09-02-2020, 01:23 AM
"She told me she was hollow,"
Georgia, uncharacteristically, could be found in a clearing not too far from the tavern. She'd set off with a purpose: slipping from her tree house and down into the daylight, set on ridding her ears of the sound of crashing waves. It was monotonous and infinite - a constant reminder that the waves did not care how her father died. Even under her control, the ocean did not pause for her father's death. It paused for Georgia; it waited on her every command with baited breath. But it had no mercy for those who held no rights to it. This bothered her. This bothered her terribly, itching underneath her skin and raising the hair along her spine in anger.
"That's far from what I see."
She'd stopped eating for the first few days after the storm. On the third day, her body could take no more. She broke into the snacks and goodies Goldie had been leaving her - nearly ate so much she was sick. After she drowned out the hunger in her mind, her emotions slipped back, receding like the tides that came and went every night. She was already thin as it was; it didn't take much for her to show more ribs than she needed to. It began to hurt to walk and move; her joints and muscles became stiff from lack of exercise. She'd perch on the open window; would listen to the wind and the birds and the trees. But it was always the ocean waves that drove her inside.
"She's more than just the daughter of a broken man to me,"
Outwardly, it wasn't terribly difficult to keep up her attitude. The paranoia of having to deal with a conversation about her wellbeing was real and it was harsh. She was constantly snappy, constantly biting her tongue, not caring that people didn't understand. It felt as if Seapaw was constantly on her heels, and even though he meant well, Georgia was two steps from evicting him. She'd taken down most of her ocean memorabilia; he kept bringing more in. She wondered why she'd let him in when she was in such a state. She was an awful roommate.
"She told me she was shallow...her rivers run so deep,"
Georgia's mood came and went. Anger took so much energy to uphold; most days she was just tired and unwilling to move. Her head felt empty, stuck on repeats of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'd change places with you in a heartbeat. Lullabies her father sang swam in her head. Conversations danced in front of her eyes. Dread was slick on the back of her tongue, always wondering how many more memories Krios had tampered with.
"If I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea."
Her father always told her she had an eerie voice. A hauntingly, ocean-like siren song. Light and willowy, breathy and beckoning. She was no siren, but there was grief to her voice now that made it crack around the verse her father always picked out for her. Georgia blew a blade of grass away from her nose.
Georgia, uncharacteristically, could be found in a clearing not too far from the tavern. She'd set off with a purpose: slipping from her tree house and down into the daylight, set on ridding her ears of the sound of crashing waves. It was monotonous and infinite - a constant reminder that the waves did not care how her father died. Even under her control, the ocean did not pause for her father's death. It paused for Georgia; it waited on her every command with baited breath. But it had no mercy for those who held no rights to it. This bothered her. This bothered her terribly, itching underneath her skin and raising the hair along her spine in anger.
"That's far from what I see."
She'd stopped eating for the first few days after the storm. On the third day, her body could take no more. She broke into the snacks and goodies Goldie had been leaving her - nearly ate so much she was sick. After she drowned out the hunger in her mind, her emotions slipped back, receding like the tides that came and went every night. She was already thin as it was; it didn't take much for her to show more ribs than she needed to. It began to hurt to walk and move; her joints and muscles became stiff from lack of exercise. She'd perch on the open window; would listen to the wind and the birds and the trees. But it was always the ocean waves that drove her inside.
"She's more than just the daughter of a broken man to me,"
Outwardly, it wasn't terribly difficult to keep up her attitude. The paranoia of having to deal with a conversation about her wellbeing was real and it was harsh. She was constantly snappy, constantly biting her tongue, not caring that people didn't understand. It felt as if Seapaw was constantly on her heels, and even though he meant well, Georgia was two steps from evicting him. She'd taken down most of her ocean memorabilia; he kept bringing more in. She wondered why she'd let him in when she was in such a state. She was an awful roommate.
"She told me she was shallow...her rivers run so deep,"
Georgia's mood came and went. Anger took so much energy to uphold; most days she was just tired and unwilling to move. Her head felt empty, stuck on repeats of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'd change places with you in a heartbeat. Lullabies her father sang swam in her head. Conversations danced in front of her eyes. Dread was slick on the back of her tongue, always wondering how many more memories Krios had tampered with.
"If I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea."
Her father always told her she had an eerie voice. A hauntingly, ocean-like siren song. Light and willowy, breathy and beckoning. She was no siren, but there was grief to her voice now that made it crack around the verse her father always picked out for her. Georgia blew a blade of grass away from her nose.
© LEXASPERATED
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THE SEA WAVES ARE MY EVENING GOWN:
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[glow=#3e4242,200,600]YOU ARE THE RITE OF MOVEMENT[/glow]
*:･ﾟ✧ — georgia sarris-rosi — demigod of the sea — tags