Sound of Silence, GwhitelderFebruary 14 2011, 09:26:22 UTC
Edit :P
Sitting on the top of the Sanctuary had become a pass time of late. A place of solitude and consideration, watching the world pass beneath her feet.
Helen Magnus, the matriarch of the Sanctuary network was having a hard week, reminiscing about John, the 1800's and Ashley her beloved daughter gone these many years. All sound was dulled up here and as her legs swung in the breeze she sighed and sent a wish to the deity's out there that her week would get better, solitude had it's good points but it get's lonely and Helen wished for some company during these long cold nights she spent alone...
Re: Sound of Silence, GgeonncannonFebruary 14 2011, 17:40:06 UTC
Aw, this was lovely and so sad! I love Helen on the parapet. I think that was when Helen really gelled in my mind as this enigmatic, silent, mythological figure. Standing in the wind, unafraid. :D
Kate makes sure she knows the shape of things, their weight. The way they feel in her hands. The way each muscle and tendon tenses with motion as she turns a door handle, pours a glass of water, pulls a trigger. She wants to make sure there's not an inch of her life she couldn't do in the dead dark.
Not with cave darkness, not with blood running in her eyes, or in high fog, or rain. She knows that a single mistake can cost a life, a moment wasted. She's seen it too many times before, cleaned up the aftermath sometimes until the lesson was hammered home straight some sinuses to brain in the acrid smell of blood and bleach. She knew a tracker once, lost an eye and most of the other to something unnamed with fast reflexes and bigger teeth. That should have been it, but she'd run into him a year later, and he could still shoot in a straight line.
That's when she started weighing things, just in case. Because she'd picked this life and sure as hell wasn't going to be depending on someone else to take care of her if things went pear
( ... )
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Sitting on the top of the Sanctuary had become a pass time of late. A place of solitude and consideration, watching the world pass beneath her feet.
Helen Magnus, the matriarch of the Sanctuary network was having a hard week, reminiscing about John, the 1800's and Ashley her beloved daughter gone these many years.
All sound was dulled up here and as her legs swung in the breeze she sighed and sent a wish to the deity's out there that her week would get better, solitude had it's good points but it get's lonely and Helen wished for some company during these long cold nights she spent alone...
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Kate makes sure she knows the shape of things, their weight. The way they feel in her hands. The way each muscle and tendon tenses with motion as she turns a door handle, pours a glass of water, pulls a trigger. She wants to make sure there's not an inch of her life she couldn't do in the dead dark.
Not with cave darkness, not with blood running in her eyes, or in high fog, or rain. She knows that a single mistake can cost a life, a moment wasted. She's seen it too many times before, cleaned up the aftermath sometimes until the lesson was hammered home straight some sinuses to brain in the acrid smell of blood and bleach. She knew a tracker once, lost an eye and most of the other to something unnamed with fast reflexes and bigger teeth. That should have been it, but she'd run into him a year later, and he could still shoot in a straight line.
That's when she started weighing things, just in case. Because she'd picked this life and sure as hell wasn't going to be depending on someone else to take care of her if things went pear ( ... )
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She learns the curves and contours of human deception, and becomes a master of the games they play.
Great line
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