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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 5, 2016 2:36:51 GMT
 PD7J802J < 50 thalia keeps her head
The sudden outbreak of violence doesn't scare or shock her--she's been dealing with sudden outbreaks of violence professionally for her entire adult life--but the sight of Marisa being shot does. There's a long moment in which it registers in Thalia's head, the reality of it sinking like a stone through water, and then before she can even begin to process, she realizes that Marisa hasn't even been knocked back from the impact. She's still standing. She looks fine.
She actually looks more angry than anything, but she's alive, so they're the same thing in Thalia's book. And then the screams of the civilians pierce through her haze and Thalia lunges at the closest man with a gun, snapping his AR-15 in half with what some might call unnecessary force.
"Everyone stop this!" she shouts, straining to be heard over well..everything else that's happening. "We're in the middle of a restaurant! There are innocent people here!"
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 5, 2016 3:11:34 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"]her fist comes up, bloody. she has knocked at least three of the golden teeth out. she is sure the jaw is broken in two places from the small series of punches she delivered as she continued to feel shots on her skin, her body, pricks of blood rising to her skin, small wounds as some of the closer firearms actually prick, sting, cause pain, damage. she only stops at the cry of the familiar voice, frenzied face up, about, heat of her body burning at her skin, her clothing. there is a degree of hesitant stopping; the mundane men are hesitant to actually fire at the valkyrie, many of them unable to work up the courage considering the man who pays them was currently lying on the ground in a moaning heap. on top of that, they took note that comic had at least two rounds of lead pumped in her direction and was still going. not a job for them. marisa, meanwhile, is reigning in herself for the moment, looking over at thalia past her raised fist. there is blood spatter. there is thalia, calling for it to stop. there she is, herself, the initiator of all of it, and in a decision rooted in her bones she pushes off and dashes out the back as fast as she can. she hits the kitchen door, smashing it open. by this point, the staff has ducked down to hide or left entirely; she is past the door, almost kicked the next off the hinges as she hits the alleyway. her mind hasn't caught up with all that shes done. she never wants it to. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
[newclass=.ttop] [/newclass] [newclass=.oone]height: 0px; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s[/newclass] [newclass=.ttop:hover .oone]transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s; height: 400px;[/newclass] [newclass=.tbbody] background-color:#222;overflow: auto;height: 400px;width: 300px; padding: 20px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #b1b1b1;[/newclass] [googlefont=PT Sans Narrow] |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 5, 2016 3:35:59 GMT
It takes her time to make sure everything is well and truly settled, to make sure that no one besides Mr. de Luca (and isn't that an unhappy coincidence) has been hurt in the fighting, to assuage the fears of the frightened civilians.
When Thalia finally gets a chance to follow Marisa's trail out the back, she's sure she's too late. It's been too long. She missed her chance.
(But she couldn't just leave them. She hopes Marisa will understand. Maybe not. Maybe hoping is a futile, stupid thing.)
She still follows her though, looking for a glimpse of plaid and red hair.
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 5, 2016 4:07:35 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"]she is at the end of the alley, blocked exit, trash can at her feet. it has her mark; a kicked in side. she has torn a sleeve off, tattered from a rifle, and uses it to bandage up the only real wound she took; a nasty looking gash-shot in her arm where it tore at the skin like a cut. she pulls her knees up close, breathing deep, breathing hard, trying to pull into the darkness. her fingers, now noted for having small, dirty nails, dig into her own skin, her palms red and wet with specks of blood, a mixture of her own and the previous beating. her mind is a blur, blank, vision swimming, a mixture of the previous angry rage that stains her veins with regret and the fact that she ran, ran like always, ran like a coward from all of it. she hears the movement of someone entering the alley. she stiffens, quiets, eyes a blaze of blue as she does her best to hold her breath. she has not noticed her own tears. she has not noticed blood leaving her lips from biting down on her lip. she does not want to be found. not like that. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
[newclass=.ttop] [/newclass] [newclass=.oone]height: 0px; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s[/newclass] [newclass=.ttop:hover .oone]transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s; height: 400px;[/newclass] [newclass=.tbbody] background-color:#222;overflow: auto;height: 400px;width: 300px; padding: 20px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #b1b1b1;[/newclass] [googlefont=PT Sans Narrow] |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 6, 2016 5:40:56 GMT
Cold comfort, carrion comfort: these are the only areas in which you excel. You don't know how to take another person by the hand and bring them peace. All you know is how to destroy, never build. The girl at the end of the alleyway might as well be a foreign language. Your tongue twists in rebellion at the thought of speaking to her; it knows its own weaknesses.
You want to touch the gash on her arm with pale, slender fingers. You want to be the kind of person who could make it go away, but the only person you can heal is yourself. (That's a joke. It's not a funny one.) Your powers have always been rooted in selfishness since the day they first blazed out of you, beyond all control or reckoning, carrying you to a place far beyond repentance or forgiveness.
Are you okay? is a stupid question. So is tell me what happened in there, please?
You stand there feeling useless, feeling hopeless.
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 6, 2016 6:19:26 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"]marisa cannot find it within herself to become the smallest thing possible. her anger, her regret, her guilt, it builds too much, it pushes on flesh, on your own head. a welling headache, a heat, again. its thalia. of course it would be. there was no one else (no one else stupid enough to follow her without a defense, no one else who would do it so brazenly) who would be as apparent as her. she can see her, not just from peripherals but from a sensation, as if an image of swirling pink and sunshine and the ghost of a giggle enters and leaves her mind and she, very slowly, lets one eye leave the crook of her elbow. it is a tense second. two seconds. three. silence. a ragged breath fills her chest. she looks back down into the darkness. "thats what i am," she begins, her voice raspier than before, and she almost doesn't continue, almost looks up. her knees adjust. "i am one of them. work for them, i, i, i fuel what they do, i enforce it, i..." it built into a ramble and stops, hands on the sides of her head. she is pulling at her hair now, bloody hands sticking and matting. instead of the pause that leads into words, it is a moment that spins into a grunt that further spirals into a guttural scream, a cry out. it is over as it began and there is a singular sob that is snuffed out with a hand, and she sits up. her eyes are red from the threat of tears, ugly and darkened. she goes to say something to thalia. the first time it seems angry. the second, frustration. by her fifth attempt to form words its a silent plea hidden within and then further pushed down and she's up onto her feet, looking right at thalia with this expression thats a cauldron of pain. i'm a freak and a monster and i can't do anything with it like you can but all that spots on her face is her lips being bitten into. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
[newclass=.ttop] [/newclass] [newclass=.oone]height: 0px; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s[/newclass] [newclass=.ttop:hover .oone]transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s; height: 400px;[/newclass] [newclass=.tbbody] background-color:#222;overflow: auto;height: 400px;width: 300px; padding: 20px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #b1b1b1;[/newclass] [googlefont=PT Sans Narrow] |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 7, 2016 17:05:33 GMT
"You didn't look like you were working for them in there," you say. The words trip out of you before you can really think about them.
You want to take the sentence back the moment it's spoken. This isn't the first time you've thought that around her, you realize. You wonder if it's normal to feel this un-moored and adrift when speaking to someone else. You've always felt disconnected, like everyone else was reading from a script that no one had bothered to hand you, but this is different. You feel viciously present, alive, and in your own skin. You also feel completely lost.
It's not a pleasant feeling, but you don't think you can lay claim to being the one who needs comfort right now.
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 9, 2016 5:01:27 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"] "and what would you know?" its spit out, its venomous, her fangs are bared. her chest heaves, practically shaking inches on her height and she closes her eyes as she speaks, straining, feeling her head pulse. "what would you know about the things i have to do, just to scrape by?"its a tinge of angry jealousy, filtering in, thinking of how people like thalia are seemingly elevated. her mind doesn't try to wrap around the fact that thalia, certainly, has her own faults, her own problems, and none of it matters now, she just wants her ventilation, her anger, the unbearable flames licking at her skin to fire off. she didn't realize it, but she had stepped closer, one step, two step, closer still. "there was nothing i wanted more than to forget all of it for a night! to be something i wasn't! you didn't know, i didn't want you to know that i'm, i'm," she cuts off, looking at her own bullet wounds, her hands, the speckled stains of blood, and her voice catches because her night continues to crash around her. "you can't know!" she yells out, fist up, flying forth. her anger consuming her. her fists goes out to connect with thalia's form. she is met with a sensation of hitting solid stone; even in her strength-enhancing rage, she is already feeling the bruise forming. marisa is, however, frozen at her own action, her face melting from anger to horror. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 9, 2016 5:20:25 GMT
You shouldn't have come out here. You shouldn't have stayed still while she moved closer. You should have never have opened your mouth. There's a long list of things you shouldn't have done, and they start with going on this date in the first place, but you did them all. It's only in hindsight that you can see the depth of your mistakes. You can hear your philosophy professor's voice in your head, urging you: don't miss the trees for the forest, Thalia. He was talking about your critical analysis of Kant. He could have been talking about everything else in your life.
You raise a hand to your jaw. There's nothing there, not even the shadow of pain. You didn't feel anything. You think that's wrong. You think you want to feel something.
A part of you wants her to hit you again, and this time you'd know it was coming, and you'd wrestle your shields down and then what? And then what, Thalia?
(I don't know, but I think it would be real.)
This doesn't feel real. This feels like a joke, or something staged. Someone, somewhere, is about to pull the curtain back and reveal to their grinning audience the foibles of the almighty Valkyrie. Look at her! She gets hit just like you! She doesn't go down, but watch her keep coming back for more! And more! And more!
God help you, you open your mouth again.
"I'm not going to fight you, Marisa," you say. Your voice doesn't tremble but to your horror you can feel your eyes tearing up. You blink the tears back with an intensity that borders on violence, as if you can make yourself stop feeling anything, all of this, through sheer will alone.
As if you didn't want one night to forget who you were? As if you didn't want to be Thalia instead of Valkyrie, just like she wanted to be Marisa instead of--whatever she is, the enforcer, the brute, the criminal. Does she think you're that different from her?
(You are though, you are. You have no claim to being human. You have no claim to this hurt, despite its irrepressible rising in your chest, a sharp and sweet ache of betrayal. You should accept your dues and walk away.
Like so many other things you should have done tonight, you choose the opposite course.)
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 9, 2016 8:45:28 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"]her breaths come in bursts, sobbing bursts, as she stands frozen over thalia. marisa can't feel anything anymore; it was ripped out, every ounce of anger disarmed as she saw thalia's expression. her body slowly becomes her own, slowly knees shake and she intends to leave, to run, taking one step forward when thalia's response hits her. her face twists into scar tissue, and she finds herself watching as tears well in thalia's vision. she pauses and theres a moment right as she collapses down, onto her knees, her head pulls down as far as its allowed and trying to catch herself with her hands. she almost slips out, shoulder buckling slightly under another sob. "i dont want to fight," she begins, the words audible and hoarse, "im just... its just all i- all i can - im, im-" she cuts off the words with another cry, much weaker than her first screaming-cry. there are no more words in her as she sits on all fours, silent cry stifled. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 17, 2016 9:40:42 GMT
Her anger drains away and you can feel yours rising, hurt crumpling into something uglier. You swallow it back down, like you've been doing all your life, pushing it as far as you can until it's locked in some forgotten cabinet of your heart where the only person it can draw blood from is you. Where the only time it can come out is in the middle of a fight, knocking a grown man to his knees with a single blow and turning his face inside-out when all he's done is rob a jewelry store. Where you leave it to simmer and fester and nibble holes through your soul like a caterpillar until you wake up at night cold-eyed, drenched in sweat, unable to remember what you were dreaming.
It's nothing to worry about, really, but your lips are thin and white with the force of clutching at the reins. Part of you wants to go to your knees and put a hand on her shoulder, knot your fingers in her hair, and make her look at you when you say: that's not all you are.
Part of you wants to kick her in the ribs when she's down, and it's that part that drives you to do the former. But when you drop to your knees, you can't reach for her; the words dry up in your throat; you are washed up on a strange and distant shore, and there's no map home. You kneel there, frozen, for a moment that feels like a long, long lifetime. You've grown old and died in the length of this moment. You are just starting anew.
You reach out for her at last, but your hand stops inches from her shoulder. You can't make the final connection. You can only go so far on borrowed time, and that's all you've ever had. You know. You know, but it doesn't make it better.
Comic
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 18, 2016 3:40:41 GMT
[attr="class","ttop"] I'm gonna fight 'em off COULDNT HOLD ME BACK
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right
behind my back And I'm
talkin' to myself at
night Because I can't
forget Back and forth
through my mind
Behind a cigarette [attr="class","oone"] [attr="class","tbbody"]she never does get to her shoulder. the moment proximity is detected, marisa reacts on instinct, on the moment, and kicks her own shoulder back to fling off any potential touch, swinging her arm out, a physical gesture to back off, to stay away. her face is visible, now, behind that mess of hair, and she's tears, her face is red, blotchy, and ugly expression on pale skin that further reflects fragility. she hates every moment of it, and theres some grunt escaping her as she stumbles back, almost falling right onto her ass as she tries to put some distance between her and thalia, because thats all she wants now, all she desires is to hide this part of herself again. she doesn't want to be seen, doesn't want this to be seen any longer, doesn't want to make this any more of a scene than it already is. something chokes in her throat, and with a raspy voice, it comes out, a desperate stay away, lost somewhere between desperation for her to ignore it and desperation to get away. something takes over, and marisa is on her feet, shaky and still for the moment, before she begins to bolt. flight or fight has taken control of her mind now, and her body is running out of the alley and as far as it will take her. she does not easily tire; she will run all the way home if she isn't stopped. she might even go further. MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW |
[newclass=.ttop] [/newclass] [newclass=.oone]height: 0px; overflow: hidden; transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s[/newclass] [newclass=.ttop:hover .oone]transition: 0.9s; -o-transition: 0.9s; -webkit-transition: 0.9s; -moz-transition: 0.9s; height: 400px;[/newclass] [newclass=.tbbody] background-color:#222;overflow: auto;height: 400px;width: 300px; padding: 20px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #b1b1b1;[/newclass] [googlefont=PT Sans Narrow] |
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Post by VALKYRIE on Jul 24, 2016 6:54:17 GMT
You rock back like a kicked dog. You watch her leave. You know that this is what you deserve.
You don't think it's what she deserves, but you're not the arbitrator of right and wrong in this world. You're a heady mixture of exhaustion and anger, drained and thrumming with fury all at once, and when she's out of sight, you turn your rage on the alleyway. The ground is pock-marked with fist-shaped craters by the time you're done, the trashcan crumpled into incomprehensibility. And you don't feel any better; but you know you shouldn't.
After a long time, you go inside to deal with the police, and the press, and the remnants of the mafia. It's Valkyrie who goes to do all of that. You leave Thalia out back. You wish you could leave her behind for good.
/thread end |
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