Post by McKenna Kallon Valerian on Oct 21, 2012 18:18:29 GMT -5
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Well they cast me out when the word spread around That I never sang in the church. And it took one night for the town to decide I'm afflicted by the curse. And the rain falls down, let it fall to the ground. And the birds don't sing, no they don't make a sound. So I look to the sky, tell me why, tell me why, Do they all get to live, and I have to die? So they marched me down to the center of town, With their pitchforks high in the air. I was chained and bound with a blindfold around So the judge wouldn't catch my stare. And they hung my soul from the gallows pole But the witch they never found. So to those who don't fit society's mold, the dead can't testify. And because I can't take an eye for an eye, In the afterlife I'll haunt you bastards 'till you die!
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She woke with a start and the skill of someone who was frequently visited by nightmares, soundlessly. She breathed through parted lips for a moment, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and her stomach to stop rolling. This was the fifth night in a row that she’d woken up so late… early… A glance at the clock on the wall told her that it was close to three. Wonderful. So now, since there was no way in Tartarus that she was getting back to sleep after that, she had hours to blow. She got up and slid on a pair of shoes, grabbing one of her many beanies on her way out the door, passing a glance over her makeshift family silently, making nearly no sound. She did this often enough – one of her only skills was stealth.
Still in the circle of cabins, she was still required to be quiet. Last thing she needed (she was already sneaking out without permission) was for someone to sound the intruder alarm or for her to be the victim of some revenge prank by some Hermes kid for waking them up accidentally. She was probably quite a sight as she tucked her hair up into her beanie, aware that she’d only had about ten hours of sleep in the past… five days? Yeah, that sounded right. She yawned, sending a prayer down to Persephone as she passed the Apollo Cabin and the infirmary. Clad in the hand-me-downs from other Minor Cabin campers who had already moved on in their lives and the like, she didn’t match in the slightest. It wasn’t that the camp didn’t have money to clothe them, but she believed that if there was perfectly good clothing right there, why not wear it? And some of the Aphrodite girls were known to put old stuff in there, which meant at least that some of it was cute. Demeter stuff was usually stained with mud, Ares stuff with blood. Hades stuff was black, all the typical stereotypes.
The pants she was wearing had come from a Nemesis boy that had moved off two years ago, the shirt from Gods-knew-where. She’d had it long enough that she wouldn’t be able to tell by smell anymore. Sleep deprived, shaken from her nightmare, and dressed in an almost comical arrangement of sleep clothing, she made her way out of the ring of cabins, passing between the Hera and Zeus cabins to make her way towards the beach, now far less focused on being quiet and instead watching for other people. At this hour, anyone that was out was probably making trouble, and the farther she stayed away from them, the better. She skittered around buildings the remainder of the way to the beach, not failing to both lament and enjoy the fact that it was still a little chilly. Had she been thinking, she’d have grabbed a jacket. She’d known it was cooling down.
The beach was deserted, of course, since it was about three. There was a spot where there’d been a fire the night before, still smoking. Come to think of it… it was only three. She knew the number of people that were sick was growing, but was it really to the point that the beach would be deserted this early in the night? She glanced around, and once she was satisfied that nothing was going to jump out and scare her, she stared out at the water, making a seat next to the still smoking fire on a log that someone had dragged over. The voice of the monster from her dreams was still hot in her mind, breathing into her ear, using her brother’s voice… She shuddered, picking up an abandoned, charred stick and poking at the fire. She didn’t want to think about her nightmares at the moment – that was why she was out there.
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Tagged: Open!
Listening To: Billy Talent: The Dead Can't Testify
Outfit: Here!
Muse: Getting better!
Words: 648!
Credits: Lyrics (c) Billy Talent, template by me!
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