Post by Talia Winchell on Jan 19, 2014 0:42:02 GMT -5
Though there had never been a day since his death that Lucan Lucchesi had never crossed her mind, most of the time, he was depicted in past tense. His memory sculpted oceans in the hollows of Tal Winchell's heart, and it was not unusual for her to feel as though she were drowning in what they had shared. Her troubled mind was the lovechild of that fateful night over a year ago and candles she had blown out all on her own. This much was clear to the daughter of Hermes: nothing was ever fully erased; being miserable was sometimes inevitable, but it could be controlled if she tried hard enough; petty distractions were sometimes the best thing a girl like herself could have.
Today was one of the days that he came in with every breath she took. He was her past, present, and future; she swore she could hear his voice ringing in her ears. It was his gaze that snaked up her arms. Today was one of the days that she slow danced with suicide and refused to accept that he was gone. Nothing short of pathetic, she told herself. Everybody else is over it.
Regardless of how often she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was not. Tal picked at her food with the idle concentration of a person who is avoiding confrontation, but this time, the confrontation would come from none other than herself. Not at once, but in pieces; she just needed to find the courage to follow her own advice. Maybe she just needed a distraction.
She longed to retreat back into her cabin, but forced herself to stay in the dining pavilion for as long as she could without breaking down completely. Perhaps there was someone here that she could talk to. Or perhaps she was wasting her time.
words; a little over 300.
muse; feeling melancholy. and angsty. mostly angsty.
notes; sorry, this started out as freewriting and turned into a post. anyone's free to join! the site's been looking a little dead lately, so i figured an open thread couldn't do any harm.
tagged; open!
music; let it go by idina menzel.