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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 5:17:32 GMT
LIKE FLOWERS IN YESTERDAY'S FIELD, Was this the design? Her knees are scratched and dirty and it's sort of dark out and she hopes someone was worrying about her. The moss is soft under her calves, trees arch up like pillars. Poppy makes no sound. She doesn't know much about religion, but she can grasp that she encountered a god. This doesn't calm her down, doesn't soothe her. It makes her angrier. He said he'd be watching. And what use is a god if he's not watching? If he hasn't seen her loathesome heart break, one piece for herself and one for Amory. It broke in a good way... and then it broke again. If he didn't see her cry, what use was he? If he can't see into all the cobwebbed corners of his world, then what's the point? She wants to wrap bloody knuckles around his ethereal throat - the knuckles that are more pronounced than last week. Baby, aren't you selfish? You starve yourself and cry over yourself when you're not the one who's sick. Maybe she should go home. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 23, 2014 5:37:59 GMT
Dark eyes watched her from his position among the trees where he has mere moments ago materialized. The horned figure revered as a god stayed out of her line of sight for the time being. He hadn’t lied about watching her, the girl who he once played a game with. There were others. Creation observed them too, but only Poppy called out to him with unseen tears. It was an unusual event and one certainly worth his appearance.
He stepped moved closer in a translucent guise until he stopped in front of her and then he took a visible form. “You called, Poppy?” A smile tugged at his pale, thin lips. Shadows played over his face. It wasn’t dark enough for his figure to be anything truly frightening, at least not to anyone who had already encountered him before. His childlike laughter rang out, almost mockingly to the distressed girl. “What’s the matter? No one has called out to me before.”
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 5:45:08 GMT
She jumps at his voice because no matter what she wanted, she wasn't actually expecting him to show up. Poppy stands up hurriedly, clumsily, brushes the dirt off of her legs and then she crosses her arms. His laughter rings in her ears and she wants to cover them with her hands. She wants to scratch her eyes out just for seeing him. "You owe me," she says coolly, trying to keep whatever grasp of composure she can. When she closes her eyes she sees Amory's pained but smiling face and it makes her feel sick to her stomach. Sicker still because she's just selfish. She doesn't want him to get better - she just doesn't want him to leave her. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 27, 2014 22:00:47 GMT
He eyed her thoughtfully, taking in her every movement. It was obvious what she called him for. To know what she was thinking wasn’t even necessary. Creation did see everything that went on in the world after all, especially in his toy box. He planned to cut to the chase. “You want me to do something for that ailing boy, don’t you?”
His face split into a smile as he waited for her reaction, though he already knew what it’d be. Most people were shocked that he knew what was going on in the world. Honestly, did they think he didn’t watch them? What else would he do when he wasn’t meddling in their lives for amusement? Messenger and Abyss were hardly any fun.
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2014 23:00:34 GMT
Her mouth almost drops open, just a small gape - but she catches herself. Poppy knew he was watching, but for some reason she didn't really believe him. Her eyebrows knit together. "Well, uh - I..." She rolls her eyes and juts out her lower lip. "Yes. You're right." She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she's trying to be humble. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 28, 2014 2:05:17 GMT
Her reaction was exactly how he predicted it to be—mouth hanging open and eyes widened with surprise. Brief as it was, he saw it nonetheless. Poppy was just trying to play tough. He could see right through her act to what was lying underneath. But humans had their surprises. That was the sole reason he chose to interact with them.
“If I give you what you want, what do I get in return?” He asked. With a flourish of his hand, a chair materialized and he sat in it. Creation perched his elbows on the arms and laced his fingers together. He’d seen the pose in those movies humans made. The ancient being had wanted to give it a try himself one day. This was his chance.
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2014 2:25:56 GMT
Poppy looks at him - honestly, she hadn't been expecting an exchange. In her mind's eye, she hadn't even seen this happening. Creation was a figment of her imagination, probably, brought on by warm wine and nightmares. No, here he was. She feels like crying. This is like Hercules and she's Megera and she's gonna give up her soul for her lover - and what if he doesn't love her back? What if he shirks her once he's better? Her throat feels tight, and her chest too. There's a breeze and it smells like wet, warm forest. She can hear leaves rustle. Poppy can't quite make out his eyes, and looking at his face is like staring down a three-headed dog. Dark and deep and alien. Her hair is standing on end. "Make me weak," she says. Looking at him, she can imagine he knows just what she means. This isn't a question of her physical strength, but the flexibility and breaking point of her heart. Puncture it, let her bleed out. Being here is the punishment enough - admitting her needs is the weakness. She's suffering for it already. It's worth it for filtered sunlight through Amory's fingers when he tucks her hair behind her ear. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 28, 2014 6:38:42 GMT
A chuckle slipped past his lips. Dark eyes looked up to meet hers. He didn’t know if he had expected more or maybe he expected a refusal. “That’s it?” Creation cocked his head to the side, smile slipping from his lips. “You’re already weak.”
But an idea popped into his head. “How about we play a game? If you win, I’ll give you what you want.” If she lost, he would be very disappointed. Her desperation would be adequate fuel for a entertaining game. He wanted to see her give her all. “What do you say?”
A five was rolled. Poppy will have to play a game of Creation's choosing. If she is able to win, she will receive what she had called Creation for. In the case that she loses, she will be allowed one more chance by playing another game. Should she lose a second time, the thread will end.
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2014 6:42:31 GMT
That hurts and she bites her lip. He'll already know it hurts, that's why he said it. And he's right - this is weakness and vulnerability. Soft belly up, the yellow edges of a bruise. When did she let herself get like this? Poppy clears her throat and swallows the thoughts. "Fine, whatever. What is it?"What's the worst that could happen? CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 29, 2014 2:52:36 GMT
As much as she wished there was no truth to his words, they both knew there was. She had come to him at his mercy. Now she had to play his game. Three small darts appeared at her feet.
A flourish of his hand produced a target, a wooden square contraption with three smaller wooden squares inside. “Hit a dart through the smallest square, the bullzeye, and you’ll win. You have three tries.”
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 3:04:43 GMT
This doesn't seem real. She picks up a dart and looks at the target and just throws the dart. To get a feel of it, or maybe to make up for the sick feeling in her stomach. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 29, 2014 4:28:07 GMT
The dart arched through the air and missed the target by a few inches. “Two left.” He called out, spinning the floating target for fun before righting it again.
A three was rolled. The dart misses.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 4:31:38 GMT
Now she pouts, she frowns and picks up the next dart. Focus mars her face, tightening her eyebrows, her lips turn downwards. She's never been a good shot, but she aims as best as she can. This game is an insult to what she wants, but she throws the dart anyway. CREATION |
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Post by CREATION on Jan 29, 2014 5:14:10 GMT
This time the dart came closer to the center, hitting the wood lining the smallest square-shaped hole.
Creation snickered. “Almost, almost. Will you get it this last time? I wonder. You just have one more dart left.”
A eight was rolled. The dart nearly makes it through.
@poppy |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 2:03:07 GMT
Poppy grits her teeth, holds the last dart with a vengeance, as if every ounce of fury she can put into it will make it straighter. The faster the dart goes, the better her aim - something like that. It's just that... it's all so unfair. She gets piles of melancholy and dysphoria only to trudge out into the woods on a false hope and she's met with this farce. On top of that, she wouldn't even be surprised if this was just a joke too, and he disappears in a cloud of smoke to leave her with her loneliness. CREATION |
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