(no subject)
based on a dream. Slightly depressing. Written in a (highly successful) attempt to escape the horrid, horrid reality that is precal homework.
Sum: fate, love, foolishness, and so much more. a love story in pieces. can you pick through the fragments to find the truth?
Fragmentation
.
.
.
It wasn’t exactly depression, though it was perched precariously on the edge.
More like a sense of foreboding, a feeling of unease. Something was seriously wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. Had she forgotten something? Misplaced something, maybe?
That could have been it, although the feeling felt a little too strong for that. Meaning that if she had forgotten something, it must have been important.
What was wrong with her? She was losing her mind.
~*~
Thank you, he had said.
But who?
Cecilia ponders this as she wipes that last traces of sleep from her weary eyes, getting ready for another day. Another day that will be exactly the same as the one that preceded it, because Cecilia doubts that there is anything new for the teachers to teach her. But she’ll still do the work, act the part, because she is Cecilia Roslin and she is the hardest working and most brilliant student of her year (or so they think). And because she is Cecilia Roslin; the only student in the past 12 years who managed to get a full scholarship to such a prestigious school.
As the teachers drone on about dates and names she learned in third year, her ‘alert’ eyes glaze over (though no one sees), and his voice echoes in her numbed mind.
Thank you. Accompanied with a sardonic quirk of the lips one could almost call a smile. If one didn’t know him better.
Know who?
~*~
This is her last year here, her senior year and she thinks, shouldn’t I be enjoying this more?
After all, this is the last year of childhood, the last chance for innocence. Before the reality of the ‘real world’ comes swooping down to strip her of any conscience she might have had. Shouldn’t she be enjoying this last year with her friends and roommates? Because, in the end, she highly doubts they will all survive the impending doom that war brings.
But deep in the hallowed walls of the boarding school, there is no such thing as war. There is only rumors and petty rivalries, meaningless relationships and the rare, once upon a time kind of true love.
And an echo deep in the recesses of her mind, whispering in her fragile ear, -- Thank you.
For what?
~*~
She never could resist a good mystery. Cecilia supposes this is the reason she is so drawn to Adrian and Ron, who attract trouble and intrigue like moths to a flame. And of course, once she got close enough, it was too late to realize she was the moth and they the flame.
Isn’t that a strange way to say you love someone? Cecilia kicks up the smallest corner of her lips in a humor- (-less, -filled?) smile. Who knows if she is even capable of love?
Thank you, he says. But really, the words are meaningless. He is saying something else all together.
What?
~*~
There are some things you do because you need to, some because you want to, and some just because.
The third category is the deadliest.
She is a creature of reason and the words ‘just because’ could never be enough to satisfy her. So she tries to elaborate, to force the wordless sensation into words.
Just because…it means that the desire to do something has escalated beyond simply wanting or needing. It is both and it is neither. And it is dangerous because of the seemingly harmless but actually deadly determination to see the task through. No…not determination, more like compulsion, something that is raw and uncontrollable.
Thank you, he says. And Cecilia thinks she has just found her newest ‘just because’.
Why this?
~*~
Here she is unmarked territory, in a place no map could never chart. Here she is lost, and Cecilia is amazed. Where does she go from here?
~*~
Rich red blood runs through her fingers and it surprises her that his blood is so bright beneath such pallid skin. Why does it not surprise her that another’s blood is staining her once clean hands, or that her blood is staining his?
Thank you, he whispers in her ear, warm breath that will soon be cold passes over the hollow places and she shivers.
But that’s to be expected when you’re dying of blood loss. She mirrors his smile. It is a true smile this time, and what more could she ask for? she thinks distractedly.
~*~
Already, she is late to meet Adrian and Ron for lunch, where they will inevitably end up talking about soccer and she will inevitably end up leaving for the library.
Still, Cecilia is one of the last people to depart, part of her reluctant to leave for some inexplicable reason (why would she want to linger in this classroom?). And when someone to her right spills the contents of his binder it is only absently that she gathers the pieces of paper that have glided all the way across the nearly deserted room to greet her.
Thank you, he whispers. And though he is not behind her, his breath not tickling her sensitive ears, she would recognize that voice and those words anywhere.
When she whips around, the only thing that greets her surprised eyes is a sardonic quirk of the lips and grey eyes just as confused as she feels.
~*~
Always such a reasonable creature, Cecilia is not easily swayed by things as trivial as political rivalries, but in his case, she is sorely tempted to make an exception. It is not so much his hatred of her country (which she is quickly beginning to suspect is contrived), or even his blatant attempts to hurt her friends that bother her.
It is his arrogance, born of such undeserved wealth, which irks her to no end. Arrogance that, ironically, is one of the few traits they share.
Or so she thinks, until she discovers, for the first time, she is wrong.
In the face of such expectations, Cecilia finds that failure is strangely refreshing.
~*~
Things are the same as ever, at first.
But slowly, coincidental meetings seem to pop up out of nowhere, until suddenly it seems all she does is bump in to him (sometimes literally, though she thinks those aren’t as coincidental as they seem and he isn’t as disgusted as he acts, otherwise why would he catch her and forget to let go?).
He invites himself to her table at the library. She shows up, unannounced, at the soccer field when he practices at night, alone. They sit on the edge of the forbidden forest, watching as the sun dies for another day, and there is nothing romantic about it.
~*~
To be continued..
I admit. I’m stuck. Wanted to change the ending but then got confused.
Things to note:
Cecilia means "blind one"
Fragments are NOT in order.
Assume that all 'thank you's are italized. Too lazy to switch to rich text mode..
Sum: fate, love, foolishness, and so much more. a love story in pieces. can you pick through the fragments to find the truth?
Fragmentation
.
.
.
It wasn’t exactly depression, though it was perched precariously on the edge.
More like a sense of foreboding, a feeling of unease. Something was seriously wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. Had she forgotten something? Misplaced something, maybe?
That could have been it, although the feeling felt a little too strong for that. Meaning that if she had forgotten something, it must have been important.
What was wrong with her? She was losing her mind.
~*~
Thank you, he had said.
But who?
Cecilia ponders this as she wipes that last traces of sleep from her weary eyes, getting ready for another day. Another day that will be exactly the same as the one that preceded it, because Cecilia doubts that there is anything new for the teachers to teach her. But she’ll still do the work, act the part, because she is Cecilia Roslin and she is the hardest working and most brilliant student of her year (or so they think). And because she is Cecilia Roslin; the only student in the past 12 years who managed to get a full scholarship to such a prestigious school.
As the teachers drone on about dates and names she learned in third year, her ‘alert’ eyes glaze over (though no one sees), and his voice echoes in her numbed mind.
Thank you. Accompanied with a sardonic quirk of the lips one could almost call a smile. If one didn’t know him better.
Know who?
~*~
This is her last year here, her senior year and she thinks, shouldn’t I be enjoying this more?
After all, this is the last year of childhood, the last chance for innocence. Before the reality of the ‘real world’ comes swooping down to strip her of any conscience she might have had. Shouldn’t she be enjoying this last year with her friends and roommates? Because, in the end, she highly doubts they will all survive the impending doom that war brings.
But deep in the hallowed walls of the boarding school, there is no such thing as war. There is only rumors and petty rivalries, meaningless relationships and the rare, once upon a time kind of true love.
And an echo deep in the recesses of her mind, whispering in her fragile ear, -- Thank you.
For what?
~*~
She never could resist a good mystery. Cecilia supposes this is the reason she is so drawn to Adrian and Ron, who attract trouble and intrigue like moths to a flame. And of course, once she got close enough, it was too late to realize she was the moth and they the flame.
Isn’t that a strange way to say you love someone? Cecilia kicks up the smallest corner of her lips in a humor- (-less, -filled?) smile. Who knows if she is even capable of love?
Thank you, he says. But really, the words are meaningless. He is saying something else all together.
What?
~*~
There are some things you do because you need to, some because you want to, and some just because.
The third category is the deadliest.
She is a creature of reason and the words ‘just because’ could never be enough to satisfy her. So she tries to elaborate, to force the wordless sensation into words.
Just because…it means that the desire to do something has escalated beyond simply wanting or needing. It is both and it is neither. And it is dangerous because of the seemingly harmless but actually deadly determination to see the task through. No…not determination, more like compulsion, something that is raw and uncontrollable.
Thank you, he says. And Cecilia thinks she has just found her newest ‘just because’.
Why this?
~*~
Here she is unmarked territory, in a place no map could never chart. Here she is lost, and Cecilia is amazed. Where does she go from here?
~*~
Rich red blood runs through her fingers and it surprises her that his blood is so bright beneath such pallid skin. Why does it not surprise her that another’s blood is staining her once clean hands, or that her blood is staining his?
Thank you, he whispers in her ear, warm breath that will soon be cold passes over the hollow places and she shivers.
But that’s to be expected when you’re dying of blood loss. She mirrors his smile. It is a true smile this time, and what more could she ask for? she thinks distractedly.
~*~
Already, she is late to meet Adrian and Ron for lunch, where they will inevitably end up talking about soccer and she will inevitably end up leaving for the library.
Still, Cecilia is one of the last people to depart, part of her reluctant to leave for some inexplicable reason (why would she want to linger in this classroom?). And when someone to her right spills the contents of his binder it is only absently that she gathers the pieces of paper that have glided all the way across the nearly deserted room to greet her.
Thank you, he whispers. And though he is not behind her, his breath not tickling her sensitive ears, she would recognize that voice and those words anywhere.
When she whips around, the only thing that greets her surprised eyes is a sardonic quirk of the lips and grey eyes just as confused as she feels.
~*~
Always such a reasonable creature, Cecilia is not easily swayed by things as trivial as political rivalries, but in his case, she is sorely tempted to make an exception. It is not so much his hatred of her country (which she is quickly beginning to suspect is contrived), or even his blatant attempts to hurt her friends that bother her.
It is his arrogance, born of such undeserved wealth, which irks her to no end. Arrogance that, ironically, is one of the few traits they share.
Or so she thinks, until she discovers, for the first time, she is wrong.
In the face of such expectations, Cecilia finds that failure is strangely refreshing.
~*~
Things are the same as ever, at first.
But slowly, coincidental meetings seem to pop up out of nowhere, until suddenly it seems all she does is bump in to him (sometimes literally, though she thinks those aren’t as coincidental as they seem and he isn’t as disgusted as he acts, otherwise why would he catch her and forget to let go?).
He invites himself to her table at the library. She shows up, unannounced, at the soccer field when he practices at night, alone. They sit on the edge of the forbidden forest, watching as the sun dies for another day, and there is nothing romantic about it.
~*~
To be continued..
I admit. I’m stuck. Wanted to change the ending but then got confused.
Things to note:
Cecilia means "blind one"
Fragments are NOT in order.
Assume that all 'thank you's are italized. Too lazy to switch to rich text mode..