Drabble - Living
Fandom: Resident Evil
Title: Living
Author: borntodo_dishes
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Shauna Crogan(ofc)
Words: 540
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is belongs to Capcom, I'm simply writing in their world out of my own free enjoyment.
Two sets of bare toes in attachment to an equal pair of small feminine feet stretched and curled in on themselves; their possessor completely oblivious in regards to the habitual dancing of movement her body was bringing to life. Presently her full attentions were too far and drawn away from her own reality by right of the 'enchantment' held within the dainty nonetheless possessive hold of her very fingers.
She has an almost misleading appearance about her, too young looking to properly be considered a woman and yet too old in realism to be classified as a young girl. Of her peers those unable to accurately label her as either woman or adolescent simply throw her into an uncategorized limbo of perplexity and frustration. She warrants all questions unanswered never once standing up to justify what she knows she truly is, she likes it this way hoping that it will successfully steer away the looks and touches she loathes that pertain to the opposite sex.
She holds it close as if attempting to immerse oneself into its very essence of being; newly exposed hands and accommodating fingers brush over its worn exterior in a familiarized deep-seated routine. Olive hued eyes absorb all they see, consuming the knowledge it embodies. Lovingly, selfishly, she seizes all it has for her own intellectual enrichment. Her eyes rove over its innards greedily then stop, a lone sigh escapes open mouthed lips and fingers stray from their accustomed territory and grip one of the crumpled and thin appendages out of the hundreds that make up its body. She turns the page with an additional sigh and so the endless pattern begins anew.
Her room is silent save for the crinkle of paper and the wisp of air from between her lips. She sits in her bed surrounded by that which she loves without question. Her books, she is rarely ever seen without one. Books in question do not put down or judge her the way her mother and others do as well as they teach her so many things the nasty man who taught her for many years never could, the disgusting man that was always leering, touching, and hurting her. It was her books that helped her get rid of him for good too.
She so savors days like these when her mother is so caught up in her research and mania that she her own daughter is completely forgotten. Which to others may seem strange, to seek refuge from ones own mother. In truth she doesn't mind one bit when she is forgotten by her, time spent with her mother is time spent in constant fear and misery. Her mother's company entails endless nights of painstaking work and research, constant belittlement and worry of punishment. In the end all the hard work of her daughter is stolen from the hands of her mother and claimed as her own handiwork, if she is lucky her mother will dismiss her and forget about her for a few days. Her daughter spends these days entrapped in a world not her own, escaping from her reality and into the stories her books provide her.
To others she is simply reading, to Shauna she is living.
Title: Living
Author: borntodo_dishes
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Shauna Crogan(ofc)
Words: 540
Disclaimer: Resident Evil is belongs to Capcom, I'm simply writing in their world out of my own free enjoyment.
Two sets of bare toes in attachment to an equal pair of small feminine feet stretched and curled in on themselves; their possessor completely oblivious in regards to the habitual dancing of movement her body was bringing to life. Presently her full attentions were too far and drawn away from her own reality by right of the 'enchantment' held within the dainty nonetheless possessive hold of her very fingers.
She has an almost misleading appearance about her, too young looking to properly be considered a woman and yet too old in realism to be classified as a young girl. Of her peers those unable to accurately label her as either woman or adolescent simply throw her into an uncategorized limbo of perplexity and frustration. She warrants all questions unanswered never once standing up to justify what she knows she truly is, she likes it this way hoping that it will successfully steer away the looks and touches she loathes that pertain to the opposite sex.
She holds it close as if attempting to immerse oneself into its very essence of being; newly exposed hands and accommodating fingers brush over its worn exterior in a familiarized deep-seated routine. Olive hued eyes absorb all they see, consuming the knowledge it embodies. Lovingly, selfishly, she seizes all it has for her own intellectual enrichment. Her eyes rove over its innards greedily then stop, a lone sigh escapes open mouthed lips and fingers stray from their accustomed territory and grip one of the crumpled and thin appendages out of the hundreds that make up its body. She turns the page with an additional sigh and so the endless pattern begins anew.
Her room is silent save for the crinkle of paper and the wisp of air from between her lips. She sits in her bed surrounded by that which she loves without question. Her books, she is rarely ever seen without one. Books in question do not put down or judge her the way her mother and others do as well as they teach her so many things the nasty man who taught her for many years never could, the disgusting man that was always leering, touching, and hurting her. It was her books that helped her get rid of him for good too.
She so savors days like these when her mother is so caught up in her research and mania that she her own daughter is completely forgotten. Which to others may seem strange, to seek refuge from ones own mother. In truth she doesn't mind one bit when she is forgotten by her, time spent with her mother is time spent in constant fear and misery. Her mother's company entails endless nights of painstaking work and research, constant belittlement and worry of punishment. In the end all the hard work of her daughter is stolen from the hands of her mother and claimed as her own handiwork, if she is lucky her mother will dismiss her and forget about her for a few days. Her daughter spends these days entrapped in a world not her own, escaping from her reality and into the stories her books provide her.
To others she is simply reading, to Shauna she is living.