hide your ♥ away ` [open]

[Deleted]

as a rule, sela never went to the wall.

anybody could be there. luna could be there. nonni, mama, papa, even lorenzo could be there, all staring at her with critical eyes. she knew it, deep in her gut, that the menagerie changed people, but how much of that applied to her? had it changed her, or had it simply peeled back her layers to reveal who she really was? she was more inclined to say the latter, though that wasn't exactly a good thing. true, sela could be herself here, but it also had revealed the regression of her old habits. the vixen fingered the piece of pottery in her pocket, the jagged edges pricking her thumb.

she sucked on the blood for a moment, trying and failing to keep herself from the snack. if there was anything this god-forsaken dome had taught her, it was that she'd always had an addictive personality, only worsening when times got tough. it was her coping mechanism. it's that, or go mad, sela thought. with those choices in mind, all she could do was rationalize.

what she was doing was perfectly normal. it was not strange, and it was not wrong.

she bit off a piece of terra cotta, relishing the delicious texture, the bitter crunch. she gnawed rapidly, almost obsessively, as she approached the glass wall. her stomach churned as the possibilities opened themselves up in her mind. she could almost see luna now, her sister's face fallen and heartbroken at the monster she saw through the glass. her hair, only a shade lighter than sela's tied up into its trademark bun. neat, tidy, and perfect. it wasn't her fault, of course, but sela couldn't surpress a stab of indignation whenever she thought about it. sela, the circus freak, the blade-wielder and knife-thrower. the girl with an animal in her brain and a sneer on her face.

it wasn't luna, though -- she pressed herself against the wall and made an obnoxious fish-face, more for herself than them. the sea of strangers gawked at her, a dumpy woman of about forty in particular. the huntress spun a roundhouse kick against the glass just to spite her; the horror written on the human's face was enough to lift her heart, just for a moment.

they were gone again, however, and she would have to find other means of entertainment.

here i stand, head in hand,
turn my face to the wall

[Deleted]

Harlequin had to masochistic, that was the only explanation. She knew that her mother would never be at The Wall, staring at the freaks that the keepers had sealed away from the rest of the world. After all, she had never told her mother that she was a shifter. She'd been snatched away from home, just like most of the other shifters. Of course, she didn't know which would hurt worse, her mother not being there or her mother being there, watching her freak of a daughter behind the glass.

She stalked her way up to the glass in her jaguar form, her powerful shoulders rolling as she moved. Her spots were almost invisible against her black pelt as made her way slowly up to the wall. Sometimes it was fun to scare the humans who came to watch them. She crouched down, preparing herself to pounce before she sprang at the wall, a roar breaking free from her mouth as she slammed her heavy paws into it. Several of the humans jumped back from the glass, a look of fear on their faces. She gave a few coughing sounds that counted as her laughter while in jaguar form.

She slid from one form to the other, hunkered down on her heels, grey green eyes flashing as she waved mockingly at the humans. A few swore, or at least that was what it looked like they were doing. With a roll of her eyes she straightened, pulling on the worn black belt that kept the baggy jean up, more out of habit then necessity. She brushed a stray bit of dirt off of her black tank top, before barring her teeth at the humans, heckling them for the last time.

Harlequin hated it here, just like everyone else. She had hated her time at the reservation where her mother's people had called her white one, but her loathing for this cage was ten times greater. She wasn't the only one there, she realized as she turned her attention to the Hunter. She nodded to the other girl, flashing her a feral grin as she walked over, her gait still that of a predatory feline.

"Well," she drawled once she reached the older girls side, "looks like I'm not the only masochist here today." She nodded at the gawking humans in explanation. Several of the looked like they were about to wet themselves. She snorted softly, resisting the urge to shift and roar at them to go away. In a way, she though bemusedly, they were as much on display as they were. They came and went every day, gawking and poking at the glass. Of course, time in this hell hole was better spent patrolling, hunting, anything, but torturing themselves with looks at the outside world.

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & YOU'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN ` YOU'RE JUST A LOVELY IDEA OF ONE WHO I ACCIDENTALLY LOVED AND GAVE EVERYTHING TO BECOME THE GIRL ON THE PIANO BENCH SINGING ALL OF HER TEARS - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - away
[atrb=width,240] the humans scattered, eyes stretched wide inside their sockets. sela allowed herself a small and devilish smile at the spectacle, knowing that her instinct of the show hadn't left her. the huntress relished it, even now -- the combination of entertainment and danger. once it had been throwing knives in front of a crowd. now she was throwing knives at the crowd. thankfully her family wasn't there. it was the age-old disappointment, and the familiar conundrum: leave or stay? would it be better for them to see her, scathing and scarring, or never see them again? her smile faltered, and she swiveled in her step as a noise sounded behind her. a woman, a fellow carna, was putting on a show of her own: snarling and shifting for the crowd. sela dropped her terra-cotta instantly, and her heart plummeted as the beautiful shard fell to the earth. never mind that; she could always eat it later. after all, dirt was rather tasty as a seasoning. the hunter gave a chuckle at the comrade's words. "well," she drawled, "i guess i'm not the only masochist here today." with a nod, the redhead gave a swifter reply. "it isn't often that a carna uses the term so casually," she mentioned in english. "the question is, who is being punished in this scenario? us, or them?" even sela knew the answer to that, however -- it was anything but entertainment, despite what she told herself. it was both a diversion and an agonizing pursuit, watching these pitifully plain people peruse them. and behind sela's dark brown eyes -- behind the cocky attitude -- lie a similar echo.	[atrb=width,140] words , 274 words tagged , harlequin; notes , a bit short -- sorry for the wait!
[cs=2] TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0

[gossamer]

to the ends of the earth

If there was one thing she hated most in herself, it was weakness. To be weak was to die - that was always as it had been, always as it would and should be. But today, she was weak. She could feel it in her trembling bones, smell it in the desperate fear that reeked out from her pores. The Humans, they had found her again. She had hidden from them for so long - so long, she had thought, that they had forgotten about her. She understood well that she did not walk this place as her own - that is, she was not truly free. But she didn't mind it; it was larger than her old territory back on the plains had been, and more abundant in prey. But the Humans here were thicker in number, and they stole the Analoya prey more than the Men had back home.

The Men here were numerous and strange creatures, but mostly the Men in the White Coats. They smelled of strange things, things that burned her nose and left her eyes watering so sharp was the scent. She hated the place with the white walls, where everything was so...Human. They had built the White Walled place to torture her and others like her. They poked and prodded at her with sharp things till she could take it no more and would try to bite them; they never listened to her warnings. Then they would stick her again, and she would be forced to shift into that most useless of forms! Her paws contorted into awkward mitts with things called fingers, feeling like alien appendages that were so un-natural she had an innate fear of this form. She used it only to help her Master when he needed it.

They had gotten her again, the Humans. She couldn't believe it--how had they found her? So long since she had seen them last...but there it was, again. The fear. The weakness. She was so vile, so pathetic as she crawled along the hard ground. Her thick paws were made into those human things, her thick fur into a slick, fur-less skin that left her feeling naked. Her skin was the palest of whites, seeming to glow with an ethereal sheen underneath the bright sun, her sensitive blood-red eyes narrowed against its glare.

Gossamer dragged herself along, unaware that the Keepers had dropped her far from her home in the Analoya forests, having injected her with their poison so that she couldn't get back to her natural lion form. She could hear noise - people speaking. She dragged herself in that direction, thinking maybe they were of her Tribe. Almost delirious she crawled along, pale white skin smeared with bright crimson blood from the rough cement cutting her virgin flesh. She let out a soft moan and fell limp, unable to move anymore; perhaps the others would hear her. She could only hope Layani would be looking for her. Her head lolled to the side, long, white hair falling around her in a pool of pallid curls. Her long body was just covered by a gossamer fabric, wrapped thrice around her thin frame and vaguely transparent. It, too, was smeared by blood and torn in a few places. She seemed so frail, so insignificant - so desperately weak.

But it would not be for long.


ooc; invited in by teh Flotsam <3 sorry it took me so long to get this up! let me know if it's okay, or if I need to change anything ^^

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & HIDE YOUR ♥ AWAY ` EVERYWHERE, PEOPLE STARE, EACH AND EVERY DAY. I CAN SEE THEM LAUGH AT ME AND I HEAR THEM SAY, "HEY, YOU HAVE GOT TO HIDE, HIDE YOUR LOVE - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - away
[atrb=width,240] The words hung in the air. They both knew the answer, yet each refused to speak it aloud. What damage would it do, to break the taboo, she wondered? Would it be more than a blow to their egos? Sela let out a small sigh, an exhalation of breath. She was about to respond again when a stranger appeared. All thoughts were wiped, instantly, from Sela's brain. A slight, frail woman crawled across the ground, with all of the mystery and inconsistency of a ghost. Her hair was a pure white, as was her skin. The only flash of color was in her red eyes. She seemed to -- to float across the ground, and she was draped in an ethereal gossamer cloth. Sela stood, looking over Harlequin's shoulder, taking it all in. And she had no idea how much of an idiot she looked, gazing dumbstruck, with gooey features and a gaping mouth. At once the huntress came to her senses -- sort of -- and was filled with several overwhelming emotions at once. There was the first flood, a sense of ruthless protectiveness. There was the second, a sort of shock. There was the third, a hint of obsession. There was the fourth, a sense of urgency. She rushed over to Gossamer, wide-eyed. "Holy shite, you poor thing," she murmured. Never mind the fact that she'd just totally blown her ringmate off. She hadn't even a clue. "Can you hear me? Here, water. Have some water." Sela withdrew a pouch, what had once been an animal skin, and carefully extended it to the strange figure.	[atrb=width,140] words , 267 words tagged , gossamer & harlequin notes , ohh, sela. when she falls, she falls HARD.
[cs=2] TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0