[cold as her toes on the bathroom floor]
There’s a rather large fire burning, but in the end, it might not be enough.
Ophelia’s been working on it for a while, only she didn’t know that it was for this, that she was going to end up like this, but as she stands there, feet in the cold sand, she knows that in the end, no one really does.
Phoenixes rise from the ashes, why can’t she?
She picks up another book, tearing out pages and tosses them into the flames, watching them curl and burn, and ash away. There’s records in there, poems as well, a film or two, and she’s taken to tossing in photos, ones she’s torn out, ones she’s taken, and it smells terrible, but it’s something she has to do.
The letters will go next. If she’s going to set love on fire, she has to burn it all. She looks up, from the fire into the twilight and over to the main of the island that’s there, dark and quiet, full of love. Setting it on fire wouldn’t be the same. She knows it wouldn’t do anyone any good.
It’s almost too quiet, it makes her want to scream.
And so, standing at the edge of the water, ashes rising up from the fire, Ophelia screams like there’s nothing left, like she’s a cock crowing in midnight.
[ooc: open to any & all. slowtime, late tags anything welcome. :D]
Ophelia’s been working on it for a while, only she didn’t know that it was for this, that she was going to end up like this, but as she stands there, feet in the cold sand, she knows that in the end, no one really does.
Phoenixes rise from the ashes, why can’t she?
She picks up another book, tearing out pages and tosses them into the flames, watching them curl and burn, and ash away. There’s records in there, poems as well, a film or two, and she’s taken to tossing in photos, ones she’s torn out, ones she’s taken, and it smells terrible, but it’s something she has to do.
The letters will go next. If she’s going to set love on fire, she has to burn it all. She looks up, from the fire into the twilight and over to the main of the island that’s there, dark and quiet, full of love. Setting it on fire wouldn’t be the same. She knows it wouldn’t do anyone any good.
It’s almost too quiet, it makes her want to scream.
And so, standing at the edge of the water, ashes rising up from the fire, Ophelia screams like there’s nothing left, like she’s a cock crowing in midnight.
[ooc: open to any & all. slowtime, late tags anything welcome. :D]