ever know each other [ooc]
[name] Anyanka Halfrek
[dob] 7 September 2005 [2½]
[type] Luperci [Birth]
[mail] tadaasana@sanguineous.com
[msn] tadaasana@sanguineous.com
[aim] tadaasana
[word] I've played here before.
[bic] such a softer sin
They say the worst form of desire is to be close, and to still be far away; that it is more painful to see someone and know they're not truly there, than to not see them and yet know that they are with you within. But what for those who miss someone who is not there, who does not care for you... but who is within you, within every cell of you, within every bit of your heart, your mind, your body, your soul? Perhaps that, indeed, the worst form of missing someone.
"Yeah, okay," black femme muttered, scoffing at her desperate attempt to philosophise despite her condition. Thinking wasn't getting her anywhere. It never had, truly. Now, her mother was dead, and her father? That had yet to be seen. Her grandfather, she knew, was long gone. But would the beast who created her, the beast whose flesh and blood ran through her, still be there? The crimson eyed beast with no mercy and less compassion...
'Me or him?' The humour didn't escape her. For her own eyes matched those of her father, and also of her grandfather. The sickness filled her every time she looked at herself. Their eyes... her eyes... did that mean she would see things as they did?
Or was it simply the marking of a beast? The beast her father was... that her grandfather may have been; she couldn't be sure of her mother's mad ranting... that she was. Or was she?
"Shut up, Anya," she snarled at herself. That wasn't really the way to keep what little confidence she had in herself. Honestly, she didn't lack confidence around others... but alone, in the quiet, the silence... it took her. All the wondering and waiting and never knowing, it just consumed her. That's why she turned to philosophy. Wondering about the world meant she didn't have to wonder about herself.
"Or that's the idea, anyhow. She wasn't sure that it was cutting it now.
She trudged on.
Light snow fell, coating the previous ice and snow in a fresh layer, covering her tracks. Good, let it cover them, that she may never go back there. She never wanted to be where she had been. So she had followed her roots. She was going home. But was this home? Time would tell. Her stomach was beginning to twist and writhe, she was close. She could sense him, smell him. Her head pounded, the blood pushing its way through her veins at full-force as her heart sped up.
'Hold it down,' she thought to herself; she couldn't breathe well enough to speak the words aloud.
'Just calm down. You're letting him get to you. Your mind is blurring. Calm down...' She took a breath, pausing where she stood. Inhale... one, two, three... and exhale. Okay. She could breathe. What now?
It occurred to her, why the feeling was so strong. She couldn't be more than five feet from the border. Not more than five feet. Less, even. She wasn't sure. Her vision blurred and doubled, then tripled. There was an audible pause between her exhale and her next inhale; she didn't breathe until the emptiness in her lungs hurt enough to make her body waver a little. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes scanning the territory, then called. Not for anyone in particular, although it might have been nice for Ahren to show his wretched face... but just for someone.
Anyone.
