Ygritte
She wants to breath smoke.
She wants to stare up from under the clear ice of a frozen lake.
She wants to press her lips against the cold marble of a John Doe's tombstone.
Every so often this happens. She breaks. The sun is too bright and the night is too black. The world turns by and she stands still like a newspaper caught on the telephone pole during the hurricane. The emotions whirl rapidly within the russet body. Screams echo in her skull as she walks, swaying and thrashing like a rabid creature. The world was too much to bear sometimes and she fought often with how to continue to survive. She was bleak. The sky was dull. She lacked something.
The possession ceases and she regains herself momentarily. Dark pools dart over the meadow as the cool autumn freezes her bones. The tears streak her cheeks and darken the brass to a dull bronze. She doesn't know why she cries. She doesn't know why these episodes continue. It's so hard sometimes to stop.
harder, harder...
Thankfully there was no one around to watch this maniacal creature possessed by such emotional torture that it could break the hardest of them all. Her throat hitches as she begins to gasp. Her heart beats too fast. Her breathing too shallow.
Oh the pain...the FUCKING pain...
She stumbles...falls...crumbles like a child's sandcastle under the evening tide. The fucking tears soaked her cheeks and her neck. Small speckles dot her chest. They were salty, salty, salty... She strangled on those tears. A flubbing in her chest as her heart skips and no longer can she stop it. She screams. The gods must be looking down upon the mangled mess of a creature, shaking their heavy heads and tsking at her weakness. She was weak. She was pathetic. She was fucking garbage.
The scream fades when the chords burn. The scream fades to snotty, thick sobs. She can taste blood--her blood. Her throat was bleeding but she didn't feel it. Heavy, body shaking sobs release low from the body as she finally gives up and drops her head to the earth. The sobbing is ugly. The copper penny taste in her mouth goes unnoticed between the lungful of of hair sucked inward and heaved jaggedly in choking sobs.
Darkness
Darkness
Darkness
The smell of dirt is overwhelming. There is a cold sting. The copper penny taste is still there and it feels as if her throat has been ripped open but at least everything is quiet, quiet, quiet. The fat rain drop plop on her hide as she lay sprawled upon the meadow.
Open your eyes.
Thick lashes lift against her conscious will. One, two...three Inhale. Exhale. The woman draws her legs beneath her and lifts her head that feels far too heavy with ugly thoughts and snot. Somewhere within that heavy head summons the mare to find her feet and rise...she does.
Those thoughts slip away now. Back to their places locked away tight.
She feels reborn. She feels invincible. She has walked through the fire and breathed in the smoke with a Cheshire Cat grin. She broke the ice. She kissed the tombstone.
She spits out the blood and grins.
(ooc: feel free to respond if you want. this post is meant for no one in particular. needed to write something.)
