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Dec 1, 2009, 2:22am

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Topic: Scarlette Cheyne (Read 41 times)

Scarlette Cheyne
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When a thief kisses you, count your teeth.

Joined: Nov 2007
Gender: Female

Posts: 12
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Scarlette Cheyne
« Thread Started on Nov 4, 2007, 5:13pm »

OOC: Nix
Charrie: The girl of the rebellion : Scarlette Cheyne
Form of contact: ***
Several: correct
Elevated in: correct
Lives: correct
Don't you: correct
Try to: correct
Join as: correct
RP sample: I assume recycled is okay?

An intoxicatingly cold silence coated the depressive corridor. The heavy feeling of eeriness followed every footstep like a putrid fog, a nerve tingling cloud of darkness that swirled and rose threateningly about her bare feet. Deafening quiet assaulted her ears painfully, the fearful
ache filling her lithe body with it's poisonous fog. The feeling of the terrible fog followed over her like a embodiment of a innocent child's nightmare. It was the pure emotion of fear bottled as the essence of an all-encompassing fog. It clung to her skin, the feeling prickling at her flesh, causing bumps of wariness to slowly rise up on her arms, the sensitive hairs on the back of her neck rising up agonizingly slowly. Extreme wary awareness embedded itself deeply into all of her awakened senses.

Darting emerald eyes skittered around the shadows in a paranoid fashion. Such a deep, dark silence would cause any person to fear the presence of lurking nightmares, poised hungrily to feed on their greatest hidden fear. Surely the expectation, the anticipation is much worse a plague than the possible reality of a macabre imagination. But, one does not pause to logically think upon such things when the oppressive, suffocating feeling of untethered darkness has stolen into their very being and an insufferable quiet has wrapped a choking blanket of fear about their very heart, squeezing away any semblance of courage they might have attempted to muster up. Yes, even the greatest of hearts has been fooled into having their courage stolen away by such a place, by such a moment, by such vivid emotions.

Since she mournfully already was one to fall into the logic escaping trap of wallowing in fear, the long unlite corridor hardly offered a fair chance.

Large drab stone bricks towered above her in staggered layer, smooth and imposing in uniform grey. The ceiling itself was barely visible to her straining eyes. The empty abyss of her pupils as wide open as possible, working to coax in any hope the lightest sliver of light might offer to
her desperate eyes.

The only barely helpful source of light was a puny window, placed high up on the span of the wall a few meters down the hallway. Grime perverted themurky glass, gathering heavily along the borders and traveling like a virus towards it's center. Dirty and tainted, a barely perceptible slice of dulled moonlight shimmered halfway down the opposing wall. The slit of grey lunar light was more a supreme mockery of hope than anything. Laughing in the face of her growing desperation and fear. It bastardized her inch of hope upon seeing it, sneering with morbid amusement that she had dared believe it might have lent her a helping hand.

She expelled a long shaky breath, forcing it from tight lungs. The rattling sound cut through the expected pattern of hesitant footsteps like a knife, it pierced dramatically, reminding her of how deathly silent the eternal quiet was all around her, closing in. In such a place, it seemed if a god
ever existed it had given up. As though whatever supreme diety had once watched down with soft, doleful gazes had now turned a steely back to us, denying that it had ever created such a horrid travesty of an excuse for life.
This place was surely forsaken, once created for human hands to fail at attempting to heal human failures. Not the failures of humanity per say, but rather the humans that seemed to be failures to suit humanity. A place of such fear, darkness, silence and ungodliness could only really be one of a few buildings. In this unfortunate case it was an asylum. A place to harbor some of the generations most sick and twisted minds once upon a time. A place where foreboding replaced hope and love was a luxury none could truly afford.
In this place she edged along the corridor, whimpering to herself if only to fill the unnatural silence. In a place like this desperation was your only companion, the friendship of hope having long since abandoned the cob-webbed corridors. A place like this defied all the norms of 'pleasant society', or perhaps maybe it simply embodied all that 'pleasant society' was doomed to become. Either way she was fast regretting slithering her abnormally petite body through a crack in one of the boarded up windows. It appeared the long abandoned asylum was now dingy, foul, and fearsome.

For a homeless mentally damaged girl, paranoia her only trustable companion, slipping into the building as a place for shelter from the driving sleet and snow that attacked the dirt floor outside had seemed a brilliant idea in the moment. Now, the threat of frost bite seemed a much more welcome fate to whatever horrors she knew were creeping just beyond her squinted
vision.

Delicate hands shook, her gaunt face taking on a complexion that was more sickly pale than usual. Strands of stringy hair fell haphazardly about her trembling face, cracked lip with lines of crusted blood caused strands of the greasy bland locks to cling repulsively to her chapped lips. Beneath the abandonment of self preservation there was an air of guilt. Guilt for allowing her mental dysfunction of paranoia to take over her life, tearing her away from any semblance of help she might have ever accumulated.

Beneath the physical filth and repulsion there was a unique beauty, wide probative eyes that once held joy and passion, high graceful cheekbones with cheeks that carved inwards elegantly that now seemed to be interpreted as hollow and emaciated. Her hair hung below her chin, stopping haphazardly around the base of her neck. She kept it cropped short like this, slashed off with the knife that sat as a heavy reminder in one of her many pockets.
Cold fingers fumbled clumsily in one pocket of her dirty brown trenchcoat. She had found it in a garbage can, dirty and torn, to her it had seemed a heart lifting blessing. Drabbing her from shoulders to her ankles it sufficed just barely to ward of small chills and hide her female body from prying eyes. Out of one of pockets unstable hands pulled out a smell seashell. Surprisingly clean - if not chipped and battered-. In the seashell hung her seemingly impossible hopes and dreams, symbolizing the possibility she dared not mutter aloud for fear of it becoming an impossibility.

Trembling hands wrapped around it like a life line in a raging ocean she dashed into a corner, heavily cloaked by darkness, resisting whimpers as she tucked herself into as small a ball as possible. Only large fear filled eyes slipped all around her, peeking out from the raised hood of her coat and she melted into the shadows. Clinging to the seashell as a child to a security blanket.

« Last Edit: Nov 4, 2007, 7:06pm by Alianora Mhyre Calvey »

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