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Enduring the grotesque, the unimaginable, was a
double-edged sword in being within the direct proximity of another- it led her to wish to fight for their livelihood as it brought on the urge to keep crying, to enhance the squeeze of the toxic chain until there was nothing left but darkness. She perceived
jack wainwright to fit the role of Pamplemousse in being a grapefruit adorned with fractals of sugar, though deep down, she made pleas with the universe that he could emerge acidic sour in the eyes of the Megalopolans only. Perhaps those pleas would let her overcome just enough to survive, casting diamond light of her own to shine in the eyes of all the innocent and those she loved, too.[break][break]
But all she could feel was
rot- rot in her bloodstream trickling down from her neck, rot meeting the arrival of the monkey and the departure of the bird that had accompanied it down from above, rot in feeling that holding onto hope would be hopeless, here. It was a grapple of the mind and the soul, made explicit by the words channeled with the conviction of deeming those in the circle dumb and slaves all the same. She could feel it, all those that were loud and shedding their grievances were probably feeling it, too.[break][break]
The arrival of the monkey was met by the churning and thrashing of innocent, lovely bones. Conviction was real- the game was real, it had begun as soon as they had been granted the ability to witness the decrepit walls they had been surrounded in. It was a blessing that Pamplemousse, and all the others who had been deprived of their freedom, could not see behind the mask that stripped her
individuality. The puffing of the cheeks, the cascading waterfalls of sorrow and fear, the sting that came behind her eyes— to be made a slave was too much to bear. A slight of the world that was
worse than death, a true punishment of the divines.[break][break]
A punishment for war crimes that she had no part in committing.
Mochi came, the only sustenance she believed to be able to indulge upon until something were to occur to give them momentary freedom- and though she experienced mental hesitation, she wished not to show it. The Megalopolans did not deserve to perceive, and she did not want to become like the one who wished to object. She raised it to her lips as she watched the crystalline scatter, taking as much as her mouth would allow with a single, pained gulp to bring it in.[break][break]
Sweet, but with an undeniable thrum.
Pain, like the plentiful withdrawals after taking the load of the final needle.
Desire, wanting to be the one to experience what rested in this so-called chamber of bliss.
Dread, in feeling so deprived around those so depraved.[break][break]
"We win," she paused with a soft, guttural cough, speaking quietly into the ear of her cellmate,
".. and we share everything when the eyes are not upon us.."[break][break]
The virtue of survival led her to want to work to
satisfy- but the selfishness, the spoiled heart that pittered and pattered inside of her chest's walls, led her to wish to be the one to go to the chamber. She wanted to know what rested inside- what desires would be given sustenance, what hints at where they existed would be sprawled against the walls and inside their cracks. Perhaps inside, there would be something able to assist them in the
breaking of chains rather than stolen, sharp materials.[break][break]
A pull to stealing a sharp rock as a means to have some kind of defense was there as she slowly, shakily approached the center to avoid the whip of the shackle. But she wished to wait and see what would happen- taking items like those to use for personal benefit,
smuggling, was better suited for the second or third time. If, in the end, there would be a second or third time to wander from the small single-cot quarters they were made to live in.[break][break]
Desiree sorted as quickly as she could, clenching her teeth as she watched the sharper parts of the stones protrude into the skin of her palms. She wished to achieve as much as she could to give
gratification to her captors- to give an edge, to stand out for the better reason rather than the worst. She wanted to make them love her.. and for them to bite those feelings when the time came. Her focus on the task, alongside the pangs of nausea and toxicity, led her to not look up at the sea of the others that were masked.[break][break]
One was not due freedom any more than the other. She silently wept behind the mask, fearing that the hands that encountered similar cuts and stabs were those that had one day graced her cheek. One looked similar to
howard slayte's when he held the cigarillo.. but she wished for it to be otherwise. The anticipated pain prevented her from looking up to match the characteristics.. just as it prevented her from seeing that it was
Andrea Vaneau who went to go use the restroom, and not just someone who had the same tone of voice.[break][break]
But she was
paranoid- and it gave her all the more reasons to seek the freedom of them all. Regardless if it was them or not, which she forced herself to leave unconfirmed, they were still just as deserving to feel love in their hearts rather than toxicity granted by the chain of the alleged never-rot.[break][break]
Dgy9mSgo
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jack wainwright (cc:
howard slayte Andrea Vaneau)[break][break]
♡ DUMMY WARD ♡[break]
♡ it feels as if she is rotting, watching everything unfold- the monkey, the kill, the words. pain. ♡[break]
♡ but the game has begun. tries sooo hard throughout this post to present calm even though she is weeping and experiencing emo damage behind da mask. ♡[break]
♡ hesitation with eating mochi- but doesn't wanna be pulped. eats her fill. ♡[break]
♡ and wants to win to see desire chamber BAD for survival and selfishness.. expresses to jack hehe. ♡[break]
♡ approaches center slowly and gets to work. ♡[break]
♡ considers stealing shard for weapon but refrains for now. ♡[break]
♡ it hurts.. but she tries to trek through all the stabbing on the hands and sorts as quickly as she can. ♡[break]
♡ one hand looks like howard's and a voice sounds like andrea's.. but the anticipated pain leads her to not look up to confirm or deny. ♡[break]
♡ the captives are deserving of love and freedom regardless. and it would hurt too much to know. ♡