can't believe the state you're in; it's so far away
Shadows fall upon thin cheeks as she sits by the fire, wondering if he's awake, thinking of her. Or dreaming, perhaps. Wonders whether or not she walks his dreams, among the flowers he's promised to buy her one day, sipping at liquor, the expensive kind that none of them can afford just yet, the kind one would find at a bar, heels lightly resting against the grain. No single watermark on the panels of mahogany. She remembers talking about the last meal she had with her father, how it was too salty, only it tasted fine to her tongue- maybe she was just a little numb. Everything felt lovely, back then, tiring oneself and slipping under the sheets, until lightning flashed outside her window, seeming to herald the end of days. Be merciful, she'd ask the sky, and her brother would come with shield in hand, pulling her close. They say she has no soul inside, sometimes, those who murmur and stand at a distance, witnessing the girl's faults, and-
-perhaps they just don't know what it's like to have one.
She stands at last, when all of the memories have bled away, or perhaps simply walked into the next room, away from view. Not gone. Haven't disappeared. But they leave behind that trace of a shadow, the one that tells everyone that they've been there at all, while so transient that not a single person can find it in themselves to dwell. Push forward, the voices urge, let out the poison and never step back, and as Effy stands, her hand clutches tight to a small bag of pills and vials, of clouded crystals, sparkling only when within a single touch of the campfire.
And it's time to let them go.
The bag curls in the flames, emits a small stream of black smoke that winds like a garter in the grass, and the girl's smile widens at the very sight, following its progress until it's gone. The sky overhead remains a dimmed blue, and stars have yet to make their entrance, but her hand finds its way in reaching to them all the same. Effy twirls on her toes, letting out a laugh, though it would fall silent to the ears of anyone else. Perhaps this is what feeling free is like.
[ Timed to early evening, ST/LT welcome. Effy is burning the pills and drugs that her previous incarnation had on the island. Find her on any plausible stretch of beach, and in spite of her strange train of thoughts, it's a decent time to meet her. Narrative inspired by Ulysses, by James Joyce. ]
-perhaps they just don't know what it's like to have one.
She stands at last, when all of the memories have bled away, or perhaps simply walked into the next room, away from view. Not gone. Haven't disappeared. But they leave behind that trace of a shadow, the one that tells everyone that they've been there at all, while so transient that not a single person can find it in themselves to dwell. Push forward, the voices urge, let out the poison and never step back, and as Effy stands, her hand clutches tight to a small bag of pills and vials, of clouded crystals, sparkling only when within a single touch of the campfire.
And it's time to let them go.
The bag curls in the flames, emits a small stream of black smoke that winds like a garter in the grass, and the girl's smile widens at the very sight, following its progress until it's gone. The sky overhead remains a dimmed blue, and stars have yet to make their entrance, but her hand finds its way in reaching to them all the same. Effy twirls on her toes, letting out a laugh, though it would fall silent to the ears of anyone else. Perhaps this is what feeling free is like.
[ Timed to early evening, ST/LT welcome. Effy is burning the pills and drugs that her previous incarnation had on the island. Find her on any plausible stretch of beach, and in spite of her strange train of thoughts, it's a decent time to meet her. Narrative inspired by Ulysses, by James Joyce. ]