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ೃ⁀➷ ⍣ ༊*·˚ ೄྀ࿐ season four ·˚ ༘ ˊˎ- ↳ ❝ sept 18, 2009 ❞ ⋆·˚ ✧. ༘ *
EVANGELINE DID NOT WANT TODIE, IT 'S JUST THAT LIVING CAME AT A PRICE SHE COULD NOT AFFORD.
But she would rather continue to be a lifeless corpse without any fighting-to-live responsibility to dig her way out of that shallow grave. It was her first peaceful shut-eye in a very long time— talk about going to sleep when you're dead.
Awoken with a whisper in her ear, "YOU ARE NOW FREE," her eyes did not see light. . . not at first.
The girl had to earn that. The gift of first breath was bestowed on her like it had been a millennia before. And in this lifetime, and the past, she had a choice. A choice to see the light of day again.
Darkness engulfed her vision. Murky mahogany wood and dusty satin bedding— or what she thought was the texture and the style, considering everything was drenched in pitch blackness.
She was running out of oxygen, ultimately out of time. Evangeline tried to scream for help, but her voice came out in croaks and creaks.
The bitter taste of Uselessness turned into Anxiety. Whispers cloud her ears, silent but deadly conclusions from the crept in which she laid. "GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN, MUSTN'T GO BACK. MUSTN'T DISAPPOINT. WHAT WOULD THEY THINK?"
Next morphed into Confusion hitting the back of her throat. The storming thoughts transfer to her own, as she pushes her fragile hands upwards. Dirt and grime trickle down onto her face like stars falling from the sky. "OF ALL THE PLACES, WHY HERE? WHY NOT OUT THERE, FATHER? WHY MUST YOU TORTURE ME SO?"
Which then grew into Anger, a mold from at the base of her spine and crawling it's way to the forefront of her mind. It grew like an infection, a viral insect hungry for memories and magic, eating away only certain sentiments of the Hippocampus— like it was a routine. Because He made it so. "OH FOR FUCKS SAKE, I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING. WELL GOOD RIDDANCE TO YOU TOO. . . WHOEVER YOU ARE."
Desperation sprouted from the seeds, Determination blossomed with the strength of fingernails. Tearing off the coffin planks, skin torn and hands continuously pulling roots from their core. Blood seeping on untouched grounds. Her strawberry blonde locks coated in a mud, her eyes like vines— venomous to the mere gaze of mortal scum.
