Post by Samantha Nanami on Jul 28, 2012 20:51:28 GMT -5
Darkness rimmed equally dark eyes, which gazed at the Thirteenth Cabin, the Cabin to which the Children of Hades belonged. Well, most Children of Hades. Skinny jeans, combat boots, and slightly chipped nail polish, all in black, contrasted almost sharply with paper-pale skin, and the silver t-shirt and ski jacket which marked this woman as a Huntress of Artemis. Near black grey eyes looked at the windowless cabin, noting with almost a pang of loss how the sun glinted off of the solid obsidian structure. Her gaze swept up and down the heavy columns, and she wondered if the torches which burnt green flames twenty-four hours a day were warm as they looked, even though some part of her knew they would be so cold they burned. Finally, her gaze settled upon the skull over the door, her eyes seeming to darken even more, her pupils nearly vanishing in the blackness which had claimed her irises for the moment.
“Why,” she whispered, her voice slightly rough and husky, her lips (just as the rest of her thin, angular face was) unpainted, and slightly chapped. She ran her tongue over her lips, murmuring further words to a Father she had always feared would never listen to her – if he cared she existed at all. “Why them… and never me?” Strange as it seemed, she had almost known, by just the slightest prick at the edges of her awareness, that half siblings of hers had been Claimed… and though she had told herself over and over again, even before she had known, that it didn’t matter, that she was okay with never having been Claimed… The doubts still managed to creep in… especially when she was at her lowest point – a place she had known a few different times over the more than a century and a half’s worth of time she had spent knowing of her divine heritage – when she had denied herself nourishment for days, and hadn’t even been able to find a few moment’s meditative rest…
When her personal demons gripped her the hardest, and she was alone, she feared. She feared that she had never been wanted, that no-one had ever really wanted her… that her mortal parents had raised her simply because neither of them could bring themselves to drown her, that her grandparents had taken her in because they would rather deal with her than the shame of leaving her on the streets… And mostly she feared that her divine Father – Hades, she knew for sure – thought her completely worthless, and that her beloved Goddess had merely made her part of the Hunt and one of Her Huntresses simply out of pity. And while the dark-haired woman knew that at least the part about the only woman (er, Goddess) she would ever love wasn’t true… she still feared that and so many other things when she faced her darkest point, that sometimes her rational side was drowned out completely. Shaking her head, as such thoughts would only make her depressed and irritable, (well, more irritable than usual when she was here) the pale brunette ran one of her frighteningly near-skeletal hand through her wayward, fly-away short hair, messing and ruffling it even further, before shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
She ignored her one could easily see her veins through her ghostly pale skin, especially on her hands and especially at this time of year. Though it wasn’t yet winter, she wore this version of the Huntress’ attire nearly all year, aside from only the warmest time of summer (and even then she wore a grey long-sleeved shirt under her silver t-shirt), as she was almost always freezing. Her skin was cold to the touch, too, she knew, and knew that some of the younger Huntresses whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear that is was because she was the Daughter of Death. Let then think what they would, she didn’t care too much. In fact, it had been a very long time since she had cared about much of anything, save for the Hunt and serving her Goddess. Turning on her heel, the jaded, troubled woman made to walk away.
She no-longer wished to look at the place she had never been allowed to call home.