No Lionhearts, Nor Damsels in Distress lint138December 13 2012, 06:07:23 UTC
Knights in shining armor never help anyone. This she knows. It's ego over honor. Selfishness disguised as heroism.
There's a boy with a hand on her best friend's arm, and the puddled corpse of a pie in the street, as her eyes narrow in contempt at the would be Lancelot. There is no good for the sake of good, not in New York, not from hormonally charged teenage boys with tongues hanging metaphorically from their mouths.
Still, for a second, she's taken aback from such an act. To see chivalry is not dead despite the cynicism so naturally exuded. The moment is gone, followed by a scowl and he's shooed away before any more harm can be done, as she and the princess are carried away in their carriage of yellow.
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He's a corner puzzle piece trying to fit in the middle. Looking so out of place among the guests it practically pains her. Serena's new boy, the one who's smile places her on a pedestal so few can ever dream to ascend.
The need to bomb such pillars is palpable, locked in like a heat seeking missile, she offers a hand and snake charming smile to the boy with a calloused palm.
It's drama as always, her plans never quite towing the line, but the message is clear. She's damaged goods, and the lowly Broolynite has no foothold in these high castle walls.
When he offers Chuck a matching set for that blackened eye she takes notice, smirks derisively at the ape like manner of which he conducts himself, but finds something admirable in the way he defends the pathetic hanger on that is his sister.
Something completely undeserving of a second thought, but there it is, itching at her subconscious in a place she dare not scratch.
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He's the last person she wants to see when the wound is so fresh. Emotionally gutted by the maternal knife, body left on the floor at a haphazard angle, chalk outline of her soul dotting cold linoleum.
Earnest is a trait she lashes easily against, empathy an emotion she can't possibly fathom, but here's this boy she's pretty sure hates her blind offering both these things.
He's not saying these things because of Serena. He's not trying to be the good guy for selfish gain. He says them because he knows. And though his boat is likely one for catching crabs compared to yacht of her life, it's the same sea they sail.
She takes his hand when offered, swears him to secrecy under threat of a world destroyed, as they make their back to the girl at the top of the stairs.
So valiant, this boy who spells trouble with capital T. She's known it since that unselfish act in the street. Seen it in defense of people he cares for. Traits she secretly yearns for but will never let herself have.
There is just something captivating about the following lines, can't put my finger on it except to commend you on your writing style and description of events. In addition, it makes me as the reader want to delve in further.
There's a boy with a hand on her best friend's arm, and the puddled corpse of a pie in the street, as her eyes narrow in contempt at the would be Lancelot. There is no good for the sake of good, not in New York, not from hormonally charged teenage boys with tongues hanging metaphorically from their mouths.
When he offers Chuck a matching set for that blackened eye she takes notice, smirks derisively at the ape like manner of which he conducts himself, but finds something admirable in the way he defends the pathetic hanger on that is his sister.
There's a boy with a hand on her best friend's arm, and the puddled corpse of a pie in the street, as her eyes narrow in contempt at the would be Lancelot. There is no good for the sake of good, not in New York, not from hormonally charged teenage boys with tongues hanging metaphorically from their mouths.
Still, for a second, she's taken aback from such an act. To see chivalry is not dead despite the cynicism so naturally exuded. The moment is gone, followed by a scowl and he's shooed away before any more harm can be done, as she and the princess are carried away in their carriage of yellow.
+
He's a corner puzzle piece trying to fit in the middle. Looking so out of place among the guests it practically pains her. Serena's new boy, the one who's smile places her on a pedestal so few can ever dream to ascend.
The need to bomb such pillars is palpable, locked in like a heat seeking missile, she offers a hand and snake charming smile to the boy with a calloused palm.
It's drama as always, her plans never quite towing the line, but the message is clear. She's damaged goods, and the lowly Broolynite has no foothold in these high castle walls.
When he offers Chuck a matching set for that blackened eye she takes notice, smirks derisively at the ape like manner of which he conducts himself, but finds something admirable in the way he defends the pathetic hanger on that is his sister.
Something completely undeserving of a second thought, but there it is, itching at her subconscious in a place she dare not scratch.
+
He's the last person she wants to see when the wound is so fresh. Emotionally gutted by the maternal knife, body left on the floor at a haphazard angle, chalk outline of her soul dotting cold linoleum.
Earnest is a trait she lashes easily against, empathy an emotion she can't possibly fathom, but here's this boy she's pretty sure hates her blind offering both these things.
He's not saying these things because of Serena. He's not trying to be the good guy for selfish gain. He says them because he knows. And though his boat is likely one for catching crabs compared to yacht of her life, it's the same sea they sail.
She takes his hand when offered, swears him to secrecy under threat of a world destroyed, as they make their back to the girl at the top of the stairs.
So valiant, this boy who spells trouble with capital T. She's known it since that unselfish act in the street. Seen it in defense of people he cares for. Traits she secretly yearns for but will never let herself have.
One day, perhaps.
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There's a boy with a hand on her best friend's arm, and the puddled corpse of a pie in the street, as her eyes narrow in contempt at the would be Lancelot. There is no good for the sake of good, not in New York, not from hormonally charged teenage boys with tongues hanging metaphorically from their mouths.
When he offers Chuck a matching set for that blackened eye she takes notice, smirks derisively at the ape like manner of which he conducts himself, but finds something admirable in the way he defends the pathetic hanger on that is his sister.
Reply
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