014 | action
[ She saw it coming, but could do nothing to stop it. Something irked in the back of her mind. Told her this was going to happen. Unfortunately, instinct was a little too vague on the details when it came to reliving the past.
There had been blood. Quite a bit of it. A lot of tears too. More than she'd like to remember. But that wasn't the most terrifying part.
He was cold, in her arms, and somewhere along the lines, a curl of black smoke egged the fates to wait just a mere second before cutting the cord. That wasn't the brink of it either. It went further, deeper into her personal feeling than being shanghaied into a life of servitude.
It was how she'd been taken advantage of.
Meg wasn't violent when she was bitter. She was unresponsive. She'd seen him hanging on the shoulders of another woman, and if she had any heart to spare, it was wrenched from her chest and left to rot.
She'd gone home that night and sat. Cold, alone in her bed, no one to hold, and no one to keep her warm. It wasn't until dawn she realized, she could continue asking why, or pack up what was left of her heart and never make the same mistake again.
She's back, in her bed. Cold, alone, staring out the window. Not even Hades himself could pull her from her trance. She's asking herself why. Why did she open up her heart again? What kind of idiot would make the same mistake twice? That wrenching feeling won't go away, as voices of Hercules, Jim, Mozenrath echoed in her mind, and a little something she'd said along the way as well.
Some things she regretted, some things she didn't.
So much for the thrill of the chase, huh? ]
There had been blood. Quite a bit of it. A lot of tears too. More than she'd like to remember. But that wasn't the most terrifying part.
He was cold, in her arms, and somewhere along the lines, a curl of black smoke egged the fates to wait just a mere second before cutting the cord. That wasn't the brink of it either. It went further, deeper into her personal feeling than being shanghaied into a life of servitude.
It was how she'd been taken advantage of.
Meg wasn't violent when she was bitter. She was unresponsive. She'd seen him hanging on the shoulders of another woman, and if she had any heart to spare, it was wrenched from her chest and left to rot.
She'd gone home that night and sat. Cold, alone in her bed, no one to hold, and no one to keep her warm. It wasn't until dawn she realized, she could continue asking why, or pack up what was left of her heart and never make the same mistake again.
She's back, in her bed. Cold, alone, staring out the window. Not even Hades himself could pull her from her trance. She's asking herself why. Why did she open up her heart again? What kind of idiot would make the same mistake twice? That wrenching feeling won't go away, as voices of Hercules, Jim, Mozenrath echoed in her mind, and a little something she'd said along the way as well.
Some things she regretted, some things she didn't.
So much for the thrill of the chase, huh? ]