|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Jun 28, 2012 4:45 pm
The stables are where the unicorns and two pegasi are held. Located next to the mess hall, it is a traditional enough stable as stables go and is well taken care of. Demigods visit the unicorns when they have a medical issue that needs to be addressed, but no one but the praetors dare mount either pegasi. They are said to be a bit violent when approached by those other than their masters.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 09, 2013 6:50 pm
 xxxweep for { yourself } my manxxxxxxyou'll never be what is in your heart ➸ ➸ ❤xxxxlWEEP ▬ LITTLE LION MANyou're not as brave ■ ■ ■ as you were at ↺ the startxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRATE YOURSELF && RAKE YOURSELFxxxxxxxxTAKE ALL THE COURAGE YOU HAVE LEFTxxAND WASTE IT ON FIXING ✕ ALL THE PROBLEMS THAT YOU MADE IN YOUR → OWN HEADGrowing up inside of the borders of New Rome, Conrad Ward always knew that he would attend Camp Jupiter. From a young age, his father began to train him, prepare him for what was inevitably waiting for him. As a child, he’d hated his father’s constant demand for him to fight, and train to become a fighter. It wasn’t that he was bad at fight; his father could tell that he understood a lot from the start, but he would rather sit in the back of his room and read a book. Through all of the reading, his father said that he could fix any problem. However, he clearly didn’t read enough self-help books as a child, seeing as now that he was living in Camp Jupiter, he felt like the biggest freak in the world. His father was known throughout the camp as Jonathan Ward the man who stopped a war from coming to camp. Through his father, he was placed into the first cohort, and that’s where he sat and collected dust. When he was forced into fighting with other campers, it didn’t take a lot for him to figure out their weak point and beat them. This tended to bother the other campers around, he wasn’t amazing, and there were plenty of campers that had a good chance when they went up against him, to beat him. However, he was pleased that his days at camp were numbered, and soon he would finish his ten years to the legion and move on with his life. It was one of the wonders of being brought up by a demigod.
He spent most of his time in Camp Jupiter locked away in his barrack pretending as though he didn’t exist. His hope was that other people would soon not believe that he existed either. There were plenty of families in the camp that believed holding up their family name was important, but Conrad didn’t see why it was such a big deal. Just because his father was an amazing man and saved the camp didn’t meant that he couldn’t be an amazing man and live a comfortable life. It felt as though campers expected something great out of every camper that stepped foot on the ground during their time there. Conrad didn’t see the point in that, instead, he remained quiet, hoping to finish the last two years he had to be in the legion, and move somewhere to settle down for the rest of his life. However, it seemed as though campers there did not want to let him get through his time in the legion without a fuss.
Such as at morning, while Conrad was sitting reading through the latest book that he’d bought in New Rome. He could hear some campers moving around the first cohort’s barrack. Though plenty of campers were out training. He knew that he should have been out with them, but he would rather skip out on the lessons. Since he had been there longer than plenty of the campers around, he also thought that he had the right to sit the occasional training session out. Flipping to the next page, he felt a strange tug on his arm, before a burlap sack was placed over his head. “What the-” The book he was reading dropped from his hands, as he struggled with whoever had placed the bag over his face. “The less you struggle the easier this will be, for all of us.” He could tell that the voice came from a camper in the second cohort. He couldn’t quite remember which god or goddess the camper was the child or legacy of. However, he knew that he kid had a problem with him being a son of Minerva.
His mother was a maiden goddess, always had been. She was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy, and the Romans believed her to be a great mind on their side. However, she was not supposed to have children, ever. When Conrad arrived at the camp, he knew that he wasn’t a usual child, his father hadn’t had a relationship throughout most of his life, he liked being single. And yet, he had no doubt that Conrad was in fact his child. Therefore, he knew that he wasn’t born in a normal way, unless some very unorthodox business went down without his father knowing. His father had raised him knowing that he was a descendant of Janus, god of choices and doorways, but he didn’t know who his mother was, until he stepped foot on the ground of Camp Jupiter. When his mother claimed him, there were plenty of rumors going around about him. He’d questioned his father on the topic, but his father always tried to change the subject as quickly as possible. For awhile, he thought that his mother might have broken her vow, except that his father swore that he’d never had relations with the woman, other than a mental one. Ever since he was claimed, there were campers around that didn’t think he should be there or held equal to them. Especially considering the fact that he was in the first cohort, after his father had written in a good recommendation for him.
These campers dragging him out of the first cohort’s barrack were no different than the campers at Camp Jupiter when Conrad had arrived. They were jealous and mad that he was different and also considered special. He never particularly felt special, but being in the first cohort was an honor in camp, something that not all of the campers got. Not even some who deserved to be in that cohort. Now that the majority of campers that were there when he first arrived were gone, these campers understood even less why he was seen so highly. The praetors didn’t speak much about him being the son of his father, and most campers only thought of his mother when they saw him.
He now felt rather foolish not being about to get away from the campers that were dragging him away from his barrack. He knew that they were in the second cohort, or at least the one that had talked to him. He also knew that the boy had just got off his probatio. They upgraded him into being in the legion and this was how he paid them back? Although, Conrad wouldn’t have been surprised if an older camper had told the boy to do this. He was the only one that Conrad was able to make out, vocally, but he could feel more people beside him, shoving him from each of the sides of him. When they reached where he figured they were planning on taking him, the stopped and shoved him to the ground. “Are you so strong now? Son of Minerva.” The way that his mother’s name came out of the boy’s mouth seemed to accusing her of something. As though he was trying to see if she would challenge them. As though to ask her if this was the best demigod that she could give them. Conrad hoped that his mother was watching this; he wished she would appear and spite the boys, but nothing seemed to be happening.
It took them another minute, and at one point he hear a boy say, “Hurry up, you’re going to get us all caught.” Conrad wished he could pull off the bag over his head, but one of the boys held his hands behind his back. There was another group of rowdy people making their way towards the group. “We got her!” A girl’s voice rang out, followed by laughter and cheering. He could hear another girl trying to talk down the others. He figured this was whom the first girl was talking about. She was going on about how they were making a mistake; Conrad didn’t think it was the brightest idea to talk to the group. It’d probably just piss them off more than they already were. Though, he didn’t get why they were pissed off in the first place. Plenty of people didn’t like him at the camp, but most just avoided him instead of dragging him around the camp with a bag over his head.
There was a creak from a door, and Conrad was pulled up, and shoved hard into a small wooden shed. He hit his head against the back wall, but was able to pull the sack of his head and rub where he’d hit it. Before he could get back to the door, they had shut it and from what he could hear, they placed the padlock back on the door handle and locked him in. With one breath, he could tell exactly where they were at, in the sheds behind the stables. All that they kept in here was the feed for the unicorns and Pegasus, as well as any tools they would need while dealing with the creatures, things to clean their hooves. Pounding his first against the door, he felt anger brush over him. He didn’t care if the senators disagreed with him, he would make the kid who did this suffer. While he was at it, he could probably drag down some of the boy’s friends. It made the most sense to him that the second cohort boy was able to talk his friends into the trick.
Turning around, he decided to look for a tool to help him get out of the shed. Only then did he realize that he wasn’t alone in the dark. His first thought was they sent someone into the shed with him to fight with him, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark he recognized the girl with him. He’d seen her around the camp, her blond hair and green eyes stood out among the crowd. Or, perhaps, they just stood out because his mind played with the idea of talking with her. He’d always wanted to get to know her, but she was in the fifth cohort, talking to her might cause tension in the first cohort. He didn’t want to rock the boat after all, she he would avoid her, his half sister. “Monica, right? Monica O’Shea?” He felt strange even using her first name. When he first heard that there was another child of Minerva in the camp, he couldn’t believe his ears. Again there were the rumors about his mother, but no one could prove that she’d broken her vow of maidenhood. Instead, most campers just spent their time ensuring that Conrad and Monica felt as left out as humanly possible. “Ah, I guess we should try to find a way out of here. They locked us in, from what I can tell.” He didn’t know how to react around the other girl. He’d never had a sibling before, and he’d never known how to talk to people. He wasn’t the most social being in the world.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 31, 2013 9:20 am
  xxxxxxxxxxxxxx↻ xxx Am I less of a lady if I don’t wear ✕✕ panty hose?
xxxxMy momma said ❛ ( A LADY ISN'T WHAT SHE WEARS BUT ⊹◟ WHAT SHE KNOWS
xxxxxxxxxxBut I’ve² ____》drawn the conclusion ▬▬▬ it’s all an illusion ❛
xxxx*«━━ confusion’s the name ♚. ⁴⇣of the game
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA MISCONCEPTION xxx ━━━━━ xxx A VAST DECEPTION
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA MISCONCEPTION xxx ━━━━━ xxx A VAST DECEPTION
xxxxxx███████ xxxSOMETHING ★ ★ GOT TO CHANGE」
Six years was a very long time when you spent almost every day afraid. Afraid that somebody would come and mock you, or make you feel insignificant and unworthy. Afraid that somebody who was bigger or stronger would come and attack you just because of what you were. No, Monica’s fear didn’t stem from being a demigod - she’d be blessed if monsters were the entirety of her problems - it stemmed from being one of the very few ‘b*****d children’ of a maiden goddess. And while Monica would always be proud to say that her mother was Minerva, the roman goddess of wisdom, there were very few others who saw that as a good thing. In fact, most other demigods and legacies saw it as some sort of sin and treated the children as if they were somehow the source of the problem. And to make matters even worse, Monica was the worst kind of roman demigod - she was a legacy to a greek. Her grandmother - on her father’s side, of course - was Demeter. Greek goddess of the harvest, who presided over grains and the fertility of the earth. Even children of Ceres - if not especially them - shunned her as filth. Over the last six years Monica had come to understand that it was simply better to be a wall flower - invisible. It was better to be not noticed than openly hated.
Monica had come to realize that being noticed was generally bad. So when somebody approached her with a smile that made her blood run cold… it wasn’t that surprising that she’d spared a moment only long enough to pale around three shades before she’d turned around and run as fast as she could manage to make her legs move. Despite the optimistic voice in the back of her head that tried to convince her that maybe they were there for Nathaniel, the fifth cohort Centurion, rather than her… the expression that the unfamiliar girl had shown made Monica scared - it reminded her of those first very painful years where she could hardly walk five steps without somebody coming around to insult her or shove her down or spit in her face. She was fifth cohort, she was Minerva’s daughter, and she was part greek. No matter what she did, there was no such thing as an ‘easy day’ for the Irish girl when her ‘birthright’ was the short end of the stick. And to make matters worse, she wasn’t exactly the most athletic demigod around - her strength was in her intelligence, not physical prowess, and unlike most demigods at camp she really wasn’t all that strong at anything besides strategy. She was a brilliant strategist, but fell nothing short of flat in all other aspects of ‘battle’. Unfortunately, that included running. Especially when the one person chasing her quickly grew into a small group of around a half a dozen.
A cry of pain flew through her lips as she was tackled to the ground, having barely reached the edge of the forest. Despite the adrenaline that made her heart pump quickly and her desperate gasps to try to catch her breath, her mind was whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute - flashing through scenarios faster than most people could process just one thought. She didn’t even have time to cry out before her hands were roughly forced behind her - a knee pressing painfully into her lower back as somebody pulled her up by her shoulder, half smothering her with a burlap sack that immediately blocked all vision.
“You honestly thought you could run away? And I thought you were supposed to be smart. But to make sure you don’t try anything even more stupid…” The girl’s voice was sharp, cruel, and another cry flew through Monica’s lips as rough ropes painfully wrapped around her wrists, forcing them behind her back as her assaulters tightened the ropes even more with a sharp grunt - biting into the smooth, pale flesh. Her fingers twitched as she tried to pull out of the binds - only causing more pain to shoot through her arms. At this point she’d be surprised if she wasn’t bleeding - she could already tell that her hands and knees were from how she’d fallen.
”This… this is a mistake!” she desperately pleaded as they dragged her along, not even giving her a chance to get her feet underneath her. Monica was vaguely aware that they were heading back towards her cohort - towards the stables - the familiar scent barely penetrating the rough fabric. She couldn’t figure out what in the world she’d done to deserve this - she’d done nothing at all outside of the regular routine, avoiding people and making sure she didn’t offend anybody. There was no reason at all for the cruel and unusual treatment. ”Please,” she begged again, ”Just… if you let me go, I won’t tell anybody - I swear it! Honestly, is this even worth the effort you’re putting into this? This is a mistake! And the last thing you need is a Centurion breathing down your - ah!” she was dropped, cruel laughter ringing through the air. There were more people now, she was aware of this much, but they were hardly paying much attention. She’d barely managed to get her hands out of the ropes - painfully biting into her hands as she gave up on the knots and just pulled until something gave - when she was hauled to her feet and throw forwards. Luckily she managed to get her hands up in front of her - avoiding a head on collision with a wall, having stumbled over the slight step that lead up into the shed - and as the door slammed closed she managed to pull the bag away from her face.
She turned around, sitting back against the wall as she held up her hands in the dim light, inspecting the damage. Her knees were scraped and bleeding and her palms were covered in a painful criss-cross of light scratches. Her wrists were pretty irritated from the ropes, but the skin hadn’t broken. All in all, she’d been through worse here at camp. With a sigh Monica adjusted her posture to a properly standing position, running her hand through her hair - pulling it away from her face - as she searched the room as well as she could in the dim light. The daughter of Minerva had a pretty good idea as to where they were being held, and the familiar sound of a padlock latching had been more than enough to stop her from trying to break down the door with the other boy. Instead she stood, silent, observing him curiously. Oh she knew who he was - first cohort. The opposite of her. His legacy had gotten him a reference letter amazing enough that not even his parenthood could place him any lower. Her legacy put her in the lowest cohort possible - her parenthood only helped. Conrad Ward… of course she knew him - if she wasn’t so petrified of the other members of his cohort, she may have even considered talking with him. After all, he was the only person who could even get close to relating with her circumstances. Unfortunately she knew that would end badly for both of them - he would be shunned for paying her any mind and she’d probably be cornered for being ‘haughty’ enough to speak with somebody so far ‘out of her league’.
”Monica, right? Monica O’Shea?”
Monica offered him a small smiled in confirmation, nodding her head slightly. Her surprise was well hidden from her face, but she was surprised. She hadn’t been aware that her half brother even knew of her existence. It made her smile to think that he knew her name.
”Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you formally, Mr. Ward.” It didn’t seem odd to her that she’d refer to somebody her own age as ‘Mr’ - it was simply how her father had raised her. She was respectful, regardless of your age, and that didn’t cease to apply just because the situation was a little bit obscure. He towered over her by around seven inches - her extremely petit frame dwarfed even further by his height. And despite everything, she offered him a warm smile that made her features shine. ”I agree, that seems to be the case.” she observed, her voice laced thickly with an Irish accent that had only faded slightly over the last six years , ”Though the hinges are on the other side - as well as the lock. The doors swing outwards, see?” she observed thoughtfully, running her fingers over the smooth wood at the joint. It was probably the reason they had been put there - surprisingly intelligent, she couldn’t help but silently admit. With a small sigh, she turned her curious gaze back towards her half-sibling. ”Do you have any suggestions?” she asked curiously, her tone light and pleasant despite the situation. Honestly, freaking out and panicking wouldn’t solve anything - this was simply the more logical method of handling it.
After a moment of contemplation, the daughter of Minerva stepped back, allowing the other demigod to move forwards to inspect the doors. Taking a moment to inspect what was in the room, she couldn’t help but frown. The only solution that seemed to work, short of the many solutions that involved destroying a wall, the ceiling, the floor, or the door itself, was to simply sit and wait for somebody to find them. That wouldn’t be too difficult, considering this was the first place anybody would go before interacting with any of the horses or pegasi, It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be help, but a matter of when. She was confident that somebody would come, if not during that day then the next, even if the intention wasn’t rescue. In the long run, breaking the building in any way would likely cause more problems than freedom was worth. The last thing she wanted was some convoluted form of ‘community service’ for ‘vandalism’ when it honestly wasn’t necessary. She was patient - she could wait. And it would also give her a good opportunity to get to know her half brother a little bit better. That was something she’d wanted to do for a while, but had never gotten the opportunity.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” she suddenly asked, her voice laced with a maternal concern, ”It sounded like you hit your head - are you alright?”
xxxnow ▬▬▬◟ don’t be offended this is ( ♟ ) all my opinion
xxxxxxxxxxxAin’t nothing xxxx↻ x that I’m saying ˟⇣law
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThis is a true confession of a life learned lesson xxx ━━━━━━━━
xxxxxxxxxx▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ I WAS SENT HERE ◥❛ .TO SHARE WITH YOU ALL `✦
wearegliding5683 Der. Better layout is better.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 30, 2013 8:37 pm
xxxweep for { yourself } my manxxxxxxyou'll never be what is in your heart ➸ ➸ ❤xxxxlWEEP ▬ LITTLE LION MANyou're not as brave ■ ■ ■ as you were at ↺ the startxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRATE YOURSELF && RAKE YOURSELFxxxxxxxxTAKE ALL THE COURAGE YOU HAVE LEFTxxAND WASTE IT ON FIXING ✕ ALL THE PROBLEMS THAT YOU MADE IN YOUR → OWN HEADHow foolish of him for bringing up that they locked them into the shed. Of course, they locked them in. There would be no point for them to have gone through all of the trouble of getting them into the shed if they didn’t lock the door behind them. Hearing his half sister bring this up, he was glad to hear her not roll her eyes and sigh as he pointed out the obvious. When she asked for suggestions, he reached for his dagger to find that it wasn’t where he usually kept it. While reading in his room, he’d left the dagger next to his bed. He didn’t often keep it on him when he was relaxing in the barracks. He walked towards the door, looking down to the lock, budging the door; he could tell that they placed something on the outside to stop them from getting out. Sighing, he shook his head as he backed away from the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to show up looking for him, hopefully Monica was better at making friends than him. Though from the way that the other first cohort members treated her he wasn’t so sure about that.
He almost jumped when he heard her question whether or not he was okay. He wasn't used to people being kind to him, normally they told him to suck it up and deal with any wounds. That’s how the first cohort worked, at least when they hated your guts. “I’ll be fine. It didn’t hit that hard.” He stated, his hand moving to where he banged his head against the wall. “Are you okay? They weren’t too hard when they dragged you here were they?” he asked his half sister, remembering the begging that she did when they were outside of the shed.
It felt strange knowing that he was that close to someone by blood, but they had never talked to each other before. Not to say he was unhappy that his father got him into the first cohort. He just wondered if things would be different for Monica and him if they were in the same cohort. Shaking his head, he tried to avoid the thought; nothing would change what had already happened. He couldn’t let himself slip into the, what ifs.
“Perhaps something in here can help us?” Conrad said, turning his attention toward their predicament allowed him to avoid the thoughts that his half sister caused in his brain. Monica was the only camper that knew what he went through on a regular basis, and yet, she had it easier than he did. Not that he thought it was right to give people places for their pain, but she was able to blend in with the fifth cohort. Not that they weren’t noticed, but they were all teased, did she stick out like a sore thumb there? He doubted it, at least, not as much as he did in the first cohort. With every turn, he knew that someone was glaring at him, angered that he was a son of Minerva and a member of the first cohort.
Picking up a large metal hammer, one that they used with the Pegasus for their hooves, he turned back to his sister. “It must be nice, living in the fifth cohort. Being surrounded by people who are like you, who aren’t able to judge you because they are in the same place, and you all belong there. Because, let’s be honest, the fifth cohort is where demigods like us deserve to be. Everyone thinks that the first cohort is so grand, but they don’t know what it’s like until you’re in it.” He clenched his hand around the hammer, and turned towards the door of the shed. Slamming the head of the metal against the connection of doors, he pushed against the doors once more. “Dammit,” he grumbled upon realizing that it hadn’t worked.
Stepping back from the door, he dropped the hammer to the ground and ran a hand through his hair. “Idiots,” he referred to those that had shoved them in the stables in the first place. “They think that we like being here, that we find it fun to be here. Does it really seem fun to be the outcast? The one that everyone wants to prove shouldn’t be there?” Closing his eyes, he couldn’t help but let his mind think back to growing up with his father.
He was positive that his father knew who his mother was from the start. However, when he was raised, he was never told who his mother was. It was as though his father didn’t want to admit that he had done something that could be seen as wrong. As though he didn’t want to admit that his son wasn’t supposed to be alive. He wanted to pretend that Conrad wasn’t what people expected him to be. The only problem was, he was exactly what his father feared. Even when the signs showed through in school, his father pointed out that he was the grandson of a god of choices. Conrad couldn’t help but be angered that his father put him through Camp Jupiter knowing what would happen to him. Knowing that he would be seen as an outsider the entire time.
A wave of emotions grew over Conrad. Falling to his knees, he covered his face with his hands. He didn’t know what was happening, he’d never had this problem before. Feeling the watery tears dripping down his face, he wiped them away before Monica was able to see him crying. Despite being siblings, he was still in the first cohort; he wasn’t supposed to show weakness to anyone, especially someone below him. He didn’t know what sort of things she would do to him if she had this to hold over his head.
“It’s not fair,” he said quietly, trying his best to control his breathing. He couldn’t let himself get out of hand. It would be too hard to pull himself back together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 30, 2013 9:55 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx↻ xxx Am I less of a lady if I don’t wear ✕✕ panty hose?
xxxxMy momma said ❛ ( A LADY ISN'T WHAT SHE WEARS BUT ⊹◟ WHAT SHE KNOWS
xxxxxxxxxxBut I’ve² ____》drawn the conclusion ▬▬▬ it’s all an illusion ❛
xxxx*«━━ confusion’s the name ♚. ⁴⇣of the game
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA MISCONCEPTION xxx ━━━━━ xxx A VAST DECEPTION
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxA MISCONCEPTION xxx ━━━━━ xxx A VAST DECEPTION
xxxxxx███████ xxxSOMETHING ★ ★ GOT TO CHANGE」
Monica took a small step forwards, tentatively reaching out with cool, gentle fingers to inspect the damage to her companion, ready to pull back if he showed any signs of discomfort in her concern. His question made her hum softly before the smooth Irish accent rang out again, her eyes alight with a curious glow.
“I’m alright, thank you.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly to the side as she let her hands fall back into a ray of light that came in through a crack in the wooden boards that surrounded them. “This isn’t the worst that they’ve done t’ me, an’ I’m sure that they’ll do worse t’ me in the future. These are just wee li’l scratches - in time, they’ll heal.” With a sigh she let her hands fall, gently clasping them in front of her as her eyes raked the room. “Hmm…” was the only response she had to his suggestion, trying to work out a plan in her whirring mind.
“It must be nice, living in the fifth cohort. Being surrounded by people who are like you, who aren’t able to judge you because they are in the same place, and you all belong there. Because, let’s be honest, the fifth cohort is where demigods like us deserve to be. Everyone thinks that the first cohort is so grand, but they don’t know what it’s like until you’re in it.”
Monica stopped, mid-thought, turning towards him; her green eyes wide with some hurt and a fair deal of surprise. After a half a second she turned her eyes down and shook her head slightly.
“Nice?” she asked, her accent twisting the mirrored word oddly, “Aye, that ain’t exactly what I’d call it. Fifth cohort… it is many things, but I wouldn’ call it nice. Maybe for some of the others, but… even among my cohort-mates I’m very much disliked; they don’ talk to me much, an’ they tend to pick on me as much as any of the others in camp. Except I don’ have to live with the others.” the daughter of Minerva forced a smile onto her lips, shaking her head solemnly. The solemn atmosphere was shattered with the blow of the hammer; Monica jumped half out of her skin when the tool loudly collided with the door, regarding Conrad with a gaze that mirrored that of a deer caught in headlights.
Monica’s expression softened again as he dropped the hammer in defeat, watching him with some concern as he ran his hands through his hair, ranting with distaste.
“I don’ really think that they had our happiness in mind when they thought t’ shove us in a horse shed.” she noted softly, regarding him with some concern, “Just our existing threatens what they believe - while it ain’t right, I can understand why they have to be so cruel.” She watched the expressions flash over his face with respectful silence, though she dropped down to her knees with him - her eyes filled with worry for the other boy. She saw the tears but said nothing, letting him calm himself before gingerly reaching out, touching his forearms as if offering to support him - a laughable idea considering the simple difference in size.
“It’s not fair.” he said, and he was right. Monica smiled sadly, shaking her head slightly to show that she agreed. But she’d learned the hard way that life was often far from fair.
“It’ll be alright, Mr. Ward, I can promise you that.” She smiled that warm, maternal smile that had always made dealing with children back home much easier. “We will find our way out of here - they made a mistake when they put ninety percent of the entire camp’s brain power in one place. What is it they say? ‘When life gives you lemons make…’ make tea? Somethin’ along them lines.” she added, jokingly, her green eyes shining pleasantly in the dim light. “An’ I don’ care what anybody’s told you - if you’re upset, its alright t’ show it. There’s no weakness in not havin’ t’ hide.”
Slowly Monica rose to her feet, sighing slightly as she looked for something she could perch her weight on; any place to sit that wasn’t the floor would have been nice, right around then. After a moment she spoke up again.
“Well, y’know,” she began with a fair deal of hesitation, “We could jus’ wait it out. Eventually somebody’s going t’ have to come by here sooner or later, right? The pegasi are tended t’ at least once a day.” Finally deciding on an outcrop of wood to sit on, she leaned back and let her stinging hands rest in her lap. “Honestly, we may no’ get another chance t’ get t’ know each other - but if you’re not interested in that, I understand too.” she offered him another smile, shrugging her shoulders slightly as she turned her head up towards the ceiling, inspecting the shed again for any sort of weak point that she could utilize to plan their escape. Honestly, this wasn’t all that bad - she’d been locked out after showering, forced to try to find her way into her barrack with little more than a towel on because her clothes had also been stolen, tacks placed in her shoes, rude slandering left around for her to find… being locked in a place she was familiar with along with a brother she’d always wanted to know. Well, in a twisted sense, it was almost kind. Honestly, the only disappointment was that she would miss supper, and she hadn’t eaten very much at lunch, and that there might be trouble to face for missing roll call even if it hadn’t been her fault. All in all, nothing too hard to deal with… it was almost a blessing, as twisted as that might seem.
xxxnow ▬▬▬◟ don’t be offended this is ( ♟ ) all my opinion
xxxxxxxxxxxAin’t nothing xxxx↻ x that I’m saying ˟⇣law
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThis is a true confession of a life learned lesson xxx ━━━━━━━━
xxxxxxxxxx▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ I WAS SENT HERE ◥❛ .TO SHARE WITH YOU ALL `✦
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
