Post by Charlotte Deshayes on Jun 13, 2021 2:44:18 GMT -6
Running.
Charlotte Deshayes was doing the only thing she had ever known.
Her feet kept moving, kept pushing, kept dragging her forward. They had to be behind her.
The men in cloaks were not an organization Charlotte knew. They were not kind people, they were not loving people. They were people who wanted results more than anything. They would try to get her and the dead body of her brother to do what they wanted, and yield the results they'd like. The results that Charlie knew better than anything to slow down and give.
They wanted to take Victor away from her. They wanted to take Victor out of his home, out of his area, out of the only place Charlotte could ever make sure that he was okay in.
The cavity inside her that was Victor's tomb.
She had to keep pressing on. Charlotte saw no strange men around her, and really, she didn't even see a town. However, all these facts meant nothing, and she tore her gaze from her surrounding back to the forest floor, planning her next step.
Charlie had to keep moving so that she could pretend she and Victor made it on and out.
The more Charlotte moved, the more her body ached.
The air was bitter and cold, a cold that sank deep into her bones and made her want to just... stop. Stop and rest for a bit, until it gets better.
She took another shambling step forward, and collapsed.
Charlotte watched her breath in front of her, frozen droplets in the air falling softly, like the snow that surrounded her now. She took in another freezing gasp, her lungs inflating and deflating, the organ being one of the last remaining that seemed to not give up on her. Her eyes welled up, tears freezing as they cascaded down her cheeks.
After all her work, and all her efforts, and the everything that she put into what brought her here now, was a failure.
Victor, dead for years and years by now, lay in her abdominal cavity, and Charlotte reached a hand into her layers of clothing to hold Victor's hand. His body was there--it always had been with Charlotte, and it was always there for her to protect, but anything that had mattered died when Victor did in her chest. She had given everything to keep his body intact, to keep the memory of him alive, and that maybe, just maybe-- maybe he would come back to life, cared for by his own sister's blood that coursed through him now. The blood that kept him from rotting, and the blood that kept his complexion from ever looking truly dead. Charlotte began to sob.
She failed her mother. She failed Victor. She failed every piece. All of this, watching her mother burn to death in front of her, it was apparently enough suffering for the twins to have been through. It all was finally drawing to a close. All of her failures, her slip-ups, and Victor's death, brought her here. Charlotte's eyes began to drift closed, the flutter of lashes brushing her cheeks as she struggled to try to bring them open again. Her chin wobbled, the sting of her sadness resting in her throat, and she exhaled one last time.
Charlotte's eyes snapped back open, breath dragging into her abused lungs once again as she felt the almost searing pain that was Victor--
The child, having ripped himself from her flesh, shrieked as he sprinted forward, bleeding all over the place and running toward a wall of pure... fog.
Charlotte sat up, her side aching from where Victor ripped himself free. Suddenly, as she watched him sprint with un-child-like speed, her pain and her aches were gone, and she picked herself up and chased after him. She chased him down a hill, toward the wall, and called after him as she ran.
"VICTOR!" she screamed, trying anything she could to catch his attention, and bring him back to her, so that she could continue and protect him. She wanted him away from the wall that felt distinctly wrong, she wanted him back-- Charlotte's eyes had to be lying, she decided, as she watched a black-hooded man pick up her brother.
Lie or not, the man would have to die so Victor could remain safe.
Charlotte began screaming, swinging her scythe side to side, shrieking like a madwoman as she made her way to the man in the black hood. She grabbed Victor's arm, connected with the man--
Charlotte woke up in a very strange place.
She looked around, hand flying to her chest to find Victor there, safely stored back in his home. His small lungs drew air in and out; that was good, that meant he was still alive. Charlie searched her memory in an effort to find where they were now.
The last thing Charlotte remembered was colliding with the man, hand on her brother, and the trio slammed up, against, and Charlotte and Victor... must have fell through. Charlotte pushed a hand into her clothing, holding her child brother's hand to comfort herself as she stood to slowly explore this new land.
Hopefully it would be safer than the last one.
Charlotte Deshayes was doing the only thing she had ever known.
Her feet kept moving, kept pushing, kept dragging her forward. They had to be behind her.
The men in cloaks were not an organization Charlotte knew. They were not kind people, they were not loving people. They were people who wanted results more than anything. They would try to get her and the dead body of her brother to do what they wanted, and yield the results they'd like. The results that Charlie knew better than anything to slow down and give.
They wanted to take Victor away from her. They wanted to take Victor out of his home, out of his area, out of the only place Charlotte could ever make sure that he was okay in.
The cavity inside her that was Victor's tomb.
She had to keep pressing on. Charlotte saw no strange men around her, and really, she didn't even see a town. However, all these facts meant nothing, and she tore her gaze from her surrounding back to the forest floor, planning her next step.
Charlie had to keep moving so that she could pretend she and Victor made it on and out.
The more Charlotte moved, the more her body ached.
The air was bitter and cold, a cold that sank deep into her bones and made her want to just... stop. Stop and rest for a bit, until it gets better.
She took another shambling step forward, and collapsed.
Charlotte watched her breath in front of her, frozen droplets in the air falling softly, like the snow that surrounded her now. She took in another freezing gasp, her lungs inflating and deflating, the organ being one of the last remaining that seemed to not give up on her. Her eyes welled up, tears freezing as they cascaded down her cheeks.
After all her work, and all her efforts, and the everything that she put into what brought her here now, was a failure.
Victor, dead for years and years by now, lay in her abdominal cavity, and Charlotte reached a hand into her layers of clothing to hold Victor's hand. His body was there--it always had been with Charlotte, and it was always there for her to protect, but anything that had mattered died when Victor did in her chest. She had given everything to keep his body intact, to keep the memory of him alive, and that maybe, just maybe-- maybe he would come back to life, cared for by his own sister's blood that coursed through him now. The blood that kept him from rotting, and the blood that kept his complexion from ever looking truly dead. Charlotte began to sob.
She failed her mother. She failed Victor. She failed every piece. All of this, watching her mother burn to death in front of her, it was apparently enough suffering for the twins to have been through. It all was finally drawing to a close. All of her failures, her slip-ups, and Victor's death, brought her here. Charlotte's eyes began to drift closed, the flutter of lashes brushing her cheeks as she struggled to try to bring them open again. Her chin wobbled, the sting of her sadness resting in her throat, and she exhaled one last time.
Charlotte's eyes snapped back open, breath dragging into her abused lungs once again as she felt the almost searing pain that was Victor--
The child, having ripped himself from her flesh, shrieked as he sprinted forward, bleeding all over the place and running toward a wall of pure... fog.
Charlotte sat up, her side aching from where Victor ripped himself free. Suddenly, as she watched him sprint with un-child-like speed, her pain and her aches were gone, and she picked herself up and chased after him. She chased him down a hill, toward the wall, and called after him as she ran.
"VICTOR!" she screamed, trying anything she could to catch his attention, and bring him back to her, so that she could continue and protect him. She wanted him away from the wall that felt distinctly wrong, she wanted him back-- Charlotte's eyes had to be lying, she decided, as she watched a black-hooded man pick up her brother.
Lie or not, the man would have to die so Victor could remain safe.
Charlotte began screaming, swinging her scythe side to side, shrieking like a madwoman as she made her way to the man in the black hood. She grabbed Victor's arm, connected with the man--
Charlotte woke up in a very strange place.
She looked around, hand flying to her chest to find Victor there, safely stored back in his home. His small lungs drew air in and out; that was good, that meant he was still alive. Charlie searched her memory in an effort to find where they were now.
The last thing Charlotte remembered was colliding with the man, hand on her brother, and the trio slammed up, against, and Charlotte and Victor... must have fell through. Charlotte pushed a hand into her clothing, holding her child brother's hand to comfort herself as she stood to slowly explore this new land.
Hopefully it would be safer than the last one.