sweet... it was a genuine question that was asked out of curiosity and concern, not a jab at her response. But still she felt herself closing in, a dull ache forming in the base of her temple as her mind grasped frantically at the lifeline that was always hanging mere inches from her outstretched hand, ever out of reach. The memories would not come, and the further she tried to reach the foggier it got, and the more her headache actually started feeling like a headache rather than just a dull reminder of one building in her head.
"I-" she had no time to try and formulate a response, the voice calling out to her again and forcing the woman to an untimely stop, paw pressed tightly against her forehead and jaws clenched together so tightly she could feel her teeth grinding against each other.
Who are you? Who are you? The voice was taunting her, mocking her with it's false pretense of kindness. She couldn't sense anything true among it, nothing but lies and banter. But there was nothing underneath it either, no malice and no suspicion. Just a constant echo of the same question crawling underneath her skin.
"Please, I-" she couldn't remember. She didn't know. Who was she? Where did she come from? The question cascaded around her once more like a waterfall, none falling into place but rather falling away into even more empty and broken pieces, shattering whatever resolve she had struggled to build in the first place. The more she realized how lost she was, the more the suffering built up, until it was a constant ache in her very bones that would not leave her alone. She had forgotten who she was, who she had been. She didn't know who she was going to... who she was supposed to become. Amelie was lost. She was lost and the lifeline was so tantalizingly close, driving her madder and madder by the second.
You are you. The voice was a gentle murmur once again, it's previous questions fading away in a distant echo. It was hardly an answer, and she begged for release, for the ability to find out. She was her. She was Amelie.
But who are you?
But who was Amelie? Who was this woman, whom she'd only heard of in passing, heard her name across the tongues of many when directed towards the body she inhabited? Who was Amelie? What did Amelie like? Who had Amelie loved? What had happened to her? The questions wouldn't stop, and her resolve shattered, the lioness crumpling to the ground and clutching at her head, hoping the pressure would just make it stop. Because she didn't know, and no matter how hard she tried to know... it would never come to her. Amelie didn't know who Amelie was. Amelie was broken, far beyond her reach. She was forgotten, dead and six feet under the woman she had become now. And in the end... all she could reply to the voice was one thing. "I don't remember.”
♔ — I want brimstone in my garden