Sharp
I never had a weapon I could wield, like Surreal's stilettos. Part of me, I think, will always regret that and another part of me is glad that anything I have isn't sharp at all. No swords, no daggers, nothing to rend or tear apart. Nothing to destroy.
It's so much easier to destroy than it is to create.
I never had anything to shield me from the horrors inflicted on me in Briarwood. I had a plan, of course, but it wasn't one to help me. It was designed to help Rose and the others who could not help themselves -- the ones that it was too late for, of course. The trap sprung around the "uncles" who would harm the girls there so the blood debt would be repaid. Yet, again, that was simply something the child, Jaenelle, thought of and that the living dream, Witch, created. Craft, naturally, since there were no other weapons for me to use.
My scepter is a gift given to me by Kaetian from the deaths of the kindred. My words aren't pointed as Daemon's can be at times. Nothing belonging to me is sharp at all. I think everything reflects what I am, however. My clothes are simple but eclectic, showing the varying parts of Kaeleer that make up the Dream that makes up Witch. My childhood was gone in so many ways since I was forced at such a young age to be an adult by my Jewels... and to deal with the trauma at Cassandra's Altar. So, my words are my words and nothing more or less -- probably, as Papa would put it, just me being stubborn and snarly at times. My formal outfit is dark as night and soft as spun spider silk, something that I'd like to attribute to the Weaver of Dreams even though I know it's simply a dress.
Simple. I look back at everything I've written and I see I keep using the word "simple" for me, for my life, in contrast to everything I'm not. Is simple the opposite of sharp, pointed, direct? I'm certainly not the opposite of Surreal, despite our many differences. She's my Sister and a SaDiablo. Yet, everyone around me seems different than me somehow in some manner. My entire life has been made up of those moments when I've tried desperately to fit into a society that did not want me, did not understand me, or attempted to harm me.
I suppose that not having a stiletto in exchange for being the girl I had always hoped I could be is good enough for me.
It's so much easier to destroy than it is to create.
I never had anything to shield me from the horrors inflicted on me in Briarwood. I had a plan, of course, but it wasn't one to help me. It was designed to help Rose and the others who could not help themselves -- the ones that it was too late for, of course. The trap sprung around the "uncles" who would harm the girls there so the blood debt would be repaid. Yet, again, that was simply something the child, Jaenelle, thought of and that the living dream, Witch, created. Craft, naturally, since there were no other weapons for me to use.
My scepter is a gift given to me by Kaetian from the deaths of the kindred. My words aren't pointed as Daemon's can be at times. Nothing belonging to me is sharp at all. I think everything reflects what I am, however. My clothes are simple but eclectic, showing the varying parts of Kaeleer that make up the Dream that makes up Witch. My childhood was gone in so many ways since I was forced at such a young age to be an adult by my Jewels... and to deal with the trauma at Cassandra's Altar. So, my words are my words and nothing more or less -- probably, as Papa would put it, just me being stubborn and snarly at times. My formal outfit is dark as night and soft as spun spider silk, something that I'd like to attribute to the Weaver of Dreams even though I know it's simply a dress.
Simple. I look back at everything I've written and I see I keep using the word "simple" for me, for my life, in contrast to everything I'm not. Is simple the opposite of sharp, pointed, direct? I'm certainly not the opposite of Surreal, despite our many differences. She's my Sister and a SaDiablo. Yet, everyone around me seems different than me somehow in some manner. My entire life has been made up of those moments when I've tried desperately to fit into a society that did not want me, did not understand me, or attempted to harm me.
I suppose that not having a stiletto in exchange for being the girl I had always hoped I could be is good enough for me.