like a moth, [P] May 20, 2016 16:17:16 GMT -5
Post by Sloane on May 20, 2016 16:17:16 GMT -5
daisy chains and sudden rains
I despise this place, she thought as she picked her way through the debris that cluttered the hospital's hallways. It was midday and still very little light reached even what should be the brightest corners. She rather liked the sunlight; it felt warm on her cold skin. And when she touched her sun-warmed cheek it reminded her of her children, how warm and soft they felt when she held them in her arms. She slipped in something black and oozing on the floor, the stench cloying and clouding her thoughts. Her children fluttered away from her like tiny, fragile birds and she watched them leave with a belabored sigh. No, this was no place to bring a child. It was the rotting, stinking cesspool of the dome, swarming and teeming with the vilest creatures of her own kind. She liked to think she was not like them, those beasties she could even now hear slithering in the darkness.
She had been created to be clever and beautiful, as she had been told by her Creators, and she liked things to be as clever and beautiful as she. She wanted the world to be pleasing and bright and comfortable. The Others who had come before her were simple creatures content to wallow in their slag and refuse. Despite that, she sometimes found the company of lesser beings an unfortunate necessity. Her Creators told her she was, by their design, a social creature. She was not entirely sure what this entailed, but she supposed it explained that hollow feeling when she had not spoken to any other thing in a few weeks. It had taken some time to learn the two were connected, and as she headed up the groaning stairs to the second floor, she felt quite proud of herself. She would be sure to tell the Creators of her discovery the next time she was in the Compound. They were generally pleased and would let her stay outside of the dome longer as a reward. They knew how she despised the dome.
"Anyone home?" She called as she came to the top of the stairs. She trailed her fingertips along the molding wall, unsheathing her lionesque claws so they scraped off the aged paint. Disgusting. The sound echoed down the hall and she listened for any reply, ambling in her boredom to an old convalescing room. Rays of sunlight struggled to get through a boarded-up window, filling her with a sudden desperation. She gripped at the poofed hem of her glittering, tutu-like skirt, claws catching in the fabric. "Something must be done," she hissed. In a few steps she had crossed the room of rusted bed-frames and molded mattresses and stood at the window. She peered through a crack in the wood, peering out at the bright world just outside. "I have to let the light in." She said, digging her long claws into the boards. She stood a moment in silence before tearing the boards away, piece by piece, splinter by splinter until she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin again. She leaned against the dust-coated window pane, a smile etching her pale face. She could hear her children again. She thought she heard a noise behind her in the doorway. "Hello?" she called, her voice soft and welcoming.
notes | Noir lemme know if it's okay I know it's kinda rambly but