your own mind is hostile;
What was quite worse, if you happened to be keeping track of the life of Violet Baudelaire (if you happen to be, you have my gravest sympathy), than the horrible dream of three weeks ago was that apparently it wasn't a dream at all. If you listened to the Island's inhabitants who had been around a great deal longer then Violet had, they'd all gone 'home'.
With, of course, a varying scale of 'home'.
Still, Violet found herself wondering what, exactly, was so wrong with her that her 'home' was one where her parents were gone (understandable), her house was still standing (questionable), and she'd been killed in the last few moments (highly confusing).
She'd tried to tell Edgar - to tell him what had happened, why she was the way she was, what had happened to all three of them- And not long afterward, the ocean had given rise to more tennis balls she'd ever seen in her life and the next day she'd heard through the proverbial grape vine that he was gone.
Honestly, she'd wondered what, precisely, she was doing here. What she hoped to accomplish, and what was even a possibility. That was perhaps why Violet Baudelaire was sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean, Kit Snicket's ribbon (her own mother's long gone) fluttering from her hair, pages of writing and sketches held down by the weight of a rather large rock. She didn't quite look like she was about to cast herself into the sea, which was good because it wasn't on her list of plans for today.
Still, she felt lost and didn't know if she'd ever be found again without help. More then anything, at this moment... She missed her family.
Is actually a v. v. good time to meet her. <3 ST/LT is awesome!
With, of course, a varying scale of 'home'.
Still, Violet found herself wondering what, exactly, was so wrong with her that her 'home' was one where her parents were gone (understandable), her house was still standing (questionable), and she'd been killed in the last few moments (highly confusing).
She'd tried to tell Edgar - to tell him what had happened, why she was the way she was, what had happened to all three of them- And not long afterward, the ocean had given rise to more tennis balls she'd ever seen in her life and the next day she'd heard through the proverbial grape vine that he was gone.
Honestly, she'd wondered what, precisely, she was doing here. What she hoped to accomplish, and what was even a possibility. That was perhaps why Violet Baudelaire was sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean, Kit Snicket's ribbon (her own mother's long gone) fluttering from her hair, pages of writing and sketches held down by the weight of a rather large rock. She didn't quite look like she was about to cast herself into the sea, which was good because it wasn't on her list of plans for today.
Still, she felt lost and didn't know if she'd ever be found again without help. More then anything, at this moment... She missed her family.
Is actually a v. v. good time to meet her. <3 ST/LT is awesome!