11-09-2018, 11:51 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;"]Eshe had broken her mind so Cleo had broken her body. She remembered now, with startling clarity, how she had not entirely given up, how she had pretended and lulled her companion in a false sense of security, doing whatever she asked with no hesitation until the black mamba had thought she was gone for good. And then, she had mustered whatever was left of her vengeance, of her fierce spirit, and snapped the neck of the reptile with the confidence of somebody who hadn't lost everything. That was how she was here, because she had freed herself from the chains of her mental confinement, because she had refused to succumb to captivity for the rest of her pitiful existence. This was home. No more assuming, no more hoping, just knowing that she had finally returned to the once place where she might once again be happy.
And it was the faces of her family that kept her fighting. The family she had scorned and "loathed" and pretended as if she could do without, the family who she had thought betrayed her but hadn't at all. More and more of their faces rose in her mind to greet her suddenly and she reared back slightly, overwhelmed. Pincher... Auntie Rosemary... Sylvina... And of course Silus and Goldie. She could not bring a mother to mind but that didn't matter, she had never cared for her mother. She knew that. But she did care for the newest individual to greet her, the one who she had asked for when she first collapsed. Sister. Sister. "Sister." Cleo's small voice wavered, red eyes widening as she recognized the sign. Name. She had learned that before her life had gone to hell and despite the startling unfamiliarity in her sister's eyes, she relished in this little taste of her old life. "Cleo Roux," The bengal whispered in response, swallowing hardly, "My name is Cleo Roux."
As her sister's gaze fell upon her leg, so did Cleo's once again. She remembered what had happened to it, why Eshe had hurt her the way that she did. Cleo had fought and fought and fought and unless she had been injured, crippled, she might have managed to escape and the snake couldn't have that. "It doesn't work anymore," She offered in that wisp of a voice of hers, "She made sure it didn't." There was no remorse in her tone, no sadness, just a harsh hoarseness no doubt linked to how little she had spoken when she had been ensnared by the darkness. "So I made sure she didn't work anymore." How haunted she sounded, how broken. She tried to take a step forward, tiny form still trembling, but only found herself sinking back to the ground. Everything hurt. Everything. But once again she was reminding herself that she was home and as long as she had that, she'd be able to overcome this.
And it was the faces of her family that kept her fighting. The family she had scorned and "loathed" and pretended as if she could do without, the family who she had thought betrayed her but hadn't at all. More and more of their faces rose in her mind to greet her suddenly and she reared back slightly, overwhelmed. Pincher... Auntie Rosemary... Sylvina... And of course Silus and Goldie. She could not bring a mother to mind but that didn't matter, she had never cared for her mother. She knew that. But she did care for the newest individual to greet her, the one who she had asked for when she first collapsed. Sister. Sister. "Sister." Cleo's small voice wavered, red eyes widening as she recognized the sign. Name. She had learned that before her life had gone to hell and despite the startling unfamiliarity in her sister's eyes, she relished in this little taste of her old life. "Cleo Roux," The bengal whispered in response, swallowing hardly, "My name is Cleo Roux."
As her sister's gaze fell upon her leg, so did Cleo's once again. She remembered what had happened to it, why Eshe had hurt her the way that she did. Cleo had fought and fought and fought and unless she had been injured, crippled, she might have managed to escape and the snake couldn't have that. "It doesn't work anymore," She offered in that wisp of a voice of hers, "She made sure it didn't." There was no remorse in her tone, no sadness, just a harsh hoarseness no doubt linked to how little she had spoken when she had been ensnared by the darkness. "So I made sure she didn't work anymore." How haunted she sounded, how broken. She tried to take a step forward, tiny form still trembling, but only found herself sinking back to the ground. Everything hurt. Everything. But once again she was reminding herself that she was home and as long as she had that, she'd be able to overcome this.